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xxbimbobunnyxx · 7 months

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There’s No Such Thing As Purity

(Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You and Rafe are childhood best friends and as far as he’s concerned you’re an innocent angel he needs to protect from the world. But he discovers a whole other side of you when you accidentally send him nudes that were meant for someone else. Wk: 4.9k

Warnings: Drinking/smoking weed, jealous!Rafe, posessive!Rafe, minor Jj x reader, brat taming, choking, spanking, spit kink, tiddy slapping, hair pulling, face fucking, fingering, orgasm denial, daddy kink, unprotected sex.18+MDNI!!!

A/N: this is only my second Rafe fic so pls be niiicee to me. But I love this man. I need him to own me and put me in my place. Thank you to my sweet angel @babygorewhore for listening to me rant about this, and for beta reading for me. Ilysm. Also this is based off the song “Purity” by Lilyisthatyou.

You’re not necessarily faded, but you’ve had a couple drinks and you smoked a blunt with a few of your friends when you first got here so you’re feeling a little buzzed. You check your phone and to your delight your sneaky link that you asked to meet you here had responded that he would be on his way soon. You smirk down at the screen, excusing yourself to the bathroom so you could respond to him how you really wanted to.

You close the bathroom door and pull your little crop top over your head, leaving you in just your low waisted mini skirt that you push down even further so your thong straps are on display. You stand in front of the large full length mirror on the bathroom wall, holding your phone camera up while you pose. You take a few shots, then a few more, until you're satisfied that at least a couple of them will be good enough to send. You spend a few minutes going through them before deciding on two.

One is straight on, your tits fully on display, your free hand pulling one of your thong straps up even further, and your tongue is sticking out. The second is from the side, showing the curve of your back and the top of your ass sticking out of your skirt, two fingers between your lips. You smirk, satisfied with your work. You select the two photos before typing out the text to accompany them.

“When are you getting here?😉”

In your somewhat hazy, horny state you click the most recent contact on your list and hit send. You didn’t think anything of it, since as far as you know he’s the last person that texted you. But what you failed to realize is during your little photoshoot your best friend had texted you, and you sent them to him instead. Seconds later your phone starts to ring, Rafe’s contact and a goofy photo of the two of you popping up on the screen.

“Hey, what’s up?” You answer cheerfully.

“What's up? What’s up with you? What’s up with those photos?” Rafe sounds pissed, which isn’t unlike him, but it’s very rarely directed at you.

“Photos? What’re you-?” It takes your slightly inebriated mind a second to catch up but when it does you gasp, pulling the phone away from your ear to pull up your texts. Your entire body warms and your heart feels like it’s going to fall out of your ass when you realize you sent him the photos, and not the intended recipient. “Oh god… fuck. Rafe listen, can we not make this a thing? Those weren’t for you, just delete them so we can forget this ever happened.”

“Who were they for then, huh? Also where the hell are you? I thought you were staying home tonight.” This was not good. You and Rafe have been best friends since you were kids, and he’s always been extremely protective of you, some may say overprotective. So things like guys and hookups? You keep them to yourself when it comes to him.

“Uh - I don’t see why that really matters? Can you just fucking delete them? Also I was going to stay home but then the girls convinced me to come with them to this party. You’re busy tonight anyways? I don’t know why it’s a big deal.” You huff in annoyance.

“It fucking matters because what if something happened to you? Since when do you go to parties without me anyways? You could’ve at least told me you decided to go out. Also you’re sending guys nudes now? Since when? Who is this fucker?”

“Rafe!!! You need to calm down. Seriously, we don’t have to make this a thing, okay? Just fucking delete them and go back to doing whatever it is you were doing. Please.” Your voice comes out more whiny than you mean it to, but you know he’s a sucker for your pouting so you're hoping it will calm him down a bit.

“No, seriously, answer my fucking questions.” He sneers your name into the phone and it sends chills down your spine. He’s been irritated with you before, of course. But never talked to you like this and you have to admit that it’s doing something to you. You’ve always wanted him, but he’s always seen you as this precious angel he needs to protect, innocent. When truly? You’re anything but. You go to parties without him when he’s busy all the time, and as far as your innocence? That was long gone.

“Oh my god. I already told you, I’m at a fucking party, okay? I’m here with my friends. You’re acting like I’ve never gone to a party without you or like I’m a child that needs to be watched and you’re honestly being really dramatic.” Rafe is taken back by your tone. You’re normally so soft and cheerful with him. But right now? You were acting like a fucking brat.

“At a party, where? And you still didn’t answer my other question. Who. Were. The. Pictures. For?” You can tell he’s pacing the room and running his fingers through his hair with his nostrils flared. The image makes your thighs clench. You’ve always fantasized about Rafe putting you in your place, he treats you like a princess, lets you do whatever you want. Granted you’re usually very sweet to him, but tonight? You’re wondering how far you can push him before he finally snaps. “You know you share your location with me, right? I can just fucking look myself if you don’t wanna tell me.”

“Jesus Christ, Rafe! It’s at Matt’s house! Are you happy? I’m still on figure 8, literally a few blocks from my house!! And as far as who the pictures were for? Just a guy, okay? I don’t know why the specifics matter. It’s almost like you’re jealous or something.” You tried to hold it in, you really did, but you’ve been holding back from saying that for years. It was like he didn’t want any guys near you, but he never did anything about it himself and you were over it.

“What if I am?” He practically growls into the phone and that wasn’t the response you were expecting. You had never brought up his possessiveness until now, but other people had and he always said something along the lines of ‘I’m not fuckin’ jealous, it’s just no man is good enough for my best friend’ and it always made your heart deflate, just a bit.

“Are you?”

“Just fucking stay there, alright? I’m coming to get you.” He doesn’t wait for you to respond, the line going dead. Your text notification goes off, the guy who you meant to send the photos to letting you know he arrived at the party. Suddenly you feel shockingly sober.

You take a deep breath to collect your thoughts. You have two options here. Option one, hide in the bathroom until Rafe gets here and then leave with him, totally avoiding any further drama for the night. Or, option two, you could go out there, and when Rafe gets here, you could see if he really is jealous… Fuck it. You pull your shirt over your head, look in the mirror to check your hair, and exit the bathroom.

You weave through the sweaty bodies in the living room and head out back to where your date said he would be waiting for you. Your eye’s scan the patio, searching for those blonde locks. Your eye’s meet smug blue ones, a cocky smirk on his lips. Yeah, Rafe was absolutely going to lose his shit when he found out those photos were meant for none other than Jj Maybank. Probably one of the last people on earth he would want you fucking around with. But you ran into him at a party a few weeks ago, hooked up with him in a random bedroom, and you’re not ashamed to say you’ve gone back for seconds. And thirds. And forths too. It’s not your fault it was the best dick you’ve ever had in your life.

“Hey princess, how’s a goin’?” He approaches you, his eyes unabashedly roaming your curves in your little party outfit. He brings his thumb to your bottom lip, running across it before leaning in close so his lips brush your ear. “You look good enough to eat.”

“Yeah? Maybe you’ll get to try a bite later.” You lean back so you can look up into his eyes, biting your lip. For a second you almost forget all about the Rafe dibocle, getting lost in Jj’s now familiar, fresh, but still somehow musky scent and those eyes that remind you of the ocean water that surrounds your home. But you couldn’t forget about Rafe for long. Your feelings for Jj are so incredibly surface level compared to the feelings you have for him. “You wanna get a drink? And dance?”

“Sure thing, pretty girl.” He winks at you, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

After you take a shot together you drag him out onto the makeshift dance floor Matt set up on his parents back patio. You start to sway your hips to the music that booms from the large speakers that were set up around the area and Jj hungrily eyes your curves. He pulls a joint from behind his ear, raising it between the two of you with his eyebrow cocked and you nod in response.

You continue to sway, turning your back towards Jj so you can rub your ass against him. He pops the joint in his mouth, turning his head to the side so he can use one hand to light it, his other hand coming down to grab onto your hip. His fingertips graze the skin above your skirt and it gives you goosebumps. After he takes a few puffs off the joint he holds it to your mouth, his skin grazing your soft lips. You turn your head over your shoulder to blow the smoke in his mouth and he takes the hint immediately connecting his lips with yours. But before you can even fully shotgun the hit to him your entire body is suddenly ripped away from his, a large hand pulling you by your forearm.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT? HUH? WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE FUCKIN’ DOING?” Rafe’s voice bellows over the music as he pulls you towards him, causing you to trip and fall into his chest.

“Rafe, I’m just having fun, you need to chill. Seriously.” You push against him but he uses the hold he still has on your arm to pull you closer. His free hand comes up to your jaw, gripping it roughly, forcing you to look up at him.

“I need to chill? Are you fuckin’ joking? Is this who those pictures were for? This dirty fuckin’ pouge? Are you fucking him?” His eyes hold a fire that’s never been directed towards you, and logically you should be pissed, you should slap him across the face for acting like this. But instead you feel your panties get even wetter under his angry gaze, the feeling of his hand on your jaw making your knees weak.

“Hey bro, you need to back the fuck off! She told you to chill, get off her!” Jj tries to grab onto your free hand but Rafe doesn’t allow it, he grips onto your hips, using his hold on you to push you to the other side of him, away from Jj.

“You’re the one that needs to fuck off bro.” Rafe gets in his face, his nostrils flared, his eyes filled with rage. “Keep your dirty fuckin hands off my girl, fuckin’ pouge trash.”

“Your girl, huh? She didn’t seem like she was your girl when she was beggin’ me to let her cum last weekend.” Jj smirks, his eyes boring right back into the taller man’s. Rafe growls, using all his force to push him so hard he falls to the ground.

“Yeah bitch, my fucking girl. Stay the fuck away from her or I’ll beat your ass so bad they won’t be able to identify you when you get to the fucking hospital.” He spits on the ground in front of the blonde’s feet before turning back to you with his jaw and fists clenched. “Bathroom. Now.”

You stare up at him with wide eyes, speechless. My girl. My girl. My girl. Replaying like a mantra in your head. After a few seconds of you standing there like a deer caught in the headlights, Rafe lost his patience. He swiftly closed the few foot gap between you, his large ringed hand gripping the back of your neck. He bends down so his face is level with yours, blue eyes filled with fire staring down at you.

“I said. Bathroom. Now. Start fucking walking.” He practically growls when he says it and you have to hold in a whimper. The hand on your neck glides down to your shoulder, turning you away from him without giving you a chance to respond. You have half a mind to talk back to him. But he seems like he’s two seconds away from turning around and taking his anger out on Jj and you’ve definitely done enough damage in that department for the night, so you start walking.

“Take me to the bathroom you took those little pictures in.” You squeal when halfway down the hall Rafe grabs onto your hair from behind you, pulling your head back against his chest. He’s looking down at you hungrily, his tongue running across his bottom lip. “I wanna take some pictures of my own.”

As soon as the bathroom door is shut he’s on you, shoving you up against it by your throat, his lips smashing against yours in a bruising kiss. He slips his tongue into your mouth using it to dominate your own. Just when you feel yourself start to get lost in it he pulls away, a pout forming in your lips.

“Seriously, what the hell has gotten into, Bunny? Where’s my sweet little innocent best friend? Cause this girl I’ve seen tonight, she’s certainly not her.” He looms over you, the look in his eyes is wild, he looks like he wants to devour you and god you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t let him do just about anything to you right now.

“Maybe there’s a side of me you don’t know about, ever thought of that?” The smirk that spreads across your lips is seductive, the look in your eyes mischievous. “You do know I have a life outside of you, right?”

“No fucking shit, I know that. But this is not something I’d expect out of you. Going to parties dressed like that, smoking weed, grinding on pouges.” He snarls at the last part, the hand around your throat tightening slightly. He pushes your legs apart with his foot and shoves his knee between your thighs, pressing it up against your wet clothed core. You try to hold in the moan that escapes you but your body betrays you. “I’m only going to ask you this one more time, was he bullshitting me out there or did you fuck him?”

“Yeah I fucked him, more than once.” That Cheshire smirk reappears on your lips and he wants nothing more than to wipe it off. He releases your throat to grip your jaw, pinching your cheeks together.

“You lost your virginity to a fuckin’ pouge? You let him inside of you? When I’m the only one who's supposed to touch you? Bet he didn’t even make you cum.” He shakes your head from side to side, grinding his knee up into your cunt. You really don’t want to give into him just yet, but you’re losing your resolve quicker with every passing minute.

“HA! My virginity? I hate to break it to you Rafey, but that ship sailed back in highschool. And as far as him making me cum? Say what you want about the pouges but that’s the best dick I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah? Not for fuckin’ long.” He walks over to stand in front of the mirror you had your impromptu photoshoot in. He turns to the side, looking you dead in the eyes as snaps his fingers, his long pointer finger directed towards the ground.

“Are you serious?” You scoff, crossing your arms in defiance. “I’m not sucking you off.”

You absolutely were going to suck him off, but he didn’t need to know that, yet. You were having fun toying with him and getting him worked up.

“Really? Cause I think you want to. I think you did all of this on fuckin purpose to get me going. Come over here and get on your fucking knees for me, bunny. I know you want it.” He smirks, his hands reaching for the button on his shorts. He pulls his cock out and your eyes grow wide, your mouth dropping open. You can’t even hide the look of awe on your face at the sight of his thick cock. It’s almost subconscious the way your feet carry you forward towards him. You approach him, looking up at him through your lashes. His hands grip your shoulders, pushing you down to your knees in front of him. “Take that fucking shirt off.”

You rip your shirt over your head and as soon as it’s off he leans down to grab onto your tits, squeezing them roughly.

“Perfect fuckin’ tits, and they’re all mine huh?” He pulls back and abruptly his large hands smack down on both your tits causing you to let out a yelp. “Say it, say they’re mine.” Two more smacks come in succession.

“They’re yours Rafe, always been yours.” You look at him with big wide eyes and your lips set into a pout. You almost look like his innocent best friend again, but he knows better now.

“Open your fucking mouth, slut. Stick your tongue out.” He takes his cock in his hand, stroking it.

As soon as your tongue leaves your mouth Rafe is smacking the tip of his cock against it. Salty precum hits your tongue and you moan at the taste. His free hand gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail, wrenching your head back so you’re looking at him.

“You done being a fuckin’ brat now? Gonna let me show you who you really belong to?”

“Uh-huh, yeah.” You nod to the best of your ability, all resolve you had left leaving your body. You’re already starting to feel fucked out and he hasn’t even really touched you yet.

“Did I say you could close your mouth? Open.” You stick your tongue out for him again and he leans down to spit on it. “Swallow… Good bunny.”

He pats your cheek and tilts your head back towards his cock. You immediately take his head into your awaiting mouth. You start to swirl your tongue around the tip but Rafe isn’t having it, he’s done with your teasing.

“Just fuckin’ sit still and relax your throat, let me use you like the whore you’ve been acting like all night.” He takes both sides of your head in his hands and thrusts deep into your throat, causing you to gag. “That's it baby, fucking choke on it.”

He starts to fuck into your mouth deep and hard, giving you no time to adjust. You look up at him and his head is thrown back, feral moans leave his lips and his chest is heaving. He pulls your head back, looking down at you. He feels like he’s gonna cum when he does. There’s a string of spit connected from your mouth to his cock, your mascara is running, more drool is dripping down your chin and onto your tits.

“Where’s your phone?” He growls.

“In my purse, probably on the floor by the door where I dropped it when you jumped me.” He rolls his eyes at your attitude, walking over to your purse to pull your phone out. He stands over you again, opening the camera.

“Keep sucking.”

You lean forward and take him back in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down on his dick. You decide you’re going to show him what you’re really made of. One of your hands grabs the base of his cock, stroking what isn’t down your throat, the other comes up to his spit slick balls, rolling them in your palm.

“Fuck. You really are a little slut, sucking me off like it’s your fuckin’ job. You wanna act like a whore? I’ll treat you like one. You wanna send out slutty little pictures to trash from the cut? I’ll help you out with that.” He turns the camera toward the mirror adjacent to where you were standing and snaps a picture of the two of you. Then he flips it towards your face and takes another. “Alright. Get up. Bend your ass over the sink.”

You scramble to your feet and lean down so your upper half is against the counter, your ass and hips in the air. The marble countertop is cool against your bare tits and your skirt rides up over your ass, revealing your little lilac colored thong with a dark spot right in the middle. Rafe groans at the sight, walking up behind you while he pulls his shirt over his head. You tilt your chin up so you can lock eyes with him in the mirror, clenching around nothing at the sight of him standing over your shirtless.

“Look how wet that slutty little pussy is already, all this just from sucking my cock?” He grabs the bottom hem of your skirt forcefully pushing it up over your hips. His hands grip the meat of your ass, spreading your cheeks. One of his long fingers hooks under the thin lace that sits snugly between your ass, pulling it back as far as it can go before letting go. It snaps against your pussy deliciously, making you whimper. “I’ve always wanted to get my hands on this ass. Never thought it’d be like this though, not the first time at least.”

“How’d you think it would be then?” You look over your shoulder at him and he looks like a lion that caught its prey. He doesn’t break eye contact with you when his hand comes down on your ass, once, twice, three times.

“For one, I didn’t think you’d be such a fucking brat. My sweet little bunny. Always acting so innocent. Thought I’d have to be all gentle with you and shit. If I knew you were such a little cock slut I would’ve done this a long time ago.” He spanks you again, but this time it comes from below, the smack hitting your wet lace covered cunt. His fingers hook into your panties, ripping them down your legs. He runs his fingers through your slit, circling around your clit but not never actually touching it. “Look at this fucking pussy, looks so fucking sweet.”

“Please stop teasing me, Rafey.” You whine.

“Please stop teasing me, Rafey.” He mocks, and you think he’s going to keep torturing you but two thick fingers are suddenly being shoved knuckle deep inside you.

“Oh, fuck!” His fingers start fucking you at a brutal pace, this thumb coming down to finally circle your slick covered clit. His free hand comes down on your ass again and it makes you clench around him.

“Whose pussy is this?” Rafe leans over you, his large frame caging your smaller one against the counter top, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Tell me who fucking owns you.”

“You, you own me, daddy. I’m all yours.” He straight up growls in response, his fingers fuck into you impossibly faster and his lips latch onto your neck, surely sucking a bruise into it. Marking his territory. Your walls start to pulse around him and he can tell you’re getting close.

“You gonna cum? Gonna be a good little girl and cum for your daddy?”

“Yeah I’m gonna - I’m gonna fucking cum.” You push your hips back, fucking yourself against his hand. You're about to tumble over the edge when it’s suddenly ripped away from you, Rafe pulling his fingers out of you.

“Rafe! What the fuck! I was about to cum!” You push yourself up on your hands so you can glare at him in the mirror. He smirks back at you, taking the fingers that were inside you into his mouth with a groan.

“That’s what you get for acting like a fucking brat. Besides, if you’re gonna cum, it’s gonna be on my fuckin’ cock.” He pushes you back down by the back of your head, smushing your cheek against the counter. He lines his cock up with your entrance, fully inserting himself inside you in one thrust. “Oh shiiiit, you’re so fuckin’ tight bunny. Always knew you would be.”

“Oh my goddddd.” Your eyes roll back and drool drips down the corner of your mouth onto the marble from the way he has your cheeks pressed together with his hand. He’s huge and the stretch burns so good.

“Yeah, that’s a good little slut, take this fuckin’ dick baby.” His hand travels down your back, gripping your ass harshly before gripping onto your hips. He’s fucking you so hard the sound of your hips slapping together echoes through the large bathroom and his balls are hitting your clit with every thrust. “Your little pouge still the best dick you ever had?”

“N - no, you’re the best I’ve ever had daddy, you’re filling me up so good, feels so good.” Rafe reaches into his back pocket for your phone, using his other hand to pull your ass apart for the perfect view of his cock buried deep inside you.

“I think we should show him how good I make you feel, baby. Show him you really are my girl. From now on the only slutty pictures of you are either going to be taken for me or by me, got it?”

“Yes daddy, I got it. I’m yours, only yours.” He snaps a few photos before setting the phone down on the counter. He grabs onto the back of your neck, pulling your head up so you can see in the mirror.

“Look at yourself, look at what a little slut you are for my cock. Is that fucking drool?” He laughs condescendingly, a smug smirk spread across his lips.

You look at yourself in the mirror, your makeup is running down your cheeks, your hair is a disaster from how Rafe had been tugging on it, and there was in fact, drool dripping down your chin to your chest. Your eyes travel up to Rafe and you feel like you’re going to cum right then and there. His hair is hanging in his eyes slightly but you can see them enough that the look he gives you in the mirror makes your head spin. His toned chest is covered in a thin layer of sweat and the feral moans leaving him are your new favorite sound. His hand grabs onto the front of your throat, pulling you up so your back is against his chest. The new angel has him hitting deeper and you feel that coil in your belly starting to wind up again.

“Fuck daddy, I’m gonna cum, feels so good, please let me cum.” You reach behind you, threading your fingers into his hair while you push your hips back against his.

“Look who can be a good girl after all, asking me to cum without me even having to tell you? That’s such a good little bunny. Go on then, cum for daddy.” His fingers find your clit and it sends you over the edge, your walls tightening around him. “That’s it, fuckin’ cum on my cock.”

He fucks you through it before chasing his own high. Pushing you back down on the counter by your lower back, he grips onto your hips, and drills into you harder than ever.

“This is the best pussy I’ve ever had, this is my fucking pussy, you’re mine. I’m gonna fill you up so full of my cum you’re going to have to walk out of this party with it dripping down your legs.”

“Fuck yes daddy, fucking fill me up, please? Want your cum.” The sound of you begging for his release does him in. Just a few more rough thrusts and he’s pushing his hips flush against your own, pumping his cum deep inside of you. He pulls out and grabs onto your asscheeks, pulling them apart so some of the cum would seep out.

“Don’t fucking move.” He grabs your phone off the counter and takes a few shots of your puffy pussy dripping with his cum. “Good girl.”

He grabs onto your shoulders, pulling you up and flipping you towards him in one swift motion. He grips your face in his hands, kissing you rough and wet and possessively. He pulls away and tucks himself back into his shorts before looking at your phone again, he goes into your texts with Jj and selects the photos he just took, typing out a message and hitting send with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“Told you she was my girl.”

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe x you #rafe outer banks #Dolly writes

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uniquedinosaurdreamland · 9 months

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Ingrid Engen & Mapi León x Reader -Nap-

Hi everyone, this is my first post on here so I really hope you like it and give me some requests please 💛

Ingrid Engen & Mapi León x Reader -Nap-

🌼

It was very rare to be home before your girlfriends got back from training when you were called in for shifts. Being a paramedic in Barcelona meant that when you were on call it was for long hours though the whole night or the whole day. Growing up in London, England, you were immediately drawn to human anatomy and seeing the work paramedics drew you to the adrenaline filled job.

You first met Mapi and Ingrid about a year and a half ago when you were visiting your childhood best friend Keira Walsh when she first moved to Barcelona. Unlike the midfielder you knew Spanish very well from taking it in your GCSEs, and on a night out with Keira’s new teammates you had spent pretty much the whole time speaking to the couple who had taken an interest in hearing about you and what you do for work.

Fast forward about a year of dating the two women. You couldn’t be happier, going through long distance for the first couple of months until you secured a position as an EMT in the busy city and there was never a dull moment.

In the early morning you had left the house before either of your lovers were up, saying a quiet goodbye before leaving to start your predicted twelve hour shift. You drove around with your partner Gabe who had grown up in the city, no major calls starting out making it pretty easy. Though every single time the Q word came up what happened after would never be good.

“Quiet today.” Gabe said causing you to groan as not even a second later you were called to a car accident with multiple vehicles and injured people.

“Idiota.” You said as you turned the ambulance around to the place of the accident. Getting to the scene you were immediately pulled to work taking note of the multiple emergency personnel and blood and bodies scattered around the road with people trying to aid.

It took a long time to calm down the chaos, working on multiple patients that needed to get to the hospital quickly. You worked purely off adrenaline, split from Gabe as you worked on a five year old girl who had pain in her chest and a broken arm. It seemed like the driver of a truck had gone out of control going down a busy highway taking out a lot of cars on the way.

You were used to traumatic calls, you had time to think about everything later but in the moment you had to save the patients that were still alive. After a couple more hours and dropping off patients at the hospital you and Gabe were driving through the streets. The two of you didn’t talk as images flashed through your brain.

The memories of patients some it which you could save but others where people were to far gone to save.

“Podemos traernos del turno? No podemos continuar.” (Can we brought of the shift? We can't continue.) Gabe said to the emergency base knowing that both you and himself were not mentally okay to continue the shift.

Once you got back to the Ambulance base you said goodbye to Gabe and headed back to your apartment, you were called off five hours before your shift was to end and now had the whole apartment to yourself as your two girlfriends were still at training. You made sure to send a quick text to them both telling them what had happened and how you were going to shower and sleep once you got back, knowing they probably wouldn’t see it for another couple of hours.

Unlocking your front door, putting your bags down and heading straight to the shower to scrub the dried blood and sweat off your body from the day. After twenty minutes you were out and dressed in one of Ingrid’s shirts and a pair of Mapi’s old Barcelona shorts, climbing into bed under the covers and immediately falling asleep.

…

Mapi read your text once she pulled her phone out of bag after training, eyebrows furrowed as she read what had happened showing Ingrid who looked over her shoulder. The two quickly showered trying to get home to you as quick as they could, saying goodbye to their teammates before driving to their apartment.

The two women's eyes softened as they landed on your sleeping form snuggled into the covers. Ingrid grabbed your uniform that was on the bathroom floor, taking it to wash while Mapi walked over to your sleeping form. “Hola mi amor.” Mapi whispered, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.

Mapi smiled gently as you cuddled into her side, still half asleep. Ingrid came in not long after immediately hoping on the other side of you and wrapping her arm around your waist. At this point you were just pretending to be asleep wanting to stay like this forever with your two favourite people.

“We know you're awake.” Ingrid whispered into your ear, causing shivers to run up your spine.

“Leave me be.” You muttered back burying your head further in Mapi’s side, the two women laughing lightly choosing to just let your rest. Mapi moved from her sitting position of the bed to move further down making sure to settle your head into a comfy position on her chest, taking her other lover's hand resting them over your waist.

Ingrid stayed awake scrolling through her phone as you and Mapi fell asleep once again, the warmth taking over. An hour and a half passed and soon dinner time was fast approaching and Ingrid needed to know what you guys wanted. “Min elsker tid til å stå opp.” (My loves time to get up.) Mapi woke up as soon as she heard Ingrid’s voice but like always you stayed asleep.

“Just leave her.” Mapi said, looking at Ingrid.

“I need to know what she wants for dinner.” Ingrid said, sending a pointed look to the defender.

“You know she’ll eat anything you make.” Mapi said as she manoeuvred herself from under you to enter the kitchen, pressing a sweet kiss to Ingrid’s cheek as they started to get dinner ready for the three of you.

Thirty minutes passed and you were brought from your nap by the feeling of being alone in bed, and you were right as you noticed that neither of your lovers were next to you and both sides were cold. Grabbing your phone from the bedside table you saw a message from Keira and others notifications from other apps, moving to respond to your best friend planning some breakfast plans for the two of you.

Walking out of the shared bedroom your senses were met with an amazing aroma of fresh food and your two beautiful girlfriends standing in the kitchen making the food (Mapi messing around more than helping). “Morning sleeping beauty.” Mapi teased, smiling brightly as she realised you had woken up from your nap.

“You're so funny.” You joked back, teasing her even more by dodging her kiss to land on your cheek instead of your lips.

“Oi.” Mapi yelled, grabbing both of your cheeks and pulling her lips to meet yours, giggling into the kiss as she poked at your sides.

You took your seat at one of the chairs at the kitchen island, each of you talking about your day. Not long later Ingrid had finished dinner asking you to set the table, quickly complying so you could eat the perfectly prepared meal. Eating in comfortable silence, with conversations flowing around every so often.

Since Ingrid cooked it was either Mapi or you cleaning up and of course it was decided by a simple game of rock, paper, scissors. “Suck on that loser.” You laughed as you showed scissors while Mapi had paper.

“No best of three-” Mapi tried to argue.

“Elskling.” Ingrid said looking up from her phone, knowing that Mapi had suggested whoever won first had to do the washing up, shutting your idea down of best of three. Mapi pouted as you pressed a light kiss on her cheek before moving to snuggle into your other girlfriend who was waiting with her arms open.

Ingrid was very used to her girlfriends' childish fights, always there to diffuse them, but secretly she loved seeing either you or Mapi’s pouts when you were told off. It took Mapi ten minutes to clean up so soon enough she was back in the living room jumping onto the couch taking you and Ingrid by surprise.

Ingrid had settled herself with her book with you tucked under her arm with your back resting against her side, Mapi slotted herself in between your legs resting her head on your stomach while also grabbing your hand to intertwine your fingers into her hair. Love Island was on so that was playing on the TV. Neither one of your girlfriends liked the show but couldn’t bring themselves to tell you to turn it off due to how much it made you laugh and just how much you enjoyed it.

Your giggles were heard through the room, Ingrid smiling to herself at how happy you were and Mapi finding comfort in your joy as your fingers continued to comb through her hair and glide over her tattoos. You would never grow tired of the warmth Mapi and Ingrid gave you and their ability to make any day 100% better.

#woso x reader #ingrid engen #mapi leon #barca femeni #ingrid engen x reader #keira walsh #mapi leon x ingrid engen #mapi leon x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso community

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thenewgirl76 · 2 months

Text

Why Can't We Be Friends?

Before John can spend his rare downtime bonding with his childhood friend Angela Foley's son for the next two weeks, he first has to find someone to babysit the... weird looking creature that's apparently his nephew in all but blood's best friend. Not an easy feat given how clingy to the point of being attached to the hip the ferret shaped thing is.

Tucker has to bribe his pet(?) with hanging with the Green Lanterns along with the rest of the Justice League up in the Watchtower(they'll definitely be discussing that later) just to convince him to not try and tagalong. And that's how Hal finds himself dealing with the major headache that is Phantom.

No, he's not exaggerating. That's exactly what the measly gremlin is with his constant demands for food, affection, or playtime from anyone who's present and insistence on getting into whatever he can, one never-ending headache. What makes it even more taxing is how everyone else, even Batman is so wrapped up in how "cute and lovable" the little bugger is they see nothing wrong with his annoying antics.

And as if it couldn't get any worse, the tiny menace seems to have taken a liking to him the most out of all the League and won't quit following him around. It's like dealing with an abnormally needy and scarily intelligent cat, and Hal absolutely abhors cats.

That said, he does find himself feeling just a smidge of regret when he allows his stress over a grueling patrol to get the best of him and yells at the little creep for drinking his coffee. If it'll get everyone off his back and stop Phantom from making those hurt puppy dog eyes at him he'll make it up to the diminutive devil later somehow. Right after he sneaks a nap in while he's stuck on monitor duty.

But of course Phantom won't even allow him that, as he's now pestering him rather persistently with that aggravating chirping and trilling. Since napping is no longer an option he'll just see what Phantom wants and hopefully get rid of him for at least a few minutes afterwards. So Hal slowly drags himself into consciousness, and is met with a large oddly colored hunk of swiss cheese?

Waking up a bit more he starts hearing the swiss cheese begging him for death. Okay, clearly something's wrong with this picture. Wiping the last of the sleep from his eyes Hal looks again, and is instantly screaming in horror upon realizing what he had mistook for swiss cheese in his sleepy haze is actually Sinestro, looking very much like he'd fought a school of piranhas and the piranhas won. With all the blood and all the chunks of missing flesh and skin Hal can see why his former mentor was pleading with him to end him.

And throughout all this that little monster Phantom is staring up at him, perched on the barely alive korugaran, covered in his blood and looking far too pleased with himself. If it weren't for Hal's training and fortitude he'd either be running scared or having a nervous breakdown. That doesn't stop him from being immensely relieved over no longer having to be on guard around Phantom once John finally comes to get the miniscule hellion off the Watchtower.

Though it would be nice if; Superman stopped trying to guilt trip him. *He swears on everything holy he's gonna find the biggest piece of kryptonite and shove it where the sun don't shine if he has to listen to how Phantom never would have did what he did if Hal hadn't been so harsh one more time.*

Wonder Woman ceased with her badgering about how he should have shown more appreciation towards Phantom and the gift he had bestowed upon him.*He'd love to see just how appreciative she'd be if it was Cheetah getting dumped in front of her all chewed... oh wait.*

Flash quit laughing at him. *Shut the hell up Allen. He did NOT scream like a little girl.*

And most of all, John and all the other GL dropped it about how they were so jealous he was the one Phantom gifted instead of them. *Seriously guys? With all that little miser put him through, that's what you're taking from it?*

Missing Scene

*When Sinestro was confronted by Little Baby Man*

*What Little Baby Man did to him before hauling him off to present to Hal*

#dpxdc #danny phantom #justice league #green lanterns #little baby man #hal jordan/green lantern #john stewart/green lantern #thaal sinestro #john stewart is a family friend/tucker's honorary uncle #lbm really likes hal and wants hal to like him #so when hal gets mad at him he tries to apologize by bringing him a gift #sadly just like most cat owners he doesn't appreciate anything that's deceased or dying #hal would like to make it known that john owes him bigtime for this #he's pretty much been mentally scarred for life now #tw(?) mild gore

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willowser · 11 months

Text

you had only to look at me—

part one.

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 7.4k+

tags: nsfw (18+), childhood best friend bakugou, oral (f!receiving), m!masturbation, lots of "first time" talk, more angst, more virgin bakugou.

even before i was touched, i belonged to you; you had only to look at me. — the burning heart, louise glück.

this is a repost.

you and bakugou avoid each other just like you did in middle school, only it's a little too easy this time around.

he's terrible at texting back in general, and because you're not initiating any conversations on your own — or sending funny memes or bringing up all might in some capacity — the radio silence draws ever on and on.

the closest you come to interacting with him is getting a snapchat from his mom, his figure in the background at their kitchen table. all you can see is the floof of his hair and the outline of his shoulders, but you're so bothered by the fact that he's home and didn't tell you that you don't even respond.

it officiates things in a bad way; he's really, actually not speaking to you.

and it's — fucking annoying.

at least in the past the distance was mutually and wordlessly agreed upon; you didn't talk because you were busy or didn't have time or anything new to say, but whenever he's come home — because he so rarely does — bakugou has always made his usual, god-honest attempt to irritate you.

and he still is, but this time he's doing it all wrong.

you go through the five stages of grief rather quickly, jumping from denial to anger overnight. several times, you type out something to text him, each message different than the last:

i know you were at your mom's jackass ☠️

it's really not a big deal and i think we should just forget about it, if that's what you wanna do ?

if i crossed some kind of boundary with you then i'm sorry and i won't say that again so you better call me before i put your baby pictures on the internet. i'm serious.

you're my best friend and i don't think it's weird that it happened. if you're being dumb because you're embarrassed, then don't be because i thought it was really hot

unsurprisingly, you don't send any of these and instead just stew in your own aggravation. lunch with him after the whole thing had been just as empty and awkward, and you think he chose the place near your apartment just so you could walk home and he didn't have to spend another second with you.

three months go by, which isn't long compared to other stints you've spent not talking to one another, but this one drags. like a lot. the only good that comes from it is that you graduate from anger to acceptance, finalizing a future without him in it.

except for the few times he invades your brain like a little parasite, red-faced and shuddering, gripping you like a lifeline, and then your stomach flips so hard that you feel sick and it takes genuine effort to check out of that daydream and back into a bakugou-less reality.

and then he shows up at your apartment, uninvited.

his mom hosts a sunday dinner that you don't go to, for several potential reasons. one would be that you'll have to see bakugou and pretend like nothing's happened even though you're still a little peeved; two is that you'll both ignore each other, and that'll reverse all your progress because he's been ignoring you already.

three is that he might not show up, and then you'll have to pretend that it doesn't bother you all night long.

none of that sounds better than watching trash television and falling asleep on your couch, so you tell mitsuki that you're very sick and very sorry, and that you'll make it up to her later.

because of this, the first thing bakugou says to you after you swing the front door open is, "you're supposed to be fuckin' dead."

suffice to say, you're surprised to see him; still outfitted in his hero costume, mask shoved up his forehead so that his hair is wilder than usual. there's kohl smudged around his eyes, messy, and they look brighter and harsher because of it.

there's also a family-mart plastic bag in his right hand.

"what?"

he just grunts, eyes snapping over your figure, dressed down in a too-large sweater and athletic shorts meant for running even though you've never done so in them.

in his hands — still gloved — the plastic crinkles obnoxiously as he holds it out. "old hag told me to bring this to you."

a can of low sodium soup, two apples, gatorade, and something over-the-counter for nausea. there's something else at the very bottom that you don't get the chance to inspect before he interrupts with his big, fat mouth.

"y'look fine to me, so why the hell didn't you go?"

you frown at him and — don't know what to say. clearly, it seems he's going the pretend-it-never-happened route, which is infuriating because he could just as well have done that months ago. even still, he won't hardly meet your gaze, staring for only a moment before rolling his eyes and huffing, sticking them anywhere else. if you peek close, real close, you'd say his ears are a little red, but maybe you're just looking for — something.

you shrug. "didn't feel like it."

he shakes his head like that's the stupidest thing he's ever heard, eyebrow arched. "why the hell not?"

"because, bakugou, i just didn't feel like going, i don't know what else to tell you." you huff, shrugging again when he doesn't say anything. "thanks for the stuff. is that it?"

his lips twist as he thinks, giving you another once-over before sighing. under his tank-top, you watch how his chest expands, the grimace that ripples over his face as he reaches a hand to lightly feel at his right side. "need your help with somethin'."

now you're just being petulant; you snort, raising your eyebrows as his eyes narrow at the sound. "me? are you joking? you need my help with—"

he groans loud enough to drown you out. "y'gonna let me in or y'just gonna run your mouth?" and so you step aside to wave him in wordlessly.

the backpack on his shoulder dumps to the ground by the door and he strolls into the kitchen like he owns the place, despite the fact that he's never been here before. you've lived in the unit for a year, but meetups are so infrequent and showing it off to him was never considered — until now; watching him shuffle through the bag on the counter, your nerves spike at the reality check.

alone together, again. in your apartment. well after dark.

that image of him is so — invasive, sweeping in at the worst times: between your legs, face as red as his eyes, the little moan he kept trying to swallow. how embarrassed he seemed when you asked if he felt good, if you felt good, and the fact that he still admitted it despite everything.

your entire body blazes like a flame to gasoline, and you try to focus on what else he's taking out of the bag, oblivious.

does he think about it at all? the way you have? at the root of the situation, that's what has been most bothersome: is he grossed out? simply embarrassed? does he feel taken advantage of? did he enjoy it and just doesn't know how to say it? the not knowing is driving you insane.

"i got—" bakugou awkwardly angles his body, gently touching at his side again. in his hands is a simple pack of first-aid supplies, like a wound wash and bandages and medical tape. "need you to change this shit for me."

"oh?" is all you can manage to say, still distracted, and whatever is obvious in your voice has his eyes snapping to you from across the kitchen, adam's apple bobbing. you clear your throat, struggling for normalcy. "the hell did you do?"

he's — going to take his shirt off. clearly, by the way he stretches out his shoulders and then slowly reaches behind himself to grab the material by the back, carefully pulling it up over his head with a low, stinging hiss.

bakugou's always been a lean kid — guy — but pulled so taut like that, after years of working out muscles you didn't even know he had, he looks — stupidly shredded, and the slow reveal of his tight stomach is not helping you to focus.

you just never realized how hot it was, because you never looked at him like that. until recently.

his mask comes off with his shirt and he tosses both onto the kitchen counter — again, as if he pays the bills here — and his hair is a mess and he usually doesn't care, but he runs a hand through it several times before finally looking back at you, eyes outlined in black.

"y'gonna help me or...?" he shrugs, trying to appear impassive — but it's too obvious; something's shifted, for the both of you.

you don't trust your voice anymore, so you just shuffle over to him, frowning at the dirty, worn bandage that's already unsticking from his skin. with his teeth, he pulls off his gloves and it's a wonder why he even wears them, really, because his hands are filthy underneath, covered in soot and black-stained grease.

standing like he is, arm slightly raised, you can see all his sweat, muscles shifting under his skin as he breathes, and his hairy armpit is staring you in the face and you don't know when he stopped being 12 and started being 20 and when he became such a man. it's not fair, that he should suddenly be so — attractive.

"you're disgusting," you tell him — and mean it — and it's met with such hot and irritated surprise that you have to keep talking before he explodes. "you should probably take a shower before putting on a new bandage."

it's road-rash up his right side, still shiny and wet and blood red. still raw. just looking at it is enough to make you cringe.

bakugou huffs, exasperated. "okay, gimme a towel then."

"i didn't mean take a shower here!" you squawk, taking a step back as if to further yourself from the suggestion.

detonation imminent; bakugou curls his hands into fists and the same muffled warning you've been getting your whole life crackles. "okay," he says, voice thin and razor sharp. "you're coming back to mine then?"

your whole life flashes before your eyes — or at least the few minutes it took for him to lose his shit between your legs. "what? no, why would i?"

"i need your help with this, dip-shit!"

"you're saying there's no one else that can—"

"if you want me to fuck off, just say so!"

things go silent, startlingly so. totally still, except for the rising flush across his face, one that you used to read as annoyance but are now translating into something else you never could have expected from him: embarrassment. it's starting to give you whiplash, how much you're discovering despite knowing him all your life.

"closet is at the end of hall," you say in surrender. "bathroom will be on your left."

bakugou mutters a quiet, angry little "jesus" before stalking back to the front door to get his bag, and then he's disappearing into the dark of your apartment.

you slump down on your couch and — struggle. watching the tv and absorbing nothing; it's a rerun anyway. the sudden, overwhelming urge to cry washes over you as the shower spray sounds in the background, followed by a low-timbered swear and the clatter of several bottles against the tub.

it's easy to butt heads with bakugou. you don't think there is any other way to interact with him, really, because he's so argumentative and that used to be okay, but now things are — off. you don't know what he's doing, what he wants, why he's here and in your shower when he could be at home or getting patched up at his agency. all the conclusions you can come to are frightening, a little, and they're hard to fathom; is he — does he want more?

is this just because he's a guy that got some action and is looking for a second round, or is this because it's you?

this stupid situation has only added an unnecessary amount of drama to your life, and you think maybe the pretend-it-never-happened route is the smartest path, even if you can't stop thinking about him and the strength coiled in his biceps, in his shoulders, and how tall he's become and — when did he lose most of the baby fat in his face, and when did he get such a sharp jawline?

how much is he working out, to get his body like that? he used to be a skinny, scrappy little thing and now — he can probably lift a truck over his head. must run all the time, though he's always been active, and you've never looked before, but you wonder how nice his ass is.

what he looks like under the shower, soapy and wet.

furiously, you blink out of your daydream, feeling like a foreign body in your own skin; if someone would have told you only a handful of months ago that you'd be having weird, sensual thoughts about your best friend, you would have laughed so hard you'd cried. or puked.

but if anyone else stands in that picture with him, your heart squeezes painfully. traitorously. already, you've shared so many memories with him; the start of elementary school, learning how to swim, giving each other equally bruised faces, staying up all night to study for important exams, tackling middle school graduation side-by-side, him making himself at home in your first apartment, just as you had done in his.

the devil on your shoulder asks: what's a few more firsts?

it seems like the shower stops in record time, but when you hone back in on the tv, the episode has changed and new drama is settling in. distantly, the rattle of the doorknob is more aggressive than it needs to be and when the echo of a swung-open door trails down the hallway, your heart suspends in your throat. never have you had to think this much just to be around him, and it's bothersome.

clean and relaxed, he's — softer; you spare a quick glance at him when he comes to stand beside the couch, distracted by the show on screen, and his hair is damp, starting to stick out again the more it dries. his muscles aren't made of marble anymore; still there and rippling, but he breathes calmly and his skin is baby smooth, tender. you eye his tummy and the line of fine hair running down into the waistband of his sweats, and do your best to ignore the sudden desire to kiss right above his belly-button.

"since when are they talking again?"

just as he looks at you, your gaze shoots back to the screen, eyes narrowing as you try to rapidly remember what's happening in the day-to-day for stay-at-home, pro-hero wives.

"uh," you blink, distracted — and he notices, "what do you mean? they've been hanging out, like, all season."

bakugou watches the tv in silence, occasionally glancing down to the bandage in his hands as he carefully spreads it out, as he dampens the towel with the antiseptic and dabs at his wounds.

"even after she hit on whatshername's husband?"

"yeah, that was a misunderstanding," you frown at him but he doesn't see it. "remember when they went to that dinner party and all hell broke loose because—"

his flat look serves for a rude interruption. "they go to a lot of fuckin' dinner parties."

"i know, but," you scoff, annoyed, "have you even watched this season?"

bakugou scoffs, mocking and over-dramatic, "yeah, as if i've got all day to sit on my ass and watch your stupid girly—"

"you're watching it right now."

"because you've got it on!" he huffs when you sink into the couch, resolutely trying to ignore him. “start it over then, if you’re gonna cry about it.”

you gape up at him, going as far as to pause the show so that maybe he’ll acknowledge you and all your annoyance; he doesn’t. “start it over? this is, like, episode 26!”

“so? got a hot date or what?”

he’s not at all interested in the answer and that’s obvious when he spins around and holds out the bandage expectantly, staring down at the scrape — glowing red and angry, a mirrored wound you can feel scabbing across your own skin; itchy and irritating.

finally he looks at you properly, frowning softly and — you see him then, can feel the tension lining his body as you carefully tape on his bandage. trying to hide how uncomfortable he is, though you he’s never had to do so with you in all of — forever. it’s nauseating, and again you're struck by the image of him, only now it's of the horror that had been on his face afterwards, at what you’d done.

it pushes everything over the edge; quietly, so that your voice doesn’t expose anything, you say, “you haven’t spoken to me in three months.”

silence weighs in the air immediately, heavy, and you watch him try to appear unbothered, shrugging as he stares back at the unmoving tv, jaw tight. “phone works both ways.”

“yeah, but,” your hands drop as he steps away to pull on a loose shirt, and you curl your fists into your own. just as he has. “i’m always the one having to reach out—”

“so why didn’t you?”

“what?” frustrated, you massage your temples, trying to soothe the nuclear headache threatening to incinerate you. “are you seriously trying to—”

“what’s the big deal?” he huffs, slumping down into the far corner of the couch before cringing, swearing as he gently touches at his bandage. “you’ve gone longer than that without talkin’ to me, so…”

the tone of his voice is infuriating, as if this is somehow all your fault — and maybe it is, because you shouldn’t have crossed such a boundary with him, but — he can be such a dick.

“it’s not just me bakugou, you could have just as easily picked up the phone, too!” your teeth grind when he shrugs again, leaning his head against his fist as he looks anywhere else. it almost looks like guilt that's dragging his expression down, but you know better than to assume he could feel such a thing. “you always—”

“jesus, if i always do this—”

“shut up for a second, damn!” and then because you can’t stand the stupid look on his face, you kick him in the thigh for good measure; it garners a warning glare, his teeth bared.

he easily catches you by the ankle when you try to kick him again. "tell me what the big fuckin' deal is."

"the big deal? oh, you mean besides the fact that you totally came in your pants?"

it stuns him for a second, eyes wide and face pale, before he's yanking you across the couch, narrowly avoiding the knee aimed for his gut. "you—fucking—!" a smack lands across the back of his head when he ducks and he plants a heavy hand over your face, forcing you to close your eyes and turn away.

"you're gonna blow my head off!"

"if i wanted you dead, you—" he intercepts the hand you blindly reach up with, crossing it awkwardly over your chest so that you're pinned down like a wild animal. "you would be!"

"kiss my ass, katsuki." you snark, and it does something to him, your use of his first name, because he's still for a moment before sitting back and collecting your wrists correctly, to hold against the couch arm above your head.

"you're such a fucking—" he swoops in so low that his nose almost brushes yours and he grabs the front of your sweater with his free hand, like he's gonna shake you down for some lunch money. "fuck, i could just—" and then he groans long and loud, so annoyed he can't find the words.

"yeah, well—"

"shut up," he lightly knocks his forehead into your cheekbone with another dissatisfied sound, letting out a heavy sigh as he sinks his face down into your neck.

all your muscles tighten on instinct, waiting for the sharp bite that's due any second — but his fingers only uncurl from the material of your sweater, slowly slipping around to tangle into the hair at the nape of your neck. his pull there is a little tight, enough for you to know he's got you, but not so much that you're head is aching; you can't imagine you have a sensitive scalp, anyway, after growing up around him.

you want to say something — which is an annoying realization because now you feel like too much of a talker — but you just focus on the heave of his chest over yours, the breath that moves through him. the minute jostle of his hips as he settles further into the space between your legs, almost comfortable. the slight swell of something unfamiliar against your inner thigh.

bakugou presses his face a little further into you, warm, and the tip of his nose drags along the column of your throat. successfully sedating you, distracted by the feel of his parted lips against your skin.

your body is hot all over, very suddenly; the sweater now feels like a death trap and hopefully you don't smell weird, though it's never been a worry before, not around him, and your adrenaline is rushing and you're kinda tired of acting like you don't know why that is.

fuck pretend-it-never-happened. it's been a long three months.

he's almost entirely pressed against you, but there is a small gap of space that closes when you open your legs a little wider, hitching them around his waist as his breath stutters against your neck.

it's happened so quick, so effortlessly yet again; you give a purposeful roll of your hips upward and are lost in him all over.

only — it's different than it was before because straddling his lap hadn't done much for you, but now the weighted outline of him is right against your center and the pressure that drags across you sends tingles up your spine and has your toes curling in your socks. when you let out a tiny gasp at the stomach-flipping sensation, tension coils in every curve of his body and the grip around your wrists and in your hair only tightens.

you can't help it; you let out a "katsuki" in the same heady tone as you did in his apartment and it has him falling easily into the slow grind you've been unable to stop thinking about. what shifts across his face is obvious, against your throat, like the scrunch of his brow and the slow drop of his mouth. he tries to muffle his breathy "oh" into your skin, but it echoes throughout your entire body, has an ache beginning between your thighs that he's already soothing.

the nip comes then, teeth sinking gently into your neck as you weakly cry out in surprise, but it's only for a moment before his tongue — wet and heavy and wide — is tasting over your jugular, lips closing around your skin as he sucks experimentally. you let out a proper moan then, squirming against his hands and up into him so that the pressure doubles for the both of you.

katsuki finally relinquishes your wrists, carding his hand down your body before coming to squeeze your hip, your thigh, locking your leg tight around his waist. "yeah," he rasps, voice deeper than you've ever heard it as he presses his forehead into yours. "how do you fuckin' like it?"

being bitten, he means, vengefully, but you're spread open beneath him and he's rutting the hard length of himself against you roughly, eagerly, and panting open-mouthed and you tighten up at the aggression in his tone and in his hands and his very being and —

"fuck," you gasp, loud and wanton, "fuck, katsuki—"

and then you are kissing your best friend.

the boy from down the street that always ruined your hair and taught you where to place your thumb if you were gonna throw a punch. that used his empty pen cartridge to blow spitballs at you and mocked you for losing crane games, even though he ended up giving you the stupid stuffed animal anyway. that had to be king of the castle, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield. that demanded you be his queen, weeds he picked for you woven carefully into your hair by his hands.

katsuki kisses like he's shy — another term you've never thought of in relation to him and all his fire and brimstone; it's slow and a little delayed in comparison to what his hips are doing, as if he's in his head too much and is trying to figure how to move his lips and when. tentative and chaste, until you run your tongue along the seam of his mouth and pry him open a little more.

it's making you hungry; that possessiveness from before is creeping back in, eager to have him in ways nobody else has. you arch into him, biting at his lips and sighing into his mouth as goosebumps break out across his skin.

with a slant of his head, he deepens the kiss and you can feel his nostrils flaring, the fingernails scratching against your scalp, the bruises he's probably leaving on your thigh. he lets up only to breathe, panting into your ear when he begins to bite and suck on your skin again; your earlobe and neck and even the cut of your jaw. like maybe he's hungry, too.

you fist a hand into his shirt just to tug it up his body, feeling the strong contract of his stomach when your fingers ghost against him. katsuki gets the hint quickly, rising up to his knees to tear the material off — much more harshly than he did before, which has you eying his crinkled bandage — and you move fast to take advantage of the new space.

it gives him pause when you yank down your shorts, pulling your legs back to slip them off and fling them somewhere across the room. his face goes red again, and his heaving chest, too, and his eyelids flutter as he takes in the sight of your flimsy, damp cotton underwear. you start to pull the sweater up your stomach, but he's watching so intently — so ravenous — that you get shy, without a bra underneath the too-hot fabric.

in any other situation, katsuki would have grabbed onto this moment, your hesitation, and held it over your head to come back and poke at. cataloged this little weak spot for future arguments, but now —

not once has he ever been gentle with you in anything; it's enough of a surprise that that's even a possibility for him, for the two of you, but he presses his body back into yours and kisses you deep, calloused fingers tracing over the new skin exposed to him. he doesn't try to push the sweater up any further, but one hand slips up your back, to splay between your shoulder-blades like it had before, and he's so close and you've never known him to be this — careful. with anything.

"y'r so—" katsuki rolls his hips again and groans, whispering against your lips. "fuckin' soft."

his sweatpants are still on and you don't know why, but when you reach down to help tug them off, he grabs your wrist before they can go too far.

he presses the heat from his cheeks into your own, like he wants to share it. "you done this before?"

"have you?"

he frowns at your non-answer. "i asked first."

you have. three times, technically, though a phantom pain echoes in your stomach at the memories, and you feel an odd emptiness in your chest that makes you really glad to have the sweater still on. your answer leaves you a little ashamed, under his gaze, and you purposely turn from it. "would...that bother you?"

before, you wouldn't have cared, didn't care, nor were you even thinking of him when it happened. wherever he must have been; u.a, probably, getting ready to make his lifelong dreams a reality while you trusted a boy that didn't look at you the way katsuki is now. that didn't hold you and touch you and kiss you the way your best friend has.

he scoffs, though it doesn't sound as careless as it usually does and he squeezes his eyes shut so you can't read them. the truth that's hidden there. "no," he lies, "why would—" but he doesn't finish, just sighs.

"it was awful anyway," you tell him, offering a small smile when he peeks down at you. he doesn't say anything, so you kiss him once, twice, until his tension is melting away. "should have been you."

the grip on your thigh turns almost painful and he grinds into you so roughly that you both gasp, loud in the tight, barely-there space between you. "yeah," he rasps, sucking another bruise into the hollow of your throat. "fuckin' should have."

you try to imagine it; eighteen and nervous, naked in front of him for the first time since you were seven and got into paint from his mom's workshop, when she made you both strip down in the same room, furious. how different he might have been with you then, how much more unsure. kinder than your ex, without a doubt, even for katsuki, and he probably wouldn't have even gone through with the whole thing, considering how uncomfortable the first time is.

or maybe it wouldn't have been, with him; maybe he would have looked into it, taken the time to wind you up the same way he is now so that you were eager and wet and ready. looking down at you with his wide, almost-black eyes in the dim light of a table lamp. another first to share.

"if i'd have just," he huffs, allowing his sweats to slip down past his hips. shoulders trembling when he makes you moan out his name again. "fuckin'—grown a pair 'n told you—"

the weight of him becomes more obvious, the straining bulge he's rocking into your core, and seeing it is — really getting to you; wearing such tight boxers, you can tell just how close the pink tip of him is to his waistband, nearly peeking out from just how hard he is.

it takes a shrug to get him out of your shoulder, so you can press your lips back to his. "can still be you, katsuki," you breathe, biting on his bottom lip until his tiny frown is gone. "if you want, it can still be you."

for a minute, he indulges himself in the greedy kiss you're giving him, testing strokes of his tongue against your own as his hips stutter out of rhythm — but it's when your fingers brush through the hair at the base of his stomach, trying to slip a hand into his boxers, that he's gasping into your mouth and pushing his body up and away.

determination settles over his face then — along with his vibrant flush — and he doesn't say anything as he grabs you like it's nothing and scoots you up the couch so that your back is pressed to the arm, propped up. once he settles between your thighs, he just rests his face into the plush of your stomach — which is humiliating and has you squirming, but the firmness returns to his hands; holding your hips so that you'll still, so that he can kiss right above your belly button, just as you wanted to do to him.

heat flares in your own cheeks — and down your chest and in your ears and searing on the back of your neck — when you feel the first puff of his warm breath against your underwear, where you're sensitive and slick and aching.

this is completely new to you; your ex-boyfriend probably never considered tasting you here, certainly not with the same desire that's painted across katsuki's face. you have to slap your hands over your eyes and bite your lip, embarrassed, suddenly, at how desperate the simple press of his mouth to your underwear makes you.

"hey, hey," katsuki grunts, pinching at your hips until you peek at him through your fingers. the highlights of his cheeks are crimson and his eyes are black, glaring with an intensity that makes you shiver. "it's my fuckin' turn."

to make you fall apart, he means, just as he had.

at the first hot drag of his tongue against the material, you squirm, leaning your head back so that your expression is hidden. another grunt comes from him, you think in dissatisfaction, but he continues, laving until your mouth is falling open and the fabric between you is drenched.

he's gone just long enough to be replaced by the ghost of his thumb, touching you much too-gently. hunger has you stealing another look at him, watching behind your hands as he stares, blatantly, at the mess he's already made of you, stroking the pad of his finger against the sodden material in interest.

discovering; a curious swipe over where you're aching has you sighing and trembling and his eyes jump back up to your covered face, open mouth curling into the faintest smirk as he does it again and again and again. it's bullshit — how quickly he's figured you out, almost as if your body was meant to be unraveled by his hands — but then again, it didn't take you long either, did it?

"katsuki," you hiss, digging a hand into the hair at the crown of his head, tugging on it until his smile is dropping and his eyes are lidding. your body is on fire and your legs are trying to close around his head, hips squirming as he toys with you, like the little brat he is.

deadly serious, he grabs your underwear and holds it tightly in his fist so that you can wiggle one leg free, and then he's tugging it out of his way and devouring you whole.

it's sloppy, the mixture of spit and slick as runs his tongue through you, wet and wide, and you're so sensitive that you squeak out in surprise, fingers tightening. a groan punches from deep in his chest and your hips buck at the vibration of it, drawn so tight already.

"oh my—" you gasp, dropping your other hand from your face to grip the couch; eyes closed, you're somewhere else entirely, lost in the clumsy swirl of pleasure between your thighs.

katsuki raises his head to breathe, reaffirming your grip in his hair by wrapping his fingers tight over your own. at the shiny sight of his mouth, you can't help but to whimper with a needy roll of your hips, until he's simply sticking out his tongue and allowing you to ride it, to use it as you need to. it's embarrassing, how desperate you are, but his eyes are knife-sharp and trained on you and you've never experienced anything like this.

he moves then, slipping one hand further up under your sweater, cupping your breast carefully as his lids flutter — and the other is shoved between his hips and where they're pressed into the couch. you tighten up at just the idea of him rutting into his hand while kissing your messy slit, moaning openly, head falling back as your eyes start to roll.

this is — fuck — you've never been so turned on in all your life and it's driving you crazy; at one point in time, the thought of bakugou like this would have grossed you out, but now you think it's only like this because of him. anyone else wasn't right, not the way he is, and he's maybe a little impatient and unwieldy, but it's katsuki. between your legs with his mouth on you — something he wanted — and his fingers are brushing over your nipple and the other is down his pants, wrist flexing and —

"fuck, oh fuck, i—" you try to sit up, chasing blindly after the high, but he forces you back down. a long groan is muffled by your skin and when he lifts his chin just a little, a glob of spit falls off his lips and the sight makes your toes curl before he presses back into you and sucks.

everything goes blank as you free-fall into him and you cum quietly, muscles so taut in your body that your voice can't even squeeze out of your throat. the minute you're able to breathe, he's biting a mark into your thigh and yanking you back down under him, lips slick against yours.

tasting yourself on his tongue has you coming out of the heady haze, ravenous; katsuki helps you to shove his boxers down, though he can only gasp tightly when he grinds against you, coating himself.

"'m not—" his soft hair tickles your face when he shakes his head, arms trembling beside your head. "i won't be able to—"

"keep going," you breathe, smearing your mess over the tip of him and down his length as he groans. "i don't care, keep going."

he smashes his lips to yours, though he's only able to meet the pump of your hand a few times before dropping his forehead to your shoulder, spine curling, fingers digging into your hair. katsuki swears long and low, eventually letting out a soft sound you wouldn't have expected from him as his entire body tenses and he spills onto your stomach.

"goddamn it," he moans into the fabric of your sweater, weary, after a long moment. "now 'm fuckin' tired."

and for some reason that makes you laugh, though the lust is dissipating and your nerves are trembling at the memory of how this ended last time. katsuki pulls away suddenly, making your stomach drop, and he doesn't look at you as he detangles himself, awkwardly shuffling away from the couch and out of sight.

you frown down at the mess on your stomach, the way it's pooling in your belly-button — and you'll be damned to let him leave you like this, but just as you finishing reciting over and over what you want to say, he appears, towel in hand.

it's still damp from his shower and you tense on instinct, waiting for him to start twirling it with that stupid grin on his face, but katsuki only arranges your legs so that he can sit between them, carefully wiping you off as his cheeks burn. and you just watch him, the way he runs a hand over your skin to make sure he got it all before helping to finagle your underwear back on properly.

then he just looks at the tv, unmoving. if he's trying to appear casual at all, it's a piss-poor job — but he's never been able to keep his fat mouth shut for long.

the look he gives you lacks its usual heat, though you can't tell if that's just because he's drained or if he's withdrawn for another reason. "what now? six months, a year before you talk to me again?"

and you're annoyed all over again.

"what?" you return his weak glare, sitting up properly so that you're right in his face. "are you kidding me? you didn't talk to me either."

"the hell did you want me to say?" he scoffs and — you could slap him, for ruining everything so quickly. wipe that stupid look off his face with your fist. "'sorry i busted a nut, you free for dinner?'"

"yeah!" the shrill tone of your voice makes his eyes widen, and you throw your hands up in the air, incensed. "that sounds wonderful in comparison to coming home and avoiding me."

"i didn't avoid you," he mutters, though his eyes drift back to the tv. "just didn't have shit to say."

"bakugou," you slap your hands over your face for the second time, though this one is much worse than the last. "how is that fucking fair? what did you want me to say?"

and now — his eyes are full and furious, mouth curling down into an ugly frown that you've so rarely had the pleasure of seeing on his face; every time his mother made you go home and when you told him you weren't gonna try to test into u.a. when he overheard your girl friends teasing you for liking an older boy in your school.

when he was losing you, you realize.

"'m not doin' this shit with you," he mutters, definitive, before swiping his shirt up off the floor and standing. "not doin' this bakugou shit."

"oh my god," you groan, rising, too, because your stomach is twisting at the thought of him leaving again, no matter how angry he's making you. "what does that even mean?"

you trail him as he stomps into your kitchen to grab his work shirt and mask from the counter, trying to interrupt him at every turn, and the scowl on his face only grows when you shoot to stand in front of the door, just as he reaches for his bag.

"you can't—"

"this," he seethes, gesturing to you and then himself before gritting his teeth so hard that they should shatter. "this is why i didn't wanna fuckin' talk to you."

you knew he didn't. the minute lunch ended and when you made out his shape in mitsuki's snapchat: you knew. but hearing it from his mouth is as much of a confirmation as it is a kick in the gut.

there's more he's struggling to say, mouth shifting as he chews on the words and the skin of his lips. his gaze jumps from you to the door to something on the counter before he's swallowing again, staring down at you with brand new eyes.

the light in the kitchen makes them shine, angry and sad. "i can't—" he sighs, nostrils flaring like he's mad at himself for struggling. "go back to bakugou, not after—" a vague hand waves toward the couch. "maybe this is just, i don't know, whatever to you, but i — fuckin' can't."

tell me what the big fuckin' deal is; earlier, he'd demanded it of you, why the silence mattered so much this time when it didn't seem to matter before. in the midst of your anger, you didn't think twice about his wording but now —

he wanted you to say it. katsuki wanted to hear you say that it hurt to be without him for so long, and he kept his distance because he was afraid that you wouldn't.

"you're so stupid," you mutter it quietly, and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, enraged, but before he can get another dumb word out, you loop your arms around his neck and just — kiss him.

not crazy or wild or lust-driven, just your lips to his, slowly working him out of the shell he's tried to hide behind.

the bag in his hand hits the ground with a soft thud and then his arm is wrapping around your back, tugging you to him as he finally breathes and opens his mouth — and lets you in.

when you cup the sides of his neck, katsuki inhales sharply through his nose, pulse jumping under your fingers, and his lashes flutter against your cheeks as he opens his eyes. he pulls back enough so that you can stare at each other and you realize that eyeliner is still clinging to his lids, making him seem sharper than usual.

you're a little stunned, then, at how beautiful he is.

"i can't go back to bakugou either, dumbass." gently, you knock your forehead into his, smiling at the pout on his face. "you've totally screwed that up for me."

"yeah, well," he huffs, "about time. only took you all my goddamn life."

"sorry i'm late."

"what else is new?" he rolls his eyes and you squeak, indignant, before sticking your tongue out at him, patience worn thin already.

you expect a bite or a pinch to the cheek or another rough violence that falls along the lines that have made up your relationship thus far — but instead there is only something soft that reflects in his eyes and the shy kiss he presses to your lips, something that he's kept safe just for you, guarded, with his stick-sword and cardboard shield.

#narrator voice: willow did not have the spoons to extend the ending #whoopsie #okie okie part 2 #✿ willow writes #✿ one shot: bakugou

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viperdove-if · 1 year

Text

They will sing songs of our legacy, weave tales of the blood we spilled and the hearts we stole. We have carved our names in history, my dove, using the lives of the guilty. And once you are appointed, you too will be marked in legend.

DEMO TBA | CHARACTER POSTS

Genre: dark, crime, romance, gangs

Setting: fictional world of Hera, ancient times

You are the Dove, the heir to one of the most powerful crime families in your country. The grip your family--your father--has on their side of the land is tight, and now that you've reached adulthood it's time for you to be fully absorbed into the machinations of gang warfare. That means opium, mercenaries, assassinations. In this ancient world, blood moves people just as much as money does.

But your family is not the only family with a steel-like grip on Hera. The Dimas family have been your rivals for centuries, a blood feud fueling the anger on both sides. You both fight for territories, for money, terrorize innocent civilians and throw them in a fight they never asked to be part of. Eventually it must end...and eventually it will come down to you and the Viper, the rival heir.

But when murders and kidnappings crop up on both sides of families, the blood feud grows larger. Because there is an even bigger threat coming, and a blood war may be the only way to get out of it.

Viper & Dove is a dark romantic interactive fiction that follows two crime families in a blood feud taking place in ancient times. It is rated 18+ for violence, explicit themes, possible sexual content, and gore.

Customize your heir from name, appearance, gender identity, pronouns, demeanor and more. Customize their approach to their position and how they feel about their family and their responsibilities.

Choose a weapon of choice like a sword, throwing knives, and more.

Choose what kind of heir you want to be, and how far you're willing to go to protect your title from your endless siblings...who are various shades of bloodthirsty.

Indulge in romances that go from a doomed Romeo & Juliet narrative to a bully arranged-marriage romance to a bodyguard romance.

more features to come.

Talon/Thea 'The Viper' Dimas (m/f) : the eldest and heir to your rival family, neither of you can live while the other one breathes. Everyone is waiting with baited breath for the day you two come face to face for a fight to the death to finally bring an end to a century long rivalry...in blood. The day seems to be inching closer, and you wonder if you're prepared.

You are forbidden to see them. Forbidden to speak to them. Romancing them grants a punishment in blood.

Romance: enemies to lovers, forbidden lovers, heirs to rival families, Romeo & Juliet-esque

Alastair (m): your father's advisor, his second-hand man. He is serious, distant, and treats you with neutrality, mostly because of who you are. He oversees everything your father does and your father trusts him with his life. Romancing you would mean certain death for him.

Romance: forbidden romance

Shadow (real name unknown) (m/f): the family's head assassin and lapdog for your father, indebted to him like a prisoner. They have killed many, and their deaths pile up in a way that keeps them quiet and isolated. They do not speak, least of all to you, and you rarely see them underneath their assassins garb.

Romance: forbidden romance

Kalis Dimas (f): the twin of your rival. Even though she is a Dimas, you feel she has no interest in the blood feud. She is too kind, too pure. If anyone were to find you speaking to her--especially her very protective twin--the results could be detrimental to you both.

Romance: forbidden romance

Oren/Odessa (m/f): your betrothed. They are mean, rude, and a bully, and yet you are expected to wed them. After all these years of them bullying you, tormenting you, how could it possibly change?

Romance: bully romance, arranged marriage

Kai/ Kara: (m/f): your childhood best friend. Your guard. The one meant to protect you. They were once an orphan, then found and employed by your father to keep you safe. They take their duty seriously, lest they get thrown out again.

Romance: bodyguard romance, forbidden

Raven/Rome: (m/f) your personal maid/butler, hailing from the servant family that has served yours for generations. They don't look you in the eye and don't dare speak. Some might find their overt politeness endearing.

This is my first interactive-fiction story and I hope you like it. Reblogs are always appreciated, thank you! :)

#interactive fiction #interact-if #interactive novel #choice script #cog #choice script game #interactive fiction wip #cog wip #interactive game #choice of games #choice of games wip #work in progress #writing #interactive story

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watchtowerindistress · 6 months

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for the love of ... bob? - jake seresin x reader (1/2)

Summary: Being Jake's (best) friend - sorry, Javy - proved to have its ups and downs but there was something about having him in your corner you couldn't resist. Jake and you just clicked on a deeper level. That's why you didn't get it when the Southern boy was acting so weird.-

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Language, Jake being an idiot (what else is new?), Jealous! + Soft!Jake, fluff

Author’s note: Just something fun I wanted to write. I kinda hate myself for not writing for Bradley first, since I love the guy. You know, Jake's fics I love to read, yet I couldn't stand him while watching Maverick. Go figure.

I haven't watched the film enough to distinguish the traits of the characters, so I can't guarantee for accuracy for the side characters. I can only include a handful of people - that's why I don't have people like Reuben in there since their character traits aren't included in the fandom page.

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @blackmagicwoman @silenthappyplace @mrsevans90 @dempy @yourgirlypop (blank blogs can't be tagged)

Read me on AO3 | Series masterlist

“So, tell us all the details. Preferably, the humiliating kind,” Natasha asked with a curious air.

You smiled. “What about?”

“Hangman, of course.”

The Dagger Squad was the perfect company to be around, you decided. Jake, your childhood best friend, who you haven’t seen in years, offered The Hard Deck as the place for you to wait until he arrived. Video calls didn’t hold up to the real thing. Especially, with you two being very busy people and you finally getting out of New York to spend some quality time together.

“I need to get the embarrassing goods, at least before Hangman shows up. I mean, we have the perfect person to interrogate. In the rare instances, when he talks about something other than himself, Hangman keeps mentioning you,” she mused.

“Nat-” Bob interjected, who was sitting next to her in a booth while the rest of their squad were scattered in the bar.

Natasha turned her head. “Aren’t you a little bit curious about the depraved mind of Jake Seresin?”

“Not really.”

You snorted at their torn convictions when Mickey and Javy arrived at their table with bottles of beer.

“What did we miss?” Javy asked.

Natasha’s stubborn gaze didn’t stray from yours for many seconds. “I’m trying to crack Y/N.” Her eyes met Javy’s over her shoulder. “Tell Rooster he needs to stall him until I get to the good bits.”

You looked around speculatively. “Is this some sort of initiation or baptism by fire Jake should’ve warned me about?”

Javy offered a small reprieve. “Don’t mind her. She just wants to pick your brain. How long are you going to stay?”

“About a week. Enough time for Jake to show me around San Diego.”

Mickey took a gulp from his drink. “Good luck with that.”

Warm breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine when someone whispered into your ear, “Did I just hear my name?”

Your body jolted at hearing the unexpected voice. “Oh my God.” You turned and found a cheeky Jake standing behind you. “You little f- Don’t startle me like that!” Clambering out of the booth, you jumped into his arms, while giggling from the shock. “Hey, you,” you said, holding on tightly.

“Hey, yourself. Someone’s gotta keep you on your toes, darlin’.”

“You’re such a jerk,” you whispered into his neck.

Jake swayed you lightly. “You love when I’m a jerk.”

Leaning back, you pressed your fingers an inch apart. “Just a tad.” You hesitated. “Like about 10%.”

Jake rolled his eyes. “Oh please. Talk about 75%. It’s part of my charm,” he murmured, stroking your lower back.

“Is this what you tell everyone here?” You teased, pointing to his colleagues behind you.

Javy’s scoff was joined by the others.

You looked back to see their reactions. “You know, I’m starting to really like your group of friends.” While turning back, you narrowed your eyes when you saw Jake glowering at the Dagger Squad before his expression turned into an innocent one.

“I’m starting to question your taste in people,” he said.

Someone snickered next to him. “That’s funny, … Hangman.”

Realizing that another person joined their company, you turned towards the man who looked vaguely familiar from the pictures Jake had sent you. Not to mention, you remembered Natasha’s remark from earlier that Jake would show up with someone else.

“Rooster, right?” You stepped away from Jake’s embrace and shook Bradley’s hand in greeting. Jake merely sighed and crossed his arms.

“Bradley’s fine.” He faced the rest of the group. “By the way, am I the only one that felt really awkward just standing here, watching those two?”

Mumbles echoed all around. “No, you’re not.” Still slightly by the display of the too-long-hug.

A sigh left Jake, who placed an arm around your shoulder. “Don’t listen to the others. And the words of the chicken shouldn’t be trusted. I hope those knuckleheads treated you right.”

You shrugged. “It was fun. I was this close to reveal your darkest secrets for a slice of a good ol’ fashioned apple pie made by … Phoenix, was it?”

“There’ll be no revealing. And no pie,” Jake interjected before pointing at Natasha. “You’ve already been in the company of Phoenix and the goon squad for less than an hour and Nat already found out your weakness for sweets,” he whispered against your neck. “At least you didn’t have to be subjected to the likes of Rooster here.” A shiver coursed through his body. “I shudder at the thought of you having to listen to him at first. He’ll probably want to talk about his caterpillar of a moustache.”

A languid smirk drew on Bradley’s lips as he stroked his mentioned facial hair. “Very funny. You jealous?”

You tilted your head at their teasing. “You have some weird fixation on Bradley’s facial hair. Didn’t you talk on the phone about-”

Abruptly, Jake took you by the hand and dragged you to the bar counter. “Let’s get some food into you. Your blood sugar’s getting awfully low. Someone’s getting tired already.”

“You’re being such a grump, Jake.”

Jake leaned against the counter. “I’m not. I’m just making sure you’re getting some nachos into you, darlin’.”

“You need to be nicer. We both know you’re more of a sweetheart than this.”

He rolled his eyes. “I have a reputation to uphold. And don’t let yourself be bribed by the others.” Jake turned to Penny. “A basket of nachos for this one, Penny?” You rolled your eyes at seeing Jake point at the top of your head.

There was something about Penny’s playful glance that warmed you upon first meeting. The woman nudged her head at Jake. “Be careful with this one.”

With mischief in your eyes, you stole a glance at him. “I know. This one … has been trouble for as long as I can remember.”

“Hey!” Jake uttered in mock outrage before he did introductions. “Penny, that’s Y/N. She’s my friend,” he said, placing his hand on your back.

“And here I thought I was your best friend.”

Jake hushed any further confessions, whispering, “But don’t tell Javy.”

You turned to Penny with a smile. “See? He’s such a big softie.”

Penny smirked. “I’m starting to. Where are you from?”

“Moved around a lot as a kid. Dad’s an Air Force pilot.” You waved towards him. “We grew up together in Texas. But I live in New York.”

Penny’s eyes lit up at the mention. “I’ll get you some cheese dip.”

“Thanks.”

Jake watched Penny wander off with a speculative gaze. “Someone’s making friends quickly.”

“It’s okay. I’ll teach you my ways,” you said only half-teasingly and stroked Jake’s arm. Your hand lingered on his muscles. Wait, were they flexing? “Woah, what happened to your arm, dude?”

Jake’s voice turned concerned. “Why? What’s wrong?”

There was something akin to awe in your voice. “Your bicep feels like it’s going to rip through your shirt.”

His shoulders were shaking when he chuckled. There was something about Jake turning his head to hide his blushing cheeks that stunned you even to this day. “You’re such a smartass.”

“I’m serious. Someone’s really working out, huh?” You mumbled to yourself, “This could make a girl feel weak in the knees.”

“Okay, you need food,” Jake said with a resolute mindset, before calling over your shoulder, “Thanks, Penny.”

He pushed the basket towards your elbow. “Get some chips into you.” Jake just watched you munch on your crispy snack. “Speaking of food, you want to join me and the group to some Barbecue this weekend?”

You barely lifted your head. “Barbecue? Special occasion?”

“Rooster’s uncle Maverick is celebrating his birthday-”

“Woah, hold your horses, Jake.”

You raised your hands. Either to stop Jake from continuing or to restart your own brain. “Come again? Maverick?” Your hands hovered over your mouth, as you mumbled, “You’re inviting me to Maverick’s birthday barbecue party? I don’t feel prepared for this.”

Jake groaned. “Oh great, I forgot your dad is such a Maverick fanboy. Of course.” He closed his eyes in a mixture of misery and defeat.

“Jake,” you breathed in deeply and covered his shoulders with your hands, mindful of not dropping nacho dust on his shirt. “Jake,” you began again, “I’ve never told you this, but this is the first time when I realized how absolutely invaluable you are to me as a best friend.”

“I’m seriously regretting telling you this.”

You nibbled on your lip. “I think I scared Jake off with my … how do I say it … domineering admiration for Maverick. I’m getting the feeling he’s embarrassed of me. You have no idea how quickly he dashed the moment we arrived here.”

Natasha appeared nonchalant at your worries while she took a bite from her noodle salad on her paper plate. “Not possible. I’ve only met you yesterday and can affirm that man couldn’t be closer to you. Hangman was probably held up by something. Or he’s just elevating his testosterone level with Rooster again. You met the birthday kid already?”

“Nope.” At the mention, your hands tightened around the food container.

A soothing smile tugged on Natasha’s lips. “Deep breaths. You can’t miss him.” She pointed outside to the backyard. “He’s the guy at the grill, in the sunglasses and Hawaiian shirt. If he has a mustache, you’ve gone too far.”

“Got it.” You exhaled quietly and reminded yourself under your breath, “No mustache, Hawaiian shirt.”

“You’ll survive, don’t worry.” Natasha looked behind her. “Rooster, take her with you. She wants to meet the birthday man in question.”

“Sure.” Bradley stepped forward and offered his arm.

Your body acted on pure instinct.

“Holding my hand, alright, that’s fine.”

You only mouthed in gratitude, “Thank you.”

They walked a few steps onto the lawn when Bradley looked around. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Nat told me he was probably wrestling in the mud with you to assert his dominance.” You cleared your throat when you realized something. “And not my boyfriend.”

“Whatever you say. Just making sure where you two stand if he sees us standing together, holding hands.”

“Jake Seresin is not my dad,” you said absentmindedly when a dark-haired man caught your eye. Your throat felt dry. “Is that him?”

“As everyone keeps telling me.” Bradley approached the man standing behind the grill. “I found someone who wants to send their birthday wishes, Mav.”

Maverick revealed a crooked smirk. “Is that so?” You could feel his curious gaze through his sunglasses. “You’re a new face.”

“Um, yeah. I’m Jake’s friend.”

“Hangman has friends?”

“I know it’s a first for everybody,” you admitted. Knowing that Bradley and Jake were at least on speaking terms, and with Jake inviting you to Maverick’s barbecue party, you elaborated, “He needs some time to let people get close.”

Bradley gasped. “You don’t say.”

You focused on Maverick. “A few days ago, Jake invited me to your birthday. Hope that’s okay. I brought you peach cobbler as a present.”

At the mention, Bradley’s head whipped around. “Jesus, why didn’t you just go with that?”

Maverick moved his glasses until they laid atop his head and his eyes were uncovered. “You had me at cobbler.” He rubbed his hands against his jeans. “Bradley, you mind taking over the grill for a bit?”

“Fine. Get me a beer along the way?”

“Sure.” Maverick faced you again when he led you towards the table filled with food. “I didn’t catch your name?”

Just being in Maverick’s company felt surreal. You tried to restrain yourself from appearing too much like a crazy person.

“Um, Y/N … L/N. You’re Maverick?” Nervously, you stroked a curl of hair behind your ear. Even saying that name while standing right in front of him felt out of this world.

“Pete’s just fine.” His expression turned inquisitive. “Did Hangman tell you stories or did I miss something?”

You swallowed thickly. “My dad’s a big fan of yours. He’s a pilot in the Air Force. Told me stories ever since I was a kid. Your flight maneuvers have been legendary.”

He smiled at the devotion in your voice. “Still are.” You adored that playful glint in his eyes still shining through.

“Definitely. You probably get this all the time.”

“Want a beer?” After seeing you nod, he gave you a bottle. “Sometimes. Although, that kind of reverie I’m not used to.”

To calm your nerves, you downed some alcohol. “Really? Okay, I’ll try to control myself. However, Iceman’s skills were far-” Your eyes widened at your blabbing mouth before you covered it. “I’m sorry, too much liquid courage.”

Pete—even thinking that name felt strange—released guffaws of laughter at your gaffe. “Hey, it’s still my birthday!”

“I know, I’m sorry. Happy birthday, Ma-Pete.”

~ Jake POV ~

“Hey, Hangboy, I need to have a word with you,” Jake heard Natasha’s hard voice a few feet away from them as he hung out with the boys. Despite that, the concept of strength in numbers didn’t make him feel safe, judging by her vehemence.

He swallowed at the dark glare in Nat’s eyes. “Vernacular?”

Natasha didn’t appreciate the humor and crossed her arms, letting uncomfortable silence fester around them.

Jake pressed his lips together. “Bad timing?”

“Someone ever say you’re a bad friend?”

Without hesitation, he replied dryly, “You. Every morning when I show up to work.”

“I had to send Bradley in Y/N’s direction because she was nervous about meeting Maverick.”

He groaned at the thought, throwing his head back. “Oh, poor Y/N. Being forced onto the company of that dull-stache? Sounds horrible.” Jake checked his surroundings, hoping to pick them up.

There was something about Natasha’s innocent eyes, with murder in her eyes, that unsettled him deeply.

“You make me want to punch you in the gut. And you know I grew up with brothers. I know how to make it look like an accident.”

Jake dropped the drink he was holding on a nearby table. “I have a plan.”

Natasha tilted her head in fascination. “Wow, your brain can actually do that? Could’ve fooled me. What does that even look like?”

He drew nearer at the sound of her challenge. “It’s called giving each other space. Did I miss something or why are you so gung-ho when it comes to Y/N? Do we need to have a talk?”

“Five minutes in her company and I already know how she’s too good for you.”

Something bitter settled in his stomach at the mere mention. As if he didn’t already know. He smiled tensely. “Thanks for the reminder, Phoenix. Do I need to save her from Rooster?”

Natasha waved a hand. “Not to worry. Y/N is having fun with Bob.”

His mind went blank, trying to process her words. Jake pursed his lips, feeling confused. “Wait—w—why—what are you saying? Bob? Bob with the glasses? Or is there another Bob I should know?”

Natasha hummed, analyzing his reaction. She chose to unnerve him further by chuckling maniacally. “Cake stand. Have fun.” And with that she left.

Jake whipped his head around and narrowed his eyes. The food area instantly caught his eye. Y/N stood with Bob and was laughing uproariously. It felt X-Files-strange to watch that anomaly. Y/N arched her back and patted Bob’s shoulder, with a plate of cake slice in her hand.

Feeling perturbed by the macabre reality, Jake imagined Y/N being into Bob of all people. He frowned at that scenario, whispering, “Bob?”

~ Y/N POV ~

You held your stomach. Your cheeks were hurting from uncontrollable laughter, as you were trying to breathe. “Oh my God, Bob, that’s so-”

Jake inched closer with a small smile on his face. “What’s so funny?” He draped his arm over Y/N’s shoulder and reached for her dessert plate, either so she wouldn’t drop it or to have a taste himself. Without looking at him, you placed it into his hands.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “Why didn’t you tell me that Bob is so funny?”

Jake swallowed before coughing. “You learn something new every day. Still waters, huh?”

Bob smiled awkwardly.

Upon seeing his reaction, you spoke up, “I always hated that saying. Bob’s an absolute sweetheart.” To reinforce your point to him, you rubbed Bob’s shoulder.

Bob adjusted his glasses while blushing. “I try my best, ma’am.”

“Bob!” You chuckled in mock outrage, swatting lightly against his chest.

He nodded with a small smile. “Yes, Y/N, affirmative.”

“We’re getting to know each other. I just found out that Bob’s from Montana and his momma used to be a Grizzlies mascot. Personally, I’m more of a Saints girl, but to each their own.”

Jake groaned, with his mouth full. “I’m eating here,” he muttered indignantly. Jake swallowed his food. “What did I ever do to you? The last time we did this, we had the Cowboys/Saints-gate.”

You leaned your head back against Jake’s chest, patting his cheek consolingly. “He’s such a big baby.”

Bob pressed his lips together. “Uh, I think I hear my name. I need to say hello to Maverick real quick.”

You reached out with your arm. “Oh, do put your feelers out if the birthday guy is still fine with me after I was blabbing my mouth about g-loc and Iceman’s record stats.”

“He’s probably fine.”

“But still!” You called out against his back as he left.

It was turning out to be a quiet evening, you realized, rubbing your feet.

Jake stepped into the living room, drying his moist hair with a towel. He leaned his shoulder against the doorway, watching you. “Would you look at that.”

You were transfixed on the film playing on Jake’s TV while you snuggled deeper under the towel on the couch. “What’s up?”

Jake decided to join you on the couch and put your feet on his lap. He spread his legs comfortably. Unconsciously, warming your heels. “You know, feels like old times. You sitting on my couch, taking all the blankets.”

You covered your eyes, with a groan, and leaned your head back. “You make me sound like a mooch. I offered to go to a hotel.”

“Hey, that’s not what I meant.” Jake chuckled. You felt the warmth of his hand when he reached for yours. Before you could blink, Jake stared deeply into your eyes and interlaced your fingers together. With a smile, he whispered, “I missed this. Feels like old times.”

With blushing cheeks, you felt your skin tingling at sitting so close to him. It was moments like these that made you question the nature of your friendship. You swallowed at seeing Jake’s sage-green eyes sparkle. His soft smile was making it hard to breathe.

You whispered, “Me too.”

“You know what else I miss? And what I can’t stop thinking about?”

You swallowed thickly, licking your lips. Feeling uncertain by his thought process, you slowly asked, “Which is what?”

Jake inched closer. “How I used to do this.” He tilted his head, rubbing his wet hair into the crook of your neck.

“You jerk!” You giggled from his attack. It made him seem more like a dog than a human when he was content in brushing his wet hair against your skin.

He grumbled lowly, as his warm breath puffed against your skin. “But this feels really nice. I could stay like this forever,” he said with a hum.

Your phone emitted a notification sound. “You’re an idiot.” Slapping against his forehead to push him away, deep chuckles followed you while your focus switched to your phone.

“You hungry? I could whip up some chicken teriyaki for us? I think I got some sauce in the cabinet. I know how much you love your teriyaki.” He groaned while standing up.

Giggles left your mouth when you read the incoming messages.

Jake turned his head. “Your girlfriends miss you already?”

You bit your lip. “No, it’s Bob just being sweet.”

Blinking slowly, Jake tried to process the words you just uttered. He cleared his throat. Jake’s voice turned slightly high-pitched. “Come again?” He coughed, placing his hands on his waist. “Are we talking about the same Bob? Bob Bob?”

You hummed in agreement without looking up.

He mumbled, “Didn’t know you guys already exchanged numbers. That’s quick, … right?”

With a curious gaze, you looked up. “What do you mean?”

Jake paused. “What do you mean?” He licked his lips, backtracking a bit. “With, you know, Bob … being a total sweetheart.”

You smiled fondly at the memory of the barbecue. “Well, he is. I really loved talking to him.”

With grumbling breaths, Jake puffed his chest. “Really?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Yep, it was fun.”

“As you keep mentioning,” Jake murmured.

“I did some thinking,” you spoke, “and I was wondering, how would you feel about doing karaoke night with your squad?”

At first, Jake had a look of appreciation which took a turn to disappointment. “But karaoke night is our thing,” he said, pointing between them.

“I know, but this could be like a bonding thing. You’d get to know them, I’d get to know them and we could have fun together. Win-win!”

He sighed deeply, letting his shoulders drop. “You’re far too invested in this.”

“I don’t want them to remember me as the friend who didn’t want to bother with them.”

Jake’s voice turned into a soothing murmur. “They wouldn’t dare think that.”

With a whisper, you enunciated, “Not if we do karaoke night. It’s going to be fun, I promise.”

#watchtowerindistress #steph writes #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #for the love of bob #jake seresin x fem!reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick fic #hangman x reader

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imthebadguyyy · 1 year

Text

Something Just Like This

pairing - charles leclerc x reader

fandom - f1

synopsis - a reflection on your relationship.

part - i (part ii)

warnings - talk about death, leukemia, badly translated french and the events may not be in order.

a/n - felt guilty for being away for so long so here's a wee little bit of a fic to make up for it!! all my love, always ♥️

when you were five,your dad had taken you to a go kart track in monaco, to watch a race with his childhood best friend, herve. having previously lived elsewhere, your trip to monaco with your parents was tremendously exciting, and you had nearly tripped over in your excitement at visiting a new country, and possibly making new friends. your dad had told you, "my friend has 3 sons himself, I'm sure you'll all get along very well"

so, you went, clutching your raggedy anne doll in one hand, and your model ferrari in the other, excitedly chattering away to your mummy and papa, eventually falling asleep on their shoulders.

when you awoke, you found yourself on a strange bed, with neither your doll nor your car beside you, and your parents seemed to have vanished too. the easy tears that had always been ready to spring to your eyes did their job, and your bottom lip began to wobble.

just before you could burst into tears, a pretty lady with kind eyes looked in at the door, and upon seeing your trembling lip, walked in with a soft coo.

"ma cherie, don't cry. are you looking for your maman and papa?" she asked, sitting down beside you.

"yes I am, do you know where they are?" you asked, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand as you spoke. "yes cherie, they're here, in the living room. im pascale, your parents friend! my husband, herve, is your dad's friend. come, let me introduce you"

and so you followed her to the living room, clutching into her finger for dear life, and the moment you spotted your parents, you ran to your mama, clambering into her lap and hiding your face in her hair.

"hello! are you y/n?" a little boy asked, with messy dark hair a sweet smile. you nodded, looking at him curiously. "I'm Lorenzo, but you can call me enzo!" he said with a smile. "hello" you mumbles softly, taking in your surroundings.

you took in the pretty apartment, with the bright sunlight and the pretty paintings, before something on the floor caught your eye.

there was another boy on the carpet, with brown hair and green eyes, who had in his clutch your missing ferrari toy.

"hey thats my car!" you exclaimed, sliding off your mother's lap to sit on the floor"

"that can't be your car, girls don't play with cars!" the boy exclaimed, holding it close.

"now charles, of course they can! and that is y/n's car so why don't you ask her if you can play with it together?" pascale interrupted, sensing a fight about to break out

"ok, im sorry y/n, can we share this car please? i love ferrari!" he exclaimed, flashing you a bright smile, and it was at that moment that your little five year old heart fell hard for the boy.

the two of you spent the afternoon together, playing with your ferrari and all his other cars, and laughing and giggling with lorenzo, and also playing with baby arthur.

your parents watched with smiles, realizing their children were forming life long bonds.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

no one could have foreseen how you would be joined at the hip forever after that. your parents moved to monaco for a job your dad got, and you started living just down the block from the leclerc's. that meant Saturday night dinners at either of your houses, and lazy Sundays spent at the beach or at go kart races.

you even went to the same school as the boys, with either of your parents picking you up and dropping you off.

as the years passed, you and charles got closer and closer, and it was a rare occasion where you weren't stuck at the hip.

you found in him the best friend you always wanted, funny, kind and caring, and always ready to have your back, something he proved on the very first day of school, when he punched a kid who pulled on your pigtails.

his parents weren't happy but when a tearful charles explained that "i couldn't let him hurt y/n/n!! i love her!!" pascale softened and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"you love her, do you?" she asked with a chuckle, when the boy nodded furiously. "she's my best friend, nobody should make her upset" he said determinedly, making his dad chuckle too.

"ok, mon fils, tu n'as pas de problèmes"

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

on your sixteenth birthday, the leclercs joined your family for a special dinner on the beach. your dad rented a yacht and you guys had spent the day sailing on it, and trying to catch fish and swimming in the blue water. you had all laughed and screamed and lorenzo had taught you how to do a proper cannonball into the water. your mother's had scolded him for teaching you such unladylike things, and he in turn said "but she's y/n! no one's expecting her to be ladylike!" at which point you had dunked him in the water.

you tuckered each other out by swimming around, and participating in a chicken fight with the leclercs. it was you in charles' shoulder, and arthur on lorenzo's. of course, you won.

it reminded you of when you were children, always together, always messing around in some way or the other. but with Charles spending more and more time racing, you got to see the leclercs much lesser than you'd have liked to.

so communication with Charles became through letters, written to him when he went out of the country to race, with his dad and brother. pascale was a regular visitor but meeting charles had become something to be cherished, what with you busy trying to get auditions to be a singer.

in the years that had passed, you and charles had become extremely close, meeting each other whenever possible and becoming each others support system whenever the other needed it. so of course it was fitting that he was your designated best friend, your confidante, your favourite leclerc (but we won't tell arthur that)

so that night after dinner, when charles suggested you take a walk together on the beach, you thought nothing of it. not until he pulled out a small bracelet he had made, out of seashells, that you gasped, leaping into his arms for a tight hug.

"i want you to have something to remember me by when I go racing, ma jolie, i know I'm not always around, but this way you'll always have a piece of me with you, even if I'm not there" he whispered, dropping a small kiss you your forehead.

gentle kisses and hugs and touch were not unusual for you, it was your love language and it always had been, ever since you were kids.

but there had always been a lingering crush you had on him (and him on you but we'll talk about that later) and you felt your belly burn red hot when his lips dropped to your cheek.

you pulled him in close for a hug, hand running through his hair, freshly cut by his mother.

"merci, ma vie" you whispered, pressing a kiss to his wrist, and as the both of you stayed there, your head on his shoulder, his head on yours, cozy on a rug he had stolen, watching the beautiful monaco sunset, you swore you had never loved anyone as much as you had in that moment.

and charles realized it too, looking over at you, and how the sunset cast a golden hue on your mesmerizing eyes, and the way your hair shimmered softly, and your skin glowed bright, and he swore he had never seen a sight prettier, and his little teenage heart fell a little harder for the five year old who worse pigtails and loved ferrari as much as he did.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

however, your story wasn't always just sunshine and rainbows. when you were seventeen, your dad was diagnosed with leukemia.

the news came as a shock to you, especially when the doctor told you, he did not have strong chances of recovery even with the proper surgery and treatment. you'd never forget your mother's wail, as she sobbed over your father's fate, and how pascale and herve were there for her through it all, but for you, you couldn't breathe.

you ran to the park, crawling under the slide set, your breathing harsh and shallow. your eyes were blurring and every breath sent a sharp pain shooting down your chest. around you, the world seemed to spin and you closed your eyes, drawing your knees in, and begging your brain to stop, and pressing a hand to your chest.

before you knew it you were gasping, every gasp making you more and more dizzy, and your heart seemed to be banging against your chest to get out.

"am i dying?" you thought to yourself, labouring gasps echoing in the darkness.

"and am i hearing things?" you also asked yourself, because you could have sworn you heard charles' voice.

and lo and behold, he appeared, panting and sweaty, sinking down next to you, grabbing your sweaty hands in his own and pushing his forehead down to yours.

"cherie? ma jolie? regarde-moi s'il te plaît, regarde-moi. maman told me what happened. please cherie, breathe for me, i need you to breathe. peux-tu respirer pour moi?" he begged, rubbing your back slowly and pressing kisses to your nose.

slowly, your breathing slowed down, but as it did, tears began to stream down your face, and ugly sobs wracked your body.

Charles felt his heart break, watching the strongest girl he knew break down in his arms, tears and sweat pooling on his shirt as you sobbed.

"i know, Cherie, i know" he whispered, his own eyes glazing over. he loved your dad as much as your dad loved him, and he couldn't believe it when his mother told him the news. he pulled you in even closer, so you were straddling his lap, and kept rubbing your back, whispering sweet nothings to you.

"papa, il va mourir et il va nous laisser maman et moi seules" you wailed into his shoulder and he shushed you gently.

"no no no, cherie, listen to me, please?" he asked, pulling your chin up, heart breaking when he saw your red eyes and runny nose.

you nodded slowly, still hiccupping, but letting him pull you into his chest.

"y/n, i cannot tell you what the future holds for your papa. but I can promise you that you and mama will never be alone, ever. even if the day comes when we have to say goodbye to your papa, you will never, ever be alone, not while I am there, not while maman is there, not while papa is there, and not while lorenzo and arthur are there. you are my family, y/n, and family sticks together. I'm here for you, always" he whispered.

you looked at him, your heartbroken eyes looking into his sincere green ones, seeing the same pain reflected in them. and in that moment, you knew it was right when you leaned in, and he did too.

your lips met that cold, dark, rainy evening, under the shade of the slide set in the park, but your souls had intertwined when you were five, and you could have sworn you had never felt more alive than you did at the moment.

and while your heart broke and sagged with the weight of losing your father so soon, it also ached with love at having charles with you. so when you drew back, still tasting, the salty tears you both had shed, he pulled you back in for a tighter hug.

"toujours là pour toi cherie, toujours."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you lost your dad the following year, in 2016, and charles was by your side at the funeral, watching you cry as you placed a white rose on his casket.

you had never spoken about that kiss again, and neither of you had thought it was the right time to bring it up in the months that followed.

charles watched as your mother, the woman he so admired, crumbled before him, lost without her guiding light. is that how it would ever be if you ever lost him?

the fear that coursed through his heart shocked him. he couldn't imagine what it would be like, to loose someone he loved so dearly.

his father had taken over as a surrogate father for you, and constant support for your mother. but the leclercs knew something that you didn't, their father wasn't keeping very well either, but no one had the heart to tell the l/n's, not when you were already suffering through so much.

after the funeral, there was a small tea at your own house, but you couldn't bear to be there. so at the first opportunity, you slipped away, leaving your mother in pascales care.

you ran, not caring where, until you found yourself at the beach. you sat down, pulling off your shoes and throwing your hat away, before sinking down on your knees to the sand.

you sobbed, salty tears dripping down your face, holding the locket your dad gave you in your hands, and once again, a familiar smell filled your nose as a warm body settled in next to you. charles.

"hi cherie" he whispered, wrapping an arm around you.

"hello" you whispered, mustering up a small smile.

"ma courageuse fille" he whispered softly, making you giggle and sob at the same time.

"i have to be strong for maman" you admitted. "she has no one but me in this world anymore" you whispered, eyes blurring again.

"she has us, always" charles said determinedly. "and we aren't going anywhere" he said, taking your hand in his.

and as the sun set once again, you reminicsed about a simpler, sweeter time, when you and charles where carefree and innocent, not scarred by life and it's harsh realities.

there was something special in that sunset, you noted, resting your head on charles shoulder again. perhaps your papa was trying to indicate that charles was the one for you.

but at the moment, sitting by the beach, in a moment of joined sorrow, you had never felt more human.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

with charles growing success in f2, and you finally getting a record deal, life was going well.

until you were told that herve was not doing well. denial flooded your brain. no. how was this possible? how could god take both the father's in your life to disease and illness?

you screamed and wailed and cursed, too stung, too bitter, about life.

and then the day came, in 2017. when pascale called you sobbing and lorenzo came to your door knocking wildly.

"c'est papa,il ne se réveille pas !! tante laura, qu'est-ce qu'on fait?!'

your mom was out the door in an instant and you followed, following a heartbroken lorenzo to the door of the house you knew so well.

you could hear pascales wails before you even reached, and the easy tears rose again but you forced them down.

you had to be strong for your second family, and with a deep breath, you pushed the door in.

what you saw broke you.

charles, sobbing on the sofa, head in his hands, while arthur sat next to his mother, in tears.

your mother dealt with all the formalities but you stuck to charles, letting him cry into your shoulder, holding him the hold day, whispering how much you loved him and how sorry you were to him, and promising him that he wasn't alone.

you comforted arthur too, holding the boy in your arms, wrapping him in the tightest hug.

you had never felt more respect for Lorenzo, ever the big brother, tears streaming down him face, even though he stayed so strong for his family.

later that evening, you held charles in their balcony, wrapped in a blanket that you had knitted for him.

"i feel so hollow, so empty" he admitted, burying his face deeper into your neck, trying his best to stay grounded by inhaling the scent of your perfume.

"i feel as if a piece of my heart has been snatched away and I'll never be okay again" he admitted, tears filling his eyes for the hundredth time that day.

"i know, charles, believe me I know" you whispered softly to him, running your hands through his hair, "but a wise boy I know once told me, that I was never ever going to be alone. he told me 'even if the day comes when we have to say goodbye to your papa, you will never, ever be alone, not while I am there' and today charles, I am saying the same to you. i know that it hurts like anything right now and that pain will never go away"

"feel that pain charles. it's what makes you human, ma vie,and i know it hurts. but I am here for you. take out all your pain and I will be there to catch you when you fall. i will be there to put you back together when you fall apart. i am here for you ma vie, always" you whispered to him, and he choked out a sob, curling himself into you, never more sure of his love for you.

"i lied and told him I got the ferrari seat" he finally choked out, and with a soft whisper of "oh charles" you pulled him in close.

there it was.

the reason why he felt like his soul was being eaten up inside.

"charles, mon coeur, i promise, you will get that ferrari seat. it will be soon, and you will have kept that promise to your papa, i have a feeling mon coeur, that your future in formula 1 will be as bright and shiny as you, and you are going to get everything you deserve, i know you will"

and he chose to take solace in your words.

just like he took solace in your soul.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you made your formula 2 debut alongside charles at Baku that year. everyday you were left more in awe of the powerful force that he was, ready to race in less than a week, because he felt he owed it to the man who made him who he was.

so you told him you'd go with him, be his support and be there for him when he needed you to most.

and you were left spellbound yet again, at his talent, his resilience, his drive, his passion.

p fucking 1. at a race that meant the world to him.

and as he ran towards you after, body colliding with yours so hard you swear some of your bones snapped, you told him everything you had to in your embrace.

rough racing gloves on delicate skin, frenzied pulling closer and harsh breathing. thats all you remembered from the moment, looking deep into his emerald ,knowing the media was having a field day.

"I'm so so so so proud of you so fucking proud" you whispered. "and i know your dad is too" you continued, pressing a small kiss to his helmet.

when he stood on the podium, tears streamed down your cheeks. you were so so so proud of him.

and as he looked down at you, he smiled, knowing you were always going to be his brightest star.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Charles' journey is formula 1 started with Sauber but you knew for a fact that he wouldn't stay there.

when kimi announced he was leaving ferrari, you called charles and screamed into his ears "YOURE GOING TO GET THAT FUCKING SEAT MARK MY WORDS" and he had simply chuckled saying he was hoping for the best.

so when in the middle of recording a song, your phone rang with charles' name, you dropped everything you were doing and picked up the phone.

"je l'ai fait. j'ai eu le siège"

"quoi?"

"le siège ferrari. j'ai compris. c'est à moi. je vais être pilote de ferrari pour 2019"

the scream you let out was so loud your producer jumped out of his skin.

"I'm so proud of you!! J'ai toujours su que tu l'aurais, tu mérites le monde et plus encore!!" you screamed, tears streaming down your face and you heard charles laugh.

"merci, mon cherie. i will celebrate with you soon" he chuckled.

"obviously you will!! I'll be home soon, let me just finish this album first and then I am all yours" you laughed.

oh how you longed to be all his. it's all you'd ever wanted since you were a teenager.

charles' heart ached.

oh how he longed for you to be all his. it was all he'd ever wanted since he was a teenager.

later that day, you wrote the song feels like.

social media had a breakdown.

charles had a breakdown.

but that's mainly because he'd rather you wrote a love song about him.

unbeknownst to him, you had atleast a 100 lovesongs written about him.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

clicking your pen for the hundredth time, you let out a sigh.

this songwriting thing was so frustrating.

it seemed like you had a billion ideas but nothing compact came out of it.

with a deep sigh, you let your hand crash against the piano, letting the discordant notes ring in your apartment.

but the ending caught your attention.

humming, you grabbed your pen again, jotting down, scribbling down all the things you wanted to say but never would.

being a singer had always been, and just as charles was flourishing in his career, you were flourishing in yours. you had already won a grammy for your album 'nostalgia' and had won amas, Brit awards, and 2 vma awards.

'the rising star of pop' was what they affectionately called you.

you had stunned the world with your versatility and range and the depth of your songs. ballads like gravity and last kiss had shown your emotional depth. songs like when I get there and make you feel my love had showing your delicate, romantic, vulnerable side. songs like happier reflected your pain.

your song fat funny friend had shot you into the global scene when you released it as a single. millions of fans wrote to you, thanking you for being vulnerable so others could feel seen.

and of course, no one picked up on the secret ballads for charles, pinning it down to young love and romance that was usual for all people your age.

so as you finally finished the song and smiled, you knew they wouldn't guess for this one either.

but you would know.

and so you sent it to be your next single.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

summer break rolled around, and you had a new mission - confessing your feelings for charles.

you were sure the timing was right.

you had to tell your best friend in the whole world that you were madly in love with him.

you told pascale, who squealed and told you "welcome to the family officially!!' earning a laugh from you.

"let me tell the boy first maman, then I'll tell you what he says"

"of course he'll say he loves you too! i know my son cherie, he's been in love with you since you were children, he's just too stupid to do anything about it" she joked affectionately and you laughed.

"j'espere que tu as raison maman. i love him very much" you admitted, blushing a little.

"of course darling. come to dinner tonight, everyone will be there, you can tell him then" she smiled, and you got up to go get dressed, pressing two kisses to her cheek.

back home, you nervously scouted your cupboard to see what you could wear. you showered and washed your hair, and put on a red dress that charles had gifted you when he got his seat.

smiling at the memory, you put on your makeup, did your hair and took a deep breath.

you were really going to do it. you were going to tell the man you had loved your whole life that you loved him.

the drive to the leclercs house was nerve wracking, and ringing the doorbell to their home was even more nerve wracking. you saw lorenzo there already, and he rose to greet you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

"how are you y/n? i haven't spoken to you in a long time no?" he asked, sitting down next to you.

"I'm good enzo, very busy with recording. howve you been? I'm sorry i haven't been keeping in touch, I've just been very busy" you apologised, feeling guilty for not spending a lot of time with the oldest Leclerc.

"don't be silly, soeur, i understand you are busy. and your music, it's been a joy to listen to. you're truly a talent, ma belle" he said, and you could feel yourself getting emotional.

"aw, enzo, meri beaucoup, votre avis est très important pour moi" you said, giving him another hug.

he poured you a glass of wine, a small smile playing on his lips.

"so, is tonight finally the night?" he asked with a smirk, remembering how smitten you were for his brother.

you blushed, taking a sip of your wine to cover for it.

"yes, I'm going to tell him tonight" you admitted and he flashed you a warm smile of encouragement.

"Tell who what?" a voice interrupted, and the youngest leclerc plopped himself down next to you.

"y/n/n's going to tell charlie she loves him" lorenzo stated matter of factly, making you Tut and whack his arm.

"quoi? are we not telling arthur?" he asked, feigning hurt.

"i was going to tell him" you whined and then you turned to arthur.

"you must swear to not bring this up until it's over okay?" you told arthur, trying and failing to be stern.

arthur pretended to be hurt.

"of course I won't? what do you take me for, a gossip box?"

"yes" you and lorenzo chimed in unison.

arthur gasped dramatically, making you roll your eyes.

"do you really think that low of me?" he asked, pretending to cover his eyes in agony.

"yes, now shush, i think i heard the bell ring" Lorenzo said, getting up to open the door.

you bit your lip nervously, preparing for charles to walk in the day.

and he did. he looked gorgeous as ever, in a shirt the cover of deep red wine, hair tousled by the wind on his drive, but his eyes and smile were as bright as ever.

your heart started beating so fast you swore you almost had a heart attack.

but nothing could have prepared you for what he said next.

"everyone, i want you to meet charlotte"

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n - aaaand drum roll please 🥁 cliffhanger!!

i promise i won't leave you hanging but this was getting too long and it needed some ✨spice✨ i know this wasn't the best and the timeline wasnt cohesive but I needed to get this out of my system so pls go easy on your girl.

feedback, comments,opinions, reblogs and likes are always appreciated 🩷

hope you had a good read!! much love always xoxo

taglist -

everything - @hopefulinlove @bluesongbird @roslastyles420

f1 - @theonly1outof-a-billion

to be added to the taglist send me an ask, dm or comment 🩷

masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

#Charles Leclerc #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x y/n #Charles Leclerc imagines #Charles Leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagine #f1 #formula 1 #f1 imagines #f1 drivers x reader #f1 drivers #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #cl #cl16

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twig-tea · 13 days

Text

It is such a wild time to be watching QL, there is SO MUCH every day. And a lot of it is really good?!

Today I watched EIGHT different shows, and of them, I was really happy with the episode for all but one. Here are a few words about the ones I had a good time with today:

Addicted Heroin Thailand crossed the first hurdle of adaptation by including the kidnapping scene. Looks like they're continuing to stay true to the source. I appreciated that this scene in particular retained the emotional core while toning down the SA threat (though Hero's desire is still very much present). This is a solid adaptation so far!

Reverse 4 U is using the powers so well, and I am loving the sister relationship, especially how they tease one another around their powers. It's also building to the relationship turn between Four and Wa in a believable way, which I'm really enjoying.

Peaceful Property is delightful and as @lurkingshan already articulated so well, I love what is being set up re: inequality. Plus this show is just so funny! it's balancing these two threads really well and doing a good job maintaining the haunting-of-the-week energy so far.

Love is like a poison had an incredible first episode, I love the effects and cutaways in this show, and the way it is making fun of its protagonist is so much fun. Ryoma is a dork with main character syndrome and I am obsessed with him. Curious how they're going to turn around this setup into a romance!

I Saw You In My Dream was a baller episode, @my-rose-tinted-glasses wrote about how great it is to see a conversation like this between friends as well as between lovers; all of the conversations in this episode were good (between both couples, between the besties, and between the parents). I really appreciate how, as many folks have said, everyone in a relationship in this episode wants to have sex, and the barriers to having sex are real and discussed openly. Big fan of everything in this ep. We've really departed from the dreams, which I think we need to get back to, but this ep was worth the deviation.

The On1y One continues to be incredible; Thank you in particular to Faiza (@usertoxicyaoi) who has been giffing like mad to capture every important conversation in this episode which was so many of them. The one about moving to the dorms together made me misty fr. I love when youths who did not get a chance to have a childhood get to blow bubbles.

Unlock Your Love also started today, I really enjoyed the very pulpy and trope-filled previous show this team put together (Lucky My Love) so I've been excited for this. We have a workplace GL filled with canon bisexuals, a grumpy/sunshine dynamic with a history from college, and a playgirl. I'm so seated.

I don't usually do a roundup post like this but it just hit me how much good television I got to watch today, and how rare it is that I have this good a time with almost everything I'm watching, and I needed to capture the moment.

Tomorrow, all 6 episodes of A Time of Fever drop on iQIYI, as well as How to Make a Million Before Grandma Dies on Netflix, and that's in addition to the episodes of The Onl1y one, The Two of Us, Monster Next Door, Twilight Out of Focus, and probably Seoul Blues that will be dropping too.

I'm really having trouble keeping up with everything airing, everything I want to write about it, and everything being said about the shows on tumblr. It's the best possible problem to have!

#addicted heroin th #reverse 4 u #peaceful property #love is like a poison #doku koi: doku mo sugireba koi to naru #i saw you in my dream #the on1y one #unlock your love #bl meta #gl meta #typed so that i can stop thinking it

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santaasi · 7 months

Text

SHADOWS

pairing: jj maybank x routledge!fem!reader

summary: when emotions take over and shadows are swallowed up, all you need is to find a person who will become your light (based on shadows by sabrina carpenter)

warnings: angst, a little bit of fluff, use of y/n, english is not my first language

word count: 2.3k

a/n: the action takes place after the finale of the first season of obx

We all got nightmares in our dreams

We look for someone to believe in us

And show us the way

And make it okay

The world can be dangerous

Everyone in Kildare knew who JJ Maybank was. A flighty, self-confident blonde, a girls man, the life of all parties, and the honored prince of pogues. You could always buy the best weed from him at the best price, and repair the car as soon as possible. He appears in the police station more often than at home, and all parents pray only that their child does not fall under his charm. JJ Maybank was a walking problem, but despite that he had a heart of gold.

As a child, his mother told him that life consists of white and black stripes, like a zebra. But for some reason, JJ's own life was like a big and long black tunnel, in which fireflies sometimes appeared, illuminating his life. John B, Kiara and Pope were the only bright spots in his life, the most important people who, no matter what, stayed by his side.

But it was only for John B, that JJ was ready to do anything, because their bond had always been stronger than just friendship. They were brothers who had been going through all the problems together since childhood. John B. was by JJ's side when his mother left the family when he was seven. John B. was there when JJ's drunk father beat him almost to death when he returned home one night. John B. was there to treat his wounds, and allocated a separate room for him in the chateau so that JJ would not have to return home. John B. was the one who always believed in JJ, who knew that despite all the words of the people around Maybank, he would not become like his father.

That's why the loss of John B in the storm two weeks ago was another blow to JJ's gut from a life that proved to him over and over again that JJ Maybank was not made for happiness.

There's something so rare in your veins

Not a single thing I would change

And oh, if you only knew how I see you

Would you come alive again, alive again?

But despite how much JJ Maybank treasured his friendship with John B., he couldn't do anything about his feelings for his friend's younger sister, who, like a little sun, always lit his way in this pitch darkness of his life.

Y/N Routledge has always been her brother's most precious treasure. After their father disappeared, John B. devoted himself to his sister, protecting her from everything, promising that he would always be by her side. And now, seven months after Big John disappeared, John B. wasn't with her either. She was left all alone in this big world, which seemed ready to swallow her completely.

The first week after John B. went missing, JJ heard Y/N crying quietly at night, suppressing her screams, burying her face in the pillow. He could hear the sound of her bare feet on the wooden floor and the slam of the screen door when she woke up at the middle of the night from nightmares and went out on the porch to get some fresh air. Every night, Maybank cursed the thin walls of the chateau and John B. for causing her so much pain by leaving. But no matter how much JJ wanted to help her, he was too deeply drawn into the swamp of his own feelings, from which he could not get out in any way.

Y/N wasn't blind to what was going on with her brother's best friend either. She knew how much shit JJ had to go through in his entire life, how many loved ones he had to lose, and she understood that losing John B was another blow for him. She felt how he blamed himself for what had happened, heard how he wakes up at nights from nightmares, asking John B. and Sarah not to go into the storm, saw how only a pitiful shadow remained of the former JJ and it broke her heart.

The girl always admired the strength of JJ's spirit, despite all the shit that happened in his life, he stayed afloat. He raised his head and walked confidently and straight on. He supported his friends, was ready to do anything for them, even go to prison for a case that he did not commit, as long as his friends, his only family remained unharmed.

And JJ Maybank was always there for her. When her heart was broken for the first time, he was there, holding her tightly to his chest, whispering soothing words in her ear. When she was fighting with John B., JJ was always on her side, listening to her outrage. JJ Maybank went to parties with her, dancing with her until the sunrise, sat with her on rainy evenings at the chateau, watching romcoms that he hated, brought her her favorite sweets when she was sick, taught her surfing and listened to all the gossip from her work during their mini spa days at the chateau with such interest, as if Y/N told him about the beginning of the universe. JJ Maybank was always there for the younger Rotledge and it was just impossible for her not to fall in love with him.

She loved her brother's best friend even when he was a complete mess. When he cried on her shoulder after another fight with Luke. When he got drunk and she had to carry him to the chateau. When he was angry at her for getting into all these dangerous things with all the other pogues.

Y/N Routledge loved JJ Maybank in every shape and condition. And she would never change even the slightest detail about him, because for her, JJ Maybank was perfect for who he is.

Y/N was also hurt by the loss of her brother, and she, like no one else, could understand all of JJ's pain, but unlike him, she had the strength to live and move on. She didn't blame herself for what had happened, realizing that John B. had always been too stubborn to listen to anyone, but JJ… He was devouring himself from the inside out. He dug out the grave himself and buried himself with his head. The darkness that had been accumulating in him for so long was finally winning. And Y/N was scared. She didn't want to lose him either. She couldn't lose him.

I need you to understand

Y/N stood in front of the door to JJ’s room, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, doubting the correctness of her actions. They haven't spoken since the day John B disappeared, although they've been living under the same roof all this time, but they were functioning on their own.

After hearing another sob from behind the door, the girl finally opened it, going inside.

It was very dark and cold here, but after getting used to the darkness for a couple of seconds, Y/N began to distinguish silhouettes.

The room was a complete mess: all the clothes from the wardrobe were spread out on the floor, along with books, notebook sheets, rumpled bed linen and glass fragments that glittered in the moonlight. The lamp fell from the bedside table and was lying in the corner.

JJ was sitting at the foot of the bed, his head buried between his knees, and his hands were clutching the strands of his blonde hair in fists. His body was trembling. Even without seeing his face, Y/N could tell with certainty that JJ was trying his best to cope with the hysteria that was punishing him.

"Hey, J, are you okay?" the girl asked softly, quietly approaching the guy and kneeling next to him.

Startled, JJ mmediately raised his head, staring at the girl in shock, as if he had seen a ghost. There were wet marks on his cheeks, and his eyes were swollen and red from crying. More than anything, Y/N wanted to hold him close and comfort him, to convince him that everything would be fine.

"Angel?" JJ asked hoarsely, not believing his eyes. The sound of her soft and gentle voice sent a wave of goosebumps through his body. Her voice. It had been so long since he had heard her voice. "Did I wake you up? I'm sorry... I-I didn't mean to... I-" JJ stumbled through his words, frowning and averting his gaze from the girl.

"Hey, hey, hey... calm down, J," the girl whispered softly, covering his palm with her hand. "I understand, okay? Everything is fine," the girl said soothingly, trying to smile.

I don't mind your shadows

'Cause they disappear in the light

JJ's gaze ran over her face, going over every detail of her appearance that he has memorized over all these years by heart. She looked the same as always, but her gaze seemed to have lost the spark that made his heart beat faster every time. But now all he could see there was emptiness and sadness, which even her slight smile couldn't hide.

All these two weeks, living under the same roof with her, JJ avoided her gaze, afraid to see this look. The look of loss. The loss of a brother that JJ felt responsible for. The lucky charm for all problems in the world is JJ Maybank. And JJ hated himself for it.

He caused her so much pain, coming to her to heal his wounds after fights with his father or kooks, or when he brought girls to the chateau, knowing full well about her feelings for him... Because he's afraid to admit to her that he's experiencing the same thing. JJ Maybank destroyed not only her life, but also the lives of all the people around him. And he thinks that it would be better for everyone if he just didn't exist.

Y/N noticed how his jaw clenched, and his gaze fixed on the wall became colder and felt a wave of goosebumps pass through her body when he abruptly got up from the floor early. Routledge Jr. could always understand her brother's best friend even without words. This situation was no exception. She understood that JJ's inner demons were devouring him from the inside out.

"Don't do this, Jay. Don't do this to yourself," Y/N whispered softly, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to burst, but her voice trembled treacherously.

"I'm the problem, angel," JJ said without turning to the girl still sitting on the floor. "I am the main cause of your troubles! Wherever I go, I only make things worse! I... didn't save John B.... I'm hurting you... I..."

"Don't do this to me, Jay!" the girl repeated more forcefully, jumping to her feet, wiping away tears.

"I don't care about your shadows! I'm not afraid of them!" Y/N said sobbing, clutching his hand. "I'm here! I'm always there for you! I'll be your light if you need me. But don't leave me… I-I love you."

And listen to me, it's okay to be afraid

Just walk like you're never alone

"I didn't stop your brother, Y/N," the guy continued to insist, whispering, feeling tears accumulate in his eyes again. "He’s not here! And it’s my fucking fault!"

Y/N's hands cupped his cheeks, pressing his forehead to hers, closing her eyes and trying to calm her breath. JJ's hands rested on her waist, pressing her against his body, wanting to feel such a missing and dear warmth to his heart. JJ could feel her thumbs wiping away the tears rolling down his cheek.

"Listen to me, J. It's not your fault," Dana whispered softly.

"It's not your fault that John B is a stubborn bastard who always does everything the way he wants," the girl chuckled softly, feeling tears begin to roll down her cheeks too. She missed her brother like crazy, and she would do anything to have him here with her right now. But here and now, there was no John B., it was just her and JJ, who was damn bad at handling his emotions. So, Maybank and his mental state were more important to her than grief for her brother right now.

"You know you wouldn't have stopped him, so stop blaming yourself," Y/N sniffed, opening her eyes to meet his blue gaze. "It's not your fault."

The guy nodded slowly, holding her closer to him, burying his nose in her neck, inhaling soft vanilla scent of her hair. Y/N felt his body shaking in her arms, as he desperately clung to her, trying not to let himself completely collapse.

"I'm so scared that they won't come back, angel," the guy whispered softly into her neck. "I'm so scared that he won’t come back…"

"Me too, but it's okay," the girl whispered with a lump in her throat, running a soothing hand through his hair. "Everything will be okay… He will return… It’s- It‘s John B, he always returns"

There was silence in the room, broken only by their ragged breathing and the patter of raindrops on the window. JJ lifted his head, gently brushing away the strands of hair stuck to Y/N's cheeks, giving her a soft smile. JJ kissed her gently on the forehead before pulling her to his chest, hugging her tightly. His chin rested on top of her head.

"But we'll get through this together, as we always have. Like we've done it hundreds of times," Y/N said in a barely audible voice, forcing not only JJ, but also herself to believe that someday, everything will come to its senses again.

That someday John B and Sarah will come back and everything will be as before. That maybe someday her father will be found too and she will have a family again. That the black shadows that consumed JJ's life would be replaced by the sun's rays that would illuminate his path. That someday their life will really become like a zebra, and not like a black tunnel from which there is no way out.

But for now, all they could do was hold on to each other tightly, not letting themselves drown in the shadows of grief and loss.

And Y/N Routledge knew for sure that with JJ Maybank by her side, she could survive anything.

And all these voices in our head

Well, they keep screaming louder and louder

But they won't pull us under

thankx for reading <з

this is my first work on Tumblr, so I hope you enjoyed it. feedback always appreciated :з

– your santi ✨

#– santi 🪐#jj maybank x reader #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fic #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x routledge!reader

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fluentmoviequoter · 4 months

Text

Two of Them

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!reader

Summary: When Hondo asks you to help catch a car thief, you meet Jim Street. As you get to know one another, you learn that you have a lot in common, but balance each other out perfectly.

Warnings: r loves cars/owns an auto shop & is sarcastic and makes jokes (very similar to Street), mentions of robbery and murder, fluff, softie Street

Word Count: 4.7k+ words

A/N: There's so many things I love about this request and a ton of (personal) references! I hope you all enjoy!🤍

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

Someone wolf whistles as the garage door opens, and you walk faster to see what is worthy of such attention. When you step into the garage if your auto restoration shop, your jaw drops.

“Is that a ’59 Impala?” you ask breathlessly.

“Sure is,” Joel, your righthand man and drivetrain expert, answers. “She’s here for a tune-up. I know you’re busy, boss, so I can handle this one.”

“Yeah, right!” you exclaim. “All of my childhood dreams are under that hood.”

“You dreamt about reconstructed motors as a kid?”

“Do you talk to your wife like this, Joel? Because she’s never going to let you buy a C-10 with that attitude.”

He chuckles before he waves toward the office. “Impala owner is in there. Wants to talk to you.”

“Thanks, Joel. Don’t start without me!” you call over your shoulder.

As you enter the lobby, you put on your best customer service smile and straighten your shirt.

“Good afternoon,” you greet. “You must be the owner of that beautiful Impala.”

“Yes, ma’am. My friend Rick Castle told me that you were the person to see. I had the car restored by a guy in Texas, a ground-up rebuild, but it’s not riding as smoothly as it was before. The passenger side – sorry, I’m not very good at explaining these things – it almost feels like it’s bouncing while I drive,” he explains.

“Okay, that’s really helpful. It sounds like it’s probably an alignment issue. We can look at it today and give you a call when we find the issue,” you suggest.

“That would be great. Thank you.”

You review the paperwork he completed with Joel quickly before telling him bye. After putting his contact information into your computer system, you rush back to the garage.

“Let’s find out what’s causing the involuntary hydraulics,” you tell Joel.

“Hondo, get 20 squad in here!” Hicks calls.

As they gather in the situation room, Lieutenant Lynch queues a video pulled from a security camera. Street recognizes the location as the building they raided a few days earlier but remains quiet as she begins speaking.

“This is, of course, the building you raided. If you’ll recall, we hoped to locate an unidentified subject tied to several car robberies, assaults, and more recently, carjacking with deadly force. He killed a driver during a carjacking gone wrong and has continued to get more violent with each crime. We still haven’t identified the perp, courtesy of his never-ending vehicle supply and seeming knowledge of traffic cams. He didn’t seem to think about the security camera across the street from the parking garage before the raid, however.”

She presses a button on the tablet in her hand, and the video begins to play. Several cars come and go, but there’s nothing unusual. Hicks raises his hand to point to the time stamp, and the guys watch, waiting for some smoking gun or clear picture of the guy running from the cops. All that happens, though, is a man leaving in a convertible. Lynch pauses the video again and looks up expectantly.

“Was that a Triumph?” Luca asks excitedly. “Those are still rare in the states, even decades after they stopped manufacturing them.”

“It’s not stock,” Street adds with a shake of his head. “That’s not standard suspension, and the paint is too new to be original. Whoever brought that over had a lot of work done to it.”

“Which is great, makes it easier to find,” Hicks agrees. “Except there’s no plates, no registration, and no one has reported it missing. There’s not even a T3 in that color registered to anyone through the California DMV. We have something to look for, but no more information on who we’re looking for.”

“I know someone who can help,” Hondo says. “Classic cars, new paint, rebuilds…”

“You have a car guy?” Deacon asks. “Why?”

“Of course, I have a car guy,” Hondo scoffs. “My dad may have introduced me.”

“That makes more sense,” Luca says, nodding with Deacon.

“Hold on, guys,” Lynch calls. “The tech team thinks they may have found another lead. Consensus is this video is the same driver.”

She plays a new video, this one taken from a gas station camera. Another newer sports car pulls in, but no one exits the car. It sits for nearly three minutes, then pulls out.

“I’m not as versed as these guys, but that looks like a Lamborghini,” Tan comments. “Can’t be too hard to trace those in Los Angeles.”

“It is when they don’t have the original drivetrain. The back tires spun out way too far in that turn. It’s been modified, too,” Luca points out.

“He’s either got a thing for modified sports cars or he’s someone who’s flipping them to be completely different cars after he steals them,” Street hypothesizes.

“Your car guy gonna be able to help with that?” Hicks asks Hondo.

“Oh, yeah,” he answers. “This case’ll be closed in a week.”

“Then get out of here. You’ve got a rare car to track down.”

“One more thing,” Lynch says. “Really, I promise this is the last thing. None of those cars have been seen again. Seems like he drives them once and then ditches them.”

“He has to have his own garage, then,” Street says. “One that I wish I had.”

“Then it’s a bigger target,” Hondo declares. “Let’s roll.”

The chime connected to the front door of your shop rings loudly and you tell Joel to go check on the customer. You are under a 1977 Chevrolet Nova and elbow-deep in the engine bay. Even if you’d wanted to be the first face they saw, given that it is your business, you wouldn’t be able to get out from under the car before they assumed no one was here.

“Ah ha,” you murmur.

You pull the broken mounting bracket down past the ballast. It falls to the floor with a loud ting before you roll out from under the car. As you sit up and wipe your grease-covered hands on your coveralls, you see Hondo looking at you with his brows raised.

“Hello,” you greet.

“You got a little something right… everywhere,” he jokes.

“Funny,” you reply as you stand. “If your eyesight is that good, it’s no wonder you made SWAT.”

Someone laughs behind him, and you lean to the side. His entire squad waits in the lobby, and you wave before returning your attention to Hondo.

“I take it you’re not here about your dad’s car then,” you muse.

“Not today. We need some help with a case, if you have the time,” he explains.

“Sure. I’ll have Joel take you to my office. Let me clean up and I’ll meet you – all of you, I guess – in there in a minute.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

“You owe me an entire car at this point, Hondo,” you call as you walk out of the garage.

Once you’re out of your stained overalls and have washed all of the grease and car-related grime off of your skin, you return to your office. Hondo and three other men wait beside your desk, and you invite them to sit. Hondo introduces you to Tan, Luca, and Street, and you shake each of their hands before you sit across from them. Hondo rolls his eyes when you smile at Street, but you’re not sure why.

“So, what exactly does Metro SWAT need from an auto shop?” you ask.

“Long story short, there’s a guy stealing sports cars; classics, fresh off the floor, and everything in between. Then he’s customizing them, driving them once, and ditching them for a new illegally obtained ride,” Hondo answers.

You nod as you think, then lean on your elbows on your desk. “Why customize them?”

“To make them untraceable, we think,” Luca answers. “You can’t report a car missing if it doesn’t exist anymore.”

“That tracks,” you agree. “But then the question becomes, how do you ditch them? You can’t leave something like that at a chop shop, the parts would bring more issues.”

“Private garage,” Street says. “Or maybe he’s selling them out of the county. Lots of possibilities.”

“It takes an incredibly rich, incredibly dumb person to treat cars like that,” you comment.

“We deal with criminals,” Hondo interrupts. “Rich and dumb is kind of our thing.”

“No, Hondo, cars aren’t like people. They fight back, they don’t just disappear without a trace.”

“She’s right,” Street adds. “These cars are more than property to be stolen.”

“What are you saying?” Hondo asks.

“Ever read Christine?” you joke.

“Or heard of Decepticons?” Street adds.

You smile at him again, and he nods before he winks quickly.

“So, can you help us or not?” Hondo inquires.

“Yeah, of course. What do you need me to do?”

“We’ve got some security cam footage of the cars he’s altered. We need to know where he’s getting the work done, or info on where a private garage big enough for a collection like this would be.”

“I’d be happy to look. I can’t promise anything, though. My clientele is more of the rebuild this classic or fix this issue not the I want to make a rare sports car even more unique off the books.”

“That’s why we’re here.” Hondo looks at his phone quickly and huffs. “Uh, Street, you stay and go over the videos with her. Deac said he and Chris need backup.”

“You got it,” Street answers.

Hondo thanks you quickly before he, Luca, and Tan leave. You’re left alone in your office with Street and aren’t sure how to start a conversation after joking together while Hondo filled you in on the case.

“Uh, here’s the videos. There’s only a few on this, but it should be enough to get an idea of what he’s doing,” Street says as he passes you a memory stick.

You take it from him and insert it into your computer. As the videos begin playing, you rewind it, pause it, and take a few notes. The cars in it don’t have anything in common, other than the fact that they’re stolen and modified.

“Well, I can say for sure that my guys didn’t do this work. Nobody I work with did, either. I’ll ask around and see what I can find,” you tell Street.

“I appreciate that,” he replies. “You know, when Hondo said he had a car guy, I was expecting…”

“A guy?” you guess.

“I mean, yeah. Middle-aged, beer belly, his name on the sign. The usual.”

“Sounds like my shapewear is doing its job if you don’t see a beer belly,” you joke.

“Please, you know how pretty you are,” Street replies.

“Seems like you think so.”

You lean forward and smile as you return the video drive to Street. He returns your smile and opens his mouth, likely to make another joke, before Joel knocks on the door.

“We’ve got another customer, boss. With a ’73 Corolla,” he informs.

“Excellent timing,” you mumble.

Street stands as you do and says, “Call Hondo, or me, whoever, if you find anything. Thanks for helping.”

“I will. Thanks, Street.”

He leaves through the lobby, and you take a deep breath. Joel smiles as he watches you, but you tell him to get back to work before he can comment.

“On what?” he yells behind you.

“Hondo, we’re not even doing anything,” Street groans in HQ the following morning. “Just let me go make sure she doesn’t need help or anything!”

“She knows more about cars than you do,” Hondo answers.

“That’s not what I mean. C’mon, man, she has an auto shop. Are you really going to make me sit here when I could be solving a case in my dream garage?”

“Hondo!” Deacon calls. “We’ve got another video. New car this time, but it doesn’t look modified.”

Street looks toward Hondo expectantly, and nearly cheers when Hondo sighs and tells him to go. He accepts the video and rushes to his motorcycle. Work will be more fun with you, he thinks.

“You’re back,” you say when Street walks into the garage.

“And you’re working on a 1960s Mustang,” he says dreamily.

“1964,” you tell him. “Want to take a look?”

“I’m supposed to be working. We have a new video with a different car.”

“Surely it can wait a few seconds, so you can look at the new 289 sitting pretty under the hood.”

“Yeah, we can wait,” Street agrees as he follows you to the hood of the car.

After Street takes a few minutes to admire the work you’ve done on the Mustang, you lead him to your office and bring up the new video.

“I haven’t seen it, but the people in the lab didn’t think it had been modified,” Street explains.

“Okay. Let’s see,” you say, turning the screen toward him.

Your shoulder presses against his arm as you watch, but you’re both too interested in the sports car on the screen to notice that you’re in shared space.

“I don’t see anything,” Street says.

You drag the video slowly and pause it when the wheels turn.

“That car shouldn’t be all-wheel drive. It’s a minor conversion compared to the other work you’ve shown me.”

“Who makes a Datsun 240z all-wheel drive?” Street murmurs.

“Who steals a Datsun 240z?” you counter. “They stopped making them for a reason. Short of a complete overhaul, they weren’t worth their weight in metal.”

“As right as you are, that doesn’t bring us any closer to finding this guy.”

“No,” you agree. “And none of my friends have heard anything. We’re getting the word out, though, so as soon as it reaches the right person, I’ll have more information for you. It’d be great if he decided to switch garages and was my next customer.”

“It would be easier.” Street leans back in the seat and looks at the pictures on your wall. “Best and worst customer to date, go,” he asks.

“Ooh, okay,” you say excitedly. “Best? A writer who lives up in the hills has brought me over 20 different rare classics to restore from the ground up. The worst was last week. Kid came in with a brand new, stock Lambo Huracan and wanted the double-clutch tranny switched out for a 4-speed automatic.”

“In a Huracan?” Street repeats incredulously. “I… I feel like I just aged twenty years.”

“Tell me about it. I asked him if he could drive it the way it was and never got an answer.”

“Did you do it?”

“Are you kidding? No! I’m in this business for the cars, and that’s just sacrilegious.”

Hondo knocks on your open door, and he’s leaning against it with his brows raised when you look up.

“There’s two of them!” he exclaims dramatically as he looks back at the rest of the guys. “I thought you and Street were bad enough separately, but this isn’t fair.”

“Can I help you Hondo?” you ask, ignoring his comment. Although, you don’t hate him viewing this as you and Street, together, as one.

“I just came to see if anything came of that video,” Hondo says.

“Nothing inherently helpful. Your smoking gun is still lost.”

“Keep looking,” Hondo requests, tapping his knuckles against the doorframe before he leads 20 squad away.

Street watches him leave, shakes his head, and turns back to you to ask, “How’d you get into cars?”

“My, uh, my home life wasn’t great growing up. Cars were my escape. From the time I was old enough to realize that walking out into the driveway to mess with the cars got me away from the fighting, I was out there constantly. Then it became a love for cars and everything they mean to people. This isn’t just my job, it’s my passion.”

“I lived in foster homes for too long,” Street says. “When I met my brother, Noah, he got me into motorcycles, which led to cars. We dreamed about getting a Ducati someday.”

“See? Cars mean something, they’re more than electronics and gas to get you from A to B. They’re life itself for some of us.”

“And you treat them like that. When I get that Ducati, I’ll bring it to you.”

“For what? Those are perfect as is.”

“Maybe it’ll just be an excuse to see you.”

You smile and shake your head, but you know that you’d welcome him in, anytime, with or without a Ducati.

“… And then after the toe, caster, and camber are matched up on both sides, we can move on to complete the diagnostics,” you finish.

“Okay,” the young girl says. “I need to call my dad really fast. Can I come back in and let you know after that?”

“Of course. Take your time.”

As she walks out, you notice Street standing in the doorway to the garage.

“That happen often?” he asks, gesturing toward the girl standing outside.

“Occasionally. Mostly with younger customers,” you answer. “Must be nice to have a parental relationship like that.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So, what can I do for you, Officer Street?”

“Are you ever going to call me Jim?” he asks.

“I like cars, so Street is more fun,” you reply with a shrug.

“I actually came to give you a break. Hondo said you’ve been sending him updates day and night. You have to step back from it all before you burn out,” Street explains.

“I can’t. I have cars to finish, and some of my contacts have leads that seem promising, but they have to go through a chain of different garages, and…”

Street steps to you and lays his hands on your shoulders. He waits until you look into his eyes and relax to say, “You need a break. Trust me.”

“I need to finish with her,” you whisper. “Five minutes?”

“Five minutes,” he agrees. “And then I’m dragging you out of here if you won’t go willingly.”

Five minutes later, you follow Street into the small customer parking area outside the lobby. He walks to a motorcycle, and you eye it in admiration.

“This is your bike? It’s gorgeous, Street,” you say, running your fingers over the smooth metal body.

“It’s fast too,” he replies.

You accept a helmet and put it on as he climbs onto the bike. The Cardo logo on the side of the helmet catches your attention, but as you sit behind him and wrap your arms around him, you’re more than happy to ride in silence and decompress.

When you get back to the garage, you climb off the bike and hug Street before he can swing his leg over.

“Thank you,” you say softly. “I did need that.”

“I’m not just a pretty face, you know,” he jokes as he returns your hug.

“Neither am I. And you shift into fourth too soon. That’s why it revs harder.”

“I knew coming to see you would embarrass me eventually,” Street laments. “But at least you’re pretty and really close to me.”

“I can move,” you say against his shoulder.

“No, thanks. Not until I have to go back to work.”

His phone rings in his pocket and you laugh as he grumbles, “Hondo always has to ruin the moment.”

The phone on your desk rings again as you lower the new L1 engine into a C-10. You roll your eyes at the sound but refuse to answer it.

“Somebody else answer the phone!” you call. “I can’t answer another stupid question today!”

Joel salutes you as he walks through your open door. He returns a moment later with the cordless phone in his hand and smiles.

“It’s Street. Would you like me to pass along your message?”

You extend your cleaner hand and tuck the phone between your ear and shoulder to say, “Hey, Street.”

“Can you remove the hemi from my Charger?” he asks. “It’s too loud when I drive.”

“I will hang up on you,” you threaten.

The line beeps and you pull the phone from your ear with pinched brows.

“Not if I hang up on you first,” Street says from the doorway. “Which is rude, by the way.”

“Have more videos for me to watch?” you ask loudly as you lean into the engine bay of the truck.

“No, just wanted to drop by. Nice body… the truck, I mean.”

“Sure, you did.”

You grunt as you stand and pass a screwdriver to Street.

“I don’t work here.”

“Yet you’re here every day,” Joel says from inside the cab of the truck.

“Not my fault your boss freelances for my boss,” Street replies.

“I told Hondo this morning that I hadn’t heard anything,” you interrupt as you wipe your hands on a rag.

“I know. I just wanted to drop by. I got off early, so, here I am.”

“Hmm. I was hoping you’d say you were undercover or something.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to believe this is how you dress when you’re not in uniform,” you joke.

“You’re covered in-“

“I’m at work,” you defend. “Hazards of the job. And don’t bring up the fact that my laundry room smells like motor oil because you can’t prove that.”

Your phone buzzes on the workbench behind you, and you apologize as you walk past Street to get it. He watches your eyes widen as you press the screen a few times.

“Call Hondo,” you demand.

“But-“

“I know who your car thief is. He’s on his way here right now with the Triumