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maybejj · 7 months ago

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The Beginning of Us Part 3

babydaddy!Rafe x sweetheart!reader

masterlist

warnings: mentions of child abuse, mentions of bruises/blood, slight flirting, slight possessive rafe ?

summary: You and Rafe were high school sweethearts that continued into college however Rafe went down the wrong path and you found out you were pregnant. 4 years later finds you and Rafe trying to navigate co-parenting your 3 year old son while overcoming life’s obstacles and past experiences.

word count: 2.2k

“Listen, I’m not going to make it. Rafe’s out of town and I don’t have anyone to watch Asher. I’m sorry, truly.” You apologized to Madeline over the phone while you continued to make dinner. Asher was at the kitchen table drawing in his coloring book, tongue sticking out to the side while he tried to color in the lines.

It was shaping up to be a quiet night when Madeline, one of your girlfriends, had called asking if you wanted to tag along to see the new romcom that was in theaters. You would normally jump at the opportunity to hangout with your friends but with Rafe out of town, you couldn’t leave Asher.

You heard your friend whine playfully on the other side of the phone, “Maybe you could get Sarah or Wheezie to watch him for a couple hours. You know they adore him.”

You squeezed your eyes closed tightly. You knew in your soul they would never hurt Asher. They weren’t capable of it and they did adore your son, worshipped the ground he walked on. They always showered him in love and gifts and hugs whenever they saw him but there was that voice in the back of your head that said it would happen again if you left Asher alone with anyone other than Rafe.

It had only been three months since it happened and you were still reaping the fallout from all the chaos. Asher was getting better, he could finally sleep in his own bed though it was you who held off on making him sleep alone because you wanted him close, wanted to protect him. Rafe was the one who gently coaxed you into letting Asher back in his room after sleeping in your bed for two months. You had sat outside your son’s bedroom door, hand over your mouth, quietly sobbing that whole night.

You sighed deeply as you turned to watch your son. He was so young and already he had been exposed to how cruel the world could be. You wouldn’t let that happen again.

You shook your head even though Madeline couldn’t see you, “They’re probably busy. I’ll have to rain check on this one but you guys have fun.”

There was silence on the phone for a moment before Madeline’s voice traveled through the speaker, her tone of voice held a hint of frustration and annoyance, “I know it’s been hard but you’re going to have to let people help you, Rafe won’t always be here. This is a prime example.”

You were stunned by her words, completely catching you off guard. You knew she could be blunt and up front but this was a sensitive topic.

“Until you have a son of your own, you don’t get to tell me what to do. Especially after someone beat him like a punching bag,” You said as you hung up abruptly. You set the phone down roughly on the kitchen counter while your hands came to rest on the top, your back turned to Asher. You closed your eyes once you started to feel the sting of tears. You dropped your head to your chest and counted to ten. You could feel yourself shaking as you tried to block out the images of seeing him in the hospital, the bruises, the blood. You could still hear Rafe’s frantic voice over the phone telling you to meet him at the hospital. It was the worst day of your life.

“Mommy?”

You sucked in a deep breath and quickly wiped your eyes before turning around. Asher was staring at you with wide eyes from the kitchen table, his drawing abandoned, “Yes, baby?”

He squinted his big green eyes at you, like he knew something was off but couldn’t explain it, “You seem sad. Like when I can’t find my favorite tractor.”

A laugh you couldn’t stop escaped from you, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you started smiling, “Mommy’s okay. I promise. I was just counting to ten.”

You could see his little mind was going a mile a minute trying to make sure you weren’t lying to him. You always told him lying was frowned upon and that you should always tell the truth. He was a very intelligent toddler for only being three years old. He was very observant too, something he inherited from his father.

“Like you and daddy showed me when I get sad?” Asher quietly asked you. Your heart squeezed in your chest as he recalled what you and Rafe had taught him.

“Yes, baby. That’s exactly right,” you smiled sadly at him. It was something you and Rafe had taught him when he would get upset and didn’t know how to control his emotions. You had taught him to close his eyes and then slowly count to ten, with the hope that it would help clear his mind. After he had calmed down, you and Rafe would sit down with him while he tried to explain what he was feeling so you both could help him through it. Most of the time it worked.

“But that means you were sad mommy,” He furrowed his eyebrows at you while sliding off the chair, making his way towards you. Once he reached you, he wrapped both arms around your waist and hugged you tightly.

You gently put your hand on the top of his head, stroking his hair out of his face while you smiled down at him. You had so much love for this little boy. You were suppose to be there for him, protecting him and here he was doing it for you.

You squat down to your knees so you’re face to face and hug him closer. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss his temple, “You are the sweetest little boy, Asher Cameron.”

You heard him giggle against your neck, “Daddy said I had to take care of you while he was gone since I’m the man of the house now.”

“Did he?” You say as you pull away from the hug, your eyebrows raising as you grin at him.

He nods excitedly. Just as you were about to respond, your computer starts to ring from the living room coffee table.

Asher instantly grabs your hand and drags you into the living room, dinner abandoned on the counter tops. You both plop down on the couch as Asher opens your laptop to an incoming FaceTime call from Rafe.

“It’s daddy!” Asher squealed while you laughed and pushed the green accept call button. Rafes face instantly popped up on screen. You could tell he was sitting against the headboard of his bed in the hotel room. He was currently in New York closing on a deal with a big corporation. As soon as you and Asher came into view, Rafe had a soft smile on his face.

“Hey big man, you taking care of mommy?”

Asher nodded his head and scooted closer to the screen to get closer to his father, “I am! I’m the man of the house now daddy, that’s what you said.”

You smiled at your son, shaking your head. Seeing Rafe and Asher interact never failed to give you butterflies. He was such a good dad to Asher. He always made time for him, no matter where he was. It made your heart squeeze in your chest in the best way possible.

You could hear Rafe’s laugh through the computer as he responded, “I did. It’s a big job I can only trust you with.”

“You can trust me daddy!” Your son said seriously, hand saluting to the computer. Rafe saluted back with a big smile on his face. Before Rafe could say anything more, Asher started talking about his tractor drawing he was working on before dinner. You gently sat back against the couch, tucking your knees underneath you as you watched the father and son talk back and forth. Asher was speaking fast and talking with his hands as he got excited about his drawing he couldn’t wait to show Rafe. It warmed your heart, this was exactly what you needed after the phone call with Madeline.

“And then mommy had to count to ten so I gave her a hug like you do when I get sad.”

Your eyes went wide as Asher recalled what happened in the kitchen just moments ago. Rafe’s attention shifted to you in the corner of the screen as he furrowed his eyebrows, talking a bit slower now, “You did good buddy. Just like we taught you. Why don’t you go finish your drawing so it’ll be done when I get home tomorrow, yeah?”

Asher immediately jumped up from the couch, briefly saying goodbye to his dad on the laptop before zooming to the kitchen table to do as his dad said. Once he was seated, you turned your attention back to Rafe who was already watching you. You leaned forward slightly to turn the volume down. You knew this conversation wasn’t for little ears.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Rafe quietly asked. He didn’t want to push you but he wanted to be there for you. It was a fine line he had been walking since Asher was born. You weren’t in a relationship but you still trusted him more than anyone else.

You glance back to make sure Asher was occupied before speaking softly, “Madeline called earlier. She just said some things that she shouldn’t have. Made me think about what happened.”

Even through the laptop screen, you could see Rafe’s jaw clench. His eyes slightly narrowing as he tried to think about what Madeline had said to you. He had never been fond of Madeline. He thought she was self centered and blunt. Not the kind of good blunt where people needed to hear the truth, it was the kind of blunt where she hurt people’s feelings on purpose to get what she wanted. She was what he classified as a mean girl. He didn’t understand why you were still friends with her but every time he brought it up you demanded he drop it.

Before Rafe could say anything you started talking again, “I already know what you’re thinking and after what was said I don’t think we’ll be hanging out anytime soon.”

“Good. Never liked the bitch anyways,” Rafe was smug when he responded. You rolled your eyes and checked on Asher to make sure he didn’t hear the swear word despite the volume being low.

Rafe hesitated before he spoke next, “Are you okay though?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” You paused briefly before continuing, “I don’t know if you’ve heard but I’ve got a man of the house looking after me now,” You grinned as you brought your elbows to lay on your knees, hands resting under your chin.

Rafe let out a big, booming laugh. His hand came into the screen as he ran it across his chin, a huge grin sliding across his face, “The only man I’ll allow to take my place until I get back.”

You paused as you studied his face and his comment. Despite you two not being together, you did flirt back and forth with each other. It was just natural, you couldn’t stop it if you tried. Just because you weren’t together didn’t mean you no longer found him attractive and as he got older, he only got hotter. The buzz cut he got about a year ago was still your favorite look and made your mouth water.

“The only man you’ll allow, huh?” You countered back, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Thats right, sweetheart. Don’t act like you got someone else. Besides, Asher would’ve spilled already,” He winked at you. You quietly laughed because you knew it was true. Asher and Rafe were two peas in a pod.

“Yeah I’m aware. My own son would sell me out,” You shook your head as you glanced down at your feet, smiling.

“As long as you have us, you don’t need another man,” Rafe said confidently, shrugging his shoulders.

“Like I want another man. You two are handfuls already,” You couldn’t even imagine starting a new relationship. Having to introduce them to Asher and Rafe. That just sounds like an experience you’d rather not go through. While Rafe was respectful of your boundaries, he still could get very jealous whether you two were dating or not. The good thing was you had no desire to start dating again. Your main focus was your son.

“And don’t you forget it,” He chuckled as he glanced at his watch, yawning. He started stretching his arms above his head as he said, “I should get some sleep. Early flight tomorrow.”

You nodded your head, tucking the hair behind your ear as it started to fall, “Get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Rafe said his goodbyes and ended the phone call. You closed the laptop as you got up from the couch, ready to finish dinner. As you walked to the stove, you noticed Asher was almost done with his drawing. As you got closer, you could see he had drawn three stick figures in the corner of the page. One of the taller stick figures had long hair, which you assumed was you while the other stick figure stood taller than the rest. The last of the stick figures was small with green eyes, just like your son.

“Is that mommy and daddy holding your hands, baby?”

Asher nodded without glancing at you, too determined to finish his artwork, “You think daddy will like it?”

You leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head, the love you have for your three year old bursting out of your chest, “Daddy will love it.”

Part 4

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harmless-variety-of-garden-snake · 2 months ago

Note

I saw a post today that made me sit up and go 👀 so for the kiss prompts if ur into it: SalBuckTommy with maybe 18, 36, or whichever sparks the most joy/inspiration <3

~ @wee-fuckin-woo :]

(...as encouragement, ...to give up control)

This is going to be borderline porn, sorry, I can't not with that idea and those men. I fused the two a little.

Sal is an asshole, but he's not a homewrecker. He's especially not going to wreck the home of Tommy, someone who's meant more to him over the years than he's ever been comfortable putting words to.

So when Buck starts giving him those shy little smiles and ducking his head and flushing all pretty and licking his lips when Sal's around, he backs off. He doesn't want to tell Tommy, but he doesn't want Buck to turn around and break the guy's heart by stepping out on him with someone else.

Tommy, bless his heart, seems to be oblivious to the whole thing. He doesn't treat Sal any different, doesn't back off on the hugs or the shoulder and neck squeezes, doesn't stop grinning at him over every little thing. It's the same it's been between them for years, the same easy affection that's sometimes spilled over into something more on lonely nights.

He's having dinner with them one night, and there's more wine than there should be. Sal brought a bottle (he was raised right, despite what some people might say) and Tommy had cracked one open before he arrived, so they're a couple bottles deep and scraping the remnants of dessert into their mouths when Sal feels a foot brush his calf.

They've all got long legs, Buck especially, and the table isn't especially huge. So he writes it off as someone stretching at first, and then it happens again. Sal looks across the table and sees Buck watching him, and he feels heat and anger flare in his chest.

"You're kidding me, right?" he says, nodding toward Tommy. "Does he mean nothing to you, kid?"

"That's not his foot, Salvatore," Tommy says dryly, and Sal's anger freezes in his throat. "But thanks for defending my honor."

Sal looks between them, sees the look they exchange, and understanding dawns on him.

"Oh," he says, brows raising. "So, what are we thinking here?"

"We're thinking," Buck says, getting out of his chair and coming around to Sal's seat, settling easily on his thighs and pressing his hands to Sal's suddenly heaving chest, "that you haven't been picking up any hints."

"For weeks," Tommy adds, swallowing his last mouthful of wine. "Months, actually."

He gets up and kneels next to the two of them, and Sal's struck as always by how pretty Tommy looks on his knees.

"Go ahead," Tommy encourages. "He's been wanting it for months."

Sal looks up at the kid perched on his lap, brings his hands up to cradle his neck and jaw, and draws him into a kiss. Yeah, sue him, he's thought about kissing Buck a whole lot. He's beautiful, he's sweet, he's sharp, he's brave, he's enough of an idiot that he'll put up with Tommy's bullshit. So maybe he'll put up with some of Sal's.

When he feels Tommy's hand curl around the back of his neck, he turns his head and kisses him, too. Fuck it, if he's going to give in to them, he might as well give up any ounce of self-control he's been clinging to while he's been been flirted with for months by these two.

"C'mon," Buck says, sliding off his lap. "There's a really big, brand new bed in our room."

"I know," Sal snarks. "I moved the fuckin' thing in."

"Yeah, and then you ran off before we could ask you to fuck one of us on it, so let's go," Buck says, grabbing him by the wrist and tugging.

They kiss in every combination they can on their way to the bedroom and even try for one of those three-way kisses, breaking down into buzzed giggles.

"Think we might be too Italian for that," Tommy says, rubbing his nose after he'd smashed it against Sal's.

"You sayin' I got a big nose, Kinard?" Sal teases.

"I'm sayin'," Tommy says, bullying him up against the wall and grinning at him, sly and pretty, "shut the fuck up, Deluca, and show me what you got."

"You know what I got," Sal reminds him, looking over at Buck. "But he doesn't."

"Happy to find out," Buck says, coming at him from the side and kissing his jaw.

It's like being swept up in a riptide and yanked out to sea, having these two all over him, and Sal closes his eyes and gives in.

#salbucktommy #my fic #evan buckley #tommy kinard #sal deluca #writing game

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rcvcgers · 4 months ago

Note

hiiii kinda piggybacking off rotten apples, but I love, love, love non!mc fics & I see your requests are open!! I'd love any non!mc one-shot with xavier or zayne :') full of angst but happy ending

hi!! thank you for being my very first request!! i hope you enjoy <3

False Alarm

pairing: xavier x non!mc reader

synopsis: you are xavier's "girl in the chair". what happens when you lose all communication with him during battle?

word count: 2.9k words

warnings: light depictions of violence, angst

author's note: this is my first time writing for xavier! i wrote this really quick too so i'm sorry if it's all busted up. not proofread!

rcvcger's masterlist

“Think you can handle it?” You muse through a microphone on your clear desk. Xavier’s figure floats on the monitor before you. You watch him through security feeds from the old buildings on the outskirts of Linkon.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” his voice is like music to your ears; you can listen to the raspy and calming sounds on repeat and never get tired of it. The ashy haired man looks at his wrist and turns in a circle, head spinning around, trying to find the camera you’re watching him through.

“So close,” you hum, watching as his body turns away from you, “never mind. You’re cold again.”

“Where are you? Give me a hint,” Xavier faces your direction, body stopping. Your face scrunches up as you try to think of a hint in correlation with his environment. After a few seconds, you finally come up with it.

“You’re facing in the right direction, but instead of looking at the lumberyard, think more…administrative.”

“Administrative…” Xavier repeats the word in a hum, nodding, “okay!”

His tiny body moves around the screen. He grows larger and larger the closer he comes to the security camera. You sit in silence as if you’re hiding from him, not wanting to be found.

“Warmer,” you whisper. You can finally make out Xavier’s gentle smile when he looks up. A flash of light strikes across the screen as his sword appears from thin air. You snap your fingers and laugh. “Congrats, you found me.”

“I always do,” his warm voice soothes your anxiety. He quickly climbs up some rubble against the side of the building, standing up on his toes. His big blue eyes and soft smile. Xavier leans in, the security lens fogging up, making your screen fog up as well, as Xavier draws a heart onto the glass.

“Very charming, thank you,” you giggle.

You and Xavier have formed this routine over the course of a year. The two of you started off as one-time partners for a bigger project the Association threw at the UNICORNS. No other data analysts were available to help him so you stepped in.

At first, he was a bit cold. His introverted demeanor had you struggling to fill in the blanks of your conversation. You sat behind the computer screen as he, one of the Association’s best Hunters, followed your instructions through the abandoned building. The mission was a success, of course, all thanks to your instructions and Xavier’s ability to be a badass without even trying.

It was a month later when he asked for your help with a personal project of his. You helped stitch a camera onto his uniform so you can see what he sees, making communication much easier for you when he’s out in the forest or a place that had no cameras for you to look through.

A month after that, you found yourself with a new lunch buddy. Xavier listened quietly as you talked about your day and you listened as he spoke about his missions in very minimal detail. It was still exhilarating to listen to.

Xavier hung around the office when you worked late, always offering to walk you home. He began showing up to your apartment int he morning as well, ready to walk you to the office.

Whenever you worked with him as his “girl in the chair” (his nickname for you), he started a game where he tried to find which security camera you were watching him through. Xavier always wanted to greet you and say hello.

Doing this made him feel like you were there with him while knowing you were miles away tucked into safety at the Association.

It wasn’t long until the two of you began to date.

Your lunches turned into dates and you took work home so Xavier could sleep with his head on your lap while you finished analysis reports and data spreadsheets. Your perfect work attendance was ruined because of him always begging for five more minutes in bed, pulling you back into his chest as he buried his face into the back of your neck.

He wasn’t too happy to find out that you were assigned to other male hunters when he was off-duty. A talk with Jenna and Andrew soon changed that, leading to a much more clear schedule for the both of you.

“Metaflux about thirty yards from you, Xav,” your tone takes a serious turn. You lean forward in your seat, yes fixated on the screens, as you begin to type away.

Data floods your monitors. Information from the Metaflux’s chaotic energy inhabits your screen. Xavier’s body grows smaller as he heads towards the bundle of energy. You watch him from out of the corner of your eye while you shift through the Metaflux’s energy, weeding out its Protocore information.

