#sorry i’m breaking down across like five blogs but who cares | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mindyoboboabuisness · 2 years

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I guess I don’t really know what to write. Nor how to even use this thing. I literally googled “collage,” and then “blog,” for two different purposes and then came across Tumblr. Seems pretty cool so far. I don’t think it’s what I’m looking for exactly. But I’m going to go with it. I deleted my social media accounts. My blogging on there soon turned to drama that I could never seem to get away from no matter how hard I tried to look away. I honestly just want a writing place I can just talk and freely. To no one really. Except the sorry soul that comes across my writings. The blessings of this: I don’t have to add anyone and you’d have to try pretty hard to find me so hey. I guess it’s a win-win for someone who wants to talk straight into the world. But to not directly anyone yet to everyone

Okay and as I’m writing this I do remember coming across tumblr in my day. Though, I didn’t know it at the time. I had been dating someone and she uses Tumblr. Well then I didn’t know what it was and the logo or something looks different but I remember a post that said this “my girlfriend broke up with me again today.” And I had remembered seeing a notification and clicking on it and then quickly shutting it once I saw that she was talking about it. I was mortified at the time. Because I thought she was publicly speaking on it. Well I mean she was. But now that I see what tumblr is, I’m not sure if I’m more hurt I didn’t know about it and apart of hers, or If I’m more hurt it was public. Whatever tho. Right. That’s just another mark I have. Another scar. Let’s just add it into the MANY reasons I wanted to start a blog.

One- to speak my freaking mind- to get out of my mind

Whether that be me “being crazy,” and totally ranting and writing for all or none to see/read

I just want to write every single day and just about anything. Mainly right now my topics of motivation are of exs and being triggered. Closure- or lack there of. — the word hate- yet learning forgiveness- not in others but within myself. Lies- manipulating- on all parties. Self love and self neglect.

How I’ve spent five years of life into one small year. Time a time machine took be forward and back and twice more. So much has happened it’s unbelievable and I’ll never know where to begin when I write. I know for certain I’ll trail off. I’ll rant. I’ll go in circles. I’ll vent. Sound selfish. I’ll be selfish. Caring. Angry. I’m going to be so many things on this site because all I want to do is sit and write. Every day it’s to write. If it’s not head phones on my head. Drinking an iced coffee. Taking care of my kids and animals then all I want to do is lay in a field and write. And that’s what I spend most my days doing. Usually it’s with pen and paper and in my Journals. But I’m over that. I’m over talking to myself over and over again with my shit and feeling unheard. Feeling like I haven’t changed or made a difference with my writings. Not that, that is my main goal here—- because my main goal with my writing to oblivion is to find healing. But with writing I may be able to make that change or have someone relate to me in some way or feel maybe I’ll be heard or like I can go back and look on things. To see if I sound the same when I speak. To see the growth. See my patterns. My triggers. I tend to want to write the most when I’m frustrated. I’ve lost my interest a couple years ago in my creative writing . I lost it during the same time as the above mentioned person wrote on tumblr. Now that’s just ironic. That has nothing to do with why. Our relationship did, however. The misery i put myself in. The lies I allowed. Told. Did. And lies I received and blinded by her reality and manipulating me. Breaking me down to build me up to leave me. To have their own mother against me. To try and justify her pains and hurts done by her. Finding ways to throw the past in my face like it dictates my future or who I truly am as a person

You know a person when you lay in bed with them. Just just know them. You can’t fake something with someone in the bedroom. You can’t fake the look in someone’s eyes . You can’t fake a chemistry. You can’t fake sparks. But what you can fake is the definition of your love , loyalty , sparks or whatever makes you happy. You can’t fake the truth or the toxicity of yourself. You can mask it. Bandaid it. Sugar coat it. And best sell it. Love bombing as you will. Oh how I have been love bombed so many times in my day.

It’s why I’m sitting here writing this entirely way to long of a post about bs. Cuz it’s clear I’m still not over it. I never will be. Truly. I know my soul. And I think it’ll take me until later in life before I can wrap my head around this or accept it or understand it. And quite frankly forgive it. It’s why I mentioned above the words hate. Because I don’t like to use that word. At all. It’s so strong. But there’s a few strong individuals that I hate. I just do. And that’s where the forgiveness comes into play. Not the. But me. For my mistakes. My lies. My parts. Not theres. We all do things for reasons that make sense to us. Regardless if it does to someone else and regardless if it hurts them. Some ppl doing because they’re selfish and don’t want to hurt the other person but it’s truly only about their guilt. They don’t want to hurt the other person because of how they feel not how it makes the other person feel. What I’m talking about is when ppl hurt others or lie to protect them . It’s completely different. Yet that doesn’t make it right.

I’ll get more into depth with all of this later in my blogs I’m sure because like I said I’m not over any of it. I still hurt daily and obsess . It isn’t healthy at all. And we’ll therapy tells me that. Okay I get it. But how do you get over something you want your side heard so bad. But that side doesn’t matter no matter what

Because for one. This person had been wanting to end it for so long that I just didn’t let her. I never did. I wouldn’t accept when she’d end it so many times. She’d want out all the time but I was so selfish I begged her to stay. I mistaked a desperation to be loved as love. She didn’t know what true love was or how to properly love someone. She’s never been shown a healthy relationship by her parents nor has she been in one. And neither have I. I have no healthy one to base it off of. But because she was outwardly nice I took it as true love and acceptance when all along she’s the worse of them all. The darkest of all the snakes

I opened up and told some of my deepest things and was honest to my own fault. To my own fault. Even to my own self destructive behaviors. Feeling helpless lost and worthless without the other person. It’s funny how two toxic ppl can come together and bring out the worst in you. Or the best right . Because when it’s good it’s good. What sucks tho… is when you’re so raw but they’re so fake. Fake about everything except in that bedroom or the way they lay with you. And make you feel safe. When you lay on that persons chest and hear that heart beat. It’s real. It’s just scary to know what’s in the mind. Action and words don’t add up to what’s in that bedroom or in your ear as you lay on that chest

It fools you. It blinds you. It makes you trust too easily. Too quickly and even to the wrong ones. Even to the ones you thought were different. But are actually worse because they use ammo against you to get back at you in any form they can and then you do it too. It’s just a vicious game. Hurt ppl hurt ppl. And most relationships that are messy are because of how much passion is there or hate. Or both. Can’t have one without the other right ?

Still a year later and I want to go and track her down and try and explain my side but what’s it even matter. A narrative has already been made. Diluted. ran with. And I have to stay quiet and not say too much in the sake of saving my entire dignity , name, life and I have others to think about. Ppl try to use “withholding,” information as lies. Yet when you tell them all the truth it backfires just as hard anyhow. You lose either way so I say go along with whatever story and narrative you want and you owe it to NO ONE to tell your truth to. Not even someone you lay in bed with. Because they snake you. Fake you. Lie. Cheat and justify. So to owe it to them to tell them things that happened decade before y’all knew each other or how it changed your life narrative isn’t up to them to judge or discriminate. Especially when you told them all the info that was needed to be told. And no one is the judge on how much truth should be told. To anyone. No matter the circumstances. Especially if your life could change depending on it. And especially if you haven’t been with the person for at least a few years. I’m saying that because speaking from experience I told someone right away my shit and I got left. So the next time I told 100 percent everything to except one thing that I left out and kept and was going to wait until my heart told me it’s time they deserve to know. That my heart was ready to accept the fate of withholding things. It’s my life. My mistakes. Ppl come and ppl go. And no love partner deserves to know anymore then they tell you regardless if they look at as mistrust or lies or manipulating. It isn’t. It’s simply telling you one thing and never filling in the blanks and letting whatever the system say let it say.

I knew one day I’d be confronted because I decided early on this was a woman I wasn’t going to tell. But like everything in life, it comes up. One way or another . I would of preferred a little more loyalty before I had decided I wanted to tell her. She would of been the first. I got that close to trusting someone. But of course she found out in her own little toxic delusional way. And ran with it. Got the information and narrative she needed and ran with it. And by golly I found out my reputation and record is worse then I ever knew. Yep that’s how that works. A little investigation on myself . Oh the irony of my names and having two of me and good ol trina. Like for real. Good times. I’m baffled at the daftness of it all. But still pained. By the betrayer. The one person I trusted finally in my life to the point I let them meet my family . That’s a first.

And just isn’t worth ignoring that intuition. I’m glad I never ever let someone meet my family before because now this person is a poster child of self absorbency and lies and manipulating ppl. And being so selfish to complain in a state you’re visiting someone’s family. All the red flags of selfishness is just really making me angry most days

But it’s because I’m angry with myself . I’m angry I wasn’t all the way truthful at first. Told her it all upfront. Because it would of been accepted. She would of accepted me. She wouldn’t of left me for any of it. Tho her angle at the end is to try and use that all and say I built a web of lies or tried using her. Saying I didn’t love her I only used her. Tho I have all of my own my money. House. Car etc. that woman didn’t provide me anything to use. Not even emotionally. I fought for her attention I didn’t use her. It hurts to be told that. After hours of crying and in pain over her and her self absorption and her life goals and her mom. Yet she only took my toxicity and ran with it and used it against in. In every form. Even my own mental illness. When she’s the definition of mentally ill. Tho In extreme in denial and legit denies any medical diagnosis or help. It’s truly sad because I don’t think she’s truly going to ever comprehend what the gravity of her actions have caused mentally for ppl. Not just one but many

And all over what? Because you believe I withheld or lied bout my career or this or that or this or that. Yet you already had your mind up and met someone prior . Knew I cried for you like a child. Like a baby I cried while this person was on deployment while their mom text me daily telling me to leave their daughter alone and give her space and that it’ll be okay. All mean while filling her daughters head with more ammo. Her and the A girl I’ll call her, to go and look me up. Do it prior to dating someone not during especially when a person has already told you everything you need to know

Nothing that happened prior to me meeting you doesn’t matter. What matters is our relationship and to be told I was a bad person or treated someone badly hurts because I live my life to make my partners happy. And that’s been my whole problem. If they’re crying or upset or anything in their life, they absolutely come first . My relationship expectations were diluted but as a person I was so incredibly kind and uplifting. Supportive and wanted the best. Would of gone broke to uplift them and their life in any way. Even if that meant putting their job/family first.

Someone nearing 30 years old that plays mind games is so scary because one thing I I didn’t do with her was play mind games. I got drunk . I got stupid but I was honest. I put out my boundaries and expectations and never veered. I just got crazier as the years went on and unmediated and not getting the therapy I needed for my brain and life. But now that I’ve had a year of sobriety and a year of mental health treatment I can say im thinking clearly. Tho im still burying a lot of wounds

Wounds I thought I could bounce back from. But this time it’s just a little harder. I was delusional and truly thought when she got back from deployment we’d start a life together a real one and one day she’d be my wife and she’d know everything and we’d learn and cope together. Not against each other. I never imagined out of anyone in my life that I ever came across that this person would be a wolf in sheeps clothing. True definition in all its forms.

It’s scary how they mold to who they’re around. How they flip a switch on and off as quickly as they do. Within one week you’re they’re everything to absolutely nothing like you’re trash

Though you told them everything right

I mistaked telling someone my all in bed, for love and trust . Which it wasn’t . It was vulnerability and manipulating. It’s amazing what ppl do to “feel good.” Until the next person comes along

The grass is never greener. And I know that now. I know that because I use to think it was the person that made me unhappy or that I found my true love

And that’s not true. I found someone I could love easier and healthier doesn’t mean it was love or real. Just means I was capable and I’m still trying to learn from it

Though every day I have so many triggers of her and us and that relationship that it hurts something deep

But I know it’s not her I hurt over. It’s what I’ve done . It’s what’s inside of me. My guilt and mistakes my shame and my wanting to better and never live that life nor never make someone feel how I’ve made her or anyone else feel. It’s about loyalty to myself. Honesty to myself and happiness without. Love within. And then to others. I never truly loved her. I just tried to love myself through her.

I will heal. Even if it’s ten years from now

I have so many other hurts prior and after this particular situation that I’m navigation and making apart of my recovery but life doesn’t sit still .

As much as I love writing and hurt over it I still spend most my days busier then I’d ever like them. Everything I do is a full time job. I don’t complain but I am exhausted so I don’t have time to process or think. And when I do—- I realize I’m still stuck back a year ago when it comes to emotions

So I’m tucking it away and I’ll just keep writing until it’s out of my system and I can say the words I don’t care and actually mean them

Because right now I do and that’s the problem . That isn’t fair to me. And that isn’t fair the current life I built for myself in this last year. And back with the one person who’s never failed me in my life. That knows more than anything yet here he is. And that will bring me to end this blog post because talking about him deserves a whole post in itself. And a million more after that

There’s never enough words to ever describe or talk about my hardworking, faithful , loving man. I love Gilbert with the true definition of love and selflessness. For better or for worse is truly real and I’m so blessed God opened my soul to see the ability of love im able to give and be loyal and open. And care about someone on a level deeper then sex and truly comprehend that sex isn’t needed to be in pure joy and happiness. In its rawest form.

When you’re left with nothing but two options- life or death- you literally see life differently and nothing matters like what other petty ppl think. You can’t let it go because your focus is the main goal. Life. Living. Simple As that. And that’s what a terminal illness does. It shows you what’s important. That’s your partner and your family. Nothing else. Because you might not wake up tomorrow. The grass isnt greener. Nurture what you have. Respect and learn with what you have. Because otherwise years will pass and so will multiple partners before you finally realize . Or you won’t ever. But will you truly be able to find pure happiness out of the small things in life and be more then a pessimist?

Can you look at a sunset and scream it and get pure joy from it? I know I do. I always have. But now I look at clouds and their beauty to me is even more beautiful then a sunset and that’s because of their own stories they tell and how each one is just as different as we are people.

Anyways it’s late. And I should go to sleep. Well I should say at least try to —- considering my little Goldie baby boy is snoring away like a grown man child that’s human. I have to preface that because he’s a dog hahahahah he shouldn’t be snoring this loudly hahaha

Love all of you (who are you? I dunno—- but I love you) xoxoox Oxo

#TeamBon

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americasass91 · 3 years

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The Shield and the Sweater

Hello lovelies! This little fic came to me when the lovely, beautiful, talented @stargazingfangirl18 asked a very important question on her blog. Would you rather be enemies to lovers with Steve Rogers or friends with benefits with Ransom Drysdale. Well my greedy ass wanted both. Thus the birth of this story. I also turned it around a little to make it fit into Siri’s 5k Soft Dark Challenge! I’ve never written anything dark before. Also not sure if this classifies as soft!dark or if it’s more dark. But it’s one of those! If that makes you uncomfortable, then please don’t read it. This is also my first time writing a threesome, so let me know if it sucks! I hope you enjoy it! 😘

General prompts:

8)The town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

Dialogue prompts:

3)”Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

11)”I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

Rating: Explicit(if you’re under 18, please leave)

Words: 6.2k(this one got away from me, sorry)

Warnings: soft!dark/dark themes, unprotected sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, threesome(M/M/F), manipulation, language, model!Ransom being an asshole, Steve not being who you think he is

“And I really think if everyone pitches in to make these changes, it’ll really make a difference in the long run.”

Wow, so this is how you were going to die. In your whole 20 something years of existence, you never thought boredom would be your cause of death.

Sure, you were the lead Accountant at Stark Tower and these monthly meetings were mandatory. But did you really have to be here to listen to Rogers go on and on about how we can ‘improve our working environment’? Why did he even care anyway? He was barely ever here as it is.

You must have been zoning out worse than you thought because next thing you know your coworker, Janet, is poking you in the side and pointing towards Steve.

With a quick glare sent her way, you move your gaze to the Captain. He is giving you the same look he always does. Like he’s disgusted with you. “I’m sorry Miss Y/L/N. Am I boring you?”

A scoff escapes your mouth. “No, not at all Captain Rogers. I just love when people who are never here seem to always have an opinion on how things are run and how they could be better.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “Do you have a problem with me, Y/N? Cause if you do, I’m sure there’s a way to solve that.”

You stand up and match his expression. You lean forward with your hands resting on the table. You can’t help but notice the Captain drops his gaze to your cleavage that’s now on more display than before. But just as quick as it was there, his gaze rises back up to meet your face. “Is that a threat, Captain Rogers?”

“Oh, it’s more than a-“

Tony quickly stands up and claps his hands together. “Okay! Meeting adjourned! You two, come here!”

You quickly straighten yourself up and make your way over to Tony. You always try to make sure you show him as much respect as you can. He’s your boss after all.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Stark. My emotions got the better of me. It won’t happen again.”

He nods to you. “Thank you, Y/N. I accept your apology. But what I’m not understanding is why Steve here wanted to fire you?”

You both turn to look at Steve who has a sheepish expression on his face. “Yeah, sorry about that, Tony. She just seems to bring out this ugly side of me. I’ll try to keep it more contained next time.” He then moves his gaze to you. “Sorry, Y/N. I promise to be more professional moving forward.”

He makes a quick exit, leaving you shocked that he apologized at all. Ever since you started here almost a year ago now, you’ve been at each other’s throats. It was your fault really.

It was your first week and you were in the break room grabbing some coffee when you overheard a few of your coworkers making fun of Steve for being a virgin. Now, you weren’t sure if it was true but you wanted to fit in so you made your way over to the group and asked if anyone calls him Captain Virgin. That earned you some big laughs. But the laughter died down quickly as Steve entered the room to grab some coffee. Judging by the glare he gave you, he heard what you had called him.

You went straight to Tony after that to apologize. You really didn’t want to get fired. But you wanted to make sure Tony heard the story from you before Steve got the chance to talk to him. To your utter surprise, Tony found the name hilarious and gave you a high five, saying you were going to fit right in.

Well long story short, it’s almost a year later and Steve is still getting called Captain Virgin. Oh but don’t worry, he has names of his own for you. His favorite is Tony’s Pet. For some reason, it really eats at you when he calls you that.

But the one thing you hate the most about Steve?

Is how utterly, hopelessly, and desperately attracted you are to the son of a bitch.

That happened in your second week when you went to use the complimentary gym and saw him beating the shit out of some poor punching bag. Your panties and your workout were definitely ruined after that.

The more you fought with Steve, the more you just wanted him to bend you over any surface and have his way with you.

It was despicable how horny you were for him. You were pretty sure all he’d have to do is snap his fingers and point to the floor in front of him and you’d happily drop to your knees and take him down your throat.

So that left you leaving work every day in a horny state. You started by taking care of it yourself when you got home. But after a while even that wasn’t cutting it. Then you started bringing home one night stands. But after the 4th disappointing non-orgasm, you gave up and just learned to live with it.

Sure, you could attempt to start being nice to Steve and maybe ask him out. But you were pretty sure he hated you. Plus you have way too much pride to actually do that.

So that leads to now. It’s Friday night and your workday is almost over. You’re inputting the last few numbers from the last expense report in your pile.

You get the last number put in when Janet approaches you. She sits on the corner of your desk. “So, you coming tonight?”

You take your glasses off and lean back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head. “Coming where?”

She rolls her eyes at you. “Oh, come on Y/N! You know we go out almost every Friday night. You never come and you always say you will!”

You start to clear off your desk and put things back in their place. “Yeah well I could. Or I could go home and sit on my ass and do nothing.”

“Well, that explains why it’s looking a bit bigger lately.”

Janet’s jaw drops as she directs her gaze at Steve, who is now standing in front of your desk.

You smirk and lean on your elbows towards him. “You like looking at my ass, Rogers?”

He scoffs. “Well when it takes up that much space, it’s hard not to notice. But here, I came to give you this.”

He hands you what looks to be a 10 page expense report. “Sorry it’s late, I’ve been busy, you know. Saving the world.”

You ungraciously take it from him and throw it in your to-do pile. “That can wait until Monday. I’ve got plans. We’re going to-” you look towards Janet for clarification. “Lavo.” You turn your gaze back to Steve. “Yeah, we’re going to Lavo. So this will wait til Monday if that’s okay with you, sir.”

Steve does his best to move his bag and jacket subtly towards the front of his pants so you won’t notice his growing hard-on. He hates how turned on he gets when you guys get into it. And then you call him sir? Jesus. He clears his throat. “Of course, I'm the one who turned it in at the last minute.”

Janet speaks up quickly. “You could always come with us! It’ll be fun!”

You grin widely at him. “Yeah! You could finally get your cherry popped, Captain Virgin.”

Steve can’t help the blush that covers his cheeks. “Uh, I can assure you my cherry has been popped since the 40’s. But thank you for your concern. And thank you for the invite, Janet. But i think I’ll stay in tonight.” He takes out his phone and sends a quick text before turning around and walking towards the elevators.

Wow. He didn’t even try to retaliate. You shrug your shoulders and grab your purse before standing up. “Alright, I’ll go! But on one condition!”

Janet claps her hands in excitement and starts walking with you towards the elevators. “Sure, anything!”

You press the button for the lobby. “You are going to be my wingwoman. Cause this girl definitely needs to get laid.”

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Lavo is super packed by the time you guys arrive. Of course you all had to go home and change.

You decided to go with a simple, yet effective, little black dress that showed off just enough to get men’s attention.

Thankfully you are able to score the last table. The waiter comes over and gets everyone’s drink order. You decide to stick with your favorite. You don’t want to get too drunk on the off chance you find someone to take home.

About a half hour into hot office gossip, Lucy, who is sitting across from you, taps your arm. You raise your eyebrows in question towards her.

She subtly nods her head towards the bar. “Okay I’m pretty sure the hottest guy I have ever seen is checking you out.”

You can’t help the smirk that crosses your face. “Yeah? Which one?”

“You can’t miss him. He’s fucking hot. Like no comparison to any of the other dudes sitting up there.”

You glance down at your drink and quickly finish the remainder. You stand up and adjust your dress, pushing up your breasts in the process. “Well, then I guess it’s time for a refill.” You wink and turn to make your way towards the bar.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot him. And boy was Lucy not kidding. He was fucking hot. Brown hair, blue eyes, and a smug smirk that would normally turn you off. But on him it worked. And who even looks that good in a fucking cream colored cable knit?

You go up to the bar, not too close to Mr. Hottie of course, and patiently wait for the bartender.

Hottie McHothot not so subtly moves his gaze up and down your body. He must like what he sees. “Hey honey, have you ever raised chickens?”

Uh. That’s definitely not the first thing you expected to come out of his mouth. You look over at him with confusion on your face. “Uh, no. Why do you ask?”

He just shrugs his shoulders. “Just kinda figured you might. Cause you sure can raise a cock.”

Okay, you’ve definitely never heard that line before. You crack up. You’re pretty sure you even snorted on accident. Once you collect yourself you ask, “Has that line ever worked for you?”

The bartender makes his way over to take your order. After reordering what you had before, you turn towards Hottie and wait for his answer.

“Not sure, my buddy told it to me yesterday so this is the first time I’m using it. Did it work?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. It was pretty cheesy.”

“Yeah, maybe. But it got you to laugh. So I’d say mission accomplished. Name’s Ransom. What’s yours, pretty girl?” He holds out his hand for you to shake.

Ransom. Now where have you heard that name before? You accept his hand shake. You can’t help but notice how much bigger his hands are than yours. Jesus. You could already feel your panties getting wet.

“My name’s Y/N. Ransom, that sounds familiar. Do I know you?”

He releases your hand and goes to take a sip of his bourbon. “Well, I guess that depends. Do you read magazines or have you seen the side of the city bus lately?”

You quickly wrack your brain. You don’t read many magazines. But the bus drives by you everyday on your walk to work. Holy shit! That’s it! He’s in his underwear on the side of the bus. You’ve drooled over that picture plenty of times.

“Oh, yeah! I remember now! I’ve seen you on the bus! What’s it an ad for? I can never really get past the almost naked man. A bit distracting on my way to work.”

He smirks as he briefly glances down at your breasts. “I’m glad you know my work. It’s an ad for Calvin Klein. For their new line of men’s briefs. Sorry I’ve been a distraction.” He sends you a wink.

Fuck. He was a model. And a popular one at that if he’s in an ad for Calvin Klein.

“I didn’t say I minded. You can make it up to me you know.” You wink back. Holy shit. Were you really flirting with a model?

“Yeah? Well, how about we get out of here and I’ll show you a fully naked man.”

Okay. Cheesy line number 2. Was that really going to work on you?

Yes.

Yes it was.

“Let me just go grab my purse.”

Drink forgotten, you go back to your table as quickly as you can without looking desperate. “Sorry, girls. But this is where I leave you.”

Janet glances down at her phone. “We haven’t even been here an hour yet! Where are you going?”

You send her a wink. “I’m leaving with that guy! You guys know him! Remember that ad on the side of the bus?”

They all turn their gaze to him. And they all make it very obvious. He just waves and sends them a smirk.

“Holy fucking shit! That’s the new Calvin Klein guy! Oh my god you lucky bitch!”

“Wait! Listen. We’ll let you go on one condition.”

You furrow your brows in confusion. “Okay?”

Janet gives you a naughty smirk. “On Monday I’ll need a report on if they had to stuff his briefs to get that delicious looking bulge or not.”

You give her a naughty smirk of your own. “I can totally do that.”

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Monday morning you were all smiles as you stepped off the elevator and headed towards your desk. You give Janet a wink as you pass by her. She quickly makes her way over just as you sit down. “Um, excuse me hoe. But is that the same dress you were wearing Friday night?”

You quickly grab the cardigan you always keep in your desk out and put it on and button it up, attempting to look a little more professional. “Maybe.”

Janet opens her mouth in shock. “You stayed the whole weekend with him? You little slut! How was it?”

You turn on your computer and grab for the expense report of Steve’s you left in your to-do pile. Then you turn towards your nosy coworker. “Well, if you must know, yes. I did stay the whole weekend with him. And I’m pretty sure I was in an orgasm-induced coma the whole time. It’s all kind of a rough, sticky, mind-blowing blur.”

“Are you going to see him again?”

You shrug your shoulders as you put in your login information on the computer. “I haven’t decided yet. While the sex was the best I’ve ever had, he’s kind of an ass. Talked about himself and all the famous people he’s hooked up with since becoming a model. I honestly kept initiating sex just to make him shut up.”

She gives you a look like you’re stupid. “I’m not seeing the issue here. So what if he talks about himself a lot? The sex was amazing. You need to lock that down girl.”

You roll your eyes at her. “That’s the thing, Janet. He doesn’t do relationships. He told me so multiple times. Plus I’m pretty sure he was texting another chick in between our ‘sessions’. I suppose if I’m desperate, I’ll get a hold of him.”

“You know you could always just have him on backup for sex. Like a friends with benefits situation.”

“Janet, I’m in my late 20s. I’m too old for that kind of relationship.”

“Exactly, you’re in your late 20s! This is the perfect time for that kind of relationship before you settle down and get married! Have one last final hoorah!”

“I can’t have this conversation before caffeine. I’m going to get coffee. You act like I’m dying soon or something.” You turn to walk away but then remember you were supposed to tell her something. “Oh yeah and by the way. The bulge is definitely not stuffed.”

You give her a wink and then head to the break room for some much needed coffee. When you see who’s in there, you almost contemplate going downstairs to a different break room.

Steve is standing at the counter, preparing his coffee. He turns when he hears you come in and gives you a once over. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

You grab a mug out of the cabinet beside him. “Sorry my appearance isn’t up to your standards today, Rogers. I was a little...busy this weekend.”

He takes a sip of his coffee to make sure it’s right. Then he moves out of your way so you can get to the coffee, but still staying close. “Busy getting run over by a truck? Cause that’s kind of what you look like.”

You pour yourself a generous amount of coffee and take a long sip, letting the bitter liquid slowly make you human. “Yeah, well. I was busy getting fucked all weekend, Rogers. But I know your little innocent mind wouldn’t know what that’s like.”

That wipes the stupid little smirk right off his face. He almost looks pissed. He moves even closer to you. Almost pressing himself right up against you. So close that you can smell his coffee-scented breath. If you were wearing panties, they’d be ruined.

“Not all of us feel the need to sleep around. Some of us are looking for a real connection. Not just a one night stand of meaningless, mediocre sex.”

You press yourself just a little closer to him, his chest now touching yours. “Oh, it was anything but mediocre. Maybe if you actually got some, you’d know what that feels like.”

He leans his head down until his mouth is next to your ear, his left hand now resting on your hip. “You really need to stop insinuating that I’m a virgin sweetheart. If you were nicer to me, I’d show you that I know how to fuck.” With that he backs up and heads out of the break room.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Jesus Christ. You swear you almost came.

And if you were nicer to him? Fuck him. He’s not nice to you either. That’s okay. You have someone who can scratch this itch.

You pull out your phone and send a quick text.

To: Fuckboi

You busy tonight? I could really use a release.

The reply came almost immediately.

From: Fuckboi

Didn’t get enough of my cock this weekend huh? I suppose I could make myself available.

You roll your eyes and quickly reply with your address and what time to be over.

The rest of the day passes by slowly. It takes you half the day to enter Steve’s expense report. God he’s descriptive. At least it’s completed. You can’t really say that much for the other Avengers. They usually half assed them and made them barely acceptable.

You are shutting down for the day when Steve approaches your desk. You remove your glasses and look at him expectantly. “Is there something I can help you with, Steve?”

A blush creeps it’s way across his cheeks. “Um, I was actually just wondering if you had time to go over the new expense report forms? They should be a lot easier to fill out.”

You glance down at the clock on your computer. Ransom is going to be at your place in about 20 minutes.“Can we do it tomorrow? I have company that’ll be showing up at my apartment in like 20 minutes.”

His hopeful smile falls. His face is now unreadable. “Would your company happen to be whoever you spent the weekend with?”

Confused, you grab for your purse after getting your computer shut down. “Actually, yes. Should I have asked your permission first?” You attempt a joke to ease the sudden tension.

He pulls out his phone and starts typing furiously. Wow. You weren’t aware he knew how to text. You hear it ping with a reply before he angrily puts it back in his pocket. “Sure, we can do this tomorrow. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your whoreing around.”

Your jaw drops in surprise. Sure you guys were always throwing jabs at each other. But he’d never said anything like this before. And in such a mean tone.

You round your desk and stand right in front of him. “Fuck you, Steve.”

You hurry towards the elevators before he can see the tears that have welled up. You couldn’t let him know he had that power over you. Asshole. Thank god Ransom was coming over. Hopefully he could fuck what Steve just said right out of your head.

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

You’ve lost count of how many orgasms Ransom has pulled from you with his mouth when there’s a knock on your door.

Ransom looks up at you from his kneeling position on your living room floor. “Did you invite someone else to join us, pretty girl?”

You scoff and push him away so you can stand up. You pull your dress down as you make your way towards the door. “Yeah. I can barely handle just you. I’m pretty sure if we added someone else, I’d actually die.”

You open the door and gasp in surprise. “Steve? What are you doing here?”

He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “Look, I know you probably already have company but I felt really bad about what I said to you earlier today and wanted to apologize.”

You have so many questions. “How did you know where I lived?”

That sheepish smile makes its appearance again. “I may or may not have looked in your employee file.”

You shake your head. “And you felt the need to come all the way here and apologize? Why not just text me?”

“It would only have felt right to me to do it in person. I really am sor-”

You feel a pair of arms wrap around you from behind. “Well, who do we have here? Why is Captain America at your door?”

You turn your head to address Ransom. “He just came by to apologize to me. I think he was just leaving.”

Steve has a disappointed look on his face. “Yeah, I suppose I was.”

“Awe, what a shame. I thought you were gonna ask him to join us, pretty girl.”

Steve’s eyes grow wide at the thought. You quickly speak up. “No, I don’t think he’d be comfortable with that. He’s a little old fashioned.” You give him a sincere smile. You didn't think that was a bad thing.

Steve looks back towards the elevators and then back to you. He clears his throat. “What if I wanted to join you?” Seeing your wide eyed look, he quickly adds, “Only if Y/N would be comfortable with that of course.”

You contemplate what the consequences could be in your head. But then you get distracted when Ransom starts grinding his hard on against your ass. “Come on, pretty girl. Make a decision.”

The next word comes out of your mouth faster than what your brain can process. “Okay.”

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

Now you were standing awkwardly in your bedroom with Steve and Ransom looking at you expectantly.

You’ve never done this before so you’re not sure how this is supposed to go. “So, um. How do we start exactly?”

Ransom smirks and comes up behind you. “I think you should call the shots, pretty girl. If you’re okay with that, Steve?”

With the mention of his name, he walks towards you and places his hands on your hips. “I think that’s a great idea. Can I kiss you now?” He places his hand under your chin and raises your face up to meet his. “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” With that, his lips meet yours. It’s explosive. You quickly wrap your hands around his neck and press yourself up against him.

You get so lost in the kiss, you forget that Ransom is there. That is until he presses his lips against your neck and presses himself against your ass. It presses you even further against Steve, making you feel his excitement against your lower belly.

You’re so overwhelmed already and you’d barely started. You may not survive this evening.

As you move your hands down to remove Steve’s shirt, Ransom is unzipping your dress, pressing kisses to every inch of exposed skin.

Without breaking the kiss, Steve moves his hands around to unhook your bra so he can get his hands on your breasts. He pinches your nipples, causing you to moan into his mouth. He moves his lips to your neck, sucking on your pulse point.

After successfully removing your dress, Ransom stands back up and turns your head to connect your lips. He starts rutting his clothed hard on against your naked ass. His left hand reaches around to bat one of Steve’s away so he can squeeze your breast.

Steve takes the hand that had been swatted away and moves it down to your soaking wet core. He starts lightly circling your clit. Just enough pressure to make you mewl.

You reach behind you with your left hand and tug at the waistband of Ransom’s briefs. “Off.” You moan out as you take your right hand and start attempting to take off Steve’s jeans. He smirks into your neck and helps you out. He barely gets them unbuttoned and unzipped before you’re reaching your hand into them and his boxers to grab his cock. It feels big.

Ransom grabs your left hand and places it on his now free cock. You wrap your hand around it and give it a squeeze before you start pumping your hand up and down. You do the same to Steve’s, making the both of them let out grunts against both sides of your neck. Steve increases the pressure on your clit a little. Still not enough.

“Nee-need, you. Please.” You weakly moan out. Ransom moves his mouth up to your ear. “How do you want us, pretty girl?”

You reluctantly pull away from both of them so you can think. You decide to be greedy. You point to Steve. “I want you to lay on the bed, please.”

He does as you ask. Putting his hands behind his head as he awaits further instructions.

You get on the bed and straddle him. You turn around and reach your arm out for Ransom. “Want you behind me.” You lean over and open your bedside drawer to grab the lube and toss it at Ransom. He smirks as he straddles Steve’s legs and gets behind you. He uncaps the lube and starts coating his cock with a generous amount. “Need my cock in that ass, pretty girl?”

You hold up your hand. “Wait.” You lean down towards Steve and give him a quick kiss. “Are you okay with this?”

He nods his head. “As long as you are.” You raise back up and smile at him. You turn your head and look at Ransom. “I’m assuming you're okay with this?”

He just smirks and squeezes some lube out so that it slides down the crack of your ass. “More than okay, pretty girl. Need me to stretch you out first?”

You smirk and pull him in for a quick, filthy kiss. “I think it got plenty stretched out this weekend.”

He matches your smirk. “You little slut. Wanting both of our cocks stuffing you full.”

You whimper as he lands a smack on your ass. Leaning up on your knees, you grab a hold of Steve’s cock and start running his tip up and down your folds. He places his left hand on your right hip and his right hand on your left thigh. “Condom?”

You quickly shake your head and pause your actions. “On the pill. Unless of course you’d be more comfortable with one.”

He shakes his head. “No, just making sure.”

You turn back to Ransom. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready for you.”

He nods and places his hands on your shoulders, waiting somewhat patiently.

You slowly sink down on Steve’s cock. He’s stretching you out so deliciously. It burns in just the right way. Ransom may be longer, but Steve is definitely thicker.

After you get fully seated on him, you take a minute to adjust. It only takes a few seconds. You turn your head towards Ransom. “Okay, I’m ready.”

He removes his right hand from your shoulder and grabs the base of his cock and starts pressing against the tight ring of muscle. He’d been in there a lot over the weekend. But it was still a tight fit regardless. He doesn’t go as slow and sheaths himself to the hilt, causing you to moan out in slight pain and pleasure.

Holy fuck. You feel so full. You think you might die. That is until Ransom removes his cock until just the tip remains and then forcefully thrust back in, causing you to grind on Steve’s dick.

Steve grunts out from the movement and starts thrusting up into you the best he can from his position. Ransom wraps his left arm around you and continues his thrusts, not letting up his pace. You don’t even really have to move, the both of them doing it for you. They somehow find the perfect rhythm. Each of them pulling out and pushing in at the same time. One of your hands is behind you, resting on the back of Ransom’s head while the other is resting on Steve’s chest.

Steve sits up suddenly and pulls you in for a kiss. “Like being stuffed with both of our cocks, pretty girl?” You hear from behind you. “Yes. So good. So full. Gonna cum.”

Ransom removes his arm from around you and reaches down and starts circling your clit. “Do it. Cum all over us. Make a mess.”

Steve can feel you squeezing him. “Please, sweetheart. Need to feel you cum on my cock. You’re gripping me so good.”

You explode. You clamp your eyes shut, seeing stars behind your eyelids. You let the both of them fuck you through it.

Ransom’s hips stutter. The fluttering around his cock is too good. He cums with a shout of your name, filling up your ass to the brim. He gives you a few more thrusts before he pulls out and collapses beside you two.

Steve’s been patient while you come down from your high. He lays back down, pulling you with him so that your chest to chest. He bends his knees and grabs onto your hips. “You ready, sweetheart?” You raise up, both of your hands on each side of his head. You give him a nod.

That’s all he needs. He starts fucking you, hard and fast, chasing his release. He can feel it building. He just needs to feel you come undone around him again. He moves one of his hands and starts circling your clit with his thumb. “Need you to cum for me again, Y/N.”

You shake your head. “Can’t. Too much.”

Ransom sits up beside you. “I know what she needs.” He reaches over with his left hand and wraps it around your throat, squeezing gently.

It makes you clench down on Steve’s cock. “Yeah? That all you needed, sweetheart? A hand wrapped around your pretty throat? I know you like it. Can feel you squeezing me.” He picks up his pace. The only sounds that can be heard are his grunts, your breathy monas, and skin slapping against skin.

It doesn’t take long for your orgasm to hit you. This one is somehow even more intense than the last.

You must’ve blacked out for a few seconds because the next thing you know, you’re waking up in between Steve and Ransom.

Steve smiles down at you. “There she is. We lost you for a second, sweetheart.”

You feel drunk. You smile goofily up at him. “Did you cum?”

Just as you ask that, you can feel his release seeping out of your overused cunt. Then you feel cum leaking out of your ass. You hide your face behind your hands in embarrassment. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

Ransom removes one hand while Steve removes the other. “Nuh uh uh. No hiding allowed, pretty girl. I have no regrets.” He looks at Steve. “Do you?”

Steve smiles down at you and leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips. “None from me. You tired, sweetheart?”

You let out a big yawn and nod your head, slowly closing your eyes. “Get some rest, pretty girl.” That’s the last thing you hear before sleep takes you.

😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈😈

You wake up sometime in the early morning, stretching out your sore limbs. You know you have a dumb smile on your face. But you can’t help but notice your empty bed.

You sit up and hiss at the deliciously sore feeling between your legs. You grab your robe and slip it on. You can smell coffee coming from the kitchen. You giddily make your way out of the room and down the hallway. They both barely just come into view, still unaware you’re there, when you hear Steve speak.

“I thought you were going to be an asshole to her? Make her see I’m not that bad.”

You hear Ransom next. “I was an asshole to her. I’m sorry I dicked her down so good that she wanted more.”

Steve scoffs. “I never gave you the okay to fuck her!”

“You also didn’t tell me it was off limits. Look you got what you wanted right?”

“No, actually I didn’t. I didn’t pay you so we could have a threesome together.”

What the fuck? Steve paid Ransom to help him get in your pants?

“Ok, how about this? I’ll give you all of your money back if I can fuck her one more time before I go? Then we’ll be squared away.”

Steve seems to be conflicted. “Fine! But this is the last time Ransom. I have to get to work anyway. After this, she’s mine. And make sure she’s not late for work herself.”

Before you have time to react, Steve rounds the corner and sees you standing there. He has a deer caught in headlights look. Ransom comes up beside him and sees you. “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.”

You slowly start backing up towards your bedroom. Steve moves towards you, stopping once you put your hands up. “Stay away from me! Both of you! I want nothing to do with either of you!”

Ransom moves past Steve and grabs onto your arms. “Oh, please. You’d fuck us again if we wanted. Wouldn’t you?”

You spit in his face. “Fuck you, Hugh.”

He gets a sinister look on his face. “Wrong move, pretty girl.” He looks toward Steve. “Don’t worry, I’ll fuck the brat out of her. You better tell her boss she won’t be in today.”

Your eyes go wide at his words. You start thrashing against him, trying your best to get away. Steve has had enough. He comes over and yanks you away from him and presses you against the wall. “You better calm down, sweetheart. I’ll treat you like a princess if you can be my good girl. Can you do that?”

You shake your head. “Why would you think I’d want anything to do with you after finding out you paid someone to help get into my pants?”

He gives you an evil smirk. “Because if you don’t, I’ll just have to release the tape of last night on the internet. Let everyone see how much of a slut you actually are.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re bluffing.”

He smirks and turns his head towards Ransom. “Show her.”

Ransom gets his phone out of his pocket and swipes at the screen for a second before turning it in your direction.

Holy shit. They weren’t bluffing. There you were, getting fucked by the both of them. That would ruin you if it got out. Not only would you get fired, but your parents would probably disown you. You’d never have a normal relationship again. You’re fucked. Even more than you were last night. How had you not noticed they were recording it?

Ransom must have read your mind. “I set my phone up while you were busy with Steve’s fingers on your cunt and his tongue down your throat. I think you need to ask her again Steve.”

Steve grabs your chin and moves your gaze onto his face. “I’ll ask you again. Are you going to be my good girl? Let Ransom fuck you one more time and then it’ll just be me and you?”

You drop your gaze to the floor. You feel a tear run down your cheek as you whisper out, “I’ll be your good girl.”

Taglist: @stargazingfangirl18 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @harrysthiccthighss @lllols @patzammit @quxxnxfhxll

Steve Taglist: @donutloverxo

#captain america #dark!steve rogers/reader #dark!steve rogers smut #model!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #this sweater wearing menace #shield throwing daddy #steve rogers smut #steve rogers #chris evans #chris evans smut #steve rogers x reader

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nev3rfound · 3 years

Text

glass : b.b

after a messy breakup with your boyfriend, you can’t help but be a tad bit reckless during a mission leaving bucky to help pick up the pieces and learn why you’re acting the way you are. (2.5k)

warnings: mentions of blood, violence, wounds, breakups

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop - requests open!

also hi, we’re almost at 5k which is amazing and i’m planning a little giveaway! sorry if i’ve been quiet this week, i have been hooked with the ‘shatter me’ series and i can’t get enough lmao. but i do have more pieces in the works :)

Sitting in the Quinjet, you could barely register what Tony was saying as the words that were practically spat at you last night circulated your thoughts.

“Y/n?” You flinch at the call of your name, breaking you from the trance-like state you were in.

Steve smiles warmly as he takes the seat beside you as prying eyes watch closely, noting the change in your mood the moment you boarded the jet.

“Sorry,” You mutter to Steve. “late night.”

Nodding in response, Steve glances over to a concerned Bucky whose brows remain knitted together. Usually, you would sit with Bucky, joke around with him and Sam about all sorts. Yet today, you boarded the jet and sat alone, closing your eyes and blocked everyone out.

“Tell me ‘bout it.” Steve playfully huffs, trying to incite some form of reaction, but you remain silent. “Listen, if you wanna talk,”

“Thanks, Steve.” You cut him off, forcing your lips upward. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

With that being his cue to leave you be, Steve shakes his head to Bucky as he wanders back toward Tony, organising the final details of the plan before you land.

“Okay team, descending now, arriving in less than ten.” Tony announces, ensuring he has everyone's attention- including yours. “So, Cap, you and Romanoff will head straight for the side entrance whilst Wilson and Barnes take the back. I want Y/L/N and Barton to head for the hostages.” Tony explains, watching as you all nod along.

“And what will you be doing, Tony?” Steve asks as he picks his shield up.

“I will be with Wanda,” Tony states as Wanda playfully salutes. “on standby in case something goes wrong.”

“Not that it will.” Wanda comments but quirks a brow to Sam who holds his hands up in defence.

“That was a one-time thing, witchy.” Sam retorts, causing Tony to roll his eyes once again at the team's antics.

“Anyway, get ready.” Tony finishes before retreating toward the pilot whilst everyone gathers their weapons.

Whilst grabbing your gun and placing it into your holster, you notice the small bruise forming on your wrist as your sleeve rises slightly. You quickly tug on it, thinking nothing of it as you reach for the set of knives you usually carry.

Yet Bucky noticed, it was impossible for Bucky to not notice the smallest of details about you. His heart ached at the sight. You’re known for being clumsy and would often laugh about the matter. If you got a bruise, you’d joke about it, explain how this one happened in another idiotic motion as opposed to hiding it.

“You ready for this one, Y/n?” Clint speaks up as he appears by your side, counting his arrows as you tighten your grip on your favourite knife, causing your knuckles to lighten in colour.

“As I’ll ever be.” You remark as the Quinjet door opens and you all walk out, splitting up into different directions.

It wasn’t supposed to happen, you weren’t prepared enough as a team for what you encountered inside the building.

You reached the hostages and quickly untied them. They thanked you senselessly whilst Clint remained on guard, keeping a close eye on the door as you helped them to their feet.

“Who are you?” One man speaks up, his voice hoarse as he grips your arms for dear life.

“We’re the Avengers.” You softly tell the man, watching as the fear in his expression lightens, and he starts to laugh maniacally in your face.

Trying to prise yourself from his grasp, his nails dig into your skin. “You made a mistake coming here.” He states, breaking his gaze from you momentarily, giving you a chance to slam your foot into his.

With the man's grip easing, you snap yourself from his embrace and hit him with the butt of your gun. He falls to the ground, and you raise your gun to everyone else in the room.

“Who else is a plant?” You ask, looking at all of the terrified faces staring back at you. “Who else?!” You repeat yourself, adrenaline rushing through you before you fire your gun into the ceiling as they all jump.

Clint whips his head around, evidently shocked having never seen you react this way before. “Y/n,” He speaks up, but you ignore him, keeping your attention fixated on the ‘hostages’ before you.

“No one, Ma’am.” A little girl announces as she releases her mother's hand, stepping toward you. She looks up at you with her bright brown eyes and holds her hand out. “Are you here to save us?” She questions.

Kneeling down in front of the girl, you smile softly, your cool exterior melting. “Yes, and you’re all going to be okay, I promise.” You tell her, breaking your gaze as you look around at everyone else.

“Y/n, now.” Clint states as you rise to your feet, holding your hand out to the little girl who gladly accepts.

“Okay, follow me, you’ll all be safe if you stay close.” You explain to the dozen hostages who huddle together, following behind you and Clint.

“Tony? We have them, there was a plant, tell the others.” Clint speaks through the comms as he walks ahead, his bow at the ready in case anyone else lingers in the corridors.

Glancing over your shoulder, you check to ensure the hostages are still with you. Whilst your head is turned, you hear Clint groan and fall to the ground with a thud.

“Clint?” You rush forward whilst the hostages remain still. Holding your gun up, you turn the corner, catching sight of a man stood with his gun aimed at Clint’s unconscious body. “Corridor seven, ground floor.” You speak up, hoping someone hears you through the comms.

The man before you smirks as his gun is now aimed at you whilst you mirror his actions, not daring to let your hands shake as his words ring through your ears.

“You really think that’s a wise move?” He asks, removing the safety from his gun.

“I’m not one to go down without a fight.” You state, hearing a collection of footsteps echo behind the man as a glint of metal flashes across your eyes.

The man's focus shifts to behind you, but his gun remains trained to you. “Ah, I see we have a friend.” He chuckles and you can feel your heart rate increasing as the little girl stands by your side.

“She has us.” The girl states, standing tall as the hostages emerge and gather behind you.

Sighing under his breath, the man clicks his tongue. “Well, this is sweet and all, but you’re not making it out of here alive.” He scoffs, lowering his gun to the little girl.

Everything plays too quickly for Bucky’s liking as he runs toward the man, his arms outstretched and fists clenched.

Upon watching the man pull back the trigger, you force the little girl back, feeling the impact of the bullet hit your stomach. Another shot rings through your ears, but you’re already down on the ground, curled up.

Bucky steps over the man's body, not caring to step in the blood that pools around his head as he rushes toward you.

“Hey, doll, stay awake for me, okay?” Bucky pleads, brushing your hair out of your face as he glances down, noticing your fingers are coated in crimson. “Sam, get Tony, now!” He yells, picking you up in his arms as both Steve and Natasha appear, taking in the sight before them.

Bucky looks over to Steve, and he doesn’t need to say anything. “Go, we’ll handle it.” Steve nods to Bucky as you hang in his arms, eyes barely open.

Rushing past the hostages who stare with wide eyes, Bucky keeps his on you. “Come on, Y/n,” Bucky mutters as the cool breeze hits his face, feeling you move in his arms and bury your face into his chest.

“I’m cold,” You mumble tiredly, barely able to keep your eyes open as they droop heavily. “just five minutes.”

“No, don’t you dare,” Bucky firmly tells you as the Quinjet comes into view, the sight of worry evident in Wanda’s expression as she meets Bucky halfway, guiding him into the jet.

“What happened?” Wanda asks as Bucky places you down on the ground, reaching for the medical supplies on board with urgency, ripping out various weapons and mechanical items until he finds some form of bandages.

“She tried to save a little girl,” Bucky sighs as Wanda cradles your head, her fingers hovering over your temples as a red glow forms whilst Bucky applies pressure to the wounds, watching as they soak instantly from your blood. “we, we have to go, now!” He yells to Wanda who barely flinches.

“Tony? Can you handle this?” Wanda questions through the comms.

“Just get Y/n back, we’ll sort this out.” Tony responds, trying to hide the fear in his tone for the younger Avenger, one he can’t help but view as a daughter in many respects.

“She wants to be strong,” Wanda whispers, hearing your thoughts as you drift further and further away from consciousness. “but she’s scared. I, I can hear his voice.” Wanda trails off as Bucky tenses up, knowing exactly who she means.

Bucky can feel his heartbreaking as the Quinjet flies through the air at an accelerated rate back to the compound.

“Oh Y/n, you’ve got so much coming for you,” Bucky takes one of your hands in his, gripping it tightly as he focuses on your face, the light disappearing from your complexion. “don’t go, not now, doll.”

Lying in your own bed, you remain in a deep sleep whilst Bucky hovers by your bedside. Ever since you were brought back and cleared, he insisted you’d feel more comfortable in your own room.

“Anything?” Wanda speaks up, peering in your doorway as your chest rises and falls rhythmically. Bucky shakes his head in response, aware of Wanda approaching your bed as she perches on the edge, her fingertips dancing over your head.

Wanda quickly pulls her hand away, the red wisps disappearing as she avoids Bucky’s cold gaze. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure,” Wanda mutters, moving your hair out of your face. “but something happened before the mission, something to do with him.” Wanda sighs. “I just, I can’t tell what it was.” She explains as Bucky keeps a straight face, unable to take his eyes off the various bruises now exposed on your skin, the cuts and scars forming alongside them.

“She’s always been agile on missions, even if she’s clumsy.” Bucky breathes out, uncrossing his arms from his chest. “But she’s careful, she’s always careful.” He repeats to himself, wondering why you’d risk yourself like that when it could’ve been avoided.

“I had to,” You mumble, your eyes now beginning to open as you look up to your two friends, forcing your lips upwards. “did I miss much?”

A chuckle escapes Wanda as she looks over to Bucky, seeing the concern in his face refusing to ease. “I’m sure Bucky will fill you in.” Wanda tells you as she touches your hand before heading to the door. “It’s good to see you awake, Y/n/n.” She smiles at you whilst Bucky slowly moves closer to your bed, his legs leaning against the frame.

“So,” You sigh, still feeling your muscles burning beneath the covers on top of you. “is everyone safe?”

Trying to hold back the scoff building, Bucky simply nods.

“Good,” You nod to yourself, a sense of relief crossing your system. “I’m glad it worked out.”

“Worked out?” Bucky snaps, noting your eyes widening as you struggle to sit upright without wincing. “No, don’t try and move,” His voice softens momentarily, forcing you to remain still. “Y/n, you think almost dying is a mission ‘working out', really?” He huffs loudly.

“Look, the hostages are safe, the team holding them was taken care of so yes, Bucky, I do think it worked out.” You bark back, your tone rising.

“God, you’re an idiot sometimes.” Bucky remarks, turning away from you as you look down at your lap.

“Max said that too,” You mumble.

Turning on his heels, Bucky focuses on you closely. “He said what?”

It was no secret Bucky wasn’t the fondest of your now ex-boyfriend, Max. He tolerated him for your sake, not wanting to lose your best friend in the midst of a relationship. But Max was never the most understanding, and this is just another reason Bucky mentally adds to his list of why Max was a lousy boyfriend.

“Forget it,” You brush it off, refusing to meet Bucky’s cold blue eyes. “it was nothing, I went to get the last of my things the other night and, and we had an argument.”

“What did he say to you, Y/n?” Bucky persists as he now sits down on your bed, his hands remaining in his own lap as you play with yours, fidgeting.

“He said I’m too fragile for my own good,” You admit, hearing his bitter words ringing through your head. “that I’m weak, and I shouldn’t even be an Avenger.”

Bucky can feel his blood boiling, the list in his mind becoming mere shreds of paper as he imagines what he’ll do to Max if he sees him again.

“And maybe I am, he said I’m broken goods,” You add, lifting the sheets from your body to reveal the stitching in your skin where the bullet was. “what difference does one more scar make?”

“You don’t believe him, do you doll?” Bucky asks sadly, afraid he already knows the answer.

Your prolonged silence only causes Bucky’s heart to sink further into his chest.

“Y/n,” Bucky speaks up, taking your hand in his. “you’re not broken goods, you’re not made of glass that shatters easily.” He explains, unable to meet your teary gaze. “You’re one of the strongest, most selfless people I’ve ever met, you’re not fragile, doll.” He rubs his thumb over the top of your hand, avoiding the fresh scuffs lacing your knuckles.

“You think so?” You whisper as tears fall down your cheeks before you can stop them.

Now catching your eyes, Bucky smiles softly. “I do, Y/n.” He admits, watching you struggle to shuffle in your bed as you force back a whimper.

Patting the spot beside you, Bucky raises a brow. “Will you stay, Bucky, please?” You whisper, too afraid of your own voice.

“As long as you know you’re worth so much more than him, Y/n, okay?” Bucky asks as he lifts his arm up, wrapping it around you as you curl up into his chest. “You deserve the world, doll.” He mutters, feeling your grip around his waist loosen as your breathing softens. “And I promise to show you someday.”

Bucky brushes his lips across your forehead as light snores leave your lips, unaware of the promise Bucky has made to you and intends to keep it.

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️(if your user isn’t tagged, it’s because nothing comes up sorry!)

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devildomimagines · 3 years

Note

I live to make these bois into whores 😎

Can I get head cannons of the boys meeting MC’s family; the catch is, MC is attractive as hell and so is their family? Literally everyone is hot. Their Dad is a whole dilf, their Mom is a milf, their older brother and sister are both sexy as hell, and MC’s just casually introducing them to the demon boys who could barely handle being around them.

They have a storm coming hehe 🤭

Sorry for the long wait but what else is new on my blog ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The older brothers are under the cut because this ended up longer than I first planned. I hope you enjoy~

Belphegor

It might take some bribing to get him to promise to be awake for the whole day but he gave in because it was important to you that he meet your family.

As you two approached the house, your mom was out in the front yard gardening.

When she turned around and caught the sight of you two she beamed a bright smile and waved.

You giggled as you waved back and looked at Belphie to see if he was waving too.

He was waving like a robot.

You have to elbow him to make him focus again.

He blushed as he admitted, “Your mom is really pretty.”

“I know,” you looked proud of the fact.

Your mom had called to the rest of the family and soon they were all outside to greet you.

You started greeting and hugging everyone.

Your dad clapped Belphie on the back and you caught his blush as he watched your dad head back towards you.

He mouthed the words, “Him too?” and you nodded.

Your brother and sister wasted no time in teasing you about bringing someone home.

Your brother tousled Belphie’s hair and your sister draped herself off you as she assessed Belphie.

“He’s cute,” she finally decided, “Be careful or I’ll steal him away,” then stuck her tongue out at you as she went inside.

You responded with your own tongue out at her retreating form.

Belphie fixed his hair and straightened his clothes, “You didn’t say your whole family was so handsome?”

“I thought it would be obvious, where do you think I got it?” You teased as you grabbed his hand and pulled him inside.

Beelzebub

You had thought maybe he wouldn’t fall victim to your family’s charm. You were wrong.

When the two of you entered the house, your mom greeted you two with a hug.

Beel blushed at the contact but recovered quickly. That is until your dad came up and patted him on the chest, “What a solid guy you caught, MC.”

You rolled your eyes but you caught Beel’s eye sparkle at the compliment.

Your sister introduced herself to Beel and he shook her hand before she pounced on him. He caught her in surprise.

“Ok, that’s enough, get off him!” You pulled your sister away with a huff.

She made a face at you before retreating.

Your brother was sizing Beel up from across the room.

“Are you gonna say hello bro?” You asked.

“How much can you bench?” Your brother stood up.

Beel wasn’t prepared for the question, “Uh…”

“Probably a lot by the look of it,” Your brother supplied.

Beel looked at you for help. Leave it to your brother to make a demon uncomfortable. “Can you cool it and get out of his face? Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Hm,” then a wicked smile flashed on your brother’s face, “Arm wrestle for the loser’s dessert?”

Oh no.

Beel’s smile reflected your brother’s, “You’re on.”

You pulled on Beel’s sweater as he was rolling up the sleeve. “Wait, go easy on him please, actually maybe let him win? With your strength you could break his arm.”

“But MC, the dessert,” Beel looked determined.

“I’ll give you mine,” he looked like he was debating it but the enticing offer of two desserts was winning out. “And… I’ll do that thing you like.”

That was clearly the winner. Beel sat down across from your brother and gave you a quick thumbs up before putting up a compelling fight if you didn’t already know he was going to throw it.

Dinner went off without a hitch. Beel complimented the hell out of your parent’s cooking and they complimented his appetite. As he ate your dessert, he whispered to you, “Don’t forget about your promise.”

The thing Beel likes is when you two go to the gym together, don’t get it twisted!

Asmodeus

“Oh?” Asmo smiled, “This is gonna be fun!”

He immediately starts towards your mom, “Hello! You must be MC’s sister?”

She laughs at the compliment, “No honey, I’m their mother.”

Asmo lays on the charisma in his shock, “No way! I could have sworn,” he looks back at you and you roll your eyes, what did you expect?

Asmo offers his arm and your mom takes it with a smile. The pair of them walk towards the house chatting about something that you couldn’t hear.

He was a tricky demon but you laughed it off as you walked after them.

You bumped into Asmo as you entered and you caught his surprised face. He then smiled to himself as he found a spot on the sofa, he clearly felt at home.

Loud enough for everyone to hear, even those in the kitchen he commented, “MC, you didn’t tell me your family was so attractive.”

Your brother and sister snickered at your embarrassment as you sat next to Asmo.

“Because,” you lowered your voice just for him, “I knew you’d act like this.”

“Like what?”

“Can we just have a normal dinner?” You asked, taking his hand.

“Of course MC,” he squeezed your hand, “but I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It figures. Asmo just gets like this when he’s surrounded by others that he both appreciates their features but finds them to be competition. If he can get them to like him, then he’s ‘won.’

He effectively keeps your family enchanted the whole night, he really does shine in social situations.

Satan

Interesting is the word of the night.

You had shown him pictures of your family as he was ‘studying’ for the night. He wanted to make sure he didn’t call someone by the wrong name, pronoun, or bring up a story you had told him in confidence.

The pictures did not do your family justice. They were gorgeous.

He immediately fell into his gentleman image. Satan took your mom’s hand and kissed the back of it.

She giggled but you shook your head, “That’s a bit much,” you commented.

“I don’t think so?” Satan tilted his head towards you.

“What about me?” Your dad snickered as he extended his hand.

“Dad~” You whined but Satan didn't skip a beat by taking his hand and kissing the back of it.

You dad chuckled heartily as he wrapped an arm around Satan, “Son, I like your style.”

Satan was starstruck and easily led further into the house by your dad.

You groaned, you clearly had not prepared Satan for how bewitching your parents could be.

Your sister and brother sandwiched you in the middle as they laughed. “Another one falls victim huh?”

The running joke being that the two of them had plenty of partners defeated by the magnetism your parents had. The partners often choosing the charming company of your parents and not the child they were dating when they visited.

You sighed and hung your head, you figured it’d play out like this but it was disheartening. That is until your thoughts were interrupted by a throat clearing.

You looked up and smiled at seeing Satan’s emerald eyes on you, silently asking if everything was ok.

You nodded and wiggled out from between your siblings to stand next to him as you formally introduced them.

You gave Satan’s waist a squeeze, happy he found his way back to you.

He smiled back at you softly, that is until your mom called out for him. He then blushed deeply as you let him get back to the kitchen.

“Good luck!” You called after him with a giggle. Your parents were incorrigible.

Leviathan

It took a lot for Levi to agree to meeting your family.

He was a nervous wreck, already sweating and you hadn’t even opened the front door.

“Hey,” you took his face in your hands, “You’re going to be ok, they’re going to love you and I’ll be with you for every second.”

Levi exhaled and relaxed into your hands. He nodded and finally smiled.

Then the door opened and he was tense again.

You shift your hands from his face to holding one of his hands.

“Oh I’m sorry!” Your mom said, “Was I interrupting?”

“No,” you confirmed before she could make a big deal.

“Well, welcome!” She threw her arms around Levi.

He squeezed your hand but said, “Thanks for having me.”

“Of course,” Your mom took his other hand and pulled him inside, “If you’re important to MC then you’re important to us!”

The three of you entered the living room and everyone got up to offer their greetings to you and Levi.

He never let your hand go.

When you got through everyone, Levi was a blushing mess.

He held you back as everyone made their way to the dining room. “I can’t do this, MC!” He whisper-yelled at you, “You didn’t say they were all so hot?! I can barely stand just you, but...” Levi looked at the dining room, “it’s like you times five now!”

You had to giggle and he gave you a pout. “Levi, we just got here. Dinner will be a breeze. Dad will probably tell stories of when me and my siblings were little, something about him in college and my mom will ask you-”

“She’s going to talk to me??”

“Well yes but she’ll only ask about your interests and hobbies. She loves anime BTW. It’ll be a sitch for you! I’m not worried at all.” You gave him a smile and you could see the gears turning.

He could talk about anime, that is manageable… “But won’t the others think I’m lame?”

“Nonsense! If you haven’t realized we’re a pretty accepting family, what other family would agree to send their child to hell for a year?”

Levi nodded, this is true. He took a brave breath and pulled you to the dining room.

Mammon

He’s overconfident in his ability to woo your family, which means he’s nervous.

It’s cute that he wants them to like him but it’s not as serious as he’s making it out to be.

You knew they would love him, they love everyone.

“Oy, this is it?” He shielded his eyes from the sun as he looked up at your house.

“Yep,” you took his hand and led him around to the side door.

“Wait, shouldn’t we use the front door?”

“We’re not guests, I lived here.”

“But I’m…”

The two of you entered the kitchen and your mom looked over her shoulder as she was pulling a large pot out of the oven, “You’re here!”

Mammon straightened up and took a step forward, “Let me help you with that, it looks heavy.” He grabbed the towel hanging from the oven handle and effortlessly carried the dish to the pot holder on the table.

“What a gentleman,” your mom snickered as she hugged you hello.

Mammon blushed and looked away but hugged your mom when she made her way towards him as hello.

“Who’s that holding my wife?” Your dad boomed.

Mammon backed off immediately as he came eye to eye with your father, “S-sir.”

With a smile your dad embraced Mammon, “I’m kidding, we’re all huggers here, better get used to it!”

Mammon blushed again in your dad’s grasp and you laughed. He shot you a look before smiling at your dad letting him go.

You shuffled up next to Mamms as he sighed, “Tired already? I know they can be a lot.”

“W-what are you talking about? I’m fine!”

“Good! Because my siblings are even worse!” As if on cue, the pair entered the room sizing up Mammon.

Your brother smiled, “I like him. He looks like he can get in some trouble.” If only he knew, but Mammon relaxed with the assessment.

“He’s pretty attractive,” Your sister said but her tone was skeptical.

“He models part time,” you offered, proud that you were making her somewhat jealous.

“Too bad he couldn’t cut it full time,” she dismissed. She moved in close to Mammon as if she was going to whisper in his ear but said loud enough for you, “If you ever want the better sibling, call me.”

His eyebrows shot up, Mammon was not expecting that.

You pushed your sister out of his space, “Go suck an egg!”

Your sister retreated with a vicious smile.

When you looked at Mammon, he was frozen in his shock. “God, she got you with just that?” You groaned, “This is gonna be a long night.”

“N-no!” Mammon was recovering, “I wouldn’t call her! You know that, right?”

“I know,” you sighed, “She’s just like that. I swear her and Asmo would have a day trying to one-up each other.”

“This is gonna be a long dinner huh?” Mammon was finally realizing it for himself.

You took his hand, “Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” He squeezed your hand and smiled, “The Great Mammon can handle anything!”

Lucifer

“Hm?” He would hum as you two walked up to your childhood home. “Who’s that?”

Your dad was outside mowing the lawn. He turned the mower to start a line towards you two but stopped when he recognized you.

“That’s my dad!” You ran over to hug him.

Lucifer watched as he wiped the sweat from his brow with a cloth in his pocket before catching you in an embrace.

Lucifer steeled himself and made his way over to join the conversation.

“You must be the man of the hour! Wonderful to meet you finally, after all MC has said about you!” Your dad had extended an arm to shake hands, “I’d usually hug you but I’m a sweaty mess. Come on inside, everyone is waiting!” He led you two to the front door and announced your arrival as he excused himself for a shower before dinner.

The rest of the family entered, your mom, brother and sister, each dazzling in Lucifer’s eyes.

He was used to beautiful people; angels have their allure, demons their temptations but humans had always seemed somewhat average until he met you and now your family.

Lucifer subconsciously fixed his shirt and then ran a hand through his hair. Then he caught your gaze.

“You look fine,” you whispered as you sidled up next to him.

“I see where you get your captivating looks from, I believe the celestial lineage is from your paternal side,” Lucifer gave your returned father a long glance. “He cleans up well.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Morningstar,” you teased as you took his hand and led him to the table.

“This will be an interesting dinner,” he murmured as he took a seat next to you and then gulped as your dad took a seat next to him with a brilliant smile.

Is Lucifer nervous? Not that he would ever admit it, but who gave this human the right to be so handsome? With a hand on his chest, Lucifer clears his throat to regain composure.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #my writing #obey me headcanons #just a little bit of crack though because i thought this prompt was funny #lol someone come collect these flustered demons

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mimi-cee-hq · 3 years

Text

Wildfires - Atsumu x f!reader

Summary: You're burned from last year's rumours, now fearing any hint of smoke. Yet you can't help, but fall for the childhood friend who's a balm to your wounds.

Genres, tropes, etc: angst with a satisfying and happy ending, angst to fluff, hurt/ comfort, exs to lovers (but not the usual kind), secret dating, drama and romance, but it's still somehow cute because that's just how I write lol

Warnings: false rumours about cheating and an illicit relationship, so it still technically mentions those things.

Words: 1.9k

Author's Notes: Hi Lia (@chimielie)! I'm your ☀️ anon. 🥰 You suggested exs to lovers and hurt/comfort for this prompt and it still technically is those things, but it's probably not what you expected.

If anyone is new to my blog and doesn't want to read angst, here's a cute fluff Atsumu x reader instead. :)

This fic is for the Heatwave Fic Exchange (@heatwave2021). Thank you for hosting this!

~*~*~

"I hadn't realized you two were still together."

Not even the overworked fan's whirring can drown out the strained silence that follows.

"We're not."

The air is dry and sweat forms on your brow. With the sun beating down, it's the perfect combination for a wildfire.

Atsumu's chin sits on his fist as he avoids your gaze. Lowering your eyes, you stare at the wooden table.

"Did he still care?" you ask yourself.

~*~*~

Plaid skirts sway as two students peek into their new classroom, attempting to be discreet. You hear their whispers from a distance, waiting in front of your own classroom.

"Look! We get Kinjou-sensei this year!" one exclaims.

"Are you serious?" the other asks after letting out a gasp. "I don't know if that's a good thing or not. I might end up staring at his face all day."

"Maybe it'll help you pay attention," her friend snickers.

You clench your jaw as heat rises in your body. They're able to indulge in frivolous remarks, ignorant of how you're left scarred from one fleeting gesture, a tiny piece of kindling that ignited into uncontrollable flames.

Cool hands cover your ears from behind you. Your jaw relaxes and the tension dissipates from your shoulders. You turn around to see Atsumu wearing a scowl on his lips. Sighing as you cross your arms, you ask, "Atsumu, what are you doing?"

"Well if only there was a way to make 'em shut up," he replies with a sharp tone.

You lean away from him and swat his hands back. "You're too close," you tell him.

"Alright!" he says, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'll go!"

As he walks away, he crosses his thumb and index finger behind his back, forming a little heart. You smirk at his hidden gesture to you.

"I love you too, Atsumu," you silently tell him as a smile graces your lips. However, it vanishes like the mist in the sun when yet another person calls after him, someone he doesn't know.

You skirt around the other students, avoiding their path, and rush to your desk. There are too many dry leaves around; a single spark can burst everything into flames.

Why does everyone have to know Atsumu?

~*~*~

"I wish you could've been my partner for the project," you say.

Atsumu pours a glass of water and places it on the table in front of you. "You ended up with that new girl, right?" he mentions and you reply with a nod. "She should be safe to work with."

You're startled once again when you hear the chimes from the front door. A rattan room divider obstructs your view of it, but you hunch down anyway as you finally pick up your spoon.

Atsumu sits across from you, sharing something about his team. His eyes dim when he realizes you haven't been listening.

"This isn't working," he tells you. "I thought this restaurant would be better because people can't see us from here." He runs his fingers in his hair, a sign he's frustrated.

"I– I forgot people can still hear us," you say in a low voice.

Atsumu sighs. "Let's just watch a movie at my house," he says. "Osamu already knows anyway."

"You know we can't," you protest. "Not when Hana and Haku drop by so often. They're going to realize we're together."

"But how are we supposed to have any fun when you're so scared?"

"I–" You lower your gaze, eyes unfocused towards your untouched bowl of rice. "Sorry, Atsumu."

"It's not your fault," he reminds you yet again. This exchange has become all too familiar. "Maybe we should finally tell Hana and Haku what happened to you."

"And have them find out the guy in the rumours is their beloved brother?" You cross your arms over your chest and rub your hand on your sleeve. "I still want to be comfortable around them, Atsumu. Ignorance is bliss right?"

His mouth twists before a groan escapes from it. He slouches in his seat and stares at the food in front of you, which remains the way the waitress left it.

"Let's take the train to Tokyo next time," he mutters. "Nobody'll know us there."

Your eyes grow before looking up at Atsumu. "What?" you slowly enunciate just above a whisper. "Don't you know how expensive that is?"

He presses his lips together before sharing his next suggestion. "I know where 'Samu's secret stash of money is…"

You narrow your eyes at him. "No, we're not stealing from him to go on a date, Atsumu."

"Alright," he says, lowering his eyes and dropping his shoulders.

Seeing his expression, you offer another idea. "How about Osaka?" It's only one city away.

Atsumu's eyes light up, excited at the chance of finally getting to enjoy some time with you. Although your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes, you hope leaving the vicinity of last year's wildfires would be enough, for Atsumu's sake and yours.

~*~*~

Your heart beats faster and your throat becomes dry. You weren't getting enough air.

"You're okay," you tell yourself. "She's not talking about you."

"Seriously! That happened at my old school," your project partner snickers as she recounts her story to you. "They even got the kiss on camera too! I felt so bad for her, but it's her own fault for cheating on him."

You begin to feel dizzy, catching a whiff of smoke from another victim's fire. Her words add fuel to a fire that cannot be stopped. Wildfires burn and burn, and are never satisfied until they run out of kindling.

"Oh! I've been meaning to ask. Are you dating Atsumu? The two of you seem really close!"

Your throat struggles to take control, attempting to keep your stomach down; it doesn't want to burn either.

They'll say you're cheating on Kinjou-sensei.

The tongue is a powerful weapon, causing destruction by those who are both untrained and ignorant as well as the truly malicious.

Your knees buckle as you pant for air, your grip weak on the knob. You need to get out.

Atsumu's figure is before you and you relax as he catches you. You never would have imagined that this guy would be your fleeting oasis.

~*~*~

"Let's break up," you tell Atsumu.

You both knew this was coming, yet a bucket of icy water chilled to the bone regardless of whether or not it was expected. Speaking those words aloud shocked you back into reality.

You hesitated dating each other in the first place, but you couldn't help but caress his strong hands when he admitted his feelings for you. Growing up together in your group of five, he was by your side from snotty noses to acne breakouts.

You didn't expect to fall for the hot-head of your bunch when rumours of you dating Kinjou-sensei spread. Atsumu attempted to extinguish every flame he spotted, witnessing your anguish each time you got burned.

"Maybe we can still do this," you say, contradicting your previous words.

"And what? Have ya pass out again every time someone asks about us?" Atsumu protests. He lowers his eyes as he clutches your hand. "Do ya know how worried I was about ya?"

Your heart flutters for a moment before you remind yourself that you can't keep him, the boy who has been by your side for so long.

"Aghhhhh! This is so stupid!!! Why are we suffering because of this made up crap?! 'Kinjou-sensei' had put a bandaid on me a thousand times more than he did t' ya! But nobody gives a crap about that!"

"I'm sorry Atsumu."

"Why the heck are ya sorry?!" he says, raising his voice.

"I– If I was just strong enough... If I could withstand their stupid words"–your lip trembles–"maybe I wouldn't have to choose between you and having some peace."

There's another silence between the two of you. Your fingers are loosely intertwined together, barely holding the fragile string between the two of you, as if it were a wick that would combust and disappear in a split second.

"Maybe we should just run away," Atsumu mumbles aloud.

"What?"

"Ya know, transfer schools. Or even drop out if we need ta."

"Atsumu! You can't! We can't! You have volleyball! And I... this is the only school that gave me a scholarship."

"Agh! Why is this so frustrating?!"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing, ya idiot! Ya did nothing wrong!" He presses and rubs his forehead with the heel of his palm. "I just… I wish I could do more for ya." His arm drops at his side. "I wish I didn't feel so useless."

Your tears drip down your face. Could they be counted any more? If only you didn't fear getting caught dating Atsumu, terrified that last year's fires would morph into a raging beast. But another wildfire would not only destroy you but also the man you loved. If only your sores healed by now, you could have shown off your boyfriend, disregarding any of the flames.

If only you were fireproof.

But you weren't and now you're forced to loosen your grip on Atsumu, the balm to your wounds, and let him fall out of your hands.

~*~*~

"I hadn't realized you two were still together."

Not even the overworked fan's whirring can drown out the strained silence that follows.

"We're not."

It was three years since you talked to Atsumu, four since rumours first raged through the school. The two of you went through cycles of getting back together and breaking up again every time you learned that fear was still crippling you. Cutting off contact was the less painful option.

Years later, you're at a friend's cottage and Atsumu comes along without knowing you're here as well. Now that high school has come and gone, the smoke has dissipated and the fires have finished their course. You can finally breathe.

But does Atsumu still want you?

To anyone else, Atsumu is bored out of his mind, resting his chin on his fist. Nobody sees his thumb and finger forming a tiny heart.

Your heart flutters and you blink back tears. You attempt to hold back your growing grin, but you have no reason to hide it anymore.

You wrap your arms around him, almost causing him to topple off of his chair, Atsumu letting out a yelp. "What the heck are ya doing?"

You can finally release your feelings for him, openly and freely. The dam opens and waters rush to engulf him before you settle into his embrace.

"I love you too Atsumu," you tell him without a care in the world.

Osamu tells you he changed when you cut off contact. He desired to be a man, not wanting to feel so powerless, and poured himself into things he could do. It paid off.

"Did ya want to go somewhere together? I could even take ya all the way t' Rome if ya want."

The two of you hold each others' hands as the ocean's edge cools your feet. You lean against his shoulder, cherishing the moment that at one point seemed like an inaccessible dream.

You give him a peck on the cheek and smile. "Tokyo seems like a nice place for a date for now."

~*~*~

I hope you enjoyed this fic. :) (And I hope you liked it Lia!!) I guess I can be poetic if I try. lol. I had a whole commentary written out for this fic, but I decided against posting it here and making my author's notes as long as the fic itself. 😂

If you enjoyed this fic, I don't really have any similar pieces of writing at the moment. The only one that's similar is the hurt/comfort Kunimi WIP I've put off writing for so long because I didn't think I could pull off this type of fic. (And also because I think only one person will read it.) The theme in that one is pity/pride because pitiful is Kunimi's most hated word.

Anyway, if you want to see my usual style of writing, I have a cute tooth-rotting fluff Atsumu x reader one-shot. I currently also have an ongoing fake dating chaptered Suna fic, which is probably my best planned fic with the hints and foreshadowing and a nice mix of humour, fluff and shoujo-type angst. :)

I also have a Google form for my taglist if anyone is interested.

#miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu angst #atsumu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff #miya atsumu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #atsumu fanfic #miya atsumu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfiction #hihqnetwork #animehorizons #angelwalker’s virtues #atsumu scenarios

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spooderboyandtincan · 3 years

Note

I wish you would write a fic... about the Superfamily 💖

“I want a baby.”

Steve looks up at his husband. “Tony, what the fuck?”

“A-a baby. A kid. A child.” Tony sits next to him on the couch. His eyes are shining with excitement.

“We can’t get pregnant,” Steve points out, turning back to the book in his hands. Tony grabs it and throws it on the coffee table. “Hey!”

“There are other- other options,” Tony says, grasping Steve’s hand tightly and staring into his baby blue eyes nervously. “Adoption. We could adopt.”

The supersoldier sighs, shaking his head. “Tones, we can’t take care of a baby. How about a dog? Or a cat, cats are always-”

“Steve, please,” Tony whispers, eyes suddenly filled with tears. Steve frowns and cups his husband’s cheeks. “I want a baby. Can you just- just please, think about it. Please.”

Steve is so shocked, by Tony’s tears, by the desperate tone in his voice, by the eagerness on every inch of his face, that he nods. “I will,” he promises.

The love, the relief, and the excitement in Tony’s eyes make it all worth it.

~~~~~

At first, Steve thinks Tony has forgotten about the whole baby thing.

He should have known better.

Two weeks later, Tony barges into the training room, breathing heavily, eyes wild.

“Tony, what the hell? What happened?” He hurries towards his husband. In lieu of greeting, Tony shoves a Starkpad into his hands.

“I found him,” he says breathlessly.

“Who?” Steve asks, still eyeing the other man worriedly. He still hasn’t looked at the Starkpad. Tony gestures to it in frustration.

“Our baby.”

Steve freezes. He looks at the pad.

It’s a series of emails from one Mary Parker. Apparently, she and her husband recently split up and she is no longer able to provide for her newborn son.

“Tony, honey…” he says slowly, apologetically. “I don’t know if we can take care of a baby.”

Something in Tony’s face breaks. “Right,” he whispers, more to himself than Steve. “Right, what-what was I thinking? We- I can’t be a father.” Steve opens his mouth, to apologize, to take it back, to do anything, but Tony turns before he can and walks back to the elevator.

Steve blinks back the tears in his eyes. He’s broken something inside of Tony, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Doesn’t know if he can, really.

He looks back at the Starkpad, re-reading the emails, filled with so much enthusiasm. We would love to adopt Peter! Can we meet him soon? and He’s perfect. He’s perfect for us. My husband and I can’t wait to meet him!

What have I done? Steve thinks.

He scrolls down, and finds a picture of a tiny- literally tiny, the kid could easily fit in his palm- baby, swaddled in a pink blanket with a soft hat on his head. He’s covered in wires and tubes, but even Steve has to admit it- he looks perfect.

~~~~~

Tony won’t talk to him. It’s fair, but it hurts all the same. When they get ready for bed, Tony opens his mouth for the first time in hours and informs him that he’s sleeping on the couch.

Steve knows he deserves it.

The next morning, JARVIS tells him that Tony is in the lab and should not be disturbed. Is it Steve’s imagination, or does the AI sound colder than usual?

They can’t take care of a baby, though. Raising a tiny human for 18+ years? They just can’t do that.

Right?

He pulls up the picture of the baby- no, Peter.

What harm is there in meeting him? he thinks.

Tony ignores the knocking (pounding) on the lab's reflective glass walls until Steve finally shouts “I wanna meet Peter!”

The door slides open. “Really?” Tony says, disbelief clear in his voice.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Yeah, I really do.”

Tony stares at him, then bursts into tears, sinking into his chest weakly. Steve does his best to soothe him before realizing that these are happy tears, relieved ones, and that Tony couldn’t stop crying even if he tried.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asks his husband gently. Tony laughs, shakes his head. “Tony.”

“I know, I know. I just couldn’t.”

Steve frowns sadly. “I’m sorry, Tony.”

The billionaire just shrugs. “Maybe you were right.”

“I wasn’t,” Steve says firmly, waiting until their eyes meet. “You’re gonna be a great father. We can do it.”

Tony stares back at him, and Steve realizes suddenly how terrified his spouse is. “We can do it,” he says again.

“We can do it,” Tony echoes, and maybe, just for a second, he believes him.

~~~~~

From the instant they lay eyes on Peter, they’re both hooked. He’s even tinier in person, with rosy cheeks, thin brown curls, beautiful big doe eyes, with ten tiny little fingers and ten tiny little toes.

He has a breathing tube, which nearly sends Tony into a panic attack until Mary explains that it’s only there for a few more days, just in case. Now Tony is terrified that Peter will get sick and won’t be able to breathe, but Mary assures him that he’s been stable for a few days now and should be fine.

Tony marvels at the fact that this tiny human is only five days old. Only five days in the world, and already so much has happened. “He’s beautiful,” he whispers, gazing down into the incubator. Steve squeezes his shoulder.

Mary smiles. “You can hold him, if you want,” she says.

“Really?!” Tony gasps, suddenly filled with excitement and terror. “Is-is it safe?”

“Wouldn't lie to you, would I?” the woman laughs, and plucks Peter out of the incubator. “Here ya go.”

Tony’s hands are shaking as he accepts the baby, cradling the tiny body to his chest gingerly, horrified he might somehow hurt this precious child. “You got it,” Mary says.

Tony looks at Peer- really looks at him, taking in the pale freckles on the bridge on his nose, his cupid’s bow lips, his dainty little eyelashes and his adorable chocolate eyes. “Hey,” he murmurs, voice cracking. “Hi, Peter. Hiya, Pete. I-I’m your dad, baby. I’m Dad.” Tears are streaming down his face, and he sniffs loudly. Peter blinks a little and makes a curious cooing noise. “Sorry, honey. So sorry.” He’s starting to sob now, but he doesn’t want to let his baby go. Steve wraps an arm around his shoulders and grasps Peter’s hand between the pad of his thumb and his pointer finger.

“Hey Peter,” he says. He’s not great with emotions, especially with a stranger around, even though Mary seems like a wonderful woman. “Nice to meetcha, kiddo. I’m, um- I’m your other dad. I’m your Papa.” He’s crying now too. They’re both wondering how they ever could have lived before this sweet child came into their lives, and it’s barely been five minutes.

Tony laughs, sobs, and laughs again. “He’s perfect,” he says to Mary, who has been staring at a painting across the hall politely.

She grins. “Glad to hear it. I’d hate for this little guy to go into foster care. You two seem like you’re gonna be great dads.”

The rest of the hour feels like a blur for the two new parents, the only thing solid each other and their baby boy. They sign adoption papers numbly, Tony still cradling the baby in his arms. They get a quick instruction on how to change diapers, prepare bottles, deal with fevers, earaches, and teething, and then they’re in the car with Happy, Peter strapped into a carseat, finally going home.

They haven’t had time to set up a nursery, really, they haven’t had time for anything. Happy buys them a bassinet, a mobile, and a shit ton of baby food and baby formula.

They sit on the couch together, Peter once again in Tony’s arms, fast asleep. There are going to be a lot of hurdles ahead, a lot of crying, a lot of worrying, but above all, a lot of love.

“I love you so much, Peter,” Tony whispers.

“I love you too, Peter,” Steve whispers.

~~~~~

ST*RKERS DNI

~~~~~

Taglist: @aj-that-person @tonystark-deserves-better @nathaly-ab @skeeter-110 @peter-and-tony-vlogs @teammightypen @joyful-soul-collector @loveliestdisappointment @depuella @scwene-qween @honeythepooh @pixiethefirecat7 @spider-man-lover @jami161 @bringitonvoldie @queen-of-sarcasm-25 @roxy3457 @memilon @iron-loyalty @gralaca @bitchingpretty @pillowspace @thatminecraftgal @clockworkteacup @hatakehikari @wtfischeese @keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars @skydiving-without-a-parachute @yansi1923 @slytherin-hamilton-life-12 @dead-inside-pt2 @name-me-regret @zanderljones @spidy8664 @hold-our-destiny @tinystark-blog @bittersweetbeneath

If anyone wants to be added/ removed please let me know! (also, i think i missed a few people, and a few usernames have been changed, pop me a quick message so i can add you again!)

#peter parker #steve rogers #tony stark #superfamily #steve x tony #superhusbands #stony #adoption #mary parker #prompt #milla-romy #st*rkers dni #sorry this is so late!#also been forgetting to add the taglist so #:/

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cha-lyn · 3 years

Text

A Series of Break Ins

bucky x black female reader

Summary: Someone breaks into your apartment

Warnings: break ins, lil bit of violence, wounds + blood

Words: 1617

A/N: Inspiration from @write-it-motherfuckers ( prompt is in bold somewhere below) :) some wonderful stuff on that blog

-------

January.

You lived in an old building in a shitty part of town. The loft kind that was once an office or a factory or something. Lots of windows. Terrible heat bill in the winter. You heard gunshots and fighting frequently. It wasn’t your dream home. No, your windows faced a manufacturing building with no windows. From your fire escape, if you stretched really far, you could cross the alley and touch the building. You only did that once though because the fire escape was rickety and not very safe.

That particular night, you were coming home from a mediocre date with a guy named Marcus. Usually you’d take a cab home, but your budget was tight this month. So you weaved through the alleys, the cold and the dark making you more jumpy than usual. You just wanna be home, with your warm fuzzy socks on and a glass of wine.

Your anxiety settles once you make it into your building. You take the steps two a time to your third floor studio. You open your door, shutting it quickly and leaning back against it.

That’s when the hairs on your arm stand up. Your eyes shoot open and your breath catches. Your kitchen light is on. You know it was not on when you left earlier. In your kitchen sits your first aid kit dumped out on the table.

You grab the baseball bat you keep next to the door and check every crevice of your home. Nothing.

You return to the kitchen, hesitantly. Next to the first aid kit is a napkin with a note: Sorry for the intrusion. I’ll replace everything I used. Thanks. - BB

You just looked at the note and blinked. Who the fuck had been in your apartment?!

The next day there’s a package outside your door containing the promised replacements from the stranger. There’s another note: Sorry again. -BB

You’re not quite sure what to do. Call the police? And say what- someone broke in, left no trace and then replaced what they stole? They would think you’re crazy.

February.

After the break in you upped your security. You got a deadbolt, a door chain, and a magnetic sensor on your front door that rang and alerted your phone when set off.

You felt pretty good about your upgrade… until it happened again. You’d come home late from drinks with a friend unlocked the door, then the deadbolt.

The light in your kitchen was on again. You grabbed your bat immediately, ready to swing on whoever was dumb enought to break into your house yet again.

“Whoa, whoa ma’am. Please don’t--” but you did. Whack him that is. Three times. And then a black gloved hand stopped your swings dead and blue eyes lock with yours.

“Holy fucking shit. B. B! It was you. Fucking Bucky Barnes broke into my house!”

He nods and watches your face as it goes from rage to confusion and then back to rage. You let go of the bat and he puts it behind him. “Look, I am really sorry. I know this is probably terrifying--”

“Yeah ‘cause I thought you were a god damn serial killer--not an Avenger!” You plop down onto a kitchen chair.

Bucky stared at you amused. “This is not how I thought this would go…”

“Don’t you have some Avenger place you can go and get fixed up? Instead of breaking into civilian households?” you sigh irritatedly.

“No. For one I’m not an Avenger…. And uh, two… I got hurt doing something not necessarily sanctioned by the government.” Bucky looked up at the ceiling bashfully.

“My god, you’re doing vigilante shit,” you breathed out a laugh.

Bucky shrugged, “You could call it that.” He wrung his gloved hands together. “I should go… I’ll send you replacements for the stuff I used. ”

“Or you could just not break into my house.” Bucky chuckled, before climbing out the window. “You could use the door!’

The man has the audacity to laugh as he closes your window, “Thanks again, doll.”

You let out a groan, wondering why on earth he chose your apartment and why on earth you weren’t more pissed off about it.

March

You’re dead asleep when you hear a thud on the fire escape outside your window. Your heart thuds like a bass drum as scenarios of you being murdered flash through your head. A stabbing. A shooting. God, please not a strangling. Then there’s a persistent tapping. You pretend to still be asleep, holding your breath and not moving.

“I know you're awake. I need to .. uh utilize your first aid kit again. Please, doll.”

Relief hits you like a wave and you flick the light on and get out of bed. You open the window and Sergeant Barnes slips through the space, holding his flesh arm, but not really effectively stopping the blood.

The two of you stand there for a second, until you remember that you don’t sleep with pants on and awkwardly move around him to find a pair of shorts. You find him sitting at your kitchen table again, waiting for you to get the first aid kit, like he doesn’t have a goddamn metal arm on him.

“For fuck’s sake…” You pull it out from under the sink and set it in front of him with a thud. Bucky smirks sheepishly. “Did you get shot again?” you ask after a while. He nods once as he gets to work. “Aren’t you like... super?” He nods. “Won't it heal super fast?” He nodded once again. “So what’s the point of the first aid kit?”

“You ask a lot of questions,” he sighs irritatedly.

You narrow your eyes, “Oh dear, am I inconveniencing you?”

He stops and looks up at you through his dark lashes. “Sorry. I’m being rude. What's your name anyway?”

You roll your eyes, but you tell him.

He cleans after himself and then stands. “Thank you again. Y/n.”

You ignore the lil shiver you get when he says your name, “Is this gonna be a regular thing Sargeant?”

Bucky flashed you a charming smile, “Do you want it to be, doll?”

You cross your arms and set you glare, “You have five seconds before I get my bat.”

Bucky let out a very boyish laugh before dramatically making his exit via the window again.

Over the next few days, you consider getting locks for the windows, but for some reason you just don’t.

Two weeks later, you open your door, arms full of groceries, and find Bucky sitting on the floor of your kitchen once more, first aid kit open in front of him. You’re not even surprised really.

“Ah, Hello again. We really need to stop meeting like this.”

You scoff, “Maybe we would, if you would sTOP BREAKING INTO MY FUCKING HOUSE!!” You toss your purse on the couch.

Bucky laughs and the winces and groans. It’s then that you realize he’s very pale in the face and his flesh hand isn’t gloved it’s just dark with blood.

You drop the groceries roughly on the table, “Shit Bucky. Are you-- You’re bleeding a lot!”

“I’m fine, doll.”

“I don’t think you are….” You panic, reaching for your phone, but remembering it’s deep in your purse across the room.

“You gotta-- you’re gonna have to sew it up, okay?”

“Let me just call an ambulance,” you get up to get your phone, but he grabs your wrist firmly.

“No. You can do this Y/n. I’ll walk you through it.” Something in his blue eyes assures you. You nod and Bucky has you cut his shirt off before he leads you through the cleaning of his wound. Your face felt hot at the sight of his beautiful broad chest, despite the mess around you. Bucky guided you, wincing and jaw ticking as you closed up his wound. By the end, your hands are red and sticky and you’re quite nauseous, but you didn’t care. The color was already back in his face and the sparkle back in his blue eyes. “You did good, doll.”

“I can’t believe I did that,” you say breathily. Bucky smiled fondly at you. You get up, wash your hands thoroughly and gently help Bucky up and to your couch. “You want something to eat? Let me get you some water.” You don’t wait for an answer before going to the kitchen. You bring him a bottle of water, a beer, and left over orange chicken from last night’s dinner- he inhaled all three while you cleaned and sanitized your kitchen floor.

“I should head out,” he stood up stiffly, favoring his wounded side. “I’m sorry about all this…” he gestured towards his wound and then to your kitchen. “It won't happen again. I’ll get my own first aid kit.”

You shrug, “You basically bought mine with as much as you use it.” You stick your hand out. “Phone.” Bucky eyes you warily before obeying. “How about next time you need to use my first aid kit, you just call first?”

Bucky smiles a lopsided, goofy smile, as you put your number in. “I think I can do that.”

Three days later, Bucky calls you around 7pm. Thirty minutes later there’s a knock at your door - not your window.

“What’s bleeding now--”

Instead of beat up and bleeding, Bucky stands before you in a black button up with a bouquet of flowers and a bag of take out. “Hey doll. I wanted to really apologize for everything and try to make it up to you,” he gives you a sheepish grin.

You can’t contain your own smile. “Well, orange chicken and flowers are a good start. Come in.”

----

Everything Tag List

@thefridgeismybestie

@basically-introverted

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes #bucky x black!reader #bucky x poc!reader #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky #bucky drabble

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Much Cooler

Corpse Husband & Emma Langevin

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: There’s always a certain level of uncertainty when meeting someone you’ve only known online. There’s that sense of insecurity that your relationship with them will never be the same or - even worse - that their view of you might change for the worse. But there’s nothing more thrilling than seeing the person you’ve been talking to constantly for the past however long standing across from you.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request and I’m so terribly sorry for how late it’s coming out but I hope the fic makes it worth the wait! Lots of love, Vy ❤

“CORPSE! Wake up you famous dumbass!“ is the first thing the poor man heard over the phone at 9 AM on this fine Saturday morning.

It’s more than enough to make him contemplate why he even decided to pick it up in the first place considering he wouldn’t have been very able to participate in the conversation due to his sleepiness. He also, of course, made the mistake of not checking the caller ID which apparently wasn’t necessary considering how recognizable that voice and accent are.

“It’s 9 AM, Emma.“ He states as a tired parent would to a child, “I’m concerned as to why you’re up so early. More so as to why you’re calling me of all people.“

He can practically hear her roll her eyes but he still smirks to himself, knowing she can’t contradict him or argue since he’s completely right with his claims. “Whatever. Remind me to never call you to congratulate you on a milestone again.“

Now that pokes at his attention with a stick. Lately, said attention has proven to be a hibernating bear, leaving Corpse with a lack of interest or motivation for anything but damn if that sentence wasn’t enough to roll him out of bed and hop on PC. “What? What milestone? Subscribers?“

“Nope! You got two million likes on ‘E-girls are ruining my life’! I can’t believe I have to tell you this! Didn’t you notice the numbers climbing?!“ Emma, as annoyed and sarcastic as she’s trying to sound, she’s obviously overjoyed on his behalf and is super proud of him and of the project she luckily agreed to take a small part in.

As his PC boots up, Corpse can’t help but roll his eyes at Emma’s comment, “Well unlike you I have better things to do than refresh a page over and over aga-” His sentence is quickly cut off when he sees the number of likes under the song for himself.

Knowing that he’d find it there didn’t change the feeling of seeing it for the first time at all. It’s so surreal and so hard for his mind to comprehend. Seeing as how little he thinks of himself, his content and his art, this is like his success coming to slap him across the face as if to punctuate to him how wrong that mindset is.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt if you offered to take me out for at least a coffee to celebrate, bro.“ Emma comments sarcastically, joking only halfway from what he can sense.

He smirks, “Trying to even the playing field, I see.” He replies, referring to the fact that he’s still a faceless mystery to her while her face is literally the cover art for one of his songs.

She laughs but is quick to dismiss his claim, “Nah, I might be a curious and nosey little shit on other occasions, but other people’s privacy is not something I dig my nose into. However, if I were to even the playing field between us it wouldn’t be appearance-wise. More personality-wise. For my sake and yours I choose to believe you are way cooler in person than you are through messages or on a call.”

This withdraws a genuine fit of laughter from Corpse who throws his head back, a few strands of hair moving aside to reveal his shiny eyes, “Well then, instead of giving me the benefit of the doubt, how about we settle it once and for all? Tomorrow? I’ll text you the location.”

Emma’s eyebrows shoot upwards as soon as she comprehends his words and the tone that leaves no room for her to assume he’s joking, “Wait what? How come you’re agreeing to this? And so easily? Nah, this a trap if I’ve ever seen it.”

Corpse laughs yet again, “No trap, Em. I just can’t have you doubting my coolness.”

* * *

The main reason as to why Corpse requested for this meeting to be today is because he feared that if he had more than twenty four hours to dwell on it he’d chicken out. Little did he know it was the same for Emma. Their friendship has only ever existed with the bridge of social media connecting them and they both can’t help but fear the other might not like who they are IRL. They fear they unintentionally become a different person or change things about themselves subconsciously when communicating with people online. Bottom line, they’re scared of letting the other person down with who they really are, unaware that their personalities are most likely the exact same because, as the people who know them can confirm, neither Corpse nor Emma are the type to put on a show in order to be liked. They would rather have no friends because of who they are than have friends and fans of their persona instead of the real them.

And so, while slightly afraid and anxious about this meeting, both of them see it as a relief test to see if the friendship is in fact as real as it’s seemed these past months.

Corpse was the one to choose the location of their meet-up, a location Emma didn’t even think twice about agreeing on, and ever since, they’ve both been counting the hours until their scheduled meeting time. It’s not about impressing each other, at least that’s what they’re both telling themselves, but rather proving to the other that they’re worthy of their friendship. They might throw snarky and sarcastic comments at one another that others would give a side-eye glance to and question if their friendship is real, but they know the dynamic best and they sure as hell don’t wanna lose it or each other.

Best friends are the ones who roast each other after all - you can’t tell me I’m wrong.

The nervous Corpse fidgets with the insides of his hoodie pockets as he waits outside the café, having arrived ten minutes early because he couldn’t stand being alone with his thoughts in his apartment, judging every fragment of himself twice as harshly as usual. Emma, on the other hand, could barely bring herself to leave her home. She kept retouching her appearance, despite knowing Corpse wouldn’t judge her even if she showed up in pjs. To be fair she contemplated doing just that several times because her hair pissed her off enough to get her discouraged on her outfit altogether but she did eventually talk herself into pulling it together. She already knew she’d be at least five minutes late, but once again, she knew Corpse wouldn’t care.

He’d wait, cause that’s the kind of friend he was. Cause that’s the kind of friend she was for him too.

And boy did it take her less than a second to recognize him. She wasn’t even out of the car when she saw him and knew it was exactly who she was looking for. He too, as if with a sixth sense that registered her presence, shoots his head up from his phone to look up at her, their gazes meeting. There’s a brief moment of close-to-shocked silence, their eyes a bit widened as their brains comprehend that they’re within arm’s reach of one another.

That’s when Emma’s the first to break the bubble of awe as a wide grin spreads across her face and she runs to Corpse, wrapping him in a hug before he’s even realized the distance between the two’s been closed.

“Hey.“ She mumbles, her face hidden in his hoodie due to the height difference.

“H-hey.“ He replies, hesitantly wrapping his arms around her too.

“I was right.“ She says once she pulls away, “You are much cooler face-to-face.“ She pauses for a second, narrowing her eyes, “You’d be even cooler if you bought me coffee though.“

Earning a laugh from him, she’s guided into the café by the arm Corpse wraps around her shoulders, telling her he’s get her a milkshake cause he doesn’t want to see her high on caffeine. Needless to say, they both are, indeed, much cooler to one another IRL.

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hyungieyoongi · 3 years

Text

Found: “Run Away to You” Part 1

Let me go.

He was, without a doubt, your hardest goodbye.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Genre: Fluff + Angst

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

// Part 2

---

Looking at the calendar on your wall, the date glared back at you, red marker encircling the number as if you could forget it.

One year. It had been one whole year since you ran away from your old life.

Happy anniversary to me, you thought bitterly.

It hadn’t been easy–no, it had been tactful, strategic. Your best friend-turned-publicist, Marianne, had programmed your social media accounts to simultaneously deactivate. The phone you used for “celebrity” contacts and business-related matters was permanently turned off, stashed away in the back of a drawer. You had already moved all your belongings to a new apartment on the other side of the city, address undisclosed to everyone except Marianne and your parents on the other side of the world. Everything had been in place for you to completely disappear.

You were instructed to lay low for at least one entire month, groceries delivered to your door under a fake name with Marianne’s credit card. You had cut your hair, once long and flowing, to your collarbone. It was often hidden under a baseball hat when you went to your favorite café for a coffee or took your elderly neighbor’s dog for walks around the park. You were completely off the radar, just as intended.

That didn’t stop the world from trying to track you down for a while. Fan blogs speculated where you could have gone, and tabloids splashed old pictures of you on their covers with speculative headlines. Your parents even had to install a state-of-the-art security system in your hometown in the States after a magazine found out where you grew up and tried to break into their backyard. But you weren’t naïve enough to go back home; that was the first place people would expect you to go. Instead, you were hidden in plain sight in Seoul, just sans the flashes of the cameras following you. Without the designer clothes or big sunglasses hiding your features, you looked just like anyone else. Undetectable.

You had grown up in America, studying acting and Korean during your time at university with Marianne. Upon graduation, you landed a major role in a K-drama, uprooting your entire life to move to Seoul. For five years, you lived in the spotlight under the industry’s microscope. People said you were living the dream, but it started to feel more like a nightmare. It became overwhelming, suffocating.

When the show wrapped after three seasons, you knew it was time. You decided to run. You just wish you didn’t have to hurt anyone else in the process. Especially him.

You had instructed Marianne to give him a letter explaining why you had to go away, but she never heard back from him.

Let me go, Yoongi. Don’t look for me. This is for the best. I will always care about you. – Y/N

The words were emblazoned in your memory, your eyes tearing up at the thought of him reading the words you wrote to him.

Let me go.

He was, without a doubt, your hardest goodbye.

Your cell phone rang, distracting you from the memories that plagued your thoughts today.

“Good afternoon, dearie!” Marianne chirped on the other end of the phone. “It’s a big day for you. The first half of your manuscript came back from the publisher, so get excited to do some editing!” Hiding away from the world for a year gave you a lot of time to think. For you, that meant time to write. Marianne seamlessly transitioned from being your publicist for your acting career to managing your budding career as an author, even helping you pick out a pseudonym.

“That’s great news,” you mumbled in reply, taking a long sip of your coffee, the bitterness blooming on your tongue.

“Are you alright? You sound, I don’t know, a little off,” Marianne questioned, concern lacing her normally peppy tone.

“It’s been one year, Marianne,” you replied, knowing she’d understand.

“Oh my,” Marianne said after a beat of silence. “It completely slipped my mind. How are you holding up?”

“I’m alright just a little…weird, I guess? I’m so relieved to have my own life again. But I’m also just kind of mourning my old life today.”

“Oh babe, I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Do you want me to come over after work–we can order takeout and watch a movie? Take your mind off things?” Marianne offered.

“No, that’s okay. I think I’m just going to spend the day doing some self-care. We’re meeting tomorrow to discuss the manuscript timeline, right?”

“Yes, of course! I’ll be at the café at 11:00 a.m. Are you sure you’ll be okay today?” Marianne asked, clearly not convinced that you were telling the truth about being alright.

“I’ll call you if I need you, I promise,” you reassured her.

“Night or day, Y/N, you know I’m here.”

After you both said your goodbyes and ended the call, you started to feel restless, needing something to take your mind off the date and the competing emotions swirling in your brain. You decided fresh air and comfort food were the solution.

Grabbing your keys off the table by the front door, you slipped on your shoes, heading for the local corner store in your neighborhood, mindlessly forgetting your hat on the hook on the wall.

---

Mask pulled over the lower half of his face to conceal his appearance, Yoongi slipped into a nearby corner store, saving himself from the prying eyes that seemed to be examining him a little too closely from across the street.

He had snuck out of the studio without security, wanting to just take a moment to breathe all to himself. He had driven around Seoul with no destination in mind, eventually stopping in a neighborhood he found with a quiet park for a walk. His thoughts betrayed him as they kept going back to you and the letter he received one year ago, now crumpled in the top righthand drawer of his desk. He didn’t need to pull it out today to remember exactly what it said.

Let me go.

Once he read those words, he had stopped reading, smashing the paper together between his fists in frustration, shoving it in the drawer. It had stayed unopened since last year.

Yoongi aimlessly wandered through the aisles of the store, his mind continuously returning to that drawer. He had worked so hard to stop thinking about it–about you–over the past year. Today was a harsh reminder that you were still on his mind. He had stopped calling a long time ago, knowing that you wouldn’t pick up or return his calls. Sometimes though, if he had a little too much to drink with the boys, he’d call your number just to hear your voice on the voicemail recording. He didn’t tell anyone about those late-night calls.

Rounding the aisle corner, he collided with someone, knocking the snacks they had bundled in their arms to the ground. They immediately knelt down, trying to collect them.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Here, let me help you,” Yoongi offered, starting to lean over.

“Oh, no that’s okay I’ve got it.” Yoongi froze, his body going rigid. That voice. Your voice. He hadn’t heard it in-person in over a year. The sweetness of it rang through his ears, reminiscent of the voicemail he knew by heart.

It was you. After all this time.

---

Standing up with your snacks back safely in your grasp, you looked at the man in front of you who seemed to be barely breathing.

You were about to ask if he was alright, but then you recognized it. The black hat–the one with two rings on the edge that he would often wear when he went out. His mask had slipped below his nose, his pale cheeks slightly squished under the pressure of the fabric. Black hair poked out from underneath the hat, falling onto his forehead and into his dark brown eyes. They were wide with shock.

You felt the color rush from your face, hands beginning to shake because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

You were safe. Safe in your self-made bubble away from the world.

Until he found you. And it burst.

You contemplated turning around, pretending you hadn’t recognized him. Leave him again. But you knew that wasn’t an option now. You had to face the thing you were most scared of–him.

“Yoongi, I-” your voice cracked, barely above a whisper.

“Your hair,” Yoongi remarked, cutting you off, tone flat and quiet. “You cut your hair.” His eyes narrowed at you.

You swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in your throat. “Just...wanted a change, I guess.”

Hide. You wanted to hide.

“You seem to have gone through a lot of changes,” Yoongi said, bitterness seeping into his voice.

You winced at the implication of his words. You took a deep breath to try and collect yourself before replying.

“Can we...can we not do this here?”

“Fine.”

“I live around the corner. Maybe we could just...talk?” you asked, averting your eyes to the ground. When you didn’t hear a reply, you looked back up to Yoongi, who nodded at you once in agreement.

Abandoning your would-be purchases, you walked out the front door of the store, Yoongi silently following behind you. You felt his eyes burning into your back.

Just put one foot in front of the other, you thought to yourself.

As you and Yoongi silently walked to your apartment, neither of you noticed the camera pointed at the two of you, snapping the photo that would change everything.

// Part 2

---

Taglist: @loveyoongles @agustd-2020 @delacyrose224 @crispychanniee @sunshinejunghoseokie @jinsearthh

Want to be added to the tag list? Let me know!

Check out my other work! ❤️

#bts fluff #bts angst #bts fic #run away to you fic #bts fanfiction #bts series #min yoongi #bts yoongi #bts suga #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #suga #suga x reader #sugar x y/n #bts au fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst

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galactic-magick · 3 years

Text

As Long As I’m With You: Agnes/Agatha Harkness x Reader

Request: Hi, can you please do where Agnes (a villain) saves fem reader's life because she has feelings for her? In the end they end up together // also took some ideas from this request

Summary: You’re accused of witchcraft in your village, and a mysterious beautiful witch comes to your aid.

Words: 2200+

Warnings: fem reader, Agatha is low key evil so she hurts some people, a swear word, reader has an angsty past

Author’s Notes: This can be read as either a standalone fic or as a prequel to my other fic “Spell Practice.” I took quite a lot of creative liberty with this, hopefully that’s alright. Also disclaimer I am in no way a history expert so even though this is set in like the 1500s-1600s it’s probably very inaccurate, but it’s fanfic so anything goes right?

Taglist: @nyx-aira @midnight-lestrange @thestrangeundoing @thegayances @sleep-deprived-athlete @dr-robotnik-said-hella @fallingfor-fics @p-nymph @thelanawinterrs @sunproud (if your tag didn’t work it might be bc your blog isn’t searchable so make sure that’s on so you’re notified of future fics!)

You had no idea how much your life would change when you left your house that day.

It started out with a simple run to the market and the garden to get what you needed for supper that night, a job that almost always falls to you. You don’t necessarily mind getting away from your family and talking to some people in town, but it’s clear that your family doesn’t want you in the house as much as possible either.

It’s gotten to the point where they’re just looking for a reason to get rid of you. You’re a disappointment, after all. You refuse to marry in order to help your family’s status, even though you’ve gotten a couple offers. You counter your parent’s rules and ideas every chance you get, no matter how much they tell you you’re crazy. They belittle you constantly, saying your dreams are worth nothing and you’ll have to be dependent on them forever if you never submit to the role in society you’re supposed to.

Obviously bullying you out of their lives wasn’t working, so they’ve moved on to spreading rumors about you and setting you up for crimes. None have worked yet, of course, but every day you fear they’ll get too close.

Until you get burned at the stake, though, they’ve given you basically every responsibility of the house. You do all the shopping, cooking, and farming, as well as taking care of your younger siblings. You wonder what they’d do without you, despite how much they seem to want you gone.

As you’re buying a few crops and eggs from your neighbors, you swear you see something move. You turn around and see a little boy floating in the air, screaming.

You drop everything in your arms and reach up to him, trying to grab him and help him down, but he keeps flailing, and his screams start to feel directed at you.

“Hey! It’s okay! Let me help you!” you hold your hand up, speaking as calmly as you can. “I’m not going to hurt you,”

“WITCH!” a man yells as he sees you. “SHE’S A WITCH!”

Everyone around turns and watches you.

“No! No! I’m not the one doing this! I’m trying to help!”

“Let him down and maybe we’ll wait to kill you til tomorrow!” someone else demands.

A couple people march towards you to grab you, and all you can think to do is start running.

You race out of the center of town into the trees, and about five men chase after you. You keep going until it feels like your legs are going to give out and you can barely breathe, but they keep coming.

“Please! Please stop! It wasn’t me I swear!” you cry. “I don’t know what was happening!”

“Shut up, girl,” one grunts. “Your father always said there was something wrong with you, makes sense that you’re a witch!”

“What’s so wrong about witches?” a female voice calls.

You and the men spin around, trying to figure out where it came from.

Before you can blink there’s purple smoke surrounding you, and the men are thrown against the trees. They’re knocked unconscious instantly, but you remain standing and untouched.

“Who are you?” you ask, your voice quivering.

“Don’t be afraid, my dear,” the smoke starts to fade and you can make out her silhouette, then eventually her face. “I’m here to help you,”

She’s beautiful. You’ve never seen someone that immediately feels so friendly, so different in all the best ways.

“It’s alright to stare, I know I’m quite a sight,” she laughs. “I’m Agatha,”

“I’m Y/N,”

“Ah, yes, I’m pretty sure I’ve heard of you,” she smiles. “Everyone in the village can barely stand you,”

“Thanks…?” you’re not sure how to respond, especially after all that just happened. “Wait, if you live in my village, why have I never seen you? And how come you’ve never gotten caught using magic?”

“Memory spells, of course,” she shrugs. “Now, let’s get you somewhere safe, alright?”

You nod, and she wraps an arm around you. She takes you deep into the forest until you reach a small house, the glimmer of the fire peering through the windows.

You settle down on a chair while she makes some tea and food. She offers you a blanket and hands you the cup and plate, sitting down across from you.

“So how long have you been practicing magic?” she asks.

“Oh…I…well actually I don’t know how to use any magic,”

“Really? Why were the witch hunters after you then?”

“I was set up, I think,” you say. “There was a little boy floating in the air, and since I was near him they thought it was me. But I wasn’t doing anything,”

“Well,” Agatha sips her tea. “Sometimes magic can manifest itself subconsciously. Maybe you were doing it but didn’t realize it. It’s quite common,”

“But…how would I have magical powers? I’ve never learned it from anywhere,”

“Some people are just born with the gift,” she grins.

You exhale, thinking over what she said. Could it be true? You’ve been a witch all your life without even knowing it?

That night, Agatha conjures another bed for you to sleep in. But even though she made it as comfortable as she possibly could, you can’t get a wink of sleep.

You lift off the blanket and wrap it tightly around you, getting up slowly and quietly. You walk outside and sit against a tree, looking up at the stars.

You’re sure your family has heard the news by now. Their disappointment of a daughter is finally gone, accused of witchcraft. It seems that the foreseeable future will be spent with Agatha, the only safe person you have.

You wonder just how much she already knows about you. She mentioned she’s heard people gossiping about you all the time in town, yet she still saved you after hearing all those negative things.

Why is that?

“Can’t sleep?”

You jump at her voice, and she chuckles a bit at your reaction.

“Sorry,” you sigh. “I just have a lot to think about from today, I guess,”

“No worries,” she sits down beside you. “So do I,”

“Agatha,” you say. “Why did you save me?”

“Us witches have to stick together. I saw you were in trouble, so I saved you,”

“But you knew, didn’t you? You’ve known I was a witch long before this, didn’t you?”

“I had my suspicions,” she agrees. “Whenever I heard people talk about you, I figured you weren’t like everyone else. But I didn’t know for sure until today,”

“I wish you had taken me before,” you huff, a few tears falling down your cheeks. “It’s been so bad, Agatha, feeling worthless just because you’re different, everyone hates you…”

She pulls you into her shoulder, letting you cry into it, “I know, dear, I know,”

It takes you a while to come to terms with your potential powers, but as soon as you’re ready Agatha begins to teach you how to use them. You spend your days studying her spell books and practicing simple spells, most of which you fail at.

She encourages you as much as possible, explaining to you that magic is not something you can learn overnight, sometimes not even over years. She tells you that she’s actually thousands of years old (a surprise to you due to her stunning looks) and she’s been practicing for much of that time, and there’s still some spells she hasn’t mastered.

Your impatience still gets the better of you most days, though. You can’t imagine waiting several centuries to get something to work, if you get it to work at all.

One day you’re sitting at the table, trying out a simple transfiguration spell. You wave your hand repeatedly at a potato, hoping to turn it into an apple. It doesn’t even wobble, not even a single spark, but you’ve been sitting here for hours and don’t want to give up just yet.

You nearly fall asleep from exhaustion when all of a sudden it happens. It works.

There’s an apple in front of you. Not a potato, an apple.

“Holy shit!” you scream. “Agatha! I did it!”

You run over to her and point at your small accomplishment.

“Look at you go, darling!” she smiles, hugging you. “At this rate you’ll be changing rocks into cats before you’re 200!”

You laugh, “Oh come on, this is literally just one of the beginner spells,”

“So what? That’s where everybody starts,”

You break out in giddy excitement again, jumping up and down a bit and looking back and forth just to make sure your creation is still there.

Without thinking, you kiss Agatha quickly on the lips.

She stares at you, mouth open.

Before you can apologize, she grabs your face and kisses you hard. She’s everything you’d imagined and more, soft and warm but with a spark you can’t ignore.

When you finally break apart, her hands linger, brushing across your features and in your hair, “I’ve been waiting to do that,”

Things change after that, but in only the best ways.

Agatha isn’t just your mentor anymore, the only friend who came to your aid.

She’s your everything now, a soulmate, your home.

You tell her all about your life, and she tells you all about hers. As she has significantly more stories to tell, you’ll fall asleep many nights to her whispering all the legends she lived through that no one else knows are true.

She makes you laugh every day, and makes sure you always know how much she cares about you. There’s only so much you can do in your hidden home in the woods, but with magic the possibilities are endless and she’s never short of romantic ideas.

Tonight you find yourself lying your head in her lap while she plays with your hair, close to the fire so you can watch the little shows she creates with the flames.

“What about love?” you ask.

“What about it?”

“Out of all the stories you’ve told me, you’ve never mentioned being in love before,”

“Well,” she sighs. “That’s because I haven’t been,”

“Why not?”

“It’s just never appealed to me,” she says. “Until I met you,”

“Oh,” you grin, looking up at her.

She leans down to kiss you, but you’re broken apart by a loud noise outside.

You shoot up, looking at Agatha in pure panic. Your heart races as the noise gets louder and louder, eventually leading to shouting and knocks at the door.

“WE FOUND YOU!” a booming voice yells.

“Aggie?” you whisper. Everything crumbles around you. Your perfect, happy life, now about to be stolen from you. You have no idea how they found you, if you are about to be dead, if you’ll be able to defend yourself at all.

She kisses you and stands up, “Stay here. I’ll take care of it,”

With a fling of her fingers the door flies open, and the torches the townspeople are holding are burnt out. She smirks, purple smoke covering the area as she goes through them one by one, some just throwing to the side and others suffering a painful death.

She turns their own weapons against them, their own people against them, and makes them regret everything they’ve ever done.

When she returns to you, you’re still in so much shock and panic you couldn’t tell exactly what she was doing.

“Did you…kill all of them?”

“They got what they deserved for threatening us,” she says nonchalantly. “But we’re not safe here anymore. It’s time to find somewhere new,”

“Okay,” you nod as she pulls you against her. “As long as I’m with you,”

“I’ll always protect you, even when you learn enough to protect yourself,” she kisses your forehead. “Always and forever,”

APPROXIMATELY FOUR CENTURIES LATER

“I’m back, darling!” Agatha calls, shutting the door behind her.

“How’d it go?” you run to her, grabbing her hands.

“Splendid, that poor Wanda already loves her new neighbor!”

“Wow,” you giggle. “You know I must say, this whole living in a sitcom thing isn’t that bad, you look gorgeous in that 50s dress,”

“Oh darling, somehow after all this time you still flatter me,” she pretends to fan herself. “I have to go back over real quick, alright? Gotta give her this spicy magazine,” she holds her hand up in the air and magically forms one in her grasp.

“Ah! Be sure to get some ideas to use on me when you get back,” she laugh.

“Oh I will honey,” she winks, kissing you before going out the door.

You settle on the couch, looking around at your home. Out of all the places you’ve moved to together, this was by far the weirdest. There’s no color, and everyone besides you and Agatha and Wanda are under some kind of mind control.

You never imagined that day all those years ago would bring you here, spending your life with a beautiful witch and being her partner in all things, even sinister ones. But you wouldn’t have it any other way, and you know this strange town will only bring you more opportunities to practice your magic and help Agatha with her plans.

#agatha harkness #wandavision #agatha harkness x reader #agnes x reader #wandavision spoilers #wandavision x reader

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homoose · 4 years

Text

Through the Smoke

Request: could you do spencer x bau reader where they aren't dating yet but they both feel for each other? where both spencer and reader are very closed off people and the whole team knows that. but after one rough case on the flight back, they're both just exhausted mentally and physically and seek comfort in each other. then spend the night at reader's apartment and kiss for the first time there. sorry if this is specific but thank you (:

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst with a happy ending

Warnings/Includes: typical CM stuff, cults, kidnapping, violence, etc.

Word count: 8.1k

Music recs: Through the Fire by Jake Etheridge and Margot Todd; scared by Jeremy Zucker

a/n: anon, I have no idea if this is what you were looking for, but this is where it went. It’s a generous rewrite of 300, substituting the reader for Garcia. Also this blog operates with the understanding that the season 14 jeid arc does not exist lmao. JJ is firmly in the “I love you as a brother” camp and I will not be taking questions at this time. Also, this is a reminder that my requests are open! send me some fresh ideas, head cannons, rambles, whatever!

———

“Metro PD and the Bureau have been made aware of the Believers and possible activity following their leader’s arrest,” Prentiss confirmed, looking out over the team mingling in the bullpen. “But taking Theo at his word—”

“We only arrested three. There’s probably more out there, but if they follow cult dynamics, they’ll break down on their own without the messiah,” Matt finished.

“Typical cults: you think it’s a cast of thousands when really it’s just four whackos sitting around in the dark,” Tara mused.

Prentiss smiled. “I think we deserve some decompression time, and Rossi’s kind enough to host.”

Rossi leaned over the railing and nodded. “And I have some top shelf wine picked just for the occasion.”

The team started gathering their belongings and heading towards the elevators. Y/N hesitated, looking toward the case file still sitting on her desk. Something about how this had all wrapped up just… didn’t sit right. Her nearly five years with the Critical Incident Response Group had given her an up close view of some of the most prolific cults in American history. She’d studied Jonestown, Waco, Ruby Ridge, Liberty Ranch; new cults emerged onto CIRG’s radar regularly. And there was something about The Believers that just didn’t add up.

Y/N began shuffling things around on her desk, trying to look busy. She caught Spencer and JJ out of the corner of her eye, talking quietly. They ended their conversation with a hug, lingering just a little longer than Y/N would have preferred. She shook her head to try to physically clear the thought from her brain. She knew that Spencer had been through a lifetime’s worth of trauma before she joined the team, and that JJ had been an integral support for him. Y/N was also aware that she had zero grounds to be concerned with any of Spencer’s relationships, romantic or otherwise.

“Y/N, you coming?” JJ asked, walking toward her desk. Spencer headed out of the bullpen and down the hall.

Y/N gave her a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a little bit. Just wanted to finish up a couple things here.”

“Well, don’t stay too late.” JJ pressed her lips together for a moment before adding, “Maybe you and Spence could drive together. He said he might not make it, but if he had some company...”

Y/N hoped her immediate flush wasn’t too obvious. After nearly a year in the unit, she finally felt like she had built some solid relationships with the team, and Spencer was no exception. She relished their card games on the jet, the laughs over too-sweet coffee, discussions about books and films and music. But she also adored the way his hair sometimes curled and fell into his eyes, his animated and rambling tangents, the way his hands traced over the tiny print of his books. Most of her adult life had been spent surrounded by men who would gather up her trust in their pitted hands and crush it on a whim. She’d kept her heart behind glass for a long while, but Spencer was slowly chipping away at the fragile panels. She was certain he had no idea that he was even holding the chisel; but just about everyone else seemed to have figured it out. JJ, with her hands clasped together and an eager smile, definitely had. Y/N smiled, too. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“So we’ll see you in a bit?” When Y/N nodded, JJ gave her a warm smile and headed out.

Turning back to the case file, Y/N pressed her fingers to her temple and looked over the documents. Some of the pieces fit together, but the whole case felt littered with gaps and holes. The tale that Theo had woven about The Believers seemed true enough— his parents were simply the suppliers of potential cult members. Although, she still couldn’t figure out the reason for the kidnapping and torture. There were much easier ways to recruit vulnerable people.

She flipped past the pages of written statements and read over the report from the warehouse raid. It was short— the take down of Merva was too easy. Why was he sitting alone in an empty warehouse with only two unarmed, sleeping followers as a defense? Where was the rest of the cult? Matt was correct that most cults fall apart without their leader; unless the loss of a leader was a possibility they’d already prepared for.

The burns on Quinn’s hands didn’t make sense, either. Why use the initiation ritual as a torture device? Shouldn’t that be saved for people who had accepted the invitation? And then there was the one coincidence that nagged at her the most: what were the chances that Theo just happened to be enrolled in Spencer's course? Why did Spencer seem to be at the center of the whole thing?

Y/N sighed as her phone lit up with a message from JJ. She realized she’d been poring over the file for twenty-five minutes, and she had to laugh. As the least experienced profiler on the team, what could she possibly see that the others hadn’t? She closed the case file and quickly packed up, grabbing her jacket and bag and making her way toward the elevator lobby. She paused at the glass doors, retrieving her phone and pulling up Spencer’s contact information. Her thumb hovered over the call button for a long moment before she huffed out a breath. If even JJ hadn’t been able to convince him to go, there was no way she’d be able to change his mind. Despite herself, she glanced down the hall, allowing herself one moment to imagine an alternate timeline where she asked him to come along with her— to Rossi’s, to the moon, anywhere.

With a sigh, Y/N pushed open the glass doors and saw Agent Meadows leading Quinn to the elevator. She pushed down the little red flag in the back of her mind. As she stepped onto the elevator, she smiled politely at the two agents.

“I knew you didn’t do it. I just knew,” Meadows said to Quinn. She turned to Y/N. “And I can’t tell you what a privilege it’s been working with the A-Team on this case.”

Something about the calm in her voice made Y/N uneasy. “Yeah, it’s— um. It’s a great team to be a part of.” Her phone lit up again, this time with a phone call from JJ. “Okay, okay,” she muttered under her breath. Y/N answered the call, half an ear still listening to Meadows speak to Quinn. “Hey, I’m just leaving now.”

“Are you still at the BAU?” JJ demanded, voice low.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. But I’m in the elevator,” Y/N answered.

“Listen, we’re pretty sure Quinn was converted,” JJ told her. Y/N’s heart dropped into her shoes. “I need you to make sure he doesn’t leave that building. We’re coming back now. Where’s Spence?”

Y/N took a breath to try to even out her voice before speaking again. “Mom, we already talked about this. I don’t know.”

JJ paused. “Is Quinn in the elevator with you?”

“Yep.” JJ spoke quietly to someone on the other end of the phone. Y/N watched as the elevator dinged to the floor of the parking garage. “I’m going to have to hang up, mom. I’m gonna lose you, but I’ll try to take care of it tonight, okay?”

“Y/N, we’re on our—” The call dropped as the elevator hit the basement level.

Y/N took a deep breath to steady her voice. “Ugh, lost her.” She glanced at Meadows and Quinn, forced a smile and shrugged. “Elevators, right?”

The elevator doors began to open and Y/N stepped out, surreptitiously reaching for her holster. She had just lifted the strap when she heard the crack of metal hitting bone. Her face hit the concrete before she realized it was her own skull that bore the impact. She watched as her gun skidded across the parking lot floor, the taste of iron flooding her mouth. “Fuck,” she muttered, wincing in pain and scrambling up off the ground as a gunshot went off.

She didn’t feel the impact of the bullet. She looked down at her body, expecting to see a blooming rose of blood. She stared dumbly for a second too long, before remembering that she needed to get to her gun. Her hand instinctively went to her nose as she stumbled forward, coming away wet with blood.

“Stop, Agent Y/L/N.”

She heard the sound of a gun cocking, and then another. She closed her eyes and ran through an internal stream of curses. Raising her hands up, she turned slowly around. An older white man stood to her left, his gun trained on her. Meadows walked slowly towards her, lowering her own weapon. Quinn leaned against the back of the elevator, clutching his abdomen and blood staining the front of his shirt.

“Surprise,” Meadows sang, a sick smile spreading across her face. She stopped in front of Y/N, sweeping her hand in the direction of the man. “Now, John’s going to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. Get in the car.”

Y/N glanced in the direction of the vehicle, a dark sedan, driver armed to the teeth as well. “The team knows something’s up. You won’t make it out of this garage alive.”

Meadows laughed, loud and unhinged. “Oh honey. They’re not looking for lil ol’ me. And they sure as hell won’t be looking for an ambulance.” Her smile returned. “Plus, I already erased 299 murders from the Bureau’s radar. What’s a couple more? Now, shut up... and get in the car.”

Y/N moved to the open car door, keeping her back as straight as possible and her chin up, refusing to show them any cowardice. The barrel of the gun jabbed her in the back as she lowered herself into the vehicle. The door slammed shut, and in a moment, the gun was back on her, the man sitting next to her in the backseat. Y/N waited for the car to pull out, still trying to make sense of it all. Meadows was a Believer? What did she mean by “erased” 299 murders? Why would she blow her cover to shoot Quinn? Did she think that he had figured her out? Or that Y/N had? If that was the case, why not just shoot her? Why wasn’t the car moving?

“Drop your gun, Agent Reid,” Meadows’ muffled voice penetrated the inside of the vehicle. Y/N’s heart began to race. John dug the gun further into her side.

“It’s been you the whole time,” Spencer deduced.

“Yes, it was. Quinn somehow figured it out first. Pity having to shoot him,” Meadows mocked. “But he can’t give me what I want. And you can.”

“What’s that?” Y/N’s brain scrambled to put the pieces together as she listened to the exchange. Spencer was at the heart of it after all. It was right there, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

Meadows continued, “You and I are going to go upstairs and free my Messiah.”

“You’re in the heart of the FBI. As soon as the rest of my team figures out it’s you, you’ll be dead before you’re out the door.” Y/N hoped to god that he was right.

“Then we need to work quickly.”

“I’m not going to cooperate with you,” Spencer told her. “Might as well shoot me.” Y/N didn’t even have time to panic before the car shifted into drive.

“I have a better idea.” On Meadows’ cue, the driver squealed out of the parking space and into Spencer’s line of sight. His eyes fell on Y/N, hands nearly pressed against the window, John’s gun pointed at her head. “Now, what’s it gonna be? Because you can either join us, or she dies.”

Y/N tried to radiate her rage through her eyes and screamed, “Reid, just shoot her! Shoot her!” The last thing she saw before the second crack of steel against her skull was the hesitation in Spencer’s eyes.

⧭⧭⧭

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open and she groaned at the pounding of her head, the rhythm of her heartbeat throbbing in the space behind her ears. She tried to lift her hand to check for blood, only to strain against the hold of a zip tie attached to the base of the chair. Instead, she surveyed the room around her. A warehouse, lots of shipping containers, and even more men— this time armed with assault rifles and machine guns. One stood at the entrance point of the small area she was being kept in.

She worked through her memory, putting the pieces together. Meadows was a Believer, had been for quite some time to pull all of this off. Quinn wasn’t special, he just got in the way of her real target. Ben Merva might have been the messiah, but Spencer Reid was clearly just as important to whatever mission they were carrying out. Every twisting thread of information somehow traced back to him: Theo in his class, Quinn’s attachment to him, Meadows’ demand that he be the one to free Merva.

“Good, you’re awake.” Meadows strode through the space with a laptop in hand. “I need your handiwork.”

Y/N stared at her. “Is that so?’

Meadows set the laptop on the barrel in front of Y/N and then leaned down to cut the zip tie. “Besides being my collateral for the good doctor, you’re also going to help me access CIRG’s surveillance data.”

“Fuck you.” Y/N spat on Meadows’ shoes. “I’m doing nothing for you.” Her head rolled back, eyes piercing daggers into Meadows. “You should just kill me now, because this is a waste of your time. And I’m sure you know the A-Team isn’t going to waste theirs.”

Meadows narrowed her eyes and gave a theatrical sigh. “I should’ve known you’d make this difficult.” She nodded to John, standing at the entranceway.

Y/N spat again, this time to rid her mouth of the taste of blood. She steeled herself for the next onslaught, compartmentalizing every emotion outside of her fury. Her mind raced to salvage and scrutinize the memories from her time in CIRG, trying desperately to identify what Meadows could be looking for in the surveillance reports. The Believers hadn’t even been on the Bureau’s radar. The reason had to be linked to their interest in Spencer… a piece of information that involved both Spencer Reid and the existing surveillance data. A single grain that could bring the whole damn bushel down.

She heard a scuffle at the entrance of the room and raised her head. Her heart jumped into her throat at the sight of Spencer, bloodied and bruised. John dragged him into the room, throwing him down onto his knees in front of Y/N. His eyes tracked over her face and clouded over with an emotion she couldn’t quite place.

“Shit, Reid—”

“I’m fine—I’m sure it looks worse than it is,” he murmured. The concern in his eyes told Y/N she looked about as bad as she felt. “Are you all right?”

“I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known—”

“No,” Spencer interrupted. “This isn’t your fault. We all missed it.”

“What’s the end game here?” Y/N asked. “What’re they doing?”

“I’m going to be their last victim.” Spencer shook his head, barely able to keep himself upright. “I don’t know why, but I overheard them. There have been hundreds.”

Meadows stepped up behind Spencer, grinning at Y/N. “Have you changed your mind? I sure hope you have.” She raised her gun to his head. “Because if you don’t do what I want, I’ll blow his big, beautiful brains out.”

Spencer locked eyes with Y/N. She held his gaze for a moment, then tilted her head slightly as the gears started turning. The tie between Spencer and Benjamin was where it all unraveled. “No, I don’t think you will.”

Meadows’ grin faltered for less than a second, but it was long enough that Y/N knew she was right. “Is that right?” Meadows questioned.

“Yeah, it is.” She furrowed her brow, and Spencer looked at her. “You need him, don’t you? Alive.” Meadows’ tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Y/N was sure. “Because this isn’t just about Benjamin Merva. It’s about Benjamin Cyrus. It’s about Liberty Ranch.”

Meadows held her gaze for five seconds, then ten seconds. Y/N raised her chin, refusing to be the one to blink first. Meadows shifted the trajectory of her gun a foot to her right and fired off one shot. The breeze from the bullet shifted Y/N’s hair.

“You have two minutes to decide,” Meadows advised. The phone in her hand began ringing. “The next one won’t miss.” She answered the phone and stepped out.

Spencer spoke quickly. “Do whatever she’s asking. We have to get you out of here.”

“Reid, are your eyes broken?” Y/N snapped. “There’s a cult loyalist with a machine gun every five feet. You got a plan for that?”

“Listen to me.” His voice was calm, determined. “You’re right about them wanting me alive.”

The frustration bled through Y/N’s voice. “You should have just shot her.”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t do that.”

“You could’ve shot all three of them and ended this in the garage,” Y/N argued.

“And then I would have watched you die,” he said quietly. “That was never even an option.”

“I’m failing to see how that would have been any worse than this. Look at us.” She gestured wildly between them. She watched as the storm of emotion returned, a cyclone swirling in seas of gold and brown. “The team needs you. Spencer, I—” I need you. She reached a hand up, almost touching his face before dropping it back in her lap. He had found the chink in her carefully constructed armor; a fissure he’d fractured a little further with every smile, every look, every moment. All at once she knew she’d never be able to keep him out, no matter how much it might hurt.

“You’ve got one minute,” Meadows barked, hovering over them.

“Y/L/N, listen to me… Please...” Spencer’s voice was thick with tears. “Tell my mom—” The phone rang again, and Meadows stepped away to answer it. Spencer dropped to a whisper. His eyes flashed with urgency. “They’re taking me and Theo. We’ll distract them. The car we were in is right outside the door. We’re 18 minutes from Quantico. Turn left outside the parking lot, take a right at the light, you’ll recognize the rest. They stay off the highways.”

Y/N’s voice was frantic when she asked, “What about you?”

His eyes pleaded with her to respect what he was asking her to do. “I’ll delay them. Get the rest of the team back here. And do not worry about me.” John hauled up him off the floor.

“Time’s up.” Meadows, in a rare display of mercy, allowed them a hug.

Spencer leaned into her and Y/N wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She squeezed as hard as she could and whispered his name. She felt him take a deep breath into her hair, holding it for one impossibly long moment. Just before she released her hold on him, he mumbled, “It’s all happening. 10:23.” John dragged him back out the way they’d came.

“I gave you what you wanted.” Meadows ordered, “Get to it. Now.”

⧭⧭⧭

Y/N worked and waited, then watched and worried. Spencer spoke to Meadows. He was stalling her, offering a deal, boosting her ego, granting Y/N the opportunity to mentally prepare. But no matter how much time he gave her, she would never be prepared to leave him in that warehouse. He met her eyes across the movements of the operation and gave her an imperceptible nod before lunging forward to reach for John’s gun.

Chaos exploded throughout the warehouse. Theo ran in one direction, accosted by half a dozen Believers. Spencer and John tussled over the gun, one fighting for control and the other fighting the inevitable. Y/N sprinted, largely unnoticed, toward the huge sliding doors left slightly ajar. Bursting out into the night air, she immediately spotted one of the black sedans, unbelievably unlocked and with the keys in the ignition. She slammed the door behind her, turned the key, hesitated with her eyes on the door and her mind on Spencer for one moment too long. A single gunshot sounded from inside the warehouse.

Meadows raced out of the doorway, gun drawn. “Stop!” She pointed her gun at Y/N and there was nothing to do but step on the gas. Y/N had her eyes wide open as Meadows bounced off the windshield and onto the asphalt. She didn’t look back.

She drove. Left out of the parking lot. Just a dark, rural road—nothing particularly special or descript. She drove. Right at the stoplight. Then it was, just as Spencer said, familiar terrain. She wondered how it was possible to have seemed so far away— a world away— when it was right under their proverbial nose. She drove.

Her brain navigated of its own volition. Her mind couldn’t have been farther from the inside of the vehicle. She didn’t realize she’d arrived at the Bureau until she was attempting to pull into her usual parking spot, only to be met with her own abandoned car.

She turned the car off, left the keys in the ignition, and nearly floated out into the garage; up the elevator; across the cold floors of the lobby. Her body had walked this same path so many times before; it carried her without hesitation. She could hear the voices of the team, drifting through the open glass doors.

“She accepted their help knowing she would betray the government,” Tara deduced.

“Not every survivor wanted help,” JJ clarified.

Rossi continued, “We ran those who left the ranch and kept their names. A few relocated in rural Maryland and Virginia.”

“They could be helping now,” Luke suggested. “Any of them have large pieces of property?”

“A few,” Emily confirmed. Y/N turned the corner as she continued, “The Washington field office has started searches in Maryland. We’ll take the lead in Virginia.”

As she moved into the doorway, JJ’s eyes went wide and she rushed to Y/N’s side. “Oh my god, are you hurt?” She gently grabbed Y/N by the shoulders.

“It’s a warehouse in Hillcrest,” Y/N said flatly, eyes unfocused. “I can take you there, but we have to hurry. They hurt Reid; he looked— bad. He told me to r-run and take the car, but he’s still there.” Everyone headed for the doors except JJ and Garcia. “They won’t be there long, they have lots of trucks.” Y/N’s eyes locked on JJ, and for the first time since the whole ordeal started, she allowed herself to splinter, just a little. “I heard a gunshot. JJ, I heard a gunshot. I tried—”

“Shh, it’s okay,” JJ nodded, drawing her into a hug. “I know. I know you tr—”

“I left him there.” Her voice broke, but she couldn’t cry. Not yet. “I couldn’t get him. There was no way to save hi—”

“Stop,” JJ ordered, pulling out of the hug. “Y/N, look at me. You got out, you got back to us. If you hadn’t, we wouldn’t even know about the warehouse.”

“What if— what if I got him killed?” Y/N asked.

“You didn’t get anyone killed. Spence knew what he was doing.” JJ’s voice softened. “That’s what he does. He always figures things out before the rest of us. He has a plan and getting you back to Quantico was part of it.” She raised her eyebrows, making sure Y/N was listening. “And now we have to help him by putting the rest of it together.”

Y/N ran a hand over her face. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right.”

Garcia stepped forward and laid a hand on her arm. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Then we’ll get Reid back.”

They cleaned the blood from her face and hair as best they could in the bathroom sink. JJ patched up the lacerations with steri-strips. Back in the conference room, Garcia insisted she should get screened for a concussion as Y/N rubbed the knot on the back of her head. “There’s no time. Reid said, ‘It’s all happening. 10:23.’”

“But it’s past that,” JJ considered.

“So what did he mean?” Garcia asked.

“Could be a clue here.” Rossi's voice came over the speakerphone from inside the warehouse. “They got sloppy since they left in a hurry.”

“Okay, well you can’t be that far behind them,” JJ insisted.

“I know,” Emily agreed. “But there’s easy access to three major highways, and we don’t know which way they went.”

“Right, but they’re in tractor trailers. That means we can track them through weigh stations.”

“Garcia?” Emily prompted.

“In order to do that, I’d need the transponder identification numbers,” Garcia answered.

“Which we have no way of knowing,” Rossi sighed. “Everything they used was almost definitely forged.”

“We’re going to do another sweep here, and then we’ll head back,” Emily said. “Try to map out the most likely routes they’d use to get out of dodge.”

JJ hung up and looked to Y/N. “What do you remember about the warehouse?”

Y/N pressed her fingers into her temples. “It was full of supplies. They were disguising them, but they had stockpiles of weapons and ammunition; non-perishables and other food items; water. Enough to be off the grid for at least a year.” Y/N leaned back in her chair. “But it wasn’t just about The Believers. I mean, we know they’re a reincarnation of the Separatarian Sect.” She looked at JJ and Garcia. “It was more than that, though. Reid was at the center of everything; he was the target all along. Merva is the messiah, but it somehow all comes back to Spence.”

“Makes sense. They blame him for the downfall of the Sect,” JJ supplied.

“Yeah.” Y/N cracked her knuckles. “But—and I can’t—I can’t really explain it, but Meadows really wanted to kill Reid right then. She was— she was irritated, more than anything else.”

“So what stopped her?” Garcia asked.

“That’s what I can’t figure out. She threatened me with it, with ‘blowing his brains out,’ but I— called her bluff. And she was pissed.” Y/N rapped her knuckles on the table. “I mean, really, really furious. Which tells me that, even though she wanted to, she couldn’t kill him.” She looked between the two of them. “Merva was pulling the strings, and he wouldn’t let her do it there.”

“So it matters where the final sacrifice takes place,” JJ concluded. “We’ve got to figure out where they’re going.”

⧭⧭⧭

They’d been rehashing the details over and over. Liberty Ranch, The Strangler investigation, The Believers, Meadows, Merva, Cyrus, 300 victims, the hyoid bones, all of it. About the only thing they knew for sure was how far the cult could get in the trucks. Spencer could have told them the exact square mileage, but the potential geographical range of the trucks was dauntingly large. Y/N tried not to panic as she stared at the map.

“If this is about a Believer's rebirth, babies are born with 300 bones,” JJ said. “And they’re taking the hyoids.”

“And the hyoids we had in evidence are missing, which means Merva needed them back,” Tara reasoned. “And that means they mean more to the end game than we thought.”

Y/N felt her patience waning. “But why did Reid need us to know it all happens at 10:23?” Y/N hated that her voice sounded snappy and desperate. “That’s got to be important. It’s the last thing he said to me.”

Matt put his hand on her shoulder. “Listen, you’re right. It means something to him. We’re trying to figure it out.”

“Yeah, well, we better figure it out soon.” Y/N shrugged off his hand, pushed back from her seat at the conference room table, and turned for the door. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Every minute they spent floating ideas was another mile between them and Spencer. Another moment closer to losing him. She shoved the bathroom door open, hurrying into the stall and emptying the contents of her stomach.

She slumped back against the side of the stall, head gently knocking into the cool metal. She needed to pull herself together. The team was always strongest when they did their group think sessions, building upon each other’s knowledge and perspectives and filling in the gaps. If they’d done more of that earlier— if she’d had the confidence to call it out as soon as she saw the holes, Spencer might not be locked in the back of a truck, hundreds of miles away.

Y/N hoisted herself off the ground and out of the stall. She braced her hands on the counter top and tried to breathe evenly. She turned on the water and splashed her face, tapping against her cheeks. With water dripping down the planes of her face, she stared herself down in the mirror, willing her tired brain to make that last connection, to find that missing thread. It was all about the Benjamins, and she had a feeling that Cyrus was the key.

Y/N rolled her shoulders back and made her way to the conference room. She listened to their rotating conversation, knowing that this team was the only group of people capable of getting Spencer back alive.

“We have confirmation that there’s been no activity in or around the old ranch,” Matt informed them, pocketing his phone.

“If this is about rebirth, they’ll choose a new place,” Luke posited, arms crossed.

Tara leaned over the table. “Given their adoration of Cyrus and his love for the country, he’d want them to stay within our borders.”

“But Benjamin Cyrus wasn’t his real name, and he wasn’t born into the Sect,” Y/N reminded them quietly. Everyone turned to look at her. She gave an apology grimace to Matt. He just shrugged and smiled, motioning her over to the table.

Garcia nodded. “Right, let’s see. Uh, he and his mom arrived there when he was a teenager. He was kicked out for molesting girls. And then he served time in prison in Kentucky.”

“And that’s where he found religion,” Y/N recalled, thinking back to the report she’d studied dozens of times. “So he was reborn as Benjamin Cyrus in Kentucky.” She closed her eyes and flipped through her mental file cabinet, looking for 10:23.

“That’s within the area,” Garcia confirmed. “Maybe that’s where they’re headed?”

“Find out what city he was born in or where he was in prison,” Luke said. “We’ll spread out from there.”

“He found religion,” Y/N repeated, mostly to herself. “Chapter ten, verse twenty-three. 10:23 isn’t a time.” Y/N shook her head and then dragged her hand through her hair. “It’s scripture.”

“Let’s get in the air; we can narrow down which verse and city before we land,” Emily instructed.

⧭⧭⧭

“We’re approaching Kentucky; the pilot needs to know where to touch down,” Rossi informed them.

The team was scattered throughout the jet, scrolling through scripture on their tablets, reading out verses. Y/N held her chin in her hand, eyes unfocused, dragging a net along the furthest corners of her mind.

“Hey guys, listen to this,” JJ said. “Matthew chapter ten, verse twenty-three: ‘When you are persecuted in one place, flee to another.’”

“They’re going to the next town,” Emily said.

“Flee to the next town. But which one?” asked Garcia.

“Their end game is also a new beginning,” Rossi explained. “Cyrus brought religion back to the cult. They’d honor that by wanting to start fresh.”

Y/N raised her head. “Like the Garden of Eden.”

“That’s how 300 fits,” Tara concluded. “That was the number of angels that protected the Garden of Eden. Are there any Edens in Kentucky?”

The sound of Garcia tapping across the keyboard came through the laptop. “Um, no, but there are two synonyms: Canaan and Arcadia.”

“Cyrus is the original messiah. Which one is closer to where he was born?” Y/N asked.

“Arcadia,” Garcia informed them.

Y/N stood up. “That’s where they’re going.”

“Garcia, pull land deeds. I’ll notify SWAT,” Emily instructed.

JJ grabbed Y/N’s hand. “We’re going to get him.”

Y/N met her eyes. “I just hope we’re not too late.”

⧭⧭⧭

The new compound proved easy to find. In the middle of nowhere but illuminated by hundreds of lights, there were rows and rows of tents. The team began strategizing, looking for the best route to Spencer.

Emily tried to convince Y/N, now showing clear concussion symptoms, to stay with the SUVs.

“With all due respect, there is no way in hell that I’m going to sit in this car while Reid gets sacrificed by a homicidal cult leader,” Y/N said. There was a hushed pause, the team exchanging knowing glances.

“Fair enough,” Emily conceded. “Matt and JJ, I want you on the left side. Luke and Tara, the right. Dave and Y/N, you’re with me. We’re clearing every tent; eliminate any threat that would give away your position.” She unholstered her gun and swept her eyes across the team. “Our objective is to extract Reid with minimal loss.”

As they approached the first line of tents, Y/N could faintly hear Spencer speaking. “To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.” Her heart hammered against her ribcage. “A time to be born and a time to die.” She could feel the blood rushing through her ears. “A time to weep and a time to pluck up that which has been planted.”

“Okay, he’s stalling,” Meadows snapped. “That’s enough!”

“All right. Let the sacrifice begin.” That was Merva now, riling up the followers. “Protect us from all harm.”

As Merva led The Believers in a monotone chant, Y/N tried to block it out. She scanned a tent, watched as SWAT took out a bodyguard, looked for Spencer. Rinse and repeat, again and again. It was taking too long.

“And we thank Our Guardian, who will protect this family now and always,” Merva’s voice rang out. “Spencer: keeper of provisions!” Y/N saw the gathering of followers, but she couldn’t see Spencer.

The SWAT commander stopped them. They had reached the final line of tents. He signaled to the leaders on each side. They were ready to strike.

Y/N’s eyes scanned the crowd. She could just barely make out some sort of hanging mobile, white u-shaped decorations suspended from string. The hyoids, she realized, a wave of nausea hitting her like a truck.

Merva continued, “You have given selflessly to others and will be rewarded by the highest honor we could bestow. Your blood will be our blood. Your life will fuel ours.”

A gunshot rang out. The followers gasped. There was a split second of calm before the bedlam. Y/N took a single breath. Then she heard Matt yell; saw John lift his rifle and be felled by a solo shot to the head; watched Luke take down another bodyguard directly after.

And then she saw him. Strapped down under a canopy of bones, Spencer was silent and unmoving. He didn’t struggle. He didn’t call out. And there was Merva, knife in hand— still trying to complete his mission.

She didn’t vacillate, barely breathed, just let her legs carry her forward. She heard Emily call out his name. When Merva turned, the curved blade of the knife poised at the column of Spencer's throat, Y/N’s trigger finger compressed. She felt the gun recoil, felt the force of the shot travel up her arm as she put a single bullet in his chest. As he fell, she didn’t stop, just stepped over him, knew one of the others would take care of it.

She tripped over the small platform Spencer was restrained on, stumbling and holstering her gun. Her hands moved over the straps, loosening the one over his waist, then the ones at his hands, finally pushing the leather from his head. He panted and muttered his thanks, but she didn’t dare speak, afraid that if she did, she’d never be able to stop. Instead, she flung her arms over his shoulders, pulling him down and close and over her heart. She wondered if he could feel the way it pummeled against her chest, because to her it felt like it might smash through at any moment. His arms came around her, chin resting on her shoulder, nose in her hair. She heard him inhale and hold his breath, a mirror of that last moment together in the warehouse. She held onto him as an overboard sailor holds a life ring: single-minded, unrelenting, desperate.

There was a touch on her opposite shoulder and Y/N swung around, adrenaline still racing through her veins. JJ put her hand out in a placating motion, and Y/N came back to herself, allowing JJ to step forward and help Spencer off the platform. Y/N let out a breath and reached a hand out to steady herself, only to flinch when it brushed one of the straps that had held Spencer down. Luke caught her on one side, Tara on the other. She grasped at them, her emotions teetering right along with her physical form. Luke pulled her out from under the macabre canopy and into a hug. Tara held her hand. For the first time since the parking garage, she let herself go.

⧭⧭⧭

The jet was quiet. The team was spread out around the cabin, each of them lost in their own heads. There was a tranquility over the space, one that only ever happened when unmitigated relief overwhelmed even the joy or fulfillment of a life saved.

Y/N sat in one of the single seats, across the aisle from where Spencer was settled. Tara and Luke had finally convinced her to get checked out by the EMTs, who had confirmed her concussion. She convinced herself that the fuzziness on the corners of her vision was just a symptom of that, not a product of the tears she was struggling to hold back.

The team each stopped by Spencer’s seat, patting his shoulder, squeezing his hand, or in Rossi’s case, gently ruffling his hair. They all spoke briefly in hushed, grateful tones. All except Y/N. She couldn’t formulate a sentence that seemed adequate. There was simultaneously too much and nothing to say. Everything felt contrived or insufficient or intemperate.

Spencer was safe. They hadn’t been too late. He was bruised and undoubtedly sore, but ultimately, he’d been through worse. So why was her heart still aching? Why couldn’t she catch her breath? She hadn’t spoken more than a few words since leaving the raid, so why did her throat feel like it was on fire? She closed her eyes, leaned her head back. She incessantly pressed her hands together, trying to crack her sore knuckles over and over again.

A pair of hands gently closed over her own, stopping the abuse, and she didn’t have to open her eyes to know who they belonged to. His thumbs stroked over the backs of her hands and she cursed the tears that spilled over her bottom lashes. He didn’t say anything, didn’t force her to look at him or acknowledge her shattering. He waited her out, rubbing a rhythm on her skin and steadying her without a word. She opened her eyes but couldn’t bring herself to look at him just yet. Instead she focused on their joined hands, reciprocating the gentle pulses he gave every so often.

She turned her head to wipe her wet cheeks on her shoulder as the landing announcement came over the cabin speaker. She did look at him then, and the emotion in his gaze left her feeling raw and exposed. Their hands reluctantly separated to buckle their seat belts. Y/N closed her eyes again, turning her face into the warmth of the early morning sun as the jet began its descent.

When they landed, everyone wearily shuffled off the plane, eager to get home to their beds. Penelope met them at the elevator, enveloping Spencer in a long hug, the rest of the team smiling at their embrace. They each moved through the bullpen, gathering their things and talking quietly. Y/N’s eyes paused on her bag, brought up from the parking garage by one of the team after she’d gone missing. They lingered for a long moment on the case file, still sitting where she’d left it hours ago, before she let herself let it go. She grabbed her bag and turned to see Spencer standing in the aisle, hands in his pockets and eyes fixed on her.

“Hey,” she said dumbly.

He smiled. “Hi.”

Her hands wrung the straps of her bag. “How—how’re you holding up?”

“I’ve been worse.” He shrugged. “How’s your head?”

“I’ve been worse,” she agreed.

“That’s good. Because I think after all that, the least you could do is give me a ride home,” he joked.

Y/N knew he was trying to reassure her that he was fine, but she couldn’t bring herself to laugh. If anything, his attempts to provide comfort made her feel worse. Because she couldn’t forget the sound of the gunshot at the warehouse, the sight of the knife at his throat, the feeling of nearly losing someone whom she knew she could love if she just had more time. Too exhausted to hide her emotions, she could tell by the change in Spencer’s eyes that the pain was apparent on her face.

“Actually, you probably shouldn’t be driving, even if it’s just a mild concussion. Where are your keys?”

“It’s fine. I’m all ri—” Y/N started.

“I know I phrased that as a question, but I’m not really asking.” He held out his hand.

Normally she would have argued, but she just didn’t have the energy. Y/N dug into her bag, fishing out the keys and dropping them into his hand. He closed his fingers around them and jerked his head toward the door. “Come on,” he murmured. He waved to the rest of the team, and Y/N nodded, avoiding their eyes.

The ride in the elevator was silent. The walk to the car, too. They were pulling out of the garage before Spencer finally broke the silence.

“You know this wasn’t your fault, right?” he asked. Y/N stayed quiet. “We all missed the connection to Liberty Ranch.”

“But I knew something was off, and I didn’t say anything. I— I almost came to find you before I left, and if I had just done that—”

“Y/N,” Spencer interrupted. “The plan was already in motion. Meadows and Merva would have just figured out another way to execute it.” His fingers tightened on the wheel. “And without you and the leads from the warehouse, the team might not have figured it out in time.”

Y/N opened her mouth before realizing she didn’t have a response. She didn’t even want to consider that possibility. She leaned her head against the window, pressing the thumb and fingers of one hand into her eyes to stave off the throbbing.

Graciously, Spencer let her remain in silence the rest of the ride to her apartment. There was so much to say, especially now; she didn’t know where to begin. And even after everything, she couldn’t stop herself from bringing up that wall— protecting herself from what she knew could hurt her more than any unsub.

They pulled onto her street, fairly empty at such an early hour. Spencer parked in front of her apartment, opening the car door and coming around the other side of the car. She expected him to give her the keys, but as she exited the car, he waited by the gate for her. “I’ll walk you up.”

Spencer opened the gate, allowing her to walk through before closing it behind them and following her up the sidewalk. “I need the keys,” she told him.

He shook his head as if to clear it. “Right, right.” He placed them into her outstretched hand, and she wondered if she imagined his fingers lingering over hers.

When they reached her door, she unlocked the deadbolt and swung the door open, stepping over the threshold. He waited outside, hands in his pockets. Y/N rolled her keys in her hand, and Spencer watched them.

“Um— thank you for—” Y/N started.

“I told Emily on the jet, and I’ll tell you now.” Spencer raised his eyes to meet hers. There was that look again, the one she couldn’t quite identify. “I’ve always had a hard time saying what I feel. And maybe sometimes it’s because I’m afraid of being disappointed. But sometimes it’s because the words I’m looking for don’t exist in the English language.”

“Spence—”

“Please just let me get this out,” he said. “There have been a couple moments over the past few months where I thought maybe we were sharing mamihlapinatapei.”

“Mamih what?” Y/N asked.

“Mamihlapinatapei.” He repeated, gesturing with his hands. “It’s a Yagan word that originates on the Tierra del Fuego archipelago off the southern tip of Argentina. It translates succinctly as ‘the wordless, meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to do so.’”

“Oh.” Y/N felt a flush rising up in her cheeks.

Suddenly, Spencer couldn’t meet her eyes. “I, um—I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize our friendship or make things awkward at work. But last night, I… I just— I’ve had too many moments in my life where I thought it might be my last, and I hadn’t said all the things I needed to say.” He met her eyes again, and there was that familiar storm. “Last night I was out of time, and I hadn’t told you how I feel, and I realized that I wouldn’t get another chance, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but I needed to—”

Y/N stepped forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and crashed their mouths together. She tried to pour everything into the kiss: every blush, every worry, every laugh, every panicked moment, every mamihlapinatapei. Spencer cradled her face in his hands, opening his mouth and capturing her bottom lip, accepting everything she gave him. She wound one of her hands into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer and grounding herself to this new reality that almost wasn’t. The height of the kiss tapered off, and Y/N drew back, untangling her fingers from his hair and her heart from his grasp. Spencer watched her carefully, honey eyes uncertain.

“I do. Feel the same,” Y/N confirmed. Spencer’s lips twitched. “I’m not good at vulnerability. I’ve got a great track record of getting hurt.” Spencer grabbed her hand and opened his mouth, but Y/N continued, “But then I thought we might lose you, that time was out, and that I— I wouldn’t get the chance to see if you could be— if this could be more.” She gestured between them and then met his eyes again. “And I guess being vulnerable isn’t so bad in comparison. Because I think I could fall in love with you. I think maybe it’s already happening.” She held her breath and pressed her lips together, fighting the regret of saying too much.

“Actually, there’s a word for that, too.” Spencer smiled, warm and soft and genuine. “Forelsket. The origin is Norwegian, and it roughly translates to ‘the euphoria experienced as you begin to fall in love.’”

“Forelsket?” Y/N asked.

“Well, it’s more like forelsket,” Spencer corrected.

“Wow, okay, 187.” Y/N laughed for the first time in what felt like days. “Forelsket.”

“Better,” Spencer praised. “There’s also the Tagalog version, kilig.”

Y/N took a step closer to him and smoothed his shirt where her hands had wrinkled it. “Translation?”

“‘The sudden feeling of an inexplicable joy one gets when something romantic happens,’ or alternatively ‘the feeling of butterflies in your stomach.’” Spencer moved his hand to her waist and stepped over the threshold.

Y/N cupped his cheek in her hand, soothing the bruises and guiding him back to her. “Yeah. Sounds about right.”

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #homoose writes

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nolanell · 3 years

Text

Apartment 9: Writer Wednesday September 8th 2021

Writer Wednesday: @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape

Pairing: Maxwell Lord (WW84) x Female Reader

Length: 2.8K

Warnings: Mention of divorce, being a single parent, brief consideration of being a woman alone in a big city. A lot of this takes place in a lift. Allusion to an age gap (not a big one, and reader is of age). Aside from being female and other characters describing her as pretty, there are no other descriptors of the reader. There is one kiss described, but no other physical intimacy.

Author's Note: My first ever Writer Wednesday submission! I hope you enjoy. I have read a few soft and fluffy things for Max Lord recently and he's just been in my head. Inspiration struck me with this week's prompt and I just went with it!

You didn’t know much about the man who lived down the hall. What you did know, you didn’t know if you could fully believe as a lot of it was snippets of lift gossip you had heard as you went to and from your apartment to the ground floor. That didn’t seem reliable, or like it would be particularly kind in the way it painted a picture. But if this gossip was to be believed, he had recently lost everything except his son, who he loved dearly. Essentially, he had made some bad decisions and was now paying for them.

You hadn’t seen him in person yourself until he had been there about six months. It so happened he was running for the lift and you held the door for him. You didn’t know who he was at first.

‘Thank you,’ he smiled softly as he stepped in.

You smiled back.

‘Have you… have you lived here long?’ he asked.

You turned to him and raised an eyebrow. There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with the question, but you couldn’t be too careful, a woman living on your own in the big city.

‘I- I just meant I’ve been here six months and we’ve not met before,’ he explained.

You softened a little bit. Whoever this was, was just trying to be friendly. ‘Two years, nearly,’ you replied.

The lift door dinged as you reached the ground floor. He motioned for you to go first. You paused a second, a little taken aback at his politeness, but walked out of the lift, turning around to face it once you came out. He stepped out after you, not quite sure what to do given you had stopped. He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

‘You live on the eighth floor too?’ you asked, a little surprised.

‘I do,’ he nodded. ‘Number 11.’

‘Number 9,’ you pointed toward yourself.

‘Wow, practically neighbours for half a year and we’ve only just met!’ he laughed. He had a genuine smile, but his laugh seemed a bit restrained, a bit guarded.

You couldn’t help but break into a big smile at the absurdity of it. ‘Right? How crazy!’

He seemed to perk up a bit at your smile; seemed to stand a bit straighter, his smile starting to reach his eyes a bit more. He pushed his floppy, blondish-brownish hair out of his eyes and smiled again.

‘I’m Max,’ he offered his hand. ‘Nice to meet you.’

You offered your hand in return and gave your name. ‘Nice to meet you too, Max.’

‘I’ve got to get going, I’m picking up my son,’ Max said, moving toward the exit.

‘Where from?’ you asked. Couldn’t be school at 10am on a Saturday.

‘From his mum,’ Max explained. ‘I get to see him this weekend.’ The smile on Max’s face showed just how happy he was about it. It was a much more genuine smile this time, and very infectious.

‘I won’t keep you then,’ you smiled back, moving to catch up to him. ‘Have a lovely time together.’

‘Thank you,’ Max was still smiling and this one had reached his eyes fully; he looked genuinely pleased at your remark. ‘Have a good rest of the day yourself.’

You parted ways as your came out of the apartment building. He seemed pleasant enough. Just a single dad, clearly loved his son, trying to get by, as far as you could tell. And after all, wasn’t everyone in the building just trying to get by? And if the lift gossip was true, was that really your business, or anyone else’s, for that matter? Max seemed nice enough to want to say hello to, and hold the lift door for again.

You didn’t see him again for a couple of days, and this time you were both waiting for the lift to arrive. After exchanging the standard ‘hello’, the silence was a little difficult; you weren’t one for inane small talk. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Max stuffing his hands in his pockets and staring at his feet. He looked… nervous?

Come on, you must be able to think of something.

‘How was your time with your son?’ you asked, glancing over at Max.

He looked relieved that you had said something. ‘It was great, thank you,’ he smiled. ‘How have you been?’

‘Not too bad,’ you gave what you hoped was not a tired smile. ‘Just trying to get by.’

Max nodded. ‘I hear that,’ he agreed. ‘Just one foot in front of the other, it feels like some days.’

The lift dinged and the doors opened. Max motioned for you to go first again. ‘To the ground?’ he asked as he went to hit the floor button.

You nodded. ‘Are you seeing your son again today?’

‘No,’ Max said, more than a hint of sadness in his voice. ‘Just out for a walk and a coffee.’

‘There’s a great place round the corner from here, if you haven’t already been. Maria’s?’ you furrowed your brow trying to remember the name.

‘I think I’ve walked past it,’ Max nodded. ‘I’ll check it out. Anything exciting planned for you today?’

You shook your head and laughed. ‘I wish. Just errands.’

‘Never ends, does it?’ Max agreed.

The lift doors opened and again Max motioned for you to go first. As you left the building, Max wished you a nice rest of the day and that he would see you later. You smiled and nodded. You only had two interactions lasting less than five minutes, but Max seemed much nicer than the lift gossip suggested. Which is exactly why you tended not to not give it any credit. At least next time you had something to ask about; whether he tried the coffee at Maria’s, and what did he think of it. You found yourself hoping you saw him again fairly soon; it was nice to have someone to talk to who didn’t just want to gossip about the building residents. Or was it that he was kind of cute? Sure, he was a little older than you, but the way his hair flopped forward when he looked down was adorable. He had a nice smile too. But, you reminded yourself, he was just trying to get by, one foot in front of the other.

But weren’t you, too?

You didn’t see Max for a few days after that and even then, only very briefly. You were coming out of the lift having come up, as he was waiting for it to go down. There was a boy with him you assumed was his son; there wasn’t a huge resemblance, so you assumed he must look more like his mum.

‘Hello Max,’ you greeted him as you stepped out.

‘Hello,’ he smiled at you. ‘I’m so sorry, we’re in a bit of a rush.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll hold the lift for you soon,’ you smirked over your shoulder as you walked to your door. You heard the lift doors close behind you, but not before you heard a chuckle from Max and a young voice ask ‘Dad, who is that?’. So you’d finally met Max’s son, sort of.

You did in fact hold the lift for Max a couple of days later, but on the way up this time. He was carrying a couple of grocery bags and smiled at you over the top of them.

‘Thank you,’ he said as he tried to hold the bags without anything slipping out.

‘Told you I would hold the door for you soon,’ you laughed softly. ‘Can I give you a hand?’

‘Would you mind?’ Max looked relieved. ‘Only if you’re sure, I wouldn’t want to impose.’ You motioned with your hands to pass you one and took the one in his left arm from him.

‘How was the coffee at Maria’s? Did you go in the end?’ you asked, once you were sure the grocery bag was secure.

‘I did, it was lovely,’ Max smiled. ‘Definitely one of the best I’ve had since I got here.’

‘It’s my favourite,’ you agreed. ‘Oooh, and it’s nice to see your son has your curiosity.’

Max blinked at you and looked genuinely confused. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘A few days ago, you were in a hurry as I was coming out the lift? He asked who was that as you got in?’ you explained.

‘Oh! Sorry, yes, I’d almost forgotten,’ he said as recognition crawled across his face. ‘I keep telling him to use his indoor voice. He does keep me on my toes.’

The lift doors dinged, and before stepping out you asked Max if he’d like some help carrying them to his apartment.

‘If you’d hold on to it while I get the door open, that would be wonderful,’ he said, motioning for you to leave the lift first. He followed you as you stepped out and nodded in the direction of his apartment door.

As you got to Max’s door, you were standing either side of the door itself, facing each other as Max fumbled in his pockets for his keys. This was the first time you’d properly looked at him, and you found yourself picking up details you’d not noticed before. His floppy blondish-brownish hair flicked down toward his eyes, that you’d seen before, but you hadn’t noticed how beautiful his deep brown eyes were, and you hadn’t taken in his gorgeous golden skin, and the size of his hands on the grocery bag…

Girl, get it together. This poor guy is probably reeling from who knows what, given he is a dad not living with his son he very clearly loves, and describes living as one foot in front of the other. He does not need you looking at him like that.

You heard Max say something.

‘Sorry, what was that?’ you ask.

‘I… I said thank you so much for helping,’ Max said, his skin a little pink.

His front door was open. He’d found his keys and opened the door while you’d been gawking at him. Your cheeks burned slightly at the thought he might have noticed.

‘Oh! It’s no trouble,’ you smile. ‘Want me to bring this in?’ You raised the bag you were still holding.

‘No, don’t worry, I’ve got it from here,’ Max chuckled. He seemed to be avoiding your gaze.

You straightened up and smiled again as you passed the bag over. ‘Okay, I’ll leave you to it. See you later, Max!’

‘See you later,’ Max replied, as you were already walking back to your own door.

Later turned out to be a couple of days later, and again you met Max going up in the lift. He had his son with him again.

‘This is Alistair,’ Max beamed proudly, after introducing you to his son.

You knelt down, and smiled at Max’s son. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Alistair,’ you hold your hand out.

‘You too!’ he smiles in that adorable, excited way most children do, and shakes your hand.

You stand back up again as the lift dings and you all get in, Max holding Alistair back as he lets you go first again. In the lift, Alistair presses the button for the eighth floor, and looks up at you.

‘Can I press the button for you?’ he asks.

‘You already have,’ you smile down at him. ‘I live on the same floor as your dad.’

Alistair smiles. He gets this expression on his face you can’t place. You don’t dwell on it as you hurriedly try to think of small talk; what can you ask that doesn’t ignore one or the other? Then it hits you.

‘Alistair, has your dad taken you to Maria’s?’ you ask him, a smile teasing at the corners of your mouth.

‘The coffee shop?’ Alistair looks at you, confused, as you nod. ‘No, he says coffee is for grown ups,’ Alistair rolls his eyes.

‘That’s true, but you know what? Maria’s also does amazing milkshakes,’ you grin as you look at Max. He smiles at you.

‘Ooooh,’ Alistair gasps.

The lift dings. Max motions for you to go first. You step out and kneel down to Alistair again. ‘It was nice meeting you, Alistair. See you soon?’

Alistair nods with a smile. You stand up and smile at Max ‘I’ll see you soon,’ you say as you walk toward your door.

‘Dad, is that the pretty lady from number 9?’ you hear Alistair’s voice, and you’re glad you’re walking away as your face flushes red.

‘Indoor voice, please, Alistair,’ you hear Max sigh, as their footsteps move away from you.

You’re beginning to think Max is avoiding you. It’s been almost a week since you met Alistair and you’ve not seen him. You’re standing in the lift waiting for it to start moving, staring at your shoes, as you hear someone get in. Your eyes flick up for a second and you see Max standing in the lift with you.

The lift doors close and it begins descending.

For the first time, you actually feel like there is an awkward silence between you two. You dare another glance at Max and he is doing the same as you, staring at his shoes. That gorgeous hair has flipped forward again, hands stuffed into his pockets…

You clear your throat. ‘Do you normally tell Alistair about all the pretty ladies you see?’

Max’s head whips round to you, so fast your surprised he’s not given himself whiplash. ‘I’m… I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable.’

You smile kindly at Max. ‘Not at all,’ you reply. ‘But that’s not what I asked,’ your expression turns into something of a mischievous grin.

Max blushes. Those stunning eyes meet yours. ‘I… I told him… well, you’re the only one I’ve ever mentioned.’

It was your turn to flush red. ‘Really?’

Max nods as the lift dings for the ground floor, and gestures for you to go first. ‘And even then, it was his idea.’

‘What?’ you ask, confused.

Max looks at the floor, smiling nervously. ‘Remember when we were on our way down, when we were in a rush? Well, he asked who you were, as you heard, and I explained you lived at number 9 and we got the lift together sometimes.’

You nod, waiting for him to continue.

‘And Alistair really does keep me on my toes because he said you were really pretty, and I agreed. And of course he decides to remember that at the point it would cause the most embarrassment,’ Max sighs, risking a glance over to you.

‘I think it was more the lack of indoor voice that was the problem,’ you giggle.

Max laughs, another genuine one that reaches his eyes, and he nods in agreement. ‘It certainly was,’ he smiles, a sweet little dimple emerging on one side of his face. He was so cute, and you were starting to think he had absolutely no idea.

You both stood there for a few seconds in silence, not really knowing what to do next but also not really wanting to end the encounter.

‘Where are you off to?’ Max asks you.

‘Nothing too exciting, just a walk and then coffee at Maria’s,’ you reply.

‘What a coincidence,’ Max smiles. ‘Would you mind if I join you?’

‘Of course,’ you nod. ‘Who would turn down the gorgeous guy from number 11?’

Max flushes red. ‘I don’t know about that. But I’m glad the pretty lady from number 9 wouldn’t.’

Damn, he really had no idea how cute he was, did he?

As you step out of the building, Max offers you his arm, and you loop yours through it as you walk down the steps from the entrance. You pause at the bottom, smile and gaze into those incredible dark brown eyes. Before you know where you are, your lips are on his and you’re running your hands through his hair, curling your fingers at the back of his neck. His lips are impossibly soft, his hands finding their way to your waist, holding you close to him. His tongue gently brushes against your lips, seeking permission, and you are all too happy to grant it. He’s gentle, almost hesitant at first, but his kiss deepens into something so passionate you’re glad he’s holding your waist, as he’s making you weak at the knees.

Eventually you pull back, breathless, giddy, smiling. ‘Wow,’ is all you can offer.

Max smiles and blushes for about the third time in five minutes. ‘Wow indeed,’ he agrees. ‘Come on, let’s go and get a coffee and you can tell me about this gorgeous guy at number 11.’

You roll your eyes, loop your arm in his and start walking. ‘Sure thing, but only if there’s more of those kisses in it for me,’ you tease.

#writer wednesday #max lord fanfic #max lord x you #maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord fluff #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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twst-bs · 3 years

Text

TWST Dorm Leaders and an Anxious MC

This is the first piece of written specifically for this blog!

-----

Riddle: Had they broken a rule?

Even if Riddle had improved by leaps and bounds in the anger management department, he still held his rules in high regard. And the way his brows furrowed when he looked at them from across the table, was he angry about something? He couldn’t exactly punish them - they had no magic to lock away, and they were a dorm leader in their own right, so he didn’t have any right to discipline them, but what if they had done something on a personal level? Offended him in some way? They had barely mastered social cues in their own world, what if they messed up in Twisted Wonderland? What if -

...Riddle had said something, and was clearly waiting for a reply. In their internal panic, they had missed whatever it was.

“I-I’m sorry, Riddle, I was kind of zoning out. What did you say?” Were there rules against zoning out? Probably, that seemed like something that would annoy him.

“I asked if you were alright.”

“...Huh?”

Riddle set down his tea cup - it was a pretty, delicate little thing, gilded gold along the edges and handle, with roses painted beneath the rim. His mother would be mortified if she knew he was drinking strawberry milk tea with an ungodly amount of sugar out of it, Riddle had once said with a small, almost sheepish smile. That same mouth was now downturned as he regarded them with concern in his wide gray eyes.

“You seemed to be under a lot of stress lately,” he spoke slowly, like they were a frightened animal. Maybe they were. “Is everything alright? Are you sleeping well?”

They weren’t, but that was more of a side effect of their stress than the cause of it. They idly tapped their fingers against their own tea cup, a matching one to Riddle’s. They had been drinking lavender tea in an effort to calm their nerves, but it clearly hadn’t worked.

“I’m fine, promise,” they grinned, hoping it looked convincing.

By the way Riddle’s face scrunched up, it did not.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I know I’m not the best at handling emotions, but if I can help in any way…” Riddle trailed off, looking embarrassed.

They felt their stomach twist in horror. These little tea parties were the highlight of their week, a little moment of reprieve for the both of them to just relax and enjoy each other’s company. And they had gone and ruined it because they couldn’t figure out how to human properly.

“I’m sorry!” they burst out. “I’ve been so anxious lately, and I haven’t been able to sleep, and I’m worried about my grades slipping because I don’t know the first thing about magic and -”

They didn’t even notice they were starting to spiral until Riddle had reached across the table and grasped onto their hand. Their chest was heaving with barely-contained sobs, and they weren’t sure if the trembling they felt in their hands was theirs or Riddle’s.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he murmured. “Deep breaths, now.”

He was parroting what Trey would tell him to help him calm down, they knew, but it was good advice. They knew that he had talked Riddle down from many an anxiety attack before, but the fact that Riddle, someone who suffered from severe mental health problems, was the one calming them down made something sour begin climbing up their throat.

“I-I’m making everything worse…” they mumbled, squeezing Riddle’s hand tighter. “I should be able to handle this without freaking out, but…”

Riddle reached out and brushed away a tear they didn’t know had fallen away with the back of his knuckle. “I know better than anyone how it feels to be under pressure.” he sighed. “Please, don’t think you have to deal with all of this stress on your own.”

Leona: “Will you sit still for five minutes?”

They hadn’t thought they had been making that much noise. Certainly not enough to wake Leona up from his nap, that was damn near impossible. So either the floorboards in Ramshackle dorm were worse than they thought, or Leona hadn’t actually been sleeping.

“Sorry,” they mumbled, staring down at the worksheet in front of them. They had been trying to finish this homework for hours, and the incantations were starting to blur together. What language were these even written in? Were they in the demonic section or nature section?

Leona sat up from where he had unceremoniously plopped himself on their bed. “You’re fidgeting like a rabbit, herbivore.”

“So you weren’t sleeping after all.”

“Hard to sleep when I can practically smell your anxiety.”

“Then go sleep somewhere else.”

Leona clicked his tongue, sounding annoyed, but they both knew he secretly enjoyed it when they got snappy with him. Not a whole lot of people had the guts to give him sass, and he liked having someone to verbally spar with. “And miss watching you squirm?”

“I’m not squirming.” they bit back.

“So that chair squeaking was just the ghosts, then?”

“Maybe.”

They could practically hear Leona roll his eyes, but they still didn’t take their eyes off of their textbook.

“Staring a hole into the page isn’t going to solve the equation.”

“How do you know?”

“Shut up and get over here.”

That made them look up. Leona had stood up, motioning them over with a tilt of his head. “You’re taking a break.”

“But -”

“You’re. Taking. A. Break.” he punctuated his words by grabbing the back of their desk chair and pulling. Just enough to jolt them, they could tell by the way the chair stopped that he was purposely holding it steady. Even so, they couldn’t help the small noise of surprise they made.

“Leona, I have to finish this!”

“You’ve been staring at the same page since I got here, you aren’t finishing anything.”

Subconsciously, they knew that taking a break would probably be good for them. But the part of their brain that was panicking about failing was telling them that if they took a break they were essentially giving up. And giving up wasn’t an option.

“Herbivore.”

The soft growl in Leona’s voice snapped them out of their thoughts. Leona had gone back over to the bed, flopped onto his back with his arms splayed out. To anyone else, it looked like he was just lazing about, but they had been with him long enough to realize that this particular position was an invitation.

It was then that they realized just how sore their neck and back were from being hunched over their desk. And how badly their eyes were burning from staring at the miniscule writing in their textbook. And how their legs and arms were one wrong move away from cramping because of how tense they had been.

...Okay, yeah, maybe a cuddle break was in order.

Leona grunted when they plopped on top of him, face buried in the crook on his neck. “Shit, herbivore, that hurt.”

“Suck it up.” they muttered, internally melting a little when he brought his arms up to wrap around them.

“Tch,” again, he sounded annoyed, but they knew better. “Learn to take better care of yourself.”

Azul: There was so much stuff to do.

Even if Crowley made sure they didn’t have to worry about money, a lot of the responsibilities of dorm upkeep still fell on them. They had to buy groceries, clean the whole dorm, make sure the place didn’t fall apart, follow Grimm around and make sure he hadn’t scorched any curtains...and that was all after they had done the assigned homework.

All things considered, they did a pretty good job, but sometimes they laid awake at night thinking of all of the things that needed to be done. Which left them in a less-than-ideal state for class the next day.

Gr-gr-grmmble…

They winced, hoping no one heard that. They had slept soundly through their alarm this morning, to the point where Grimm had to slap them awake, and therefore didn’t have time to snag breakfast. And it was really hard to focus on Trein’s droning lecture when they were both hungry and sleep-deprived.

Ace looked at them out of the corner of his eye with a raised eyebrow, but thankfully didn’t say anything. It might have been because the last time they got busted talking in class the spiel from Trein had been worse than if Riddle had just collared them, but still.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Trein dismissed the class. They still had Alchemy before they could go grab lunch, and even though mixing potentially explosive potions in their current state seemed like a terrible idea, Grimm skipped class enough. They didn’t need to add to his track record. So, feeling distinctly zombie-like, they made their way through the halls towards the alchemy lab.

Maybe they could dash by Sam’s shop really quick and grab a protein bar just to hold them over? No, Trein had yammered on until the last possible second, and they only had a few minutes before their next class started. There was no time. Maybe -

“Oof!”

“Whoa!”

Well, that’s what they got for not watching where they were going. Their books clattered to the ground as they ran headfirst into someone.

“Ah, damn, I’m sorry,” they bent down to pick up their books. Now they really were going to be late.

“Are you alright?” they looked up to see Azul stooping down to help them. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, I’m fine!” they grinned sheepishly. “Just wasn’t paying attention, is all.”

Azul frowned, picking up their Alchemy textbook before straightening. “You look exhausted. Another rough night?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Pale blue eyes widened and Azul flushed red. “I-I didn’t mean it like that!” he stammered, “I just - I merely - “ he cleared his throat, quickly recomposing his gentlemanly demeanor. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”

“Relax, Azul,” they laughed, standing up from their crouched position. “I was just teasing you.”

“Must you do that in public?”

“Are you saying you like it when I tease you in private?”

“That is not what I said.”

They laughed again, reaching for their books, but Azul held them out of reach. “Hey, come on,” they pouted. “I’m going to be late.”

“Seriously, are you alright? You look kind of pale.”

They sighed. “I didn’t sleep very well last night, and then overslept this morning, so I haven’t eaten anything. Happy now?”

“Not really, no.” Azul frowned. “Come on, I’ll treat you to lunch at the lounge.”

“But I have class.”

Azul kept walking, and they had no choice but to follow considering he still had most of their books. “I’m sure Crewel will understand if you miss one class. You have an otherwise perfect track record.”

“How do you know that?” they asked. “We don’t have any classes together.”

“I have my ways.” Azul smiled cryptically at them.

“Which one of them was it?”

“Jade.”

“Knew it.”

Kalim: “...and then, there was this one time, the baby elephants broke out of their cages…”

They wanted to pay attention, they really did. Kalim was a great story-teller, even if he was a bit all over the place. And stories from a magical noble family, no matter how mundane to Kalim, were always fascinating. They could sit here and listen for hours.

Well, usually, anyway.

Nothing in particular was wrong, really. They had just woken up feeling off. It could have been anything. They could have had a weird dream, they could have forgotten something minor, the planets could be slightly unaligned, it didn’t matter. It was just an off day, and they were feeling it.

“...hello? You still in there?”

They nearly hit the ceiling when Kalim snapped his fingers in front of their face. Where they had been sitting there being anxious about trying to figure out what was making them anxious, Kalim had crawled across the floor where the two of them had been having lunch in his room. He had wanted to have a picnic on the flying carpet, but Jamil had put his foot down. Literally, he had stood on the carpet so Kalim couldn’t ride it.

“Sorry!” they yelped, almost knocking their tea over as they were forcibly brought back into the present.

“You looked kinda worried there,” Kalim frowned, quite an unusual look for him. “Everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” they looked down at their lap and bit their lip to stifle a gasp. While they had been worrying, they had subconsciously been picking at the skin around their fingernails. There were a couple tiny drops of blood beading up around their nail beds. Maybe Kalim wouldn’t notice?

“Hey, you’re bleeding!”

Damn.

Kalim’s expressive, ruby-red eyes went wide and he lunged forward to grab their hands. “When did that happen? How did that happen? Do you need to go to the infirmary?”

“Kalim, I’m fine, there's barely any blood.” they sighed, gently prying their hands away from him. “I do that a lot.”

“You just randomly start bleeding?!”

“No, Kalim,” they laughed softly, shaking their head. “I pick at my nails when I get anxious.”

Kalim pouted, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “You’re anxious? Why are you anxious? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no, it isn’t you, I promise!” they idly swiped at their nails. The places they had picked open had already closed. “It’s just...it’s a thing. I just have anxiety in general, is all.”

Frowning, Kalim sat back down in his original spot. “Isn’t there a way to fix that?”

“There’s a few ways, but none of them are quick.” they shrugged. “I was doing better, but suddenly coming here brought back a lot of my old habits.”

“Hm…” Kalim stared at them intently before the apparent storm passed and he brightened up again. “Well, we’ll just have to get you new habits to replace the old ones!”

“I...don’t think that’s quite how that works…”

“Here!” Kalim reached down and took a bangle off of his wrist. It was gold, with an elephant charm hanging off of it. With a big, eye-closing grin, he handed it to them. “When I was little, I used to get scolded for squirming a lot, so my mom told me to play with a small toy instead of running around. I know it’s a bit different, but maybe, instead of picking at your fingers, you can play with the charm instead? Would that help?”

For a moment, they were quiet, just staring at the shiny gold bracelet in their hand. Then, a small smile split across their face. “Yeah, I think it’ll help.”

Vil: “You haven’t been sleeping.”

“Hello to you too, Vil.” they sighed, flopping unceremoniously onto the stone bench beside him. Usually they at least tried to hold themselves to a higher standard when they were with the Vil Schoenheit, but they just didn’t have the energy. “How could you tell I haven’t been sleeping?”

“Unless the undead look is a new fashion trend, but bags under your eyes are very telling.” he reached over to tuck their hair behind their ear, both in an affectionate gesture and to get it out of the way so he could assess them better. “You’re also breaking out. Are you stressed?”

“Isn’t everybody stressed?”

“Don’t get existential, just answer the question.”

They huffed, letting their head rest on the hand that was still at their ear. “Yes, okay, I’m stressed, happy?”

Students were watching the two of them on their way through the gardens, but Vil paid them no mind. He had plenty of practice at ignoring the masses. “We’ve discussed this, haven’t we? Mental health is just as important as physical health.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry.” they closed their eyes, unable to look at him.

“I didn’t mean that to be scolding,” this time, Vil sighed. “Just a reminder that you need to take care of yourself. Maybe a spa day is in order.”

That did sound nice. “Can we do hair masks?”

“Of course, my dear.”

Idia: “Big Brother, you have a guest!”

Idia fought the urge to groan when Ortho popped his head into the room. Why did people always have to bother him on raid night?

Just as he was about to tell Ortho to send whoever it was away, a second head appeared.

“Hey, Idia.” the Ramshackle prefect sounded drained, enough to make him type a quick “AFK” into the chat and turn to them.

“Everything...alright?”

They stepped fully into the room, returning Ortho’s cheerful wave before closing the door and collapsing face-first onto Idia’s bed. “There’s too many people out there.”

“Mood.”

“And they all want me to do stuff for them.”

“Also mood.”

“So can I hide in here for a little? Please?” they turned their head to look at him with pleading eyes. “I’ll be quiet, I know it’s raid night.”

Idia turned to glance at the screen. The team he had gotten saddled with this time around was garbo - three tanks and no healer, honestly - so he was fairly confident they weren’t finishing the dungeon. Shaking his head, he clicked a few buttons and the screen returned to his desktop.

“Bunch of losers anyway,” he mumbled, getting up from his chair. “Wanna play something else?”

“Can we play Skull Girls?”

A few moments later, they were sitting side-by-side on the bed with the opening for the game playing on one of Idia’s monitors

This was what they needed. No people besides the two of them, no lazy Headmasters asking them to take care of problems way beyond their physical and emotional capacity, no chaotic cats threatening to light everything on fire. Just a nice little break.

Slowly, careful, so as not to startle him, they leaned over until their head was resting on his shoulder. He tensed, but his hair didn’t turn red, so they counted that as progress.

“Thanks, Idia.”

“N-N-No problem.”

Malleus: Okay, so this probably hadn’t been one of their better ideas.

Sleep just wasn’t happening tonight. All of the things they had to worry about kept running through their head, and every time they thought they were about to drop off, something else popped up. Eventually, they had given up and decided to take a walk.

Unfortunately, they had completely forgotten how cold it could get at night. Even with the jacket they had pulled on over their pajamas, they were shivering.

“You’re up late.”

The deep voice startled them, but they managed to compose themselves before turning around. “So are you, Tsunotarou.”

Malleus Draconia smiled softly at the nickname, looking absolutely ethereal with the small green lights flitting around him. “It’s dangerous to be out alone at night, Child of Man.”

“The gargoyles will protect me.” they said cheekily. Malleus chuckled.

“And what of me?” he asked. “Do I not get the honor of protecting you?”

“You can fight the gargoyles for the honor.”

Again, Malleus laughed, before noticing the subtle tremors that wracked the human’s body. “You’re cold.”

“This wasn’t my best-laid plan.” they sighed, tugging their jacket closer to their body. “I always forget how cold it is at night.”

Malleus hummed before opening his arms. “Come here, then. I’ll keep you warm.”

They hesitated for a moment before stepping into his embrace, sighing as his body heat seeped into their being. “Wow, you really are warm.”

“Dragons run hotter than humans,” he explained, tugging their head beneath his chin. “It’s why I have no trouble roaming around at night.”

“Lucky.”

“Well,” he murmured. “I’ll simply have to accompany you on your nighttime adventures to keep you warm.”

#twisted wonderland #disney's twisted wonderland #twst riddle #twst leona #twst azul #twst kalim #twst vil #twst idia #twst malleos

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nationalharryleague · 4 years

Text

Work of Art

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Genre: AU, Artist!Harry, fluff, angst if you squint

Word count: 4K

A/N: Hi everyone! This is my entry for @hsogolden ’s AU writing challenge! Check out their blog they are incredibly talented!!! ALSO, a MASSIVE thank you and shoutout to the lovely Miss Lu, @harrysgucciloafers!!! I could have never done it without her!! Thank you so much for reading and remember, feedback is so so so appreciated!!! You can also send requests to my ask anytime!! I hope you enjoy :) More of my writing can be found in my masterlist :)

***

Sleep was fleeting and you remained staring at your popcorn ceiling in your shitty apartment for longer than you would have liked. It was later than you would have liked when your phone buzzed and lit up the ceiling of your bedroom. Knowing sleep was still far off, you rolled over and examined the text from an unknown number, the bright screen blinding you in the process.

Hi, I was thinking of you today. I thought I would show you this piece that I made of you. Hope you’re doing well. Hx, attached was a slightly blurry photo of a beautiful painting of a woman.

The woman in the painting was made up of beautiful bright colors, her skin a mix of green, blue, and purple tones. Her eyes were a bright and captivating cerulean, standing out behind wide framed glasses, and she wore an intriguing and knowing smirk on her lips. Her hair fell down in blunt bangs over her forehead and framed her heart shaped face. She was young, looking to be only a little bit older than you.

The painting was captivating. It was crafted with such bright tones, using color blocking that blended the abstract with some elements of realism. It felt like someone poured all of their emotion and adoration or hurt (you couldn’t decide which) into it. You couldn’t decide if the artist loved or hated this figure staring back at you. One thing you knew was that whoever texted you was incredibly talented and had obviously dedicated so much time to this piece. You felt awful that it hadn’t reached its intended destination.

Um… Wrong number, you typed out, feeling a pang of sympathy for whoever ‘H’ was.

Oh… okay. Sorry to bother you., your phone screen lit up again.

Your art is beautiful, you quickly sent back, attempting to offer some sort of consolation to the mystery artist. Sorry I’m not who you wanted to talk to.

Don’t worry about it. Just looking for someone from a lifetime ago.

That last part kept you up for most of the night. You couldn’t stop thinking about what that could mean. Old friend? Estranged relative? Another artist? You let your mind dream up Oscar-worthy scenarios until you finally fell asleep.

***

“Please come to Scott’s art show with me,” Grace whined from across the table at your favorite coffee shop. Grace was your best friend from college and hadn’t figured out to get rid of you yet.

“You know how I feel about your shitty boyfriend and his shitty art,” you fired back. Scott was a pretentious “artist” who made “ironic” misogynistic sculptures and frequently “forgot” to pay Grace back for his share of rent. You hated his guts.

“I promise I’m going to break up with him soon. I just need to get to the end of the month so I get my money’s worth for rent,” she assured you. “By the way, I’m going to need some help moving out at the end of the month,” she mentioned nonchalantly. You let out a chuckle at her and playfully rolled your eyes.

“I will go to the show with you on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You’ll hold my hand.”

A few hours later you walked into the modern and cold art show space, holding onto Grace’s hand for dear life, feeling unwelcome in this environment. Grace blended in easily, her bright blue hair and arms of tattoos suiting her well. The edgiest thing you had ever done was getting your nose pierced… until your grandma threw a fit and your mom made you take it out. You were not an artist and you did not feel welcome in the art community, or at least the type of artists that hang out with Scott. You worked in an office, you dressed plainly and simply, and you didn’t think there was anything special about yourself. You were strikingly ordinary, a sharp contrast from most other people in the gallery. You felt like an outsider because you were one.

Walking around the gallery, you hung onto Grace while examining and appreciating the artwork. You took careful steps, as if to not take attention away from the paintings on the walls and spent time examining each piece as you moved through the room. As you moved from wall to wall, your eyes fell on a strikingly familiar painting. The same girl with the bright blue eyes and the bangs stared back at you, the devilish smirk still playing upon her lips like she knew you had met before.

Releasing Grace’s hand, you all but ran up to the painting in question, trying to take in all the details that didn’t translate over the slightly grainy photo on your phone. The painting took on a life of its own up close. The paint itself was layered thick and thin across the canvas creating a rough texture that made the girl come alive. You were half waiting for her to make eye contact with her captivating baby blues and start staring back at you. You felt like you could reach inside the canvas and hold the beautiful woman’s face in your hands.

“Do you like it?” a deep British voice asked after clearing their throat behind you.

“Oh, it’s so beautiful,” you murmured, still staring at the green and purple woman. It took you a moment to rip yourself away from her piercing eyes and look towards the voice, only to turn around and find an even more captivating set.

They were bright green and belonged to a tall, dark haired man that was breathtaking. He had chocolate brown curls that seemed to be sticking in every direction, like a purposefully perfect bedhead, and stubble that moved up his jaw and down his neck. He had plushy pink lips framing his bright smile and his two front teeth came down the tiniest bit too far. He was wearing a white tshirt that was painted to his fit body as it was a size too small for him, showing off his arms of tattoos, and a pair of orange corduroy flares. His ensemble was topped off with a pearl necklace. He arched a brow when your mouth hung open slightly, trying to take all of him in.

“The painting is gorgeous,” you eventually were able to spit out. “I feel like I know her.”

“I’m glad that I was able to create something so captivating,” he smiled at you. So he was the one that painted it, meaning he was the one who had texted it to you. After getting over the initial shock, you gave yourself an internal high five for having this guy’s number. “Harry,” he introduced himself, reaching out a perfectly manicured hand to shake yours. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m Y/N,” you smiled back, debating if you should tell him that you had kind of met before. It felt creepy to tell him, like you were some sort of voyer on an intimate part of his life. “I love her. Can you tell me a little bit more about it?” you asked. You had to figure out if it was worth being creepy about.

“So did I,” he said with a light chuckle. “She’s someone that I used to know,” he elaborated looking over your shoulder, surely making eye contact with the woman. Maybe you were reading into it too closely, but you thought a flash of hurt passed across his features.

“Do you always paint mysterious people from your past?” you teased, wanting to break the slightly awkward silence and also willing to do anything to talk to him further.

“Actually, I’m mainly a landscape painter,” he smiled at the ground, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Looking back at Harry’s wall of paintings you realized that the girl was the only person on the wall, flanked by beautiful landscape paintings depicting all different areas of the world. You quickly picked your favorite, a monochromatic green scene of the Eiffel tower.

After you asked if he traveled a lot to paint, the conversation began to flow. You strolled around the mainly empty studio space, footsteps falling in sync, him teaching you about his paintings and you asking questions, desperate to learn anything you could from him and just wanting to hear that beautiful accent. You learned he grew up in Cheshire and moved to New York for school and never left, but he travelled to Europe often to see his family and to paint. He told you about how his ultimate goals in life were to have one of his pieces in the Museum of Modern Art and to find his soulmate. He was a hopeless yet hopeful romantic. He also had two cats, Evie and Stevie (the latter was obviously named after Stevie Nicks).

He was so beautiful. He had this magical twinkle in his eye that you just couldn’t get over. He looked like he was one of the sculptors’ in the room’s life work. He was just as much of a piece of art as anything on display in the studio.

When the crowd started to thin, Grace came and found you, still rolling her eyes from something stupid Scott had said, him trailing not far behind. “Hi my love,” she greeted you, kissing your cheek casually as always. “We were getting ready to head out but I can see you’ve made a friend.”

“Harry is the artist behind all these amazing paintings,” gesturing to the long wall displaying his artwork. “This is my best friend Grace,” you said, turning back to him. “And that’s her soon to be ex-boyfriend, Scott,” you laughed and pointed to him staring at a blank white canvas in the corner that was obviously not part of the exhibition.

“Wait,” he began, shaking his head and laughing, pointing accusingly between the two of you. “You two aren’t together?”

“What? No!”

“It’s just that you were holding hands for a while when you came in and then she called you ‘love,’ and then kissed your cheek,” he continued laughing, his cheeks a bright red. It was adorable. You felt your cheeks heat up just as bright red as his.

“Oh my god, no.” You broke out into a fit of giggles of your own.

“Well, in that case, would you like to grab a drink or something sometime?”

***

You decided to order a martini when you got to the bar the next night. You thought it would make you look fancy and you hoped it would impress your worldly date. You had put on your favorite red dress (the one that hugged you in all the right spots and hid the wrong ones), praying he would dress up like you did, and slid carefully onto the barstool. Bouncing your knee nervously, you sipped your drink slowly until you saw his well dressed figure enter the bar, making your heart skip a beat.

He was dressed in high-waisted wide-legged tan pants and a bright red cardigan printed with small white hearts that was held together in the front by a single button, leaving his chest and signature pearl necklace on display. His chest tattoos were now slightly visible, the faces of two swallows looking back at you, as well as what you thought might be some sort of antennae peeking up from his stomach. He also wore an award winning smile and shot you a wink when he spotted you from the entrance of the bar. Once again, he took your breath away.

“Hello darling,” he greeted you as he made his way over. You began to panic when he started leaning into you, relieved when his lips found their way to your cheek and quickly moved to the other. When he kissed your cheeks, it sent sparks through your body. Oh my god, he is so British, you squealed inside your head, unable to suppress your American excitement. “I like your color choice,” he smirked looking between your outfits of almost the exact same red. You could only hope your cheeks didn’t match as well.

“Great minds dress alike,” you remarked, earning a laugh from the gorgeous man in front of you. Turns out, your joke was enough to break the ice. Soon the conversation began to flow freely, without anxiety or trepidation, like you were a pair of souls reunited after lifetimes apart. You were two martinis in when you decided to break the news that the art gallery was not the first time you had spoken.

“I think I have to break something to you,” you giggled, everything seeming a little funny after a few drinks, “the art show was not the first time we met.” His eyebrows knit together in slight confusion so you decided to elaborate. “The night before the show you sent a picture of that painting to a wrong number, and that wrong number was me. I promise it was all a coincidence and I am not stalking you.” You held your breath while you waited a moment with bated breath for a reaction from him, but released the stress that had found its way into your shoulders when his smile returned to his lips.

“I knew you had more interest in Amelia than most people,” he chuckled. Amelia, you repeated to yourself, now having a name for the face of your mystery woman.

“When Grace dragged me to that studio and I saw her again, I just had to know more. But then I met you and got a little distracted,” you flirted, “accidentally” nudging his leg with the point of your stiletto.

“I’m glad I’m just a distraction to you,” he feigned offense, clutching his pearl necklace with the hand that wasn’t hanging onto his neat tequila.

“Meeting you tonight was actually just an elaborate ruse to learn more about your Amelia,” you sarcastically confessed, sending him back one of the winks he had been shooting you all night. Your wink wasn’t met with his typical laugh, but a slightly pained smile that didn’t reach his eyes. You worried you had hit a nerve.

“She’s not my Amelia anymore. Actually, I don’t think she ever was,” he spoke gently, taking a sip of his drink and breaking eye contact for what felt like the first time tonight. Oh no oh no oh no, you began to panic in your head. What did this woman do to him?

“I once had an ex tell me they had cancer so I wouldn’t break up with them,” you offered, forcing a laugh and praying you could brighten up his mood again. Thankfully, it worked, bringing back the crinkles by his eyes that appeared whenever he smiled or laughed.

You breathed a sigh of relief when the rest of the night went smoothly. It was better than smooth actually, it felt easy and exciting. Harry made your heart sing and your stomach flutter. He was a perfect gentleman, walking you all the way home (even when he lived on the other side of the city) and even up to your apartment, insisting he needed to make sure you made it inside safe.

The pair of you were standing in front of your front door when he leaned in and pressed his blushed lips to yours. He tasted like the lime that sat on the rim of his drunk and smelled like shampoo and vanilla. Every hair on your body stood up on point and everywhere he touched you felt like your skin lit on fire; you never wanted this moment to end. He gently held your face and you could feel his lips turn into a smile as he pulled away, his beautiful green eyes meeting yours once again.

“I had a really good time tonight,” he breathed, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

“I think we should do this again,” you said, still catching the breath that he took away.

“I promise you’ll be hearing from me soon. I already have your number,” he chuckled, still beaming. You watched as he walked down the hallway away from you, winking and blowing you a kiss before turning the corner. As soon as you entered the apartment, you slid down your front door, dizzy from the haze he had created in your head. You couldn’t wait to see him again.

***

After that night, you couldn’t believe someone like him kept coming back to someone like you. You insisted you were too boring for someone who had such an incredible personality and background. Yet three months later, he was yours and you were his.

You spent almost all your nights together, crammed into one of your small New York City apartments, wrapped in each other’s arms and hypothetically solving the world’s problems. You had learned in this time that Harry was incredibly intelligent and well spoken, no matter how long it took him to get his words out due to his slow cadence. In your conversations, you had come to the agreement that most of the world’s problems could be solved with a little empathy and that green was definitely the best color.

Tonight you laid naked in his bed, your head resting just above your favorite butterfly, and played with his fingers as you listened to him speak about postmodernism and how it rocked the art world. You didn’t understand a thing he was going on about but you loved to hear him speak, his voice vibrating through his chest and how he pulled on his bottom lip when he was thinking. You scanned the studio apartment from his bed, trying to pay attention but losing that battle. The floor was littered with finished and unfinished paintings leaning up against the walls and you noticed one familiar face you had grown fond of was missing.

“Where did your painting of Amelia go?” you asked when he took a second to breathe during his diatribe.

“I sold it,” he said curtly. You hadn’t talked much more about Amelia after that first night, the woman obviously being a sore spot, but you couldn’t help but wonder what happened.

“Oh, okay. I liked that painting a lot,” you spoke cautiously, trying not to hit whatever nerve you had previously.

“It was nice, but I think she should haunt someone else now,” he said with a sigh. Haunt?, you thought to yourself.

“H,” you began, rolling yourself off him to look him in the eye, “can I ask what happened with her?” You held your breath, afraid you might lose him to the heartbreak again.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s long gone.”

“Harry,” you lightly scolded him by using his full name which you rarely did, thinking back to when you agreed not to keep anything for each other. With a sigh, he began to speak.

“I was with her for a couple months last year and when I look back at it, it was really messy. We fought all the time and kept a lot from each other. But I had my rose colored glasses on and I would go as far as saying I was probably in love with her. I was even looking for engagement rings.” You felt a pang of jealousy within you at the idea of Harry loving anyone else. “That was until I found out that she already had a husband.”

Your heart broke for him after your initial shock, resting your hand on his warm cheek in an attempt to soothe him. He didn’t seem sad recounting the story or at the mention of her like he was before; he was now dealing with the remaining hurt of rejection.

“I painted her while I was still really mad,” he continued. “My original plan was to send it to her husband and tell him what had happened. But I decided that three lives didn’t need to be ruined instead of one. And then I was just kinda stuck with the painting. I thought selling it was a good way to get her out of my life and it’s more productive than lighting it on fire,” he finally said with a light chuckle.

A lot made sense all of a sudden. You now understood why Harry always got a little jealous when he saw other guys looking at you. He would loop an arm around your waist and press a kiss to your cheek while he stared them down. He thought you didn’t notice but you always did. You also understood why he was so open with you about how much he cared about you. It was a good thing you were equally as obsessed with him.

“I’m sorry, H. You didn’t deserve to go through all of that,” you said softly after a moment, unsure of what else you could offer.

“It’s okay. We grow from our past,” he shrugged. “And if I hadn’t painted her, I wouldn’t have found you,” he smiled sweetly, pulling you back into him and pressing his lips onto yours.

***

“Oh my goodness, what are you doing?” you giggled when Harry asked you to close your eyes.

“I have something to show you. Please close your eyes,” he asked again.

“What if I don’t want to close my eyes?” you teased, poking the dimple in his cheek caused by his cheeky grin. He rolled his eyes and began his plea again.

“Close your eyes, please. Do it.”

You gave in this time, closing your eyes and letting your heart flutter in anticipation. Harry knew you loved surprises and often took advantage of that fact. You felt him gently rest his cupped hands over your eyes, obviously not trusting you to not peak (he probably shouldn’t). He pressed himself to your back, urging you to make your way further into his apartment.

“Styles, if you let me walk into something, I swear to god,” you continued your giggling, overcome with excitement. Harry mumbled an ‘Oh, hush,’ in your ear before he stopped you both and lifted his hands away.

Your breath caught in your throat as you took it in. The painting was in Harry’s signature style, layered bright colors and varied textures across the canvas. Staring back was your own face, painted in a bright red monochrome with the exception of the color of your eyes that remained the same. You were posed with a bright smile that crinkled the skin by your eyes and you were wearing the red dress that you had worn that first night at the bar.

“Harry, oh my god. It’s so beautiful,” you managed to get out, still in shock.

“I know you don’t think you are, but are the most extraordinary person I’ve ever met. I wouldn’t want anyone else in the world to be my muse.” You felt as if you could explode or melt with the amount of love you had for this man. You held him up on such a pedestal, and now you knew he did the same for you. “From the moment I saw you, I thought you were a work of art. So, I thought I’d actually make you into one.”

Your cheeks burned from the smile you couldn’t shake if you wanted to and you felt yourself get a little teary eyed. You felt as if you had spent the majority of your life thinking you were nothing special and just another person walking down the street. Harry made you feel like you were the center of the universe. You wanted to love yourself like Harry loved you; like you loved him.

“I love you,” you blurted, small tears rolling down your face, wiped away by Harry’s talented hands.

“I love you too,” he murmured softly, pulling your body to his. “I’ll always have your face hung up high in my gallery.”

There she is!! I hope you enjoyed it!! You can let me know what you think here!! :)

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