A Wanderer bursts out of thin air, its animalistic screen crackling from the speakers of your computer. You wince at the sound, chills running down your spine, and watch as Xavier keeps his distance from the monster. You glance at the information on the screen and sigh from relief.

“Information says that it’s a low class Wanderer. It should be an easy fight for you, babe!” Your voice is cheery into the microphone.

“The faster I get this done, the faster I get to go home to you,” Xavier’s words cause you to smile, giggling to yourself.

“And the faster you get it done with, the faster we can home and sleep.” You smile, biting your lip.

“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” you can hear Xavier’s smile through his voice.

Beams of light illuminate your screen. Xavier’s body flings across the screen, his athletics knowing no bounds as he fights against the Wanderer. You watch him, chin propped up on your hand, and sigh, loving how elegantly his moves are. You’re so absorbed in Xavier’s fighting techniques that you don’t notice the flashing red lights on the screen next to you.

“What’s that sound?” Xavier pants, swinging his sword across the Wanderer’s thick skin.

“Hm?” You hum, sitting up. The red lights finally catch your attention and you read the data that zooms across your screen.

Your heart sinks into your chest. Goosebumps litter your skin. A knot forms in your throat, unable to form a sentence. Multiple energy fluctuations appear on the screen and all of them are within running distance from Xavier.

It starts off with one then jumps to five. They close in on Xavier’s location. Your heart pounds inside your chest, clattering against the top of your ribcage.

“Get out of there…get out of there now!” You yell at the screen.

“Wha—why? What’s going on?” Xavier’s voice is eerily calm despite the sounds of all hell breaking loose in the background. “Take a deep breath!”

“Xavier, please! Get out of there! Five Elite class Wanderers are about to—”

It’s too late. The security feed from your camera shuts off. Your eyes dart to the speakers when you hear a pained groan from Xavier followed by crackling static and white noise. Xavier’s communication devices shut off. The screens in front of you turn black, leaving you in complete and utter darkness.

“Baby?” You breathe out.

No response.

An ugly silence falls between you and the computer.

“Xavier?” You shudder, a single tear rolling down your cheek. You close your eyes and gnaw at the inside of your cheek. “Xavier, come in. Come in…please,” your voice cracks. Nausea sweeps over your body. You want to crawl into your body and hide from the world.

Is he…is he gone? He can’t be dead, right? No. No! That’s ridiculous! Xavier always gets back up! He never backs down from a fight, no matter how hard it is!

How can you live in a world that doesn’t have Xavier in it? It’s not a life worth living.

Your eyes go out of focus and you reach for the phone beside you, clumsily dialing Jenna’s number. A quiet cry escapes your lips when she doesn’t pick up after the first ring. The call is sent to voicemail but you immediately dial her number again.

The clear monitors shake when you push away from the desk, running down the Association’s hallway. Other data analysts watch, murmuring amongst themselves as you head towards the elevator. You step inside and press the button that leads to the building’s garage. The elevator drops and you dial Jenna’s number again when she doesn’t pick up for the second time.

“This better be important,” Jenna groans from her side of the call. You gasp and hug the phone to your face, your tears sticking against your phone screen.

“It’s Xavier! He was on patrol and all of his comms cut off and there’s no camera feed to see him and—”

“Woah! Slow down! What happened?” Jenna interrupts you. You slowly inhale and release a shaky exhale, trying your best to stay composed.

“Five Elite class Wanderers spawned where Xavier is. His feed cut out and…and I can’t contact him.” You can’t believe the words you’re saying. Jenna’s long silence tells you that she can’t believe it either. “Please,” your voice cracks, sobs overtaking your body, “please we need to go save him. I can send your Hunters the coordinates, I just…I need Xavier.”

“Send the coordinates. We’ll get there as soon as we can. Stay at the building in case he contacts you,” Jenna’s response reignites the flame inside your chest. You wipe away tears but shake your head, flinching at the last sentence.

“No, no, I’m sorry but I’m going,” you say as you exit the elevator. You rush to a nearby car, tapping your I.D. card against the glass. It lights up and beeps, unlocking. You pile inside and end the call before Jenna can object.

The first thing you do is shoot off the coordinates to the other Hunters in the Alpha squad. You set the phone down and start the car, the engine roaring to life. You don’t even buckle your seatbelt as the car lurches out of the garage, slipping into the empty streets.

The golden moon hangs low in the sky. There are no clouds and white specks of light litter the dark sky. You release a guttural scream.

Agony. Frustration. Confusion. Anger. Sadness. Denial.

Every single negative emotion you can think of floods throughout your body like a ravenous tsunami. Your lungs squeeze, unable to get any oxygen inside to feed on. Your blurred vision became another obstacle for you to overcome while you drive.

That morning, you and Xavier decided to stay in bed for an extra ten minutes. He held onto you, face snuggled into the crook of your neck, sleepily peppering slow kisses into your soft skin while you giggled at videos on social media. You occasionally showed him a few, earning a half-chuckle, before he began to lightly snore once again.

The day before that, you and Xavier were at the grocery store, buying items and ingredients for an impromptu dinner date. Xavier saw a video of a couple cooking a beautiful steak dinner together and he wanted to try it out with his one and only girl, you. The meal ended up burning and you two went out for ramen noodles instead.

Linkon’s outskirts comes into your field of sight. You roll the window down, ignoring all of Jenna and Andrew’s calls, trying your best to hear any commotion. You hold in your breath, lungs burning, muscles aching.

The only thing you can hear is the howling screams of the wind, ringing inside your ears.

Your grip tightens against the steering wheel and your knuckles turn white. Anxiety won’t let you go any slower, your foot pushing even further down on the gas pedal as you bust through a chained fence. The windshield cracks.

You gasp and the car wobbles. You regain control and gasp. Trembling fingers turn the wheel as the car slides against loose dirt and gravel.

“I’m almost there, Xavier!” You scream over the restless wind.

You have no fighting skills. You know you don’t. Xavier tried his best to teach you a few self-defense moves but you failed quite miserably, unable to throw him down onto the mat out of fear you’d hurt him. His laugh was so full of joy and his smile was even more warm and welcoming. The corners of his eyes wrinkled when he smiled at you, reassuring that no matter what you do, you’d never be able to hurt him.

You suddenly miss the way he lured you back into bed in the mornings. He always made up some excuse that his head hurt or that he feels sick and needs you to feel for his temperature. You always give into him knowing damn well that it’s a lie, a trick to pull you back down into bed after you’ve already showered and got dressed in your uniform.

Will you not be able to see Xavier’s sleepy smile anymore? Who else will burn pancakes when you’re taking a shower because, for once, you were the one who slept in late?

You slam on the breaks when you reach the abandoned lumberyard. The tires screech against the concrete, the faint smell of burnt rubber filling your nostrils. Without thinking, you jump out of the car, running forward and towards the smoke that floats into the air, hidden behind the building. Your feet carry you around the left side of the building, the same route you instructed your boyfriend to take, and listen as a Wanderer screeches.

You hide behind an egregiously large log. Moss grows along the dark brown bark, bugs crawling in and out from the wood’s old crevices. Peeking over the edge, you watch as a blurred figure fights against the last Wanderer. Your heart palpitates inside your chest, skipping beats from nervousness, almost stopping when you hear the rips Xavier’s sword makes.

It’s burly and ginormous. It is covered in blue scales, its wings a lighter blue and thin, the moonlight seeping through the thin layers. A small figure staggers back and forth, sword slicing through the Wanderer’s wings like butter. You gasp and move out from behind the log.

The Wanderer screams, its breath pushing Xavier’s hair off his forehead and into the air. He yells back at it, releasing his pent up anger and frustration. He charges towards the monster and jumps, beams of light escaping from his hands. He blinds the Wanderer and manages to cling onto its back. He digs his sword inside the Wanderer’s body.

The monster throws his head back and screams, gurgling on its own blood and pain. The creature collapses to the ground, Xavier, staying where he is, making sure that the Wanderer doesn’t get up. He sighs and draws his sword from the Wanderer’s long neck, wiping its blood on itself.

“Xavier!” You yell. The figure hesitates in the swing of his sword, just missing the Wanderer’s body. He turns to face you.

Xavier’s body relaxes. His sword sizzles into sparks, disappearing. You fully move out from behind the log and sprint in his direction, unable to stop your body. He hops down from the Wanderer and walks towards you, slightly limping.

His white Hunter’s uniform is battered and torn. His pale skin pokes out from his chest and side, blood seeping through the white fabric on his right bicep. The sight of him breaks your heart. You run faster, your feet barely on the ground, as you fly towards him.

You collide into his body with an ‘oof’ and wrap your arms around his torso. You bury your face into his chest as agonizing sobs leave your body. Xavier holds the back of your head, desperately clinging to you as much as you cling to him.

“I thought you were dead!” You lament against his chest. His body is steady and calm while yours trembles, ready to crumble from the pressure you felt mere seconds before. Xavier’s heart steadily beats inside his chest. It’s like he didn’t just survive a perilous battle against five Elite Wanderers. You pull away and look up at him, a big frown on your face.

“Dead?” His brows furrow. You snuggled into him, trying your best to literally get under his skin. Even then, it won’t be close enough.

“Yeah,” you sniffle, “your comms and camera went out. What else was I supposed to think?”

Xavier blinks. He thinks back to the beginning of the fight and how the first Wanderer knocked him backwards with its tail. The force from the hit destroyed the camera in one go. When the other Wanderers showed up, his wrist watch shattered into a million little pieces after getting smushed between two bodies.

He sighs and kisses the top of your head. You slowly pull your face away, looking up into his baby blues with a frown and tear stained cheeks.

Xavier brushes loose strands of hair out of your face. He tilts his head to the side, a small smile creeping onto his lips. He gently wipes away your tears, your mascara wiping off on the pad of his thumb.

“My Star…” he whispers, “I’m always going to come back to you. Nothing will stop me from coming back to your side. I love you.”

masterlist of works

#xavier x reader #xavier x nonmc!reader #lnds xavier #lads xavier #loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #rcvcgers writings #rcvcgers asks #rcvcgers requests

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captain-huggy-bear · 27 days ago

Note

Hi!! I just had a thought for Clayton or Kess that I had to share. Reader who either has a concussion or amnesia after surgery forgetting that they’re dating and being so flustered when he’s acting like a boyfriend. Sorry if this didn’t make sense. It just came to mind and I had to share! 🫶🏼

Requests are currently closed while I work through current ones <3 (We're nearly at request reopening time though) Writing Masterlist

He was warned that you might be a bit confused when you finally came round from your surgery. Specifically he was warned that the anaesthesia might make your memory a bit fuzzy. You might not remember that you'd come in for surgery on your knee or that you had a problem at all in the first place.

So when you wake up to him sat next to you, your hand clasped in both of his own and stare at him like he's an alien, your mouth open, eyes wide, he doesn't take it too personally.

"Hey, baby..." His voice is sickly sweet, soft, oh so soft, and you're so confused because Clayton Keller did not call you baby...he barely even talked to you. Your cheeks grow hot, blood rushing to your face. "How you doing, sweetheart?"

"I...what happened?" You try not to let it get to you, the pet names, the sickly sweet tone, the soft eyes. You try not to think about how your hand is definitely growing sweaty and clammy from nerves where Clayton is holding it because when did he hold your hand? When did Clayton Keller even look at you, let alone touch you? Last you checked you just happened to exist in the same circle as him, just that girl who happened to be friends with Michael...why wasn't Michael here instead?

"You had your knee surgery, baby, remember?"

"Wha'?" You're getting so confused that you're starting to get emotional, tears coming to the surface, bottom lip wobbling and it has Clay shushing you, moving from his chair to the bed with you. He tugs you into his arms and you freeze like a deer in headlights.

"You okay, baby? What's wrong?" He knows you don't remember the surgery, that bit is obvious, but you're not acting like you normally would around him. Your face is fully flushed, nervous breathing, muscles tense like being this close to him is making you nervous. You haven't been nervous around him for months now.

"Why are you calling me that? You never call me that..." You tug away from him, enough to put space between you because Clayton Keller does not cuddle you. Not in your wildest dreams.

"Baby...I call you that all the time?" He's a little hurt actually, confused too now, because he calls you baby all the time. He barely calls you by your name anymore, in fact you tell him off if he calls you anything but a pet name. You get offended that you've been downgraded to your actual name.

"No you don't. You barely even talk to me...."

"Y/N, I'm you're boyfriend. We live together." It's like a bomb has been dropped, your face paling, body freezing up even further because that's not possible. Clayton Keller barely talked to you, let alone dated you. You still lived with Michael as your roommate...

"No you're not. No we don't..."

"Yeah, we do, see..." He gets his phone out. The lock screen is the two of you, you kissing his cheek while he grins the goofiest, widest smile possible. His dog is at your feet. He unlocks his phone and goes to his camera roll and each photo confuses you even more.

Pictures of you in your PJs on the couch, pictures of the two of you cuddling, kissing, holding hands, pictures together curled up in bed...Pictures at the beach. Pictures at dinner. Pictures upon picture of you and Clayton clearly together, clearly in a relationship. Not something he could just fake.

"You're my boyfriend?"

"Yeah, baby, have been for 8 months now...you don't remember?"

"Noooo..." You're starting to get teary again, drawing out the word, "Why don't I remember?" Your distress is from your sudden realisation that you've forgotten 8 months or more of your life.

"Hey, hey, baby...it's okay...the doctors said you might be confused for a bit. It's just the meds, it'll wear off." He tries to reassure you but he's also reassuring himself a little. A tiny bit scared you might actually have forgotten him forever...although if you have he's determined to make you fall in love with him all over again.

"You promise?"

"Of course, baby, c'mere..." Clay's quick to pull you back into his arms, cheek pressing against the top of your head as he rocks you. "You're going to be okay...oh, baby." He's babying you, he knows he is, but he also can't comprehend how scary it must be for you. You can't remember nearly a year of your life and even if that's temporary that's scary.

To add to that he's here. To him you're his long term girlfriend, but to you? To you he's a guy who could barely talk to you for months and acted disinterested because he liked you so much he got too nervous to talk to you. To you he's the unapproachable captain of your friend's hockey team. He's a guy you barely speak too...and he's here calling you sweet names and telling you you're living with him.

So yeah, he babies you, and yeah when you start to cry he holds you tighter...because this isn't about him, it's about you and how scared and confused you are right now. His job as your partner isn't to get upset or angry that you can't remember him, it's to help regulate you, to help you feel safe when everything you know is unsteady and unstable.

#clayton keller x reader #huggy bear writes #clayton keller/reader #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

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it-was-summer · 6 months ago

Text

... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can.

A/N: This fic genuinely had me tearing up as I wrote it. Therefore, it shall hold a sweet place in my heart. As a kid, I used to say, "If something makes you feel, then it is good." I still believe that today. If it makes you happy, sad, flustered, ANYTHING! To feel something while reading is such a beautiful reaction to media. I often cry at movies, I cry when I read romance novels, I cry when I read poetry, and I laugh when I do, too. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you feel something, Em <3 (I also apologize for vanishing; I got sick, and it made me feel brain fog)

Link to the Ao3: ... And Fall In Love Whenever You Can Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Grief support group, mention of death(s), loss of romantic partners, struggling with mental health, tears, the rise and fall that is nonlinear healing, fear of forgetting a loved one, falling in love after tragedy, Spencer sounds like he had therapy, Maeve mentioned, guns mentioned, she/her pronouns for reader used at like one point, Reader's POV for the most part, Reader is in extreme denial and feels guilty, a secret other thing??, lightly proofread tehe!

Genre: Light Angst, Some? Hurt/Comfort, Fluff! Pairing: Season10! Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: Meeting Spencer at a grief support meeting might be the best and the worst thing to ever happen to you- but it's all relative in the eyes of love.

Word Count: 9,791

You were pacing a dimly lit parking lot outside of the funeral home. It had been eleven months, two weeks, and three days since Alexander’s death. The grief meetings occurred every third Wednesday, and everyone was lovely enough. You just couldn’t find it in yourself to go inside this particular Wednesday. Because it was on this date, two years ago, Alexander had gotten on one knee at the aquarium and asked you to marry him. It was two years ago that you had said yes, not knowing that a little over a year from then, he’d be dead.

Your feet kept making strides to the double door entryway, only to slow to a stop when your hands reached the door’s push handle. Then, you’d shake your head and turn around to circle the parking lot once more. With your luck, the meeting would be over before you even got the courage to go inside.

A groan escapes your throat as you firmly put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the Summer sky. “I’m sorry,” Your voice is raw, barely a whisper as you struggle to keep yourself from crying. You knew everyone said not to keep it in, to express your grief freely. It minimized stress. At least, that’s what the grief counselors say.

The worst part was no longer knowing who you were apologizing to— yourself or Alexander.

You were walking around one of the parking lot’s street lamps when you saw someone standing at the doors, frozen in place. It was like watching a mirror of yourself—rigid shoulders, twitching hands, shaking head.

You approach the man slowly, your image warped in the reflection of the glass doors. He turns to face you before you can speak, and he looks like you did eleven months ago. His eyes have dark circles around them, tinted with a red water-line and dull cheeks. That doesn’t stop you from gracing him with a gentle smile, “Are you going inside?”

His eyes meet yours for a second, looking away to glance back at the doors. “I’m not sure.” His voice is quiet, scared. He sounds like he is still on the fence. You nod, drawing your lips into a tiny line as you drop your hands to your sides. “Are you?” He asks, stepping out of the way for you.

You feel your mouth open to say you are going inside, but the words never come. Instead, you shake your head side-to-side timidly. “I’m not sure either,” You laugh out feebly. He nods, a dull smile gracing his delicate features for a millisecond before looking off with a forlorn expression.

“I was thinking about walking around the parking lot again… to try to gain the confidence to go inside. You’re,” you pause, wondering if it's a good idea to offer the man an invitation, “You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

The man looks at you again, his eyes widening for a second. You’re sure he’s about to decline, return to his car, and drive away, but he nods. You feel yourself smiling. It’s a little subdued, but it’s real. You mouth a silent ‘okay’ as you move your hands to your pant pockets, stepping away from the doors with this mourning stranger. You figured you didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to, so everything was quiet as the two of you slowly walked around the large parking lot.

Eventually, your quiet stranger speaks, “Thank you,”

You shrug a little, sniffling, “It’s daunting, especially the first meeting.”

He frowns a little, watching your eyes flit over to him and then back to the night sky. “That obvious?”

“Only a little, but that’s not a bad thing.” Your voice is gentle as your feet slow to a stop, a light smile appearing on your face as you stare into the night. Spencer tilts his head to look at the stars, silently hoping that what makes you smile will make him smile, too. “Do you see her yet?” You ask, voice like honey.

He feels like crying as he says, “No,” He doesn’t even know who you’re looking at.

Your right hand is coming out of your coat pocket as you point to Cassiopeia slowly, tracing the stars with your index finger. “Cassiopeia, she’s a little low right now, but in a few months, she’ll get higher. You see her?”

And Spencer does. He feels his body relax, just for a moment. “I do.” He feels himself smiling a little at the sky, and the feeling feels almost foreign. His gaze falls back to you as you stuff your right-hand pack into your pocket, “I’m– I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’m Spencer.”

“That’s alright; I didn’t introduce myself either,” you sigh before you tell him your name. He nods at your response and follows you once your feet start moving again.

“Have you—” He motions to the funeral home in the distance, “ever been inside?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m a funeral home grief support group regular.” You joke lightly, though the soft chuckle you let out sounds like a sad one.

He nods, nervously adjusting the beige cardigan on his chest. “Is everyone—I mean—” He draws his lips closed as he tries to gather his thoughts. “Do you like it?”

Your feet slow for a second as you think about it. Sure, everyone was friendly, and the support was more helpful than harmful. But did you like it? You give him a little nod when you answer, “Yeah, it’s been nice. Less,” You tilt your head slowly like you’re choosing your words carefully. “Less Lonely.”

Spencer lets out a relieved-sounding sigh as he mutters a gentle “Right.”

“I just,” You swallow carefully, “I’m having a hard time going in today. My fiancé proposed two years ago today. I just— I mean everyone inside knows, I just,” You trail off for a second, sniffling lightly as a cool breeze brushes against your watering eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

Spencer didn’t know what to say to that. With Maeve, he had barely met her in person before she was murdered in front of him— the future pulled out from under him. Nowadays, he spends his time rereading books, remembering conversations on the phone, and mourning her silently in his apartment. Sometimes, he didn’t know which would be worse: losing her when he did or ten years down the line. Nonetheless, there is no Maeve to help him answer that question.

He struggles to find the words for a second before he nods, slow and unsure of himself, “It matters.”

You grin at how scared he sounds, the sound of a man holding on to the memory of a face that keeps fading away in his mind. “I know,” you can feel the ghost of the engagement ring on your left hand, a ring that now lies in a coffin.

As the two of you get close to the building once more, you ask, “Are you going to go in?”

Spencer swallows hard, the knot in his throat making it difficult for him to breathe. “Maybe next meeting,”

You nod, “Me too.” You stare at your car in the distance before you feel yourself standing in the parking lot with Spencer— unmoving. “I know it’s not a lot, and I know that I can’t help that much, but,” You pull your phone out of your pocket, opening the keypad cautiously before holding it out to him. “If you ever want to talk about it, or anything really, I’d be happy to talk with you.”

Normally, Spencer would decline such a kind gesture. He would thank you, drive home, and find solace in something familiar. His fingers twitch lightly as he reaches out for your phone, staring down at the keypad for a second before he puts in his number. He doesn’t know why he wants to talk with you. He thinks it’s because talking with a stranger about Maeve seemed less daunting than talking about it with his coworkers— his friends. You barely know him, and that makes your offer seem safe. No preconceived notions, pity, or gentle promises of being there for him, just a stranger talking to another stranger.

Two weeks go by like usual— no text from your stranger named Spencer, coffee for one at the café that was Alexander’s favorite, taking his mom to dinner on Thursdays, and so on. Sometimes, the days blur into a muddled painting filled with muted tones, and you try your hardest to remember when everything had a vibrant hue.

Most days are easy, easier than most, at least. It’s not that you forget about him. You remember him when you see a couple holding hands or golden retrievers going for walks, you think about him with everything you see, and it feels good to remember him. You’re happy to have known him so well, loved him so deeply. But all the love inside you has nowhere to go, so you go to his grave on Saturdays, hoping you can pour all the love in your heart onto a tombstone with his name on it. It never works, of course, but it helps.

You're running late this particular Saturday morning. You have two coffees in hand—one of which always goes untouched—and you’re stuck on the metro. That’s when you see him again, your stranger sitting in the fluorescents of the railcar.

Pushing through a small crowd, you approach him, slowly taking the empty seat next to him. Spencer doesn’t look up at first, his eyes glued to the book in his hands. That is until you’re leaning over to him to say a small “Hello,”

He jumps at the sound, head snapping to look at you with wide eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s so surprised you remember him, but he is. “Hello,”

Your eyes meet his, “Do you remember me? I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have invaded–”

“No! I mean, yes, I remember you. You’re not invading my space. You’re fine.”

You let out a relieved sigh, looking away from him for a second to look down at the cups in your hands. His eyes follow your gaze, and he offers you a shy smile, “Are you meeting someone?” Small talk was never his strong suit.

You look at him, eyes lingering on his polite smile. “Oh,” you laugh like it's funny. “No, it's just me.” Spencer gives you a confused look, and you quickly answer his silent question. “I visit Alex’s grave. He loved black coffee. It was the most unsettling thing about him.”

Spencer doesn’t know how you’re smiling so wide as you say it. How could you talk about someone you lost and smile so wide talking about them? Would he smile like that one day? Would he even have things to smile about, or would what-ifs haunt him until the day he dies?

You find that you hate the silence that follows, the lack of sound creeping over your skin, making you itch to say something more. “I’ve always liked cemeteries too, so bonus, I guess.”

That gets you a sharp laugh, “You’ve always liked cemeteries?” Spencer’s eyes seem slightly brighter now, less red than two weeks ago, and they’re laser-focused on you.

You happily nod, “Always thought they were beautiful. It’s a creation of love, a way for your love for someone to live on.”

“Not sure everyone thinks about them that way,”

“Well, I guess they wouldn’t, and that’s alright with me.” You hum softly as the intercom announces in a static-filled voice that the railcar will be moving soon. “It’s quieter that way.”

Spencer glances towards the intercom for a second before turning back to you, “I suppose you’re right— about the quiet thing, not sure I agree with always liking them.” And he’s smiling at you, a real smile.

You feel yourself smiling back, wide as ever, “What’s your opinion on cemeteries then?”

“I’d like to say I don’t have an opinion on them, but if I had to form one, I would say they’re…” He trails off for a second, thinking about it more now. He laughs for a second, “Well, I suppose I find them rather serene.”

Your eyebrows raise for a second as you study him. How he seems to be relaxing in the conversation, and you can’t help but consider extending him an invitation to your weekly visit with Alexander. The longer you stare at him, the more you think the worst he can say is no, so you ask. “Would you like to join me?”

Spencer reels back slightly at the invitation; it feels intimate, yet he doesn’t want to say no. He wants to see what you see, to understand your mind, “I–” He looks away for a second, staring at the still-opened book in his lap. “If you’ll have me.”

Once you are on the street, you hum lightly while walking beside him. Spencer doesn’t seem to mind very much, his fingers fiddling with the edges of his book that now resides closed in his hand at his side. He’s nervous for some reason. He doesn’t understand why you invited him, nor why he said yes. He thinks maybe he should announce that he has other plans, turn on his heel, and book it in the other direction.

But when the two of you tread closer to the cemetery gates, you start talking again. “I hope you don’t find it strange that I invited you. It’s been a little under a year– well, a year next week– and I know it might seem weird, but I’d like to think he’s happy about me having a new friend.”

He knows it is a coping mechanism, and he knows Alexander cannot feel anything anymore. Spencer’s a man of science, but hearing you say that makes him feel at ease. His shoulders unwind slowly, “He sounded like a nice person,”

You let out a playful hum, “Sometimes. If he didn’t like you, he made it pretty obvious.” You pause for a second, glancing over at Spencer. “He was tall, kind of like you, and nerdy. But he was so funny; no one knew how funny he could be. They never listened hard enough, you know? I hated that people would talk over him in a crowd. To me, he was the only person worth listening to.”

Spencer finds him smiling at that, following you as you take a left. He sees that you're smiling, too, and when the two of you get to his grave, you’re still smiling. You let out a happy sigh as you talk, introducing Spencer as “Your new friend.”

For a while, you tell him stories—memories from when Alexander was still alive—and he finds he doesn’t mind listening to them. He sees them as a great distraction from his lack of happy stories with Maeve. You’re laughing a little as you tell him of the time that Alexander’s mother wouldn’t stop sending him a massive, bulk-sized trail mix every time she sent him a care package in college. He had so many bags that they lived under his bed for the better part of four years.

“Did he even like trail mix?”

“Honestly? Yes, but he only liked the chocolate and peanuts. It would just be massive bags with an abundance of raisins inside.” You shake your head a little as you stand next to Spencer.

Spencer lets out a slightly amused hum. His mind keeps going over how good you are with everything. You talk about Alexander openly. You don’t hold your feelings back. You smile so wide, even when you look at his headstone. He wants to know your secret— some secret to grief that he has yet to uncover.

His mouth opens briefly, closing quickly as he shifts his weight awkwardly beside you. He sucks in a nervous breath as he tries to muster up the courage to speak. “How do–” He sighs heavily, “I mean, I’m sure you struggle–” He licks his lips nervously, your eyes meeting his slowly. “When does it stop hurting?”

You’re silent for a second, your soft smile fading as you stare at him. He’s scared that maybe that’s the wrong question to ask as he watches you turn your head to look down at Alexander’s grave. He is about to apologize when you whisper, “It feels different now.”

Spencer’s mouth snaps shut as he waits for more, his eyes scanning your side profile slowly for some sort of sign that you’re uncomfortable. “Last year, it just felt like–” A pause, your free hand rising to your chest slowly. “It felt like someone had plunged a dull knife into my chest and left me for dead.”

Spencer’s chest tightened for a second, his own heart feeling painfully dull as he listened to you.

“But, I’m not the one who died. Alex did. I was so angry— disappointed that he had the nerve to leave me when we were about to start the next chapter of our lives together. I had–have– all this love inside my heart for him, and he’s gone. It took me a long time to understand that, to be okay with it.”

Your words catch in your throat, and you clear your throat quickly. The familiar burn of tears threatens to build in your eyes as you force yourself to look at Alexander’s grave. “He was so kind, and once I got past that feeling,” your voice sounded thick. “Life kept going, and so did I. He wouldn’t have wanted me to stop living my life. When you love someone, you only want them to be happy– with or without you.”

You sniffle lightly, relaxing your shoulders slightly, “It never stops hurting, I guess, but days get better. I’m happy that I got to be a part of his life. I find some comfort in that. Somewhere, in the story of him, I’m there.” Eventually, you find the courage to look over at Spencer. When your eyes meet his, you find that he’s staring at you with a compassionate expression. You can see the understanding in his eyes. You swallow hard, pushing the emotional lump down your throat.

“It does get better.” You whisper, your voice warm.

Spencer nods quickly, mouthing a little ‘I know’ before his eyes trail away from you for a second. A cool breeze passes between the two of you when he says, “Just needed the reminder,”

The next time you see him, it’s the third Wednesday of the month, and he sits right next to you. You find yourself smiling a little when he does, nudging his shoulder playfully as more people fill the space. He scoffs playfully, the silent gesture letting you know he’s happy you’re here.

The meeting passes like usual: New members share their stories, grief counselors hand out business cards with their phone numbers, recurring members offer kind sentiments, and then, just near the end, your seat partner stands up.

Your eyes widen for a second as you watch Spencer stand, his eyes laser-focused ahead as people turn to look at him. You watch how his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. A shaky breath leaves him as he tries his hardest to start talking. His hands flex for a second, pressing against his pants to wipe off what you can only assume is sweat.

He stutters for a second, his confidence creeping away from him. You’re surprised when he turns his head to look at you. His breathing steadies as he watches you. “I’ve been having difficulties sleeping again. After,” His hands move a little as he speaks, his eyes periodically looking towards the rest of the group before trailing back over to you, “I just– I used to have a hard time sleeping, and lately, it’s been happening again. Every time I sleep, I see her, and I feel so–” He used to dream of her after her death, dreamt of touching her, but these were different. Dreams that constantly left him waking up feeling devastatingly alone.

He shakes his head a little, “It’s been seven months, and I keep dreaming of everything that could have been.”

The confession is met with comfortable silence and sympathetic looks, but not from you. You’re nodding, an encouraging smile spreading across your face. For some reason, he likes that better. “I don’t like leaving her when I wake up.” The admission feels like a weight lifting off his chest when he says it.

There’s a pause of silence before he sits down, unsure of what else to say besides his admission. As one of the counselors begins to talk to Spencer, he finds himself listening intensely. Seven months, and he’s finally willing to take some much-needed advice.

After that month’s meeting, Spencer has back-to-back cases. He’s keen on keeping in contact with you, which you’ve said he doesn’t have to do if he doesn’t want to, but he insists. He likes having someone to update, a friend waiting to see him when he’s free.

The next time he’s free, it’s a rare Saturday. He’s been awake since five and can’t seem to go back to sleep. He does keep dreaming of Maeve, but they’re a little different now. This time, he was in a cemetery with you. It was freezing, the kind of cold where you could see your breath, and you were laughing about something when the two of you bumped into her. Maeve’s not angry. She just laughs and glances at Spencer before hugging you. You hug her right back and say something– and that’s when he wakes up.

Spencer doesn’t like the feelings that stir inside him with that dream: confusion, curiosity, sadness, something else. The feeling is warm, tinged with an overcoat of sorrow, and he finds himself needing a good distraction.

However, reading isn’t helping, nor is the crossword. So eventually, he finds himself getting ready to go out for the day in the search of a good distraction that will get his mind off his dream.

He doesn’t know why he thinks about the cemetery where Alex’s grave is on his way to get coffee that day, but he does. A part of him feels that a nice walk will do him good, so, coffee in hand, he finds himself walking… then taking the subway… then ending up in front of Alex’s grave… alone.

Spencer’s lips slightly pout when he sees no coffee cup on the headstone. He knows that you have yet to visit your late fiancé today. He doesn’t exactly know why he’s visiting your late fiancé today; without you, it feels… strange.

The longer Spencer stares at the letters etched in stone, the more he feels a realization dawn on him. He feels guilty… guilty for dreaming of you, guilty for craving your warmth right now, and guilty for a million different little reasons.

Spencer feels his lips part for a second, a sigh escaping his lungs, before he whispers, “I’m a mess. " He knows he’s talking to thin air, but he feels lighter, admitting it to himself.

“I don’t know what I’m feeling. All I know is that I shouldn’t be, and it won’t do anyone any good, and secretly I think–” He sucks in a cold breath of air, “Secretly, I think I don’t deserve it.” The grave is silent, of course, but Spencer smiles anyway.

For a while, he thought his future had passed him by. A brief image graced his vision before leaving him blind. He can see now. He sees that he still has things to do, goals to accomplish, people to meet. Then he’s walking away.

Two meetings and four coffee ‘dates’ later, you’re rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you watch Spencer laugh over something with one of the grief counselors. It’s a strange feeling to see him laugh so openly. It's heartwarming if you’re being honest. It’s hard to explain it, and the feeling is too intense– too raw. It’s a feeling you dimly remember, and suddenly, you’re nauseous.

You have a crush, which is incredibly laughable because you’re an adult. The last time you had a crush on someone was three years ago, Alexander. This almost feels cruel. The longer you stare at him, the more real it becomes.

Spencer catches your eye for a second and excuses himself from the conversation in his polite Spencer way. When he reaches you, he smiles warmly: “Somebody’s all smiles.” You hum with a playful roll of your eyes.

Spencer pouts for a second, good-natured and playful, as he mutters a little, “When did smiling become a crime?”

“It isn’t. I’m just being observant, and you have a nice smile.” You try to keep your voice calm and level, but he seems to catch on anyway. Spencer’s eyes seem laser-focused on you, studying you carefully. Internally, you’re beginning to pray that his profiling skills fail to notice the classic signs: your sweaty palms, wandering gaze, and too-tense shoulders.

And if he does notice… you hope he doesn’t say anything. That’s not Spencer’s way, and you know it. “Everything okay?”

You nod quickly, “I’m good, sorry, I was just thinking about… bills.” You know he catches the lie the second you say it; you can see it in his amused smile.

“Bills?”

“Bills.”

“I’m not sure I like this story you’re going with, but if you’re sticking to it, I won’t pry.”

You nod, letting your shoulders relax as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Thank you,”

“I was thinking,” Spencer starts as he grabs his messenger bag, following you out. “We could get dinner together Friday night.”

“Why?” Your tone is a little flatter than you’d like it to be as Spencer walks you to your car. You'll admit the idea of being alone with him is nice, but the admission feels strange— still too raw, surreal.

“Because…” He trails off slowly, hoping to find a better reason than it being because he wants to have dinner with you, but the longer he sits with the ideas, the more he feels like you’ll turn down his idea. He feels self-preservation take over, and for the first time (and what he hopes is the only time), he lies to you. “My teammates are having a get-together.”

“Oh!” You say as the two of you reach your car. “And you want me to meet them or?” The idea seems less daunting. Yes, Spencer and you had been to get coffee together, but that was just coffee. Dinner seemed too intimate, but dinner with friends? Now, that was less scary.

“Yeah! Yes, I think it’d be nice!’ Spencer’s voice cracks slightly before nervously clearing his throat in a weak attempt to control the anxiety that creeps into his tone. “Would you… like to meet them?”

You’re leaning against your car door, and the air smells sharp with the promise of snow, and Spencer’s sure you’ll decline. You grin, nodding slightly, “Sure, I mean, it’s just dinner with friends. What time Friday?” Your arms fold over your chest, pulling your coat closer to your body.

“Six.” He doesn’t know how his fake dinner has a time, but he’s surprised at how easy it is to come up with one. “Nothing fancy. I’ll, um, text you the address.”

You watch him for a second, trying to read him the way he reads you. His voice seems higher in pitch, and his eyes keep glancing at yours. You chalk it up to him being nervous. The combination of two groups already frying his nerves before it even happens. “Can’t wait. See you Friday.”

Spencer stuffs his freezing hands in his pockets as he watches you enter your car and drive off. Then, the panic sets in.

He’s tailing Derek desperately, “Listen, I know it’s rushed, but–”

“I don’t see why you can’t just text her the address and ask her out. Straightforward.” Derek says as he takes the left towards Penelope’s office. “Or you could say we canceled and make it just the two of you.”

“Considering I already lied to her once, I’d rather not lie twice. And–” He fumbles with his words for a short second. “It’s not a date. I just thought she thought it was one, and I panicked.”

“What’s wrong with it being a date?” Derek asks, knocking on the door gently before entering Penelope’s office.

“Date?” Penelope echoes back as she turns in her chair.

Spencer holds out a hand defensively, “It wouldn’t— it’s complicated! Please say yes. You’re the first person I’ve asked.”

“Asked what? Am I going to be asked?” Penelope chirps as Derek hands her a coffee.

“Pretty boy here,” Derek motioned to Spencer with a light wave, “Lied to one of his ladies. Invited her to a team dinner that doesn’t exist.”

“A team dinner would be fun! With a new addition, too!” Penelope said with a sip of her coffee. “When?”

“Friday,” Spencer mumbles, avoiding her gaze.

“Friday, as in, tomorrow Friday?” She sucks in a breath of air, “Spencer…”

He frowns and mouths a little, ‘I know’. He looks at them, pleading, “Please, even if it’s just the two of you…” He trails off slowly, watching Penelope and Derek share a look.

“I’ll text the rest of the group.”

“Not the whole story,” Spencer adds as Penelope pulls out her phone. “Please.”

“I’m already doing you one favor, boy genius.”

Spencer is surprised at how many of his team members agree to dinner. JJ, Penelope, and Derek all promise to bring their respective partners. Rossi and Hotch politely decline, but given his sudden plans, he doesn’t blame them.

However, by the time five-thirty rolls around, he can see that he’s been played. The first text comes from JJ, claiming that Henry is sick and that she can’t make it. Derek follows, saying that he accidentally double-booked and cannot cancel his reservation with Savannah. He can feel himself sending a silent prayer to Penelope before she, too, is texting him to cancel.

So now, he stands outside the restaurant in a long brown trench coat and purple scarf tied tight around his neck. When you arrive, adorned with a cream sweater and rosy cheeks, you ask him the inevitable: “Where’s the team?”

Spencer's throat tightens as he answers, “They’ve canceled, so it’ll be just us if that’s alright with you?”

He can see your smile falter momentarily before you nod, “That’s fine, another time.” You shiver a little, glancing towards the restaurant. “Should we…?” Spencer, silently elated that you aren’t leaving, nods and hurriedly rushes over to open the door for you.

Once seated, you are greeted by a slightly uncomfortable awkward silence. You’re sure that it will soon resolve itself, but Spencer seems too lost in his thoughts, and it becomes clear that if you want this long silence to end, you’ll have to speak first.

“I’m sorry every–”

“Do you–”

The two of you stare at each other briefly before laughing softly. Spencer’s eyes crinkle a little when he’s laughing, a feature you seem to be adoring silently before he says, “I’m sorry that everyone canceled.”

You push out a little breath, your gaze falling to the menu on the table. “That’s okay, I’m sure everyone has busy lives.” You shrug a bit before glancing up at him, “I do have a question for you, though,” You watch as Spencer’s back straightens, and he gives you a small smile as the ‘go ahead.’

You flatten out the front of your sweater nervously, “Do you think it’s weird that I was supposed to meet your friends— the team?”

Spencer gives you a slightly confused look before you quickly add, “I don’t think it is, but I was talking to my coworker about tonight, and she said it seemed like an excuse for a date. Then I explained it, and she called it weird, and I don’t know—Do you think it’s weird?”

Spencer can feel his cheeks heating up against his will, and his head shakes from side to side, “No! No, it’s not weird.” he pauses, thinking about it for a second. “Well, maybe a little. But not for you, for me. You’ve never expressed an intense interest in meeting them, but they mentioned bringing someone, and I thought—” He motions to you with a shaky hand, “Thought you’d be a good person to bring to dinner. You’re lovely, and my friend, and I—” he feels the rest of his words die in his throat. He wants to tell you that he wants the team to meet you. He wants everyone to see how wonderful and kind you are.

He feels his mouth dry, realizing he wants you to meet the team now. He wants a third party to witness your calming effect on him, and, most importantly, he wants them to like you because he likes you.

A slow ringing grows in his ears at the full realization of his feelings for you. Your smile, usually calming, has his heart leaping in his chest. He finds himself leaning closer when you say, “I didn’t think it was weird either,”

Spencer lets out a little huff of relief, “Good, that’s good.” His heart was beating fast in his chest. He knew he had feelings for you but was unaware of how deep they ran.

“Though I will say, it is strange that they all canceled.”

He feels awful lying to you. He can count two lies now and doesn’t want to tell a third. “Yeah, I can’t explain that one. They all did it at the last minute. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind, though I was scared this was all a set-up for a date.” You laugh as if it’s the silliest idea you’ve heard.

Spencer can feel his heart in his throat, his breathing quickening slightly. “Would it be bad if it was?” he can’t stop the words from spilling out, his eyes widening at his sentence.

Your surprised face stares back at his, breathless as you look at him. You’re about to say something when the waitress comes by to take your order. You manage a slight, polite smile as you order before you’re staring off at Spencer. His nervous eyes flicker between the waitress and you as he orders quickly.

When she’s gone, you stare at each other with bated breath. You draw in a slow, calming breath when you say, “I don’t know,”

“You don’t… know?”

“I just, I haven’t thought about—” You pause, knowing it’s a lie. “I have—” You correct gently before you let out a frustrated sigh. “I thought we were friends.” Your voice cracks slightly.

Spencer draws his head back at that, “We are friends. We are. I didn't know if you ever thought about—” He doesn’t know what he’s saying. What is he aiming for here?

“Anyone dating you would be lucky, Spencer.” You say, sweet and gentle. You don’t know how to save this situation. Your love for Alexander will always be in your heart, strong and genuine, but… looking at the man across from you.

You watch his fingers nervously trace patterns on the glass of water in front of him, how he’s looking at you with such a sweet expression. You just didn’t think this would happen to you. You were sure that Alex was it. He was all you would ever know— you had resigned yourself to it.

Would you be a bad person if you fell in love again? After everything, it feels… selfish, dirty, wrong, terrifying. “I’m not sure I’m your best option.” Is what you settle on.

Your heart silently breaks as you watch Spencer’s face fall. His nervous fingers slow their movements until he whispers a sad, “Right.” There’s a pause, like he’s deciding what to do next. He then nods, like he’s coming to terms with something.

“Right, I’m not saying I’m looking–” His brown eyes scan your face, “I’m not even sure I want something like that. I don’t know why it sounded like I was. I just want you to know that I—” He swallows thickly, “I like being your friend.”

“Me too! I like being your friend, too.”

“Good!”

“Great!”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “So we’re on the same page?”

“Same chapter and everything.”

Spencer lets out a huff of a laugh at that, nodding slowly.

The rest of the dinner seems normal; the interaction from earlier seems to be brushed under the rug, and you’re grateful it is. However, the topic kept worming its way into your train of thought. The nagging thought of ‘What if…’.

It's not a terribly horrible idea to date Spencer. If you were honest with yourself, you had thought about it before—not obsessively, just in passing. A little whisper of an idea, lovely and new. It was nice to fantasize about love, but it was just a fantasy. You had a great love, and you were grateful.

Wanting more than that was greedy.

After dinner, Spencer insisted on walking you home. He wouldn’t listen to a single one of your protests and simply convinced you with a firm, “I’ve seen what happens to people when they go off alone late at night,”

The reminder made you readily accept his company on the cold December night. Walking by his side, watching how your feet started to sync in step, your mind began to wander. What did a date even feel like? It had been so long since you’ve had a date… you weren’t even sure you would know if you were on one unless it was explicitly said.

The thought makes you chuckle, earning the interest of one Doctor Spencer Reid. “What’s on your giggling mind?”

“Nothing,” You sigh, glancing over at him. “I was just thinking about how long it's been since I’ve been on a date. I don’t even think I would know if I was on a date if I was on one. Someone would have to sit me down and explain it to me,”

Spencer’s lips quirk upwards at the idea, listening to you. The sweet look he’s giving you is not lost on you as you continue to ramble, “I mean, I’m not even sure I remember the last time I tried to look for a date.”

“Care to take a guess?”

“Uhm,” You draw out the sound as you think, your tongue wetting your lips. “Six months ago, maybe, kind of, sort of?”

Spencer’s clever mind quickly realizes that this failed dating experience happened a month before he met you, and then he notes that it also happened ten months after Alexander’s death. “And.. What do you mean by that? How does someone, kind of, sort of, maybe look for a date?”

You roll your eyes, “It wasn’t really my idea. My friends convinced me to go on some dating apps, and I tried!” You laugh lightly, “Well. I pretended to try. I just didn’t like it. It wasn’t what I expected.”

“What were you expecting?”

Your feet falter momentarily before finding their pace next to Spencer again, “Something from a Nora Ephron movie, maybe? Something like You’ve got Mail.” As you say it, you see the strange look on Spencer’s face, and it makes you grin. “It’s a romantic comedy.”

He mouths a soft ‘oh’ and feels awkward because he still doesn’t know what you mean. You’re quick to explain, “It just means I had high expectations. Alexander and I were friends for a while before we,” You trail off before you wave the sentence off with your hand. “I just didn’t like it. Felt too forced.”

Spencer understands that part, slowly taking a left with you. “Haven’t tried that yet.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

He grins and nods, “What do you recommend?” His curious mind was getting the better of him. His left hand slipped out of his coat as he waited for your answer, his knuckles dangerously close to yours.

“In a world seemingly becoming increasingly dependent on technology for everything? I’d recommend shooting your shot with every pretty stranger you see.” It's a joke, but the idea of Spencer asking for the numbers of every pretty person in DC made your chest feel strangely tight— a light reminder that your crush was still going strong. And you’ve already turned him down.

“I’m not sure you’ve been paying close attention to me these past four months,” He jokes lightly.

“Oh, trust me, I have been.” The words tumble out before you can stop yourself, and you can feel your cheeks growing impossibly hot.

Spencer’s quick to tease, “You have been?”

You nod, trying to act like it's nothing but friendly, but your nervous breathing might give you away. You take a steady breath, happy to think that if he sees red on your cheeks, you can blame it on the cold weather.

Instead, he slows to a stop just steps away from your apartment complex. You stop, turning to look at him, and when you see him, all composure leaves you with one little glance. Spencer’s ears are red, his hazel eyes glued to yours, and his hands nervously fidget with his long purple scarf.

He draws in his lower lip nervously, his brow furrowing in the way that lets you know he’s meditating on something in that beautiful brain of his. His hands move as he begins to talk, “I have been too,”

With that, you feel all the air knocked out of you, and your trembling fingers hide in your pockets. You’re not sure what he wants you to say or do. It feels like a confession, making your heart pound in your chest. His sweet eyes study you, “I’m not sure what I—” He steps closer.

“Not sure what I want. All I know is that I feel something—” He makes a weird motion with his hands like he’s trying to shape his feelings with his hands. “Hopeful? I don’t know! I just,”

“I know.” You rasp out, nodding quickly. “I know.” You repeat it because you do know. You know what he’s feeling, that dangerous feeling of tentative hope, the sense that something is beginning again. The world shifting into focus and becoming colorful again.

Spencer’s gaze softens as that, and then the two of you just stare at each other for a moment. Guilt seemed to creep into your chest, invading your heart the longer you stared into those pleading brown eyes. Some part of you wanted to give it a shot, take him in your arms, and just let go. The stubborn part of you couldn’t let go of what you once knew.

What would you say to your friends— or worse, Alexander’s family? Thinking about being happy with someone else again felt like a betrayal.

Spencer could see the shift in your demeanor, the way your eyes glossed over with emotion, your back rigid, and he knew you weren’t ready. The feelings you were feeling were ones he wrestled with weeks ago after visiting Alexander’s grave. “I visited his grave without you a few times.”

Your brows knit together at that, stuttering gently as you manage a soft “Why?”

“I felt guilty about how I feel about you. I thought visiting his grave would make me back down, but it didn’t. I visited Maeve’s grave and thought about my feelings there too. She would have liked you.”

“Spencer, don’t–”

“You told me once that he would’ve wanted you to be happy with or without him. Why can’t you let yourself be happy? I know it’s uncharted territory; it is for me, too, and he knows you don’t love him any less–”

“You didn’t even know him!”

Spencer's lips draw into a tight line at that. You can’t stop yourself before saying, “You don’t understand the love I had for him. It was different from how you felt about Maeve. It was special.”

Your breathing is heavy, and you're trying to stop yourself from crying. The second you say it, you regret it. Your rigid posture slacks, and you step towards him quickly, but he steps back once you get closer.

“You don’t get to say that,” his voice is colder, his eyes cast down to his hands. Then he takes a sharp breath and looks up at you; his warm hazel gaze turns cold. “My love for her was just as special as yours was for Alexander. I can see that, even if you can’t. But at least I can see when something exceptional is right in front of me. Unlike you, I didn’t want it to slip through my fingers again.”

Your mouth feels dry as you try to respond, anger and guilt fighting an internal war inside you before Spencer turns on his heel and says, “Goodnight,”

The snow starts again as you watch him walk away, blinking flakes out of your lashes, cheeks red from the tears falling as you watch him disappear around the corner.

The conversation is still fresh in your mind at dinner with Alexander’s mom Tuesday night. She lives just outside the city in Maryland, so whenever she made her way into the city, you made it a point to meet up.

She watches the way you’re staring at your sandwich. The intense look you’re giving the meal almost makes her laugh. “Don’t be upset with the club. We can always get you another sandwich, dear.”

You raise your head slightly at that and let out a nervous laugh, “No, the sandwich is fine. I’m just thinking. I’m sorry, Shannon.”

Shannon lets out an understanding hum, waving you off with a simple flick of her wrist as you apologize. “Is it work?”

You give her an easy smile, “Ah, no. It’s… confusing and probably boring; don’t worry about it.” She gives you a little look that says, ‘Come on, really?’ and it makes your smile widen.

“When you retire, everything is confusing and boring, so lay it on me.”

“Shannon, please, I promise you don—”

“I will make you pay for this meal; do not force my hand.”

“I am paying?”

“Exactly. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

You slump in your seat and nod in defeat. “Alright, well,” you wet your lips nervously, trying to figure out the best way to tell her. “You remember last time I mentioned that I had that friend from the group? The genius—Spencer.”

Shannon nods, motioning for you to keep going slowly, “Well, lately, he and I have become aware of some feelings for each other, and I–” You can feel your legs trembling, “He just doesn’t get it. I can’t do that to Alex or you. He just doesn’t understand—”

“Sweetheart, slow down.” She held up a hand, an amused look on her face as you rambled at the speed of light. “Start over.”

You let out a little huff, trying to calm your growing nerves. You roll your shoulders back, gaining some composure, “I have feelings for him, and I thought it was just a passing crush, but now it’s getting so messy. And he told me that he has feelings for me too, but I told him off, and we haven’t talked in four days– which would be fine if we didn’t fight, but we did— and I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“He’s really sweet and great, but I just… I keep thinking about my love for Alex and don’t want to let go of him.” Your voice gets quiet with the admission. “I’m happy loving just him, only him.” Your voice shakes lightly, forcing your gaze down, your eyes filling with tears.

You hated telling her this— hated telling her that your stupid heart found itself attached to someone other than her son. You mentally prepare yourself for something, anything, yet you still cringe when you feel her hand rest on yours.

“He’s dead–”

“I know–”

“No, listen,” Shannon says sternly, watching as you lift your gaze to meet hers. “He’s dead. Every day, I have to remind myself he’s dead. I know you do, too.” She frowns for a second before she gives you a weak smile. “But, you? You’re alive. You’ve experienced a loss no one should have to experience at your age, and yet here you are. Would he be ecstatic over you falling in love with someone else? Not quite, but I know my son. He wouldn’t want you to be alone. Or worse, unhappy.”

You blink away tears, your bottom lip trembling, “I don’t want to forget him,”

“Who said you’re going to?” Shannon jokes lightly, giving your hand a light squeeze. After a moment, she whispers, “Knowing Alex, he probably sent Spencer your way.”

You laugh at the idea, but the sound dissolves into a little sob, “He would.”

Shannon brightens momentarily, “He was always jealous of how good you were at trivia night. Maybe he wanted someone to beat you for once?”

“Spencer can!” You laugh harder than you should, but you can’t help it. You picture Alex’s face, joking about how you have too much useless knowledge in your brain.

As your laughter dies away, a wave of anxiety rolls over you. “I was awful to him last Friday.”

“Then make it up to him,”

After much deliberation, you knew you would, or at least, you would die trying. The next meeting was in two weeks, which seemed too far out. After three texts, two calls, and one voicemail, you decided to go to him.

You had been to Spencer’s apartment once before and were sure it was on this block… maybe. It was early Saturday morning, and you could only hope he would look out his window and see you pacing the sidewalk.

But an hour passed, and the cold wind forced you into a coffee shop down the block. Shivering as you waited for your coffee, you glanced at the unread texts you sent him one last time before stuffing your phone back into your pocket.

Clearly, he didn’t want to see you, much less talk to you. You chewed on your bottom lip, lost in thought until you resolved that seeing him at the next meeting would have to do if he didn’t text you back before then.

And so, two weeks and no texts back later, you sat in your usual foldable seat and waited. But he never showed. Your eyes watched the doors patiently, and you counted every last participant, thinking that the next one had to be Spencer.

But they weren’t. He was nowhere to be found. You had sat on your feelings for him for weeks, sat on with nasty comments and behavior for two weeks, and found yourself still waiting. He didn’t have to attend every meeting, but you felt even more desperate than before. Hating the feeling, you left halfway through.

It wasn’t like you could force him to talk to or forgive you. But it hurt knowing just how much you had hurt him. Were you being selfish for wanting a chance to confess to him again? Was it selfish how you looked for him in every crowd?

The unfortunate reality of your pain was that you were so scared of falling in love again that you pushed love away before it could even touch you. You found yourself driving to Alex’s grave that night. It was out of your way, but you didn’t want to go home just to wait by the phone again.

After parking in a nearby parking lot, you found yourself standing in the middle of a very dark, isolated cemetery. If Spencer were here, he would say how dangerous this was, maybe even throw in a statistic just to solidify his point.

You smile, eyes adjusting in the moonlight as you look down at your dead lover’s grave. You crouch, touching a bouquet of almost-dead flowers at the foot of his grave. “Was I bad at this with you, too?” Your fingers trace the brittle petals of a dying rose.

You can hear the crunching of gravel and slush approaching you, and a part of you freezes. As the sound gets closer, you can hear panting, your head turning cautiously to look for your rapidly approaching company.

When you see the silhouette of a man not too far down the trail, you tense. How stupid were you to be in a secluded area in the middle of the night? You curse under your breath and stay crouched, hoping it’s just a late-night jogger passing through and that he won’t see you if you stay low.

Your eyes stay on the figure, and you mentally go over possible escape plans when you see it— a messenger bag. What kind of serial killer or jogger wears a messenger bag? Your tense shoulders briefly relax for a second at the thought.

Then, a hint of moonlight illuminates your huffing stranger— messy brown hair and a crooked tie. You stand, “Spencer?” You say his name when he approaches you, the moonlight letting you get a glimpse of his soft eyes for a moment. “What are you… How’d you know I’d be here? What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t at the meeting,” He huffs, leaning over to rest his palms on his knees.

“I–” You scoff, slightly amused. “I left early. Did you show up?”

“No,” he admits, his tone becoming sharper as he catches his breath. “No, I–” he hesitates for a moment, “I saw your car on my way home, and I got worried, and I–” He roughly drags a hand through his curls, “You shouldn’t be in isolated places like this late at night.”

Your shocked expression melts, and your lips quirk into a slight smile. Spencer sees this and responds sharply, “I’m being serious!”

You hold up both hands, “I know, I—” You sigh, a slight chuckle following the sound before you say, “I knew you were going to say that. I could hear your voice when I parked across the street.”

“Maybe you should listen to it sometime,”

You nod, and then a moment of cold silence follows. The two of you stare at each other for a long moment before you feel your lips moving against your will, “You never called,”

Spencer can feel his heartbeat quicken, “Wasn’t aware I had to.”

“You didn’t have to. I just would have–” You cut yourself off, nervously licking your lips. “I wanted you to.”

Spencer stays quiet before he replies with a soft “I’m sorry,”

You find your smile returning as you shake your head, “That’s my line,”

He lets a little chuckle at that, ready to tell you it’s okay, when you quickly add, “I’m sorry for how I acted three weeks ago. I shouldn’t have been so cruel or close-minded, and I should have been honest with you about my feelings. I’m sorry I pushed you away. I’m sorry for implying your love for Maeve wasn’t special. Oh, Spencer,” You let out a heartbroken sigh, “I feel terrible. I was such a bad friend, and these past few weeks, all I’ve wanted to do is make it up to you.”

You can feel the tears threatening to fill your vision, your cheeks burning in the cold as you let out a meek, “Tell me there’s something I can do to make it up to you,”

Spencer can see your pleading eyes in the moonlight, and his chest tightens at the sight. Ignoring your calls and texts wasn’t easy, but he was convinced that it was the right thing to do. You weren’t ready to move on, and neither was he— not completely, but he didn’t want to try with anyone else. He only wanted to try with you.

He swallows thickly when he says a sweet “You’ve already done it,” Then you’re beaming at him, and he’s right back where he was three weeks ago. As you dry your misting eyes, he softly confesses, “I watched You’ve Got Mail.” He pauses, smiling lightly when you give him a surprised look through your tears. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I–” He nervously moved his hands as he talked, “I watched any Romcom that I could get my hands on because I—”

You smile as he trails off, his hands twisting together in that nervous way that tells you he’s scared to say the rest of his sentence— he’s too afraid to say he missed you. “Me too,” You confess, “I missed you, too.”

He nods, a grin on his face as he looks at you. He can feel his confession rising in his throat, his lips moving awkwardly as he tries to gain the confidence to confess to you again.

But, before he can say anything, you’re speaking, “I don’t know if you still feel the same as you did three weeks ago, but I–” You swallow hard, clearing your throat softly. Your hands move with you as you speak, the cold making them feel slightly stiff. “For the longest time, I couldn’t imagine myself happy with anyone other than Alex.” You blow out a sigh, glancing back at his tombstone. “I thought one great love was enough— I only deserved one. I was happy with that, and I felt lucky for it.”

You can feel yourself trembling, and you don’t know if it’s the cold or your nerves getting the better of you; nonetheless, you keep going, “But lately, I’ve been thinking— hoping really— that you’re the expectation.” You squeeze your eyes tight at that last bit, trying to calm your breathing as you wait for his response.

“If anyone deserves more than one great love, it’s you.” Spencer’s voice sounds closer, soft.

When you open your eyes, you realize he is closer, inches from you. You gaze up at him, giving him a light smile when he whispers, “We can take it slower,”

“I like slower.”

He laughs and nods, “Me too,” he holds out a cold hand for you to take, “Let me walk you to your car?”

You stare at his palm, watching your cold fingers intertwine with his. The sensation makes the tips of your fingers buzz with anticipation. You feel his hand gives yours a slight squeeze before guiding you to the parking lot across the street.

It’s not the last time you walk side-by-side, holding hands in the middle of the cold East Coast winter, and he’s determined to make sure it’s not your last.

And whenever anyone asks how the two of you met, Spencer lets you tell the story, his hand slipping into yours as you say, “Well, it’s a bit of a long story.”

#fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid criminal minds #dr reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #...and fall in love whenever you can #it-was-summer

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kyri45 · 1 month ago

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✨SBP: Second Star Q&A! 20/05✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU Spin Off! If it’s not answered here, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@autism-autobot ha chiesto: Weird 3 AM question for you: Do the stone monkeys have belly buttons? They came from eggs, so they might not but they may have been magically connected to something or someone, so...? Bellybuttons? Sorry if this is weird, my brain has been thrown for a loop lately.

They don't

@fake-anjel ha chiesto: Kyri, I remember you liked to draw Nezha a lot (don't blame you I have a literal list of logical explanations of why he's so drawable) But I've been wanting to ask you, how you think about baby/child Nezha? Since that in the legends he's a child god, Pluss in his old movie he died and stayed in the form of a child so I believe much in the theory that he's stuck in the age of six (when he died and came back to life) forever, both mentally and physically and uses glamour to age up so people take him more seriously I want to know if you also head cannon that theory ? (just pure curiosity)

There's a lot of different version, it's interesting to see that in LMK he's kind of an adult, I like to think he did grow up a little during the millenia, or that his outer appearance reflects his mental age, so in the years he was forced to "grow up" after his father became the pagoda wielder, and so he also reflect the age he must follow to be taken seriously by his father

@elianaroselight ha chiesto: It's wild to think how long Wukong and Macaque had been gestating their little girl. They went into meditation at month 9 and meditated for 11 more. That is 20 months! Almost 2 years!

if you think about it Nezha mother's gestation period was 3 years, so they got even lucky with that.

@straightally2001 ha chiesto: I'm curious, is the baby gonna grow differently than MK. Is she gonna be a toddler longer than MK was?

yes, just a bit longer, not that much.

@the-ninja-girl-in-blue ha chiesto: Are we going to eventually find out what the baby’s name is going to be or is she not gonna have a name at all? I’m not asking for what her name is now I’m asking if we’re going to ever find out what it is or if she’s gonna have one.

yes, at the end of the spin-off

@wintzrr ha chiesto: Dumb quesiton 💔 I forgot where but i read that your gonna make 3 spin-offs of the bio parents au, just by curiously… Is one of them about spicynoodles.. I say with a hidden folder pure spicynoodles fanart from your fanfic. ON MY HANDS AND KNEES I NEED TO KNOW. ALSO I LOVE YOU ART SO MUCH OH MY GAWDD.

@writingamongther0ses ha chiesto: Random thought- Pigsy: *opening the shop* *monkey noise* Pigsy: *turns head* Child: *sitting calmly next to the door* Pigsy: "..." Child: "..." Pigsy: "Tannnng...it happened again!"

LMAO

@selfdestructivecat ha chiesto: OMG SHADOW POWERS!!! I’m sure that’s not gonna give the parents any heart attacks lmao I’m curious if this is why Mac’s shadow powers were going haywire while they were feeding the baby their power, while Wukong’s were greatly weakened? And if this was also why Mac seemed to be more drained by the process than Wukong, at least at first?

A little, but mostly because he died once so he's weaker

@twilight-bai-he ha chiesto: I just realized something so you know That MK and Wukong can shrink so Red son and Macaque can have a tiny pocket husband/boyfriend

This is a very important information, thank you for sticking this image in my head.

@michigo-eevee-trainer ha chiesto: For the Bio Parents AU, I do have one question. If MK had used his energy to help the child grow, would that help or hurt the child? I mean I know it needed energy from it's parents in order to grow but MK is their brother. So wouldn't that work too? Though it would drain MK badly as well so maybe it wouldn't be a good thing.

It wouldn't have hurt it, but he would have needed to be part of the ritual as well and having to be connected to them as well during the gestation period.

@lizislife ha chiesto: Will we ever see macaque truly get mad?

maybe

@coolshadowkiller99 ha chiesto: Hey. I have a question. I know a lot of people make Mac and iron fan sworn siblings like wukong n dbk but are yours? Like wine auntie pif? Also I just want to hold bby mk and the shimians and everyone like burgers cause they're so adorable! I love them! I wish they could meet my oc Alix and alis.

yes she's wine aunt

@emptystarhead733 ha chiesto: Yello. I wanted ta ask since I love your art. Would Wukong throw her, for funsies, thinking she'll just teleport back, but when she doesn't Macaque catches her, scolding Wukong for it????

that's more of macaque honestly

@imafluffycupcakey ha chiesto: Will we see the baby all grown up? By the end of the spin-off? Maybe? Pretty please?

nope

@s-p-r-i-n-g-t-i-m-e ha chiesto: what’s the baby’s relationship to Tang and Pigsy exactly? :0 uncles? stepdads? dads in law? brother’s dads? also why are Wukong and Mac so tired, baby seems pretty chill? esp. since she’s already 3ish, only cries when overwhelmed by people. is it the stress of a toddler that can portal around so they always gotta find her? she’s def not as active as baby MK lmao

they are both uncles. Pigsy is also the godfather

@drpepperlover545 ha chiesto: this is a joke question but, will she get free noodles for life?

obviously

@monika-396 ha chiesto: Is Xiaotian gonna cut his hair now that his parents are back and his baby sister is here?

it's funnier if he doesn't

I have two question(I’m sorry if it’s too much😔) 1.)Would the baby be immortal just like her fathers, or they would have to do something to make her immortal? 2.)Is there a chance that you would make another spin-off that would focus on her life? (BTW I LOVE YOUR LATEST CHAPTER🤍🤍)

They aren't 100% immortal like wukong or macaque. They can perfectly become in some way immortal like Wukong did with his 72 transformations, and she does age more slowly by default

@vivian-adhd-core ha chiesto: So iI'm after my final exams (math went bad) and the bby made my absolute day. So I wanted to ask if it's okay that I make an AU of my main Oc being her auntie? (I hc my OC as Macaques younger sister. Also I will draw stuff once I ain't grounded!) Amaizing design, love it, keep up the good job and stay safe! 💖

As long as you tag me

@astro-nomaly ha chiesto: Can I ask why the baby has that weird blank spot in her face marking? She was literally just born so it’s not a scar, so what’s going on there? Ignore me if this is somehow a spoiler lol

birthmark

@keykittygirl ha chiesto: Since you said that ne zha will be in the baby shower, I'm just curious like will he actually gonna get his own clothes changing stuff XD I mean like we have seen how the other characters got a different clothes, meanwhile the poor lotus boyo only have his armor

he mostly wear his armor cause he's able to visit between his work shifts

@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: You think DBK picks Red Son up by the scruff of his neck like a mother cat?

sure, why not

@epicloversposts ha chiesto: Hiya! Just a little question about Wukongs and Mk's apparently shared weakness,how would red son react to finding out about Mk's weakness, would red son be flustered or would red son be devious and use it against mk to courtnap him?

i mean they already cournapped the other so- i guess only for teasing him

@autism-autobot ha chiesto: Does Mamacaque get Mother's Day while everyone else has to share Father's Day? How do they do?

he gets both

@neptune-nova ha chiesto: Would you ever make a spicynoodles comic? Just curious lol

unlikely. I have so many other comics I wanna do first.

#ask box #shadowpeach bio parents au #sbp second star

159 notes · View notes

etheralisi · 1 year ago

Text

I’ve been thinking about in-universe media so. Heh. Why don’t we tumblrify the ending of the rottmnt movie

Update: here’s part 2 and 3+3.5

💫silent_swirl Follow

Nice knowing you guys

🥐ittybittyypastrypuff Follow

Wtf??? Where do you live?

⏱️lordoftimeandspace Follow

You can’t just ask someone where they live

💰rhymeonthedime Follow

op must be from new york. i’ve been trying to text my sister who lives there all day and when she finally gets back to me, it’s to send me a photo of her being chased by some weird??? fleshy???? car? i think the pink stuff was growing inside of it?

🥐ittybittyypastrypuff Follow

The hell is happening in your city?

🔥guess-ill-die Follow

The end of the world

🐛lugbugg Follow

🎙️do-re-mimimi Follow

Where else would you learn that?

14,056 notes

🚀jj-sails Follow

Alien invasion???? This is not how Jupiter Jim said it would go

267 notes

🦙dramallama Follow

So who had alien invasion on the 2020 apocalypse bingo card

🤠see-you-in-space-cowboy Follow

At this point no one is surprised

#give it two months. somehow something will find a way to top this

12,435 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

I lived bitch

🌑faded-moonlight Follow

Context?

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

No ✨

43 notes

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

Sorry everyone ::> ︵ <:: No more art until my hands are healed up. Doctor’s orders

🧸bear-with-me Follow

Are you okay? 🥺🥺💞

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

♡ ♡ Achy. But I realllllly want to drawwwwwww

#I have so many ideas right now #currently trying and failing to draw with feet #but I am determined

226 notes

👾aliens-among-us Follow

Time to storm Area 51 again

#they can’t stop all of us #look I just want to see aliens in person okay #if they can’t invade my city then what’s the point #I know they have to be keeping some of those pink blobs in there

67 notes

🟦 outoftouchoutoftime Follow

Hello

🏒 hockeyordeath Follow

JUNIOR! HELLO

I SEE YOU HAVE DISCOVERED THE INTERNET

🟦 outoftouchoutoftime Follow

It’s Sensei’s fault

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

#I?????? #don’t just look at me it was purple too

5 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

I smell the scent of betrayal in the air.

#not science posting #blue I’m looking at you

77 notes

✍️writingprompts Follow

You are a time traveller sent back to stop the apocalypse before it ever began. Only problem is: you aren’t sent back far enough.

🟦 outoftouchoutoftime Follow

Relatable

💥zipzapzoom Follow

Umm???

4,522 notes

🕜has-lou-jitsu-been-found-yet Follow

Day 3667 of me posting: no

🪽angelofhell Follow

Wow this blog is dedicated

101 notes

🐝 dizzee-bee Follow

Why do aliens always invade NYC? What’s so special? Why don’t they ever invade Las Vegas huh? What about Boston? Where are my aliens in D.C? So many cities and you’re telling me they chose New York? If aliens really did invade I bet you they wouldn’t even come near it

🐝 dizzee-bee Follow

This post… aged

🐾 ultimate_cataclysm Follow

Pay up op

1,356 notes

🦊redfoxtrott Follow

there’s something weird going on in this city. remember that time at the stadium? suddenly it’s a free for all on world domination i swear

🪩glitter-jam Follow

I thought the whole stadium thing was a publicity stunt

👋saysayonara Follow

I thought that was a rogue cosplayer

#for real though. What even happened to them?

11,388 notes

🌎yes-the-earth-is-flat Follow

Wow. So tumblr thinks it can gaslight me int thinking aliens exits huh? Well think again

🌎yes-the-earth-is-flat Follow

Stop bringing up my username. You know im right

2,488 notes

🏒 hockeyordeath Follow

NO, MY KEYBOARD IS NOT STUCK LIKE THIS. EVERY LETTER I TYPE IS AS IT IS MEANT TO BE SAID. WITH PURPOSE AND VOLUME.

🏒 hockeyordeath Follow

IF MY USERNAME COULD BE IN CAPITALS YOU KNOW IT WOULD BE

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

I can help with this

#give me one minute and some flavourless juice

122 notes

💃disco-girl Follow

My apartment was almost flattened by a giant freakin robot a few years back. And now aliens????? I’m moving

#guys I’m just. So. Done with all of this

67 notes

🎙️do-re-mimimi Follow

So did the aliens just up and leave? What’s the story here?

🎩man-with-a-top-hat Follow

There have been various sightings of lights across the sky. I have not been able to find any reliable sources on the cause, but the general consensus is the lights pushed the aliens back where they came from.

🦇batarang Follow

This photo of some person swinging around the city has been making rounds on twitter

🐚seashellsshesells Follow

Pretty lights and vigilantes?

5,993 notes

❌cant-think-of-a-user Follow

So what are we calling these aliens? They need a cool, alien sounding name ‘cuz all I’ve been seeing around is ‘land squids’, ‘brain goop’ and shoutout to that one discord user who used the words ‘pink gelatinous parsnip’ to describe them.

👊punch-moodi Follow

Have they ever seen a parsnip before?

🤏deadly-nerve-pinch Follow

What about Utroms? They kinda look like the aliens from Jupiter Jim’s Last Trip to the Moon 9

❌cant-think-of-a-user Follow

Isn’t your fandom super dead?

🤏deadly-nerve-pinch Follow

Say that to our 80+ movies. Your faves could never

🚀jj-sails Follow

Fandom still going strong 💪

🍎almond-apple Follow

Why does everyone keep on calling them aliens? Are we sure they’re not just failed government test subjects? Haven’t there been mutant sightings in NYC before?

❌cant-think-of-a-user Follow

Sorry, mutants???

👾aliens-among-us Follow

Nah it’s defo aliens

❌cant-think-of-a-user Follow

#so far 3 votes for Utroms and 22 for parsnips #sigh

3,751 notes

🫎duck-duck-moose Follow

Children are terrifying

💤needsomezzzzzzz Follow

Agreed. But I feel like there’s a story here

🫎duck-duck-moose Follow

Was walking back from work, and I was like nearly home right? I turn a corner and there: a sea of cheering girl scouts. Who are they cheering on you ask? Their… cult (?) leader? Tearing one of those aliens apart with her bare hands. And the kids are just laughing and some are even joining in? They must have nerves of steel

💤needsomezzzzzzz Follow

Woah

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

@ HOCKEYORDEATH Hey look at this

372 notes

💀outoftouchoutoftime Follow

Set a profile picture because apparently everyone’s blocking me thinking I’m a bot?

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

Sorry CJ

9 notes

asprinkleofrazzmatazz said: Spread the sunshine ☀️ Post this in at least 5 ask boxes to let them know they make you happy

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

Aww, hey Orange

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Hey, where’s my ask

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Orange?

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

10 notes

asprinkleofrazzmatazz said: Spread the bugs 🪳 Post this in at least 5 ask boxes to let them know they’re bugging you

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Two can play at this game

🎨asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

Jk ☀️☀️☀️

29 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

I remember the good old days on tumblr. Back when my brothers didn’t know the name of my account. Back when they didn’t bug me in my inbox

🍞shortbutsweetbread Follow

Then make another one?

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Gasp. And leave behind a username such as this? I’m attached.

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

What about your sister?

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

You’re fine

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Favouritism

128 notes

🐱sophinophie Follow

Whoever you heroes are

Thank you.

❤️🧡💜💙

#I don’t know how you did it. Or what you even look like #but one thing is for sure and that’s that you are heroes

189 notes

1K notes · View notes

benedictscanvas · 1 year ago

Text

pretty boy, pretty girl - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

a/n: okay yes. it has been six months. which is actually mad to me, but there we are - whoops! i've been off following my dream and wrote this while procrastinating an assignment, so this is by no means a return!! honestly i was just itching to write it, but i don't know how much time i have for more - enjoy nevertheless <3

warnings: just a little bit of suggestion towards the end, reader is referred to as 'pretty girl' as the title implies amongst other pet names, quite a lot of swearing (some things don't change)

---

“Hi love.”

Jamie barely murmurs it as he walks past you, can’t help himself but to drag a palm along your back, one shoulder blade to the other, as he goes.

He knows he’s bold sometimes, but he swears it’s instinct. He glances back to see whether your expression holds any discomfort, but all he finds is your grin, a tiny wave. He continues on his path towards the canteen, knowing that your corridor conversation with Rebecca is probably important.

Somewhere between here and there, he decides to get your lunch, your usual, and sits alone on a table until you appear.

You do, three and a half minutes later. As soon as he sees you, the irrepressible urge to make you grin again is back with a vengeance. He waves you over to his table with a gesture to the food he’s got for you and- there it is again.

If he was a slightly smarter man, maybe he’d consider why all it took was the sight of him to draw your lips upwards, set your eyes alight.

“Thought I’d save y’ from the queue,” he speaks, still soft, in a tone he feels he only uses with you. You match his unnecessary low volume.

“Thanks, angel,” you say easily, and you must not see his stomach doing flips, “Too good to me, you are.”

“Shut up,” he deflects, wonders if you can see him fluster at your nickname for him, “Are you still coming tonight?”

You groan. He frowns, and you quickly correct.

“Sorry. It’ll be fun.”

“Yeah, you sound proper convinced, an’ all.”

You chuckle, taking a bite out of your sandwich and taking a pause to chew. Jamie eats too, content to let you think before you speak. It was slowly teaching him to do the same.

“I’m just boring, Jamie. My favourite people are all under this roof, but usually they’re sober, you know?”

He often forgets you don’t really drink. Your friendship (however sour that word feels in relation to you) usually confined to these halls, to the pitch, to various football stadiums up and down the country. When they all get a chance to let loose, you’re very quick with the excuses, but he’s believed them blindly until this moment.

“Shit, y’ don’t drink, right? I can’t imagine that’s much fun in a club. I won’t tell anyone if you happen to come down with an illness or somethin’ this afternoon.”

You’re grinning at him again, all bright and sunny. It’s downright infectious, so Jamie nudges your foot with his on purpose and then apologises like it’s an accident.

“You’re alright,” you reassure, “I will join tonight. Even if it just proves to myself I’m not missing out on anything. Maybe Colin’s not as bad a drunk as I’ve been led to believe.”

Jamie winces.

“No, he is pretty bad,” he admits and then finally comes up with something to make you more comfortable, “Hey, what about this? I won’t drink either and we can spend the evening laughin’ at everyone else.”

You poke his hand and he tries not to drop his crisp packet.

“It’s everyone’s ‘relax and recharge’ night, Ted said. We both know you relax much easier with a few drinks in you. And I’d never judge anyone for that, I really hope it doesn’t come across like I’m judging any-“

“It doesn’t, sweetness,” he cuts in, “But actually, I’ll relax better if I’m one hundred percent positive that you’re relaxing too. What better way than judgin’ everyone else, together like?”

You purse your lips thoughtfully, mid-chew. He feels like he’s holding his breath, like he’s underwater and you’re in charge of the oxygen tank.

“Well, see how you feel when we’re there. It sounds lovely but only if you’re still up for it when we’re right next to a bar,” you say, still unconvinced. He wants to convince you fully, but he can’t decide if he should argue with you or kiss you silly before you speak again, “Hey, if not, I’ll buy you a drink?”

“Pretty sure that’s my line, love.”

“I said it, I meant it. Girls can buy drinks for pretty boys, you know.”

He thinks you might have removed his oxygen tank now. There’s some cruelty in that sentence but you don’t know you’re wielding it. He wills himself to flirt back even though it’ll only make him feel sick.

“Okay, pretty girl. One passionfruit J2O, please.”

Another grin. He’s so fucking fucked.

---

He’s been waiting for you for around forty minutes. He doesn’t know if that’s the normal amount of time you take to get ready, even if he wishes he knew, so he just waits, leaning against his car.

After fifty, he decides there’s no harm in just checking you’re alright and haven’t slipped on a sparkly floor that an evening cleaner has done a number on.

You mentioned going to the kit room to get changed, and he meets Will on his way there.

“Hey mate, you seen Y/N?”

Will looks paler than he’s ever been. Guilty. Jamie narrows his eyes and waits.

“Kit room.”

It’s all that Will says. When Jamie doesn’t walk off immediately, still waiting for an explanation for Will’s strange demeanour, Will turns around and legs it all the way down the corridor, turns left at the end and never returns.

Jamie shakes his head and continues in the direction of the kit room. The closer he gets, the more he hears. Muffled banging, shouting. He picks up the pace.

“Y/N? Love?”

“Jamie! Jamie, in here!”

Your voice floats out from the kit room and he hurries over. Still very confused, Jamie turns the door handle and finds the door won’t budge, however hard he shoves his shoulder against it.

“It’s locked, babe. Did you lock it?”

He hears your exasperated sigh and feels a little embarrassed.

“No I didn’t bleeding lock it! Well, I did, when I was getting changed, but then when I unlocked it my side it had been locked from the outside.”

Jamie struggled to put the dots together. Had Will locked you in? Judging by the running, he had… and he’d done it on purpose. A spark of anger shot down Jamie’s spine but he tried to convince himself there must be a reason.

Before he could, there was a hand on his on the door, pulling him away. It was being unlocked by another hand and then he was being shoved inside, hard enough to stumble against one of the benches. A piece of paper was thrown at his face and Jamie groaned as he heard the lock click back in place.

“What the fuck?” he muttered as he stood up fully, more dazed than angry now as he stared at the locked door.

“Jesus, Jamie, are you alright? Who the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” he says, staring at the door as if it might have answers. Your hand on his face wakes him up, his eyes shifting to yours where you look him over with concern.

“You’re alright, though?”

You ask it like you need the answer, and Jamie needs you to stop trailing a finger along his hairline either way.

“Fine, love,” he assures you, patting the juncture between your shoulder and neck gently until your hands drop to your sides. Then he raises his voice, and he’s not really talking to you anymore, “Whoever’s locked us in here as some kind of joke won’t be fuckin’ alright though!”

No answer. He picks up the small piece of paper from the floor and reads it in his head.

Tell her, you prick.

He’s actually going to hit Roy with his car. Lightly, definitely not enough to damage him, but enough to really, really piss him off.

This was all some ridiculous attempt to make him tell you how he felt about you? Absolutely not. Never. He wouldn’t be coerced into something so delicate, so important.

“What’s it say?”

You’re peering over the top of the paper, but he folds it in two before you can read anything. His chuckle comes out strained.

“It says: Get fucking pranked. Must be Roy, he’s probably scared Will into helpin’ him, the fucker. I’m afraid it’s payback for putting all his socks on the ceiling last week, babe, an’ you’ve been caught in the middle.”

You pause, staring at your shoes. For some reason, you look far more forlorn than the situation calls for, but it’s gone before he can think about it further.

“On the ceiling?”

He nods and you giggle. It’s only as you step away from him in your laughter that he realises how close you had been. He should’ve savoured it.

It’s also only as you step away that Jamie finally gets a glimpse of your outfit and nearly reaches out to the nearby bench for strength. He’s never seen you in a v-neck anything before, let alone a dress, and he thinks it might do him in.

“You look good,” he says lamely, then tries again, “Great. Fan-fuckin’-tastic, I mean.”

“I like that last one,” you smile, ducking your head. He thinks, or rather hopes, you’re a little flustered, “Fan-fuckin’-tastic happens to be what I was going for.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, words gone as soon as he’d found them. And now he was staring. Shit.

“I like your suit,” you say, maybe breathless yourself. It must be his ears. You reach up as if you might fiddle with his lapel but just point towards it before your hand drops again. You practically fall down onto the bench you’re both stood beside and he follows, ever obedient, “Shame no one else will ever see it. How long do you think we’ll be stuck here?”

The suit isn’t for anyone except you. That’s what he’d say if he had any stupid bravery. He’s an awful coward, he thinks.

“Until Roy gets bored or Keeley finds out I reckon,” Jamie guesses, “Y’ wanna play I-spy?”

You sigh, but when he peeks at you out of the corner of his eye, you’re grinning your silly, lovely grin again.

“I spy with my little eye…”

---

It is around 11pm, when Jamie has not long fallen asleep against the jacket he had scrunched behind his head, that he feels your hand on his ankle. He can tell, as he wakes without opening his eyes, that you’re not trying to rouse him. The touch is light, feathery. Maybe an accident.

No, not an accident. It wouldn’t have lasted this long, and your thumb is drawing absentminded circles into his ankle bone. You think he’s asleep and you’ve reached out to hold him anyway.

He opens his eyes but doesn’t move. His legs are stretched out on the bench in front of him and you sit upright next his sock-clad feet, one hand on his bare ankle. You’re staring at a piece of paper so intently he wonders what could possibly be so interesting.

“This doesn’t say get fucking pranked, Jamie,” you murmur, and his hand flies to his jacket pocket. It must have fallen out when he slumped into a slumber. He’s sat up in a blink, watching the hand that had been so soothing, fall back at your side suddenly.

“I’m sorry. Shit. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“No, don’t,” you insist, still staring at the piece of paper. Instead of whirling on him for answers, you reach calmly into one of the boot cubbies beside your head and pull out a piece of paper from one of the boots. You chuck it at him without looking.

He unfolds it with careful, if shaky, hands.

Tell him, you silly shit.

It takes him an absurdly long time to understand what the hell this second piece of paper means. Later, when the two of you look back on this moment (and you do so often), you’ll wonder how he could have been so dense and he’ll spin you a line about how too good to be true it all felt. But in the moment, he has no lines and no words, until your hand lands heavy on his knee this time.

“Jamie,” you say softly, through a grin that is so different from your usual that he could pass out. It’s so beautiful and so strikingly lovesick that he thinks he might actually be sick, “What do you have to tell me?”

“What?”

He feels dumber than he’s ever felt. But your hand is still on his knee and now you’re shuffling closer to him on the bench.

“What do you have to tell me?” you repeat, then you poke his chest playfully as you add, “You prick.”

He still looks confused, so you clearly decide the best way to catch him up is to kiss him.

You pull away after a moment, a moment of pure heaven, because clearly you don't want to kiss him fully until he's all clued in.

"Come on, pretty boy," you say, teasing, "Figure it out. I was going to buy you a passionfruit J2O. It's the sign of all signs."

He should be laughing at your joke, but all he really wants to do is kiss you again. And again.

Maybe again.

"Oh pretty girl," he says, and he feels the rumble of his low tone in his chest. He places a hand on your face, fingers itching at your hairline, "I'll tell you anything ya wanna hear, I swear. Anythin'."

He hears your breath hitch, but he feels it too, where the meat of his palm is covering your neck.

"Anything?" you answer back, "I could have a lot of fun with this."

You scrunch up your brow like you're thinking and he's so stupidly in love with you that he just tells you. Too-soon be damned.

"Smooth talker," you laugh, giddy, and you kiss him again. And it's so good that he doesn't even remember you didn't say it back until hours later.

(at which point, you say it back so many times and in so many ways, Jamie is certain that he's the luckiest man in the world. he might not hit Roy with his car after all)

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #ted lasso x reader

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eph3merall · 7 months ago

Note

i’m in love with literally anything you write! i was wondering by if you could make a dealer!chris + doll!reader fic with either fluff or angst (dare i say very specific🤭) to an ariana grande song (your choice) !! <3

soo sweet <3 sorry this took so long. loosely based off 'in my head' by ariana grande !

—

"Here’s the thing: you’re in love with a version of a person that you’ve created in your head, that you are trying to but cannot fix."

chris is hunched over—back aching and muscles sore. you eye him from your position next to him on the worn sofa, watching as he snorts another line of coke. white powder is speckled slightly around his nostrils, exhaling as he sits up and stretches his shoulders out. sniffing and wiping at his nose with his finger, he exhales and clicks his tongue.

you don't dare to say much, noticing how he seems to be 'in his element' or whatever. you aren't exactly a fan of chris' constant drug usage and his deals—but it's kind of his 'job' and he gets money for it. as long as he's getting by without trouble, right?

you've tried a few times to try and persuade him to stop. to quit, get sober, find a better way of making money. because the chris you fell in love with wasn't this chris, god, he couldn't exactly be more different from how he is right now. but complaining never helped, he always went on some shit like 'hey, don't forget who pays for your shit now. that pretty cami y'got on? yeah, i got you that.'

but chris isn't a bad person, no. he's sweet, nice. he cares for the people around him and screws the people who screw him. your fingers intertwine together as you mindlessly fiddle with them when some girls creep up towards chris to buy from him.

you don't miss the way his lips curl into a sluggish smirk, leaning back into the plush cushions and starting up conversation with them. they are pretty, you have to admit that. you'd be worried he would take the chance to swoop up a pretty girl from the group, but this is chris. he's loyal, and he's stated and shown it multiple times.

you bring your legs up, curling to the side—one on top of the other in your side sitting position as you tug your skirt down gently. your eyes try not to focus on anything in particular, trying to relax and sink into the arm chris has looped around your shoulders as he holds you firmly to his side.

you glance at him when his fingers mindlessly fiddle with the strap of your tanktop, digits tapping on the bare skin of your arm a few times. and then chris slides away from you, hips raising and his hand patting his back pocket. it's only now he spares you a quick look—eyes shifting back to the band of girls in front of him.

one of them was leaning towards him, and you could practically see her tits spilling out from the tight dress she had on. a wad of cash was in her hand, manicured nails grazing chris' hand when he hands her a little baggy of white substance. his tongue clicks against his mouth and you try to ignore the disappointment in you when his hand doesn't fall across your shoulders again.

the lights of the party are blinding and a variety of flashy colors, loud rap music seeming to make your ears ring. your fingers tap against your thigh a few times as you mindlessly draw little hearts on your skin, knowing how much chris hates it when you do that to him. even though he didn't really care at first and even called it 'cute'.

you recall the way many of your own friends told you to just be careful—chris isn't what he seems. he'll use you for something and leave you all alone, or he'll love bomb you then leave one day without any explanation. but that hasn't happened to you yet, and it's been a good few months already. you never have a thought in your head that thinks chris would cheat on you, he just isn't like that.

confusion overtakes your features when you see chris standing up, grinning at that one girl as her friends giggle and shuffle away. you immediately start to sit up, always following chris around and not getting the memo that he was about to leave you to go bang a girl. he spots you about to get up, clearing his throat as a big hand comes to shove your shoulder gently to get you to sit back down. "hey, m'gonna go somewhere for a sec. stay here. a'ight doll?"

you blink at him. what? you dont get what he's about to do, but chris is already starting away with the girl in tow. and you want to follow, because what the fuck? but you sit still, like chris told you to—a feeling of dread filling you when you see him whisper something against the girls' lips and start kissing at her face and neck while dragging her into an empty room.

oh.

—

@conspiracy-ash @sturniolosfavkayleigh @lvrsturniolo @st7rnioioss @meatballlover10 @ashlishes @ferdzom @55sturn @chriseatingmeoutin4k @unknvhx @mattslolita @chaossturns

#ᶻz eph3merall #ᶻz asks #★ sturnioloclouds #ೀ dealer!chris #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo blurb #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo drabble #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #the sturniolo triplets #the sturniolos #sturniolos #sturniolo triplets

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bruhstories · 7 months ago

Text

Muse II

p.1 && p.3

summary: a knock on your door, an envelope and a dress pairing: viktor x painter!reader && jayce x mel warnings: swearing, angst, descriptions of anxiety and depression, quite a lot of dialogue, veeeery slow burn, jayce being a good friend, canon divergent w/c: 3.7k

a/n: this part is a little more reader-centric, but i will fix that in the third (and potentially the last) part. liking and reblogging is encouraged and appreciated!

"May I leave now?" The bright lights of the infirmary forced Viktor to squeeze his eyes shut.

The doctor nodded, but the nurse gasped, then shook her head. She seemed to want to see him all the time, always finding a reason to stall, to buy time. Viktor never understood why, but then again, he never understood why you wanted him to be your model.

"I think it would be prudent to run a few more tests." The nurse suggested.

Her name was Sky, and she had been nothing but kind to him. But weren't all nurses supposed to be humane? To care for the sick? Unfortunately for her, the doctor was adamant on dismissing Viktor.

"I'm afraid not, Sky. Viktor's condition isn't improving, but it isn't advancing either. It's as though his condition simply stopped. You're free to go, but please come back if you notice any changes, positive or otherwise."

"Thank you, doctor." Viktor gripped the handle of his cane and left the infirmary, strolling down the streets of Piltover.

He had been thinking about you, about how the rune you inscribed in his portrait changed him, but his ego brought out the worst in him, and he refused to search for you, to apologise for misjudging you. Besides, you were probably busy with commissions anyway. You wouldn't make time for him after he stupidly, arrogantly tore down your pride.

You weren't busy.

It had been days since you left your apartment, weeks since you last touched a paintbrush, months since you saw Viktor. Not having a muse incapacitated you, turned off your creativity, destroyed your imagination. You stared at the blank canvas in front of you — empty, just like your mind and your heart.

Abandoning the attempt to paint, you tried to draw instead. Fiddling with the pencil in your hand, you took a look at your previous sketches, desperate to do something, anything. But nothing came out of you. Not a single line, or dot, or sliver of hope. The sudden knock on your door had you recoil and drop your pencil. Expecting your landlord, you swung open the door.

Jayce stared at you, at your dishevelled hair and the state of your clothes, before he peeked behind your shoulder to see the mess in your apartment. Papers tossed on the floor, clothes piled up on your bed, spoiled food on your table. He hadn't seen anyone so... pitiful.

"Can I help you?" Your monotonous voice sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard.

"I just wanted to check on you. Y/N, what happened?"

"Ask your partner." Venom dripped down your tongue as you closed the door, only for Jayce to stop it with his foot.

"Please, let's just talk."

"Why?"

"That's what friends do!" His warm smile was supposed to offer you comfort, but it only offered you hate.

"We're not friends, Mr. Talis." You tried to close the door again, catching his fingers in the doorframe. The sudden shriek of pain made you violently open it, eyes wide at Jayce who was on the verge of tears. "I am so sorry, I didn't think you'd put your bloody fingers in the way!"

Ushering him inside your apartment, you kicked away the piles of clothes from the chair and sat him down. He winced, watching his fingers slowly turn purple and swollen.

"It's alright, it's nothing." His voice cracked like some prepubescent teenager, and you ran a handkerchief under cold water then gave it to him.

"I'm really sorry, Jayce."

"Aha! You used my name! Ow, shit."

You tried to stifle the chuckle that erupted from your throat, but to no avail. He managed to make you laugh, but the sweetness turned sour.

"Why are you really here?" You asked, avoiding his gaze.

"I told you, I wanted to check on you. And to ask you something."

There it was, the true reason.

"How did you do it?"

"Dunno what you're talking about." You shrugged.

"That portrait, it somehow stopped Viktor's affliction from advancing. It's not regressing by any means, but it's keeping him in a stable condition, and I can't explain why. No one can." His forehead creased, unable to find a scientific reason.

"Maybe he got lucky." You simply said.

"Don't be modest, he told me you put some kind of magical rune in it." Jayce scoffed.

"He spoke about me?" Was all you could think about.

"Yes, but you need to tell me how you did it."

You sighed. His scientific brain could never comprehend the intricacies of magic, the elegant enchantments, or the intuitive spellwork, but you tried your best.

"The Academy of Arts in Ionia trains artists to incorporate spells, runes and sigils into their work. Some can bring their paintings to life, others can use them to deal damage." You looked behind Jayce at the blank canvas. "I can heal. Sort of."

"That's fascinating!" He beamed at you like a child who just got a new toy. "So why didn't you fully heal Viktor?

"Ah, but what would life be if all our problems disappeared? We're all the product of our experiences, aren't we?" You mused. "I can't heal illnesses if people were born with them, I can merely hinder them, stop them from advancing, because even ailments serve a purpose. Would Viktor had become the scientist that he is without his condition?" You quirked a brow, and Jayce frowned, not in anger but in contemplation.

"So, you could heal my fingers, then, yes?" He nodded, but you sighed again. It was something you found yourself doing quite often.

"I haven't touched a pencil in weeks. I'm useless, as you can probably tell from the state of my apartment."

"Why? Because you don't have a muse?" Jayce asked, and you nodded. "That's bullshit."

"Excuse you?" Your words came out a lot more condescending than you wanted.

"I said it's bullshit. You're a damn artist, you find beauty where others don't. You don't need a muse for that." He scoffed.

"It's not that simple-"

"It is! Science and art are not that different, Y/N! They're both attempts to comprehend the world around us. They require research, analytical processes, resilience. Not a muse." Jayce picked up a sheet of paper and a piece of coal and slammed them on the table. "Draw my hand."

You stared at him, dumbfounded by the sheer willpower that this man had. No wonder he was an innovator. You could've kicked him out of your house, shut the door and never look back, but you didn't. Picking up the coal, you studied his hand first — the length of his fingers, width of his palm, the swirls of his fingerprints. Then, you let the coal glide down the paper, tracing lines, smudging them with your index finger and thumb. Your own fingers were sore from the lack of practice, but you sketched his hand nonetheless, and just as you did with Viktor's portrait, you scribbled a rune in the corner of the paper.

Showing Jayce the sketch, he could feel his numb fingers return to their normal size, the black and blue disappearing by the minute. He knew you could do it, you just needed a little push.

"See, that wasn't so hard." Jayce grinned, but you stared daggers at him. "Oh, before I go, Mel wanted you to have this." He reached into the inner pocket of his cream jacket and handed you an envelope.

"What's this?"

"An invitation. I hope to see you soon."

You locked the door after he was gone and studied the wax sigil on the envelope. Red and golden, with the head of a wolf embedded in it. It was too beautiful to tear it open, but curiosity got the better of you, and you used a knife to cut open the envelope, not wanting to ruin the sigil.

Just as Jayce said, it was an invitation to a fundraiser. All of Piltover's finest would be there, and you were asked to attend as a guest of honour, to be appointed the Master of Arts, the head of Piltover's Guild of Artists. Disbelief settled in your mind, despite rereading the same words, over and over again. Every councillor agreed to that, you could tell from their signatures. But you haven't painted in weeks, so how could you represent all the artists in the city? You were a hypocrite at best, a failure at worst.

And yet, you were chosen for that. Not your colleagues, not someone from the Academy — you. Did you need to prepare a speech? Bloody hell, you did. No one went up that stage without delivering one. But there was time, the fundraiser was only in a few weeks, right? Wrong. Your eyes scanned the words once more — it was three days away. Panic seeped into your veins. You had no dress, no shoes, no speech, no muse.

No, fuck the muse. Fuck Viktor.

You were still bitter about the last conversation you exchanged with him, but you couldn't throw away such an opportunity, such an honour, for some guy. A very handsome, very clever guy, but still a guy nonetheless. No, Jayce was right — you didn't need a muse. You didn't have one in Ionia, didn't have one when you taught yourself how to draw and paint. You were your own muse. And you needed a damn good dress to impress.

Forcing yourself to clean the mess in your apartment was easy. But showering and going out wasn't, not when the probability of bumping into Viktor was there. A slim chance, but not impossible, and you couldn’t afford to get distracted. You wrecked your brain trying to remember his schedule, because he never deviated from it. Thursday — he would have a doctor's appointment in the morning, then he would have lunch, and go to the lab. Or was it the other way around?

"Ugh!" You kicked the foot of your bed in anger and disgust. You were disgusted with yourself for even sparing him a single thought — the man who insulted you and your work.

So what if you bumped into him? He wasn't going to talk you, anyway, he made that quite clear when he didn't even say goodbye to you. Ungrateful fucking prick. No more. No more wallowing in self-pity, no more victimisation, no more emotion. How foolish of you to even think he'd see you as more than some dumb painter, that you were his equal in any way, shape or form. It was a facade, a mask, playing the innocent sick man when behind that mask was a god complex.

You found a dress, purple and golden. It reminded you of Viktor, but how else were you supposed to get over him if not by proudly wearing the colours of the enemy? Were you overreacting? Perhaps. Too dramatic? Definitely, but it helped process the pain attached to those stupid colours. Spending time to write a speech also helped take your mind off of him. It gave you a purpose, something you thought was lost.

There was one thing you didn't like about the dress — it was too modest. And while it wasn't a gathering of prudes, you wanted to find the perfect mix of elegance and vulgarity. Studying the dress that was hanging on an iron hook on the back of your bathroom door, you grabbed a pair of scissors and cut a slit up its side. You wanted to stop at knee's length, but something possessed you to cut higher, stopping well above the knee. Was it too much? Maybe, but you were about to become leader of an entire guild, and you needed to look your best. Besides, the thought of hooking up with someone at the fundraiser didn't sound so bad. You had needs after all, and you were going to satisfy them.

"There she is!" Jayce spotted you through the crowd of people, with Mel's arm looped around his.

You were glad that they were officially together. Too long they played pretend. You greeted them, deciding to be their third wheel since you didn't know that many people there. The life of an artist was quite lonely.

"I'm so glad you accepted my invitation." Councillor Medarda smiled. She seemed happier, and you wondered what it was like to have someone who made you laugh, who supported you and your work.

"It's an honour, Councillor. An unexpected one, I'll be honest." You quickly snatched a glass of champagne from a waiter. "But I've had something on my mind since I received your invitation. What exactly is the fundraiser about? The letter didn't mention anything."

"Ah, I must have forgotten to write that down." She scoffed. "The University of Piltover has decided to create a new department of arts and science combined."

"Oh, that is intriguing." You pondered the innovative idea. "How will that work?"

"Well, Jayce has been inspired by your talent. He believes that there are plenty of future students with the potential of incorporating both arts and science in their work." Mel said. "He'll explain more in the following days, but for now, enjoy the event."

"Thank you, Councillor." You nodded with a smile. "Are you alright, Jayce? You look impatient."

"Yeah, I'm just keeping an eye on the entrance. Viktor should be here soon." He nonchalantly said.

"Sorry? Viktor?" The smile disappeared from your lips as quickly as it appeared.

"Oh, I didn't tell you?" Jayce avoided looking into your eyes, fearing for his life. He could feel you seething at the mere mention of Viktor's name.

"No. No, you didn't fucking tell me." You whispered the obscene word, not wanting to draw any attention. "What else haven't you told me?"

"Well, um-" He fumbled for words, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

"Spit it out, Talis."

"You'll be working together."

"What? We'll be what?" You couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth. And it didn't help that you heard his familiar voice and thick accent creeping behind your back.

"Good evening, Jayce. Councillor." Viktor greeted them, but you couldn't turn around. You couldn't face him.

So much for being tough. Your heart was beating against your ribcage, desperately trying to crawl out of your chest and run away from him. The pit in your stomach made you sick — you could actually taste bile on your tongue, and the champagne glass slowly slipped from your fingers as your palms became clammy with sweat. Not even the exams in Ionia made you feel as panicked as he did. But you were a grown woman. You couldn't let him put you down like that.

"Viktor." You articulated his name without an ounce of anxiety in your voice, then turned around to look at him.

You were pleased to see he was just as shocked to see you there as you were to see him — even more shocked to see you dressed so differently than how he remembered. Good. The bastard needed a reminder that you weren't a coward, nor a prude. And it made you consider that he also didn't know you two would be working together. How convenient for you.

"Miss Painter." Venom dripped down his tongue. How dare he be affected by your presence? "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He didn't know. You thanked your stars for that. A shit-eating grin crept on your lips, and just as Jayce was about to open his mouth, you said it.

"Oh, you didn't know? We'll be working together. I'm absolutely thrilled!" You lied through your teeth and Jayce slowly turned his head to glare at you. A minute ago, you looked like you were about to have a heart attack, now you were thrilled to work with him?

"How utterly... terrific." Viktor forced a smile. "No, I didn't know. Jayce, a word?"

"No need, I'll leave you to it. Gentlemen, Councillor." You nodded and stepped away, blending with the crowd, eyes set on some poor man who was about to be your distraction for the night.

His name was Alfred, or Arthur. Something with an A. It didn't matter. He was good looking, with broad shoulders and much taller than you. But he talked. A lot. You politely nodded at everything he said, trying to keep up with the conversation, but anything he said fell on deaf ears. You weren't interested in him, not after seeing Viktor, who looked much better than last time, healthier. He went so far as to adjust his cane to look similar to the one in your portrait — the fucking hypocrite. And even the suit he was wearing was purple. You matched, and your stomach churned at that epiphany. What if people thought you were together?

You rolled your eyes when Arthur, or Alfred, spoke about how ridiculous the idea of combining science and arts was. The desire to pour your champagne in his lap was great, but your self-restraint was greater. Somehow. Paying him no mind, you dissociated, daydreaming of being in your atelier and working on a new painting, of buying new materials, new canvases. Yes, that was much better than listening to Alfred, or Arthur, yap about something his small brain couldn't comprehend.

Even amongst hundreds of people, Viktor only saw you, and the thousand-yard stare on your face. You were quite obviously bored, and there was an impulse, an instinct to go and save you from the dull conversation that you weren't even a part of. But he couldn't. Deep down, Viktor knew he might have overreacted when he last saw you, but you made it quite clear that you wanted nothing to do with him, and he respected that. It pained him, because he grew used to your presence in the lab, but what could he do?

He found it comforting that you wore the colours of his suit — of his portrait. It gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a minuscule possibility that you weren't upset with him anymore. But Viktor wasn't an idiot. He knew all too well that the wrath of a woman scorned wasn't something that passed so easily. And he felt the spite in your voice when you blatantly lied about being thrilled to work with him. Oh, right, he forgot about that when he got lost in your eyes, even from across the ballroom.

How were you going to work together when neither of you wanted that? Surely you could set aside any grudges, he thought. But could he? While the portrait did hinder his illness, Viktor still assumed that you weren't serious about him being your model. Your muse, even. How could someone like him be the object of your artistic desire? No, that was improbable. Impossible.

"And that's when I said what do you call a woman who has lost 95% of her intelligence? Divorced!" Arthur, or Alfred, slapped his knee, laughing at his own sexist joke, and that was enough for you to regret your decision of approaching him.

"Excuse me, I'm going for some fresh air." You walked away from him as fast as you could.

Stepping out on the balcony, you shivered when the cool air kissed your skin. A coat would've been smarter than a slit in your dress, but freezing to death was better than hearing one more fucking joke about women. You just hoped Alfred, or Arthur, or whatever the fuck his name was, wasn't going to come looking for you. Leaning on the handrail, you sighed. What were you going to do? How were you going to work with Viktor for an indefinite amount of time? There was so much uncertainty about the future, and it scared you. The responsibilities of leading a guild scared you. The changes in your routine scared you. The idea of working with someone who hated you scared you.

The speech! You forgot about the blasted speech, and you ran back inside at the right time. Councillor Shoola invited you on the stage just as you entered the ballroom, and with a fake smile and complaisant nods, you walked up the few steps, blinded by the lights directed on you. Shoola shook your hand, and awarded you with a silver pin — a symbol of your new status as Guild Leader. The amount of people staring at you was overwhelming, but you took a deep breath in and adjusted microphone on the stand. When you looked down at your hands, you were surprised to find them empty. Where were the cards you had prepared? Where was your speech?

Then you remembered the balcony. You had forgotten the cards outside. Shit. Fuck. No matter, you could improvise. Even if your throat was dry, and your legs were numb, you could improvise. You did that before, plenty of times. But the hundreds of eyes that stared into your soul made it impossible to think, to breathe, to exist.

Um, good evening, everyone." You started, eyes narrowed down on Mel, who nodded in encouragement. Licking your chapped lips, you continued. "It brings me great honour to stand here in front of you..." Cringing at the crack in your voice, you found Jayce, who beamed at you, like he always did. That gave you a bit more hope. "...as the new Master of Arts."

You couldn't do this.

They weren't looking at you, they were looking inside of you. They could see every fibre of your body, every imperfection, every weakness. You tried closing your eyes and pretending they weren't there, but when you opened them, it was worse. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you tried to steady your breathing, to stop yourself from hyperventilating.

A pair of soft amber eyes found yours, and you couldn’t believe how calming they were. Even after the fiasco that was your meeting with Viktor, you still found inspiration in him, and that offended you.

"We are here to celebrate a marriage." You spoke with newfound confidence stemming from sheer anger. "A marriage between science and art. A sacred union that some find ridiculous, others impossible. I find it a splendid symbiosis of reason and emotion. Too long art and science have mutually excluded each other, and while they both individually progressed immeasurably, their union has the potential to break boundaries, to make new discoveries, to bring people together. I will proudly represent the Guild of Artists in this new and fascinating adventure. Thank you, Councillors, for the distinction bestowed upon me. Thank you to Professor Heimerdinger for allowing this journey to happen. And thank you to everyone who believes in this pursuit of knowledge."

#viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x y/n #fem!reader #afab reader

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sebastianstangirl01 · 6 months ago

Text

✧˖° lifeline | rafe cameron

pairing - rafe cameron x routledge!reader

warnings - violence (jj decking rafe), language, pregnancy (audrey’s pregnant instead of sarah), almost drowning

summary - after rafe, who just so happens to be your baby daddy, offers you and your friends a boat ride to Moraco tensions rise between the untrusting group. when an intense storm hits out of no where you get swept off the front of the boat by an enormous wave and rafe has to make a decision. save the woman he loves and mother of his child or ride out the storm to find groff.

authors note - well…..i’m back! kinda. sorry for literally dropping off the face of the earth, i’ve been more activish writing wise on wattpad lately. so sorry for not writing any on here! since buzzcut rafe and just drew in general are literally daddy i knew i had to write for him! i’m sure you’ve seen this trope like a million times, but that’s because it’s such a bomb trope and never gets old! at least in my opinion! with that being said, because it’s so popular it’s inevitable that these types of fics will probably be similar but i’ll try my very best to be as original as possible!! oh, also since i hate having to write y/n as the name i’ll be using is audrey since that’s my name and who doesn’t want to imagine themselves as rafe’s girl?? but for real, feel free to imagine any name you want! i hope you enjoy!!

not proofread!!

✧˖°

when rafe showed up and convinced shoupe to let you all track down groff, you thought you were dreaming. but here you are sitting on a container of god knows what stuck on a boat with your older brother (by 9 months), best friends, and ex/baby daddy who you haven’t spoken to since you found out you were pregnant 2 weeks ago.

you paced circles around the large bathroom, chewing on the side of your finger anxiously. the timer winding down on your phone seemed to be taking a lot longer than 3 minutes and the test flipped upside down on the sink seemed to be haunting you.

it all started about a week ago. you noticed some unusual changes in your everyday routine, starting with the fact that you found yourself bending over the toilet seat every morning puking your guts up.

the thought of being pregnant didn’t even click in your mind until you realized the last time you had your period was so long ago you couldn’t even remember the exact date. panic involuntarily filled your mind when you thought about your situation.

you and rafe have been off and on for as long as you could remember. him using and smoking all the time was one of the main reasons why, he wasn’t the same when he was high and he honestly scared you. when peterkin was killed you thought there was no way you’d ever be able to look at rafe the same again.

but there’s just something about him that keeps drawing you in, he’s different around you. even more so now that he’s quit abusing drugs, he makes you feel like the only girl in the world. the issue still stands though, he treats your brother and friends like the scum of the earth and nothing you say changes his behavior.

it’s exhausting having your boyfriend and friends hate each other to the point where you can’t even bring rafe around your home without someone starting a fist fight.

that’s what caused your breakup this time, you couldn’t stand the animosity between everyone and what sealed the deal was jj starting a brawl with rafe that ended with both of them having to get stitches. you felt responsible for them getting hurt and put your own feelings aside to do what you thought was best for everyone as a whole.

you and rafe broke up. but no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t stay away. which led to your current predicament.

the timer finally went off, snapping you out of your thoughts and stopping you in your tracks. you’re heart was beating so fast you thought it would burst from your chest and land in the claw foot tub across the room. biting the bullet you grabbed the test and held it tightly in your hand, not having the heart to turn it over yet.

“hey-” rafe pushed open the bathroom door making you jump in surprise

you had thought he left for work already but here he was standing in front of you with furrowed brows as his gaze landed on the test in your hand.

“rafe.” you started but he cut you off

“what the fuck is that?” rafe snapped in shock

“i uh, i’m late.” was all you could mutter as you bit your lip nervously, recognizing the cold look on rafe’s face

“and?” rafe raised his brows waiting for your answer impatiently

“I haven’t been able to look.” you admitted and rafe huffed walking closer to you and yanking the test out of your hand

the tension in the room was suffocating as rafe flipped the test over, you were terrified as you studied his face closely looking for any sign of what the test read.

“fuck.” rafe whispered before dropping the test to the ground his hands immediately coming up to press against his forehead as he turned away from you

you slowly bent down and your hands shook as you picked the test up, flipping it over your heart dropped into your stomach.

pregnant.

tears filled your eyes and your chest filled with panic, you had truly never been more scared in your life than you were in this moment. how were you supposed to raise a baby? you only just turned 19 and your home is about to be swept out from under you by greedy kooks. and you aren’t even with the father of your baby at the moment.

“holy shit.” rafe’s voice broke you out of your thoughts and you looked over at him

he was standing with his hands squeezing the counter top harshly, the veins in his neck looked like they were about to burst.

“rafe?” you whispered

“i cant do this right now.” rafe shook his head before storming out of the room

the front door slamming downstairs startled you making you jump, then it hit you. you were pregnant and alone and the tears slid down your cheeks.

that was the last you had seen or heard from rafe. when you told your brother he was less than thrilled, it took everything for you to keep him from tracking rafe down and killing him. but john b eventually realized that you needed him to be there for you so he put his feelings aside and focused on you and his future niece or nephew.

your friends were about the same story, especially jj who has always been a loose cannon. but at the end of the day they rallied around you and you knew they would be there for you and be the best aunts and uncles to the baby.

but right about now you wished you had just gone with shoupe because you were being hit with motion sickness to the extreme and felt like you were about to throw up everywhere.

“hey, what’s up?” kie frowned kneeling down in front of you, sarah immediately following

“you ok?” sarah placed her hand on your knee

it took you a second to answer having to take a few deep breaths until the nausea subsided before you blinked down at the pair.

“just nauseous.” you held a hand to your stomach

“maybe there’s some ginger ale or something in the kitchen.” kie said and you nodded the thought of the fizzy drink sounded appealing

before she could stand to go searching for anything a hand appeared in front of your face holding a can of ginger ale. you knew that veiny hand and gold ring anywhere but still looked up and saw rafe looking at you in concern.

that was the most concern he had shown you since you found out you were pregnant.

“thanks.” you smiled softly and he just nodded before disappearing back inside

you saw the look exchanged between your two best friends but ignored it as you eagerly cracked open the can before humming in delight as you took sips of the drink.

“ok, so I think it’s time we talk about the elephant on the boat.” jj started making everyone exchange confused looks. “rafe, guys.”

“what about him?” sarah furrowed her brows

“what do you mean, what about him? do we really trust that he’s not going to screw us over? shit, i wouldn’t be surprised if he was working with those psycho mercenaries and was leading us to our deaths.” jj rambled

“come on jayge, you know none of us trust him but he did save our asses. as much as i hate to admit it.” kie reminded her boyfriend who just rolled his eyes

“and that automatically excuses everything he’s done?” jj scoffed

“hey, she’s not saying that. you know i’d love to just chuck him into the ocean but so far he hasn’t tried anything. i say we play it cool then ditch him the second we dock.” pope spoke levelheadedly and the others reluctantly nodded in agreement

“but until then, what do we do?” sarah crossed her arms over her chest and leaned into john b’s side

“you know him best, aud. can we trust him to keep his word?” john b turned to his sister who had stayed quiet for the whole conversation

“i believe he’ll keep his word.” you answered after a second and john b studied you for a moment before nodding

“ok, we’ll just stay cool for now.” john b looked between everyone who reluctantly nodded

well, that didn’t last long. one second you were moving inside the cabin to get out of the sun and the next you were kneeling on the ground cradling rafe’s unconscious form after jj sucker punched him in the face.

“what the fuck jj!” you exclaimed in shock

“what? we can’t trust him, i know he’s your baby daddy and you two have some weird relationship thing but i’m not taking any chances.” jj shrugged as he grabbed a rope

“if he didn’t do it i was going to.” pope commented

you just signed and rubbed your forehead at their stupidity and stubbornness before gently stroking rafe’s cheek that was already bruising.

“i’m surrounded by idiots.” you mumbled to yourself

john b and jj carried rafe down into a small utility room after tying his hands together, shutting and locking the door behind them.

knowing there was nothing you could say to get the group to change their minds about rafe, you and cleo got to work in the kitchen looking around for something edible that could be fixed for dinner.

“what about this?” cleo turned to you holding a box of spaghetti noodles

“i guess you can never go wrong with spaghetti.” you shrugged with a small smile

you also knew that spaghetti was a safe food for you, it was one of the only foods that didn’t make you sick at the moment.

john b and pope were out on the deck trying to catch some fish, but you knew you’d be having spaghetti for dinner regardless since you don’t like seafood. jj and kie were up in the cabin making sure the boat was on course and sarah was sunbathing since there wasn’t really much else to do. of course she had offered to help cleo cook and let you relax, but you needed a distraction right now.

while cleo started boiling water, you started working on the sauce. surprisingly the kitchen was pretty nicely stocked and you were able to find a jar of marinara sauce and a bunch of different herbs and seasonings.

humming to yourself you stirred the sauce in the pan in front of you, listening to the playful banter from your friends.

after everyone ate they all agreed that it would be safest for you to be the one to bring rafe dinner. even though both jj and pope voted on letting him starve, everyone else agreed that it wasn’t right. you were nervous to approach him one on one, unsure of what he would say or do when he saw you.

getting your nerves under control, you took a deep breath before shifting the tray of food so you could push open the door. rafe blinked up at you lazily, the image brought you back to the mornings when you woke up together.

“hey, i thought you might be hungry.” you spoke softly closing the door behind you

you stepped forward and knelt down beside him, sitting the tray of food in front of him. rafe looked down at the tray in distain before looking back up at you.

“you gonna feed it to me? or am i supposed to just shove my face in it like a fuckin animal?” rafe snapped making you flinch, which he noticed and immediately took a deep breath. “baby, untie me. please.”

“don’t call me that, rafe. not when you’ve spent the past few weeks ignoring me.” you frowned in frustration

“i’m sorry. i just don’t know what to think, this is a really big thing.” rafe mumbled pulling uncomfortably at his restraints

“i know it’s a big thing rafe, trust me. i’m the one waking up every morning at the crack of dawn to puke my guts out.” you couldn’t help but snap, your emotions from the past couple of weeks overflowing

you had been so upset since finding out you were pregnant and you hate it. you hate that your first thought about your own child was a negative one. you’ve always wanted to be a mother, it’s something you dreamed about since your next door neighbor had a baby when you were 6.

so knowing that you have felt like your baby is a burden for the first part of your pregnancy makes you feel so incredibly guilty. and it’s all because of rafe, of the way he reacted to the news by up and leaving you all alone.

you want your child to have a father, and as much as you hate to admit it you want that father to be rafe. because regardless of everything, you love him.

“look, we can talk about this ok? let’s just talk about it, but first untie me.” rafe held his hands out to you

“i can’t rafe, they don’t trust you and i can’t say i blame them. you’ve never given them a reason to.” you shook your head

“i talked shoupe out of arresting all of you, i got you on this boat.” rafe scoffed

“you also beat pope, shot sarah, strangled kie, framed john b for murder, and started how many fights with jj? not to mention how you’ve continued to terrorize them in general. why would they trust you rafe?” you shook your head moving to stand

“i’m sorry. i’m sorry, audrey. ok, i’ve been a shitty guy, a shitty brother and boyfriend. i know that, but i’m getting my shit together alright? for you, i’m getting my shit together for you and the baby.” rafe rambled and you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at his words

especially at his mention of the baby, this being the first time you’d ever heard him acknowledge it.

“I hope you are rafe, and i’m happy for you. but you need to change for yourself too, not just me and not just our baby.” you said casting him one last look before leaving ignoring his calls from behind you

things changed so fast. one second, you were sitting next to pope trying to ignore your guilt at ignoring rafe while everyone ate and the next there was a huge clap of thunder.

the night sky was black but the swirling clouds and flashes of lightning were alarmingly clear. the ocean became harsh and unforgiving, aggressive waves slammed into the side of the boat sending it rocking back and forth wildly.

john b, accompanied by pope and jj immediately ran for the cabin to try to get control of the boat while the girls held on for dear life.

you felt a wave of fear overcome you, not just for your own life, but for the lives of everyone on the boat including the baby in your belly. of course, john b and sarah had survived sailing into a storm, but it wasn’t anywhere near as intense as the storm they are in now.

after a particularly harsh wave collided with the side of the boat, you were knocked out of your seat and hit the ground hard.

“shit!” you exclaimed trying to balance as you pushed yourself to your knees

“are you ok?” sarah grabbed your hand and pulled you to her protectively

“this isn’t good. we’re fucked, aren’t we?” you gulped holding sarah’s hand and the bottom of the table tightly

you looked around at the girls, who all had similar looks of fear on their faces, even cleo who was always calm and collected. pope rushed back down to you guys, explaining that they decided there was no way of outrunning the storm. that they just had to go through it.

sarah and kie went off to find jj and john b, not wanting to be too far from them which left you, cleo, and pope in the small sitting area to hold down the fort.

“hey! let me out! audrey! sarah!” your head suddenly snapped towards the door across the room that led to the room rafe was being kept in

you couldn’t leave him in there all alone, there was no telling how scared he was trapped in there having no idea what was going on. only being able to feel the way the boat thrashed back and forth.

pope, recognizing the look on your face after so many years of friendship immediately shook his head in protest.

“no! no, audrey you can’t let him out!” pope reached for you but you shrugged him off as you ran towards the kitchen area

“audrey! come on, girl! don’t!” cleo exclaimed

“i can’t just leave him there to die! he’s the father of my child, and i still love him. i’m sorry!” you gave them an apologetic look before grabbing a knife out of the sink and running tot he door ignoring your friends shouts from behind you

your legs shook from the effort it took to stay on your feet, the boat rocked back and forth harshly as the enormous waves tossed them around like a pinball.

you practically busted down the door and fell against the sink, somehow miraculously you managed to not stag yourself in the process. rafe was pulling on his restrains and you saw water had already leaked into the room making your eyes widen.

“baby, cut me loose.” rafe broke you out of your trance

“i got you.” you rushed over to him and cautiously began cutting the ropes

“careful!” rafe scolded when you accidentally nicked the skin on his forearm

“i’m trying! just, stay still i’ve never done this before!” you fired back

finally you were able to cut through the ropes and rafe waisted no time pulling you into his arms holding you tightly. you melted into his chest, momentarily forgetting the terror of the situation.

“thank you.” rafe sighed into your hair

“i’d never leave you.” you mumbled squeezing his waist

the two of you pulled away and looked at each other, silently promising to have a long conversation, when you weren’t battling a dangerous storm of course.

“i need to get to john b. sarah’s with him, come on!” you abruptly pulled away, now that you knew rafe was ok you had to find your brother

you ran out of the door hearing rafe curse before following behind you, calling your name. the unfortunate thing was that to get up to the cabin from your position you had to first go across the deck.

the wind was so strong it almost knocked you off your feet as you stepped onto the deck, the rain pelted down onto you mixed with the water that had been sloshed over the edge of the boat.

“john b!” you exclaimed, shielding your eyes as you tried to walk forward

“audrey!” john b yelled with wide eyes as he took in your small figure in the storm he, followed by sarah, jj, and kie rushed out onto the upper deck right outside the cabin.

just as you made a move towards them a large wave came out of no where and slammed into the side of the boat knocking you to the ground. your skin scuffed against the ground and you yelped at the feeling of a jagged piece of metal slashing your hip.

rafe had just burst onto the deck when he saw you on the ground, as he was about to run to you he heard sarah scream your name.

“audrey!” sarah screamed in horror as the lightning in the sky revealed a monster wave approaching them

you screamed, knowing there was no way you’d be able to make it to safety in time and tried your best to clutch onto something. before you knew it you felt your body being hit hard by a wall of water, sending you skidding across the ground. your hands slipped and slid as you tried to grab onto something, but it was no use as you felt yourself suddenly falling off the back of the boat.

you didn’t even have time to scream as you’re body collided with the harsh and unforgiving ocean water, your body was pulled underwater by the rough current. you had been swimming in the ocean your whole life, yet you had never experienced something quit like this before.

it felt like there were hands gripping your body trying to keep you underwater, but you fought as hard as you could. when you were finally able to break the surface you did so with a big gasp, eagerly sucking in air as you fought against the waves.

“help! rafe! john b! jj!” you screamed thrashing in the water

when rafe saw you fall overboard his heart stopped and it was like his body was in autopilot. he ran forward and grabbed the lifebuoy that was hanging on the side of the boat.

sarah locked her teary eyes on her brother, her heart pounding out of her chest at the thought of losing her best friend, and now she sees rafe holding the lifebouy and knows exactly what is going through his head.

“rafe!” sarah yelled not wanting to lose someone else

rafe didn’t hesitate, his mind already made up as he ran to the end of the boat.

“audrey! i’m coming!” rafe yelled before diving into the water

the pogues watched in terror as the two disappeared from their sight, john b dropping to his knees in agony at the potential loss of his sister. the only family he had left. while sarah was in the same position, you were her best friend and now sister in law and rafe was the only family she had left and she had just lost them both.

rafe gasped as he broke the surface, holding onto the bouy tightly he looked around frantically trying to spot you when he saw you clinging to a piece of wood.

“audrey!” rafe yelled before swimming towards you

your head snapped up when you heard rafe’s familiar voice and couldn’t help but sob in relief as you saw him swimming towards you.

“rafe!” you started swimming to meet him halfway

when you were within arms reach, rafe pulled you into his arms and held you against him and the bouy as tight as he could. you cried as you clung to him and rafe tried his best to push his fear aside for your sake.

“you came for me. you came for me.” you gasped kicking your legs to stay above the water

“i’ll always come for you. always. it’s going to be ok, baby. just don’t let go.” rafe demanded and you nodded

the storm raged around you and the boat disappeared from your sight, nothing around but the vast stretch of the ocean leaving you with nothing but fear and anxiety. but at least you had rafe, you knew he would do whatever he could to protect you and that’s what kept you going as the two of you clutched onto each other tightly and rode out the storm.

the first thing you recognized was how quiet it was around you, the next was the body laying beside you. you blinked your eyes open and coughed feeling some of the water you inhaled trickle out of your mouth. hands grabbed your face and you blinked up to see rafe’s soaked face hovering above you.

“there she is, wake up for me baby.” rafe sighed in relief as he pulled you into his arms

“are we alive?” you asked clutching onto his arm

“yeah baby, we’re alive. we’re ok.” rafe chuckled kissing your forehead

you sighed leaning against him lazily, as exhaustion filled your aching body. you have no idea how the two of you survived the storm, but you were grateful.

“you saved my life.” you looked up at rafe with teary eyes before grabbing his hand and placing it on your stomach. “you saved us both.”

rafe felt his emotions overpower him as a lone tear slid down his cheek, it was just now hitting him how much he had to lose. if he had been even a second too late he would have lost you. he would’ve lost you and the baby.

he had spent so much time being an idiot, being a terrible person when he could’ve spent that time loving you. no more, he made that vow to himself right in that moment. he made a promise to himself that he would do right by you and this baby, nothing else mattered. not money or kooks vs pogues, nothing. only you and the future the two of you had together with your child.

“i will always save you. i love you so much, audrey, and i and so sorry for the way i have treated you. for the way i have treated your friends. for everything. this has made me realize that you are the most important thing to me in the world and i am going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you and to our child. if you give me a chance, i swear to you that i will be the best man i can be.” rafe cradled your face in his hands

as you looked into his eyes you saw nothing but love and sincerity, and it was what you had been wanting from him for as long as you can remember. seeing him in this moment you know how serious he is and after he literally risked his life to save you, you know that he is the one.

“i love you too, rafe. i want to be a family.” you leaned your forehead against his nudging his nose with yours

“i want that too. more than anything.” rafe said before leaning forward and connecting your lips

in that moment you knew that no matter what came out of this new treasure hunt that you would always have rafe by your side and that your child would grow up with a father. and that’s all you could hope for.

#outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x routledge!reader

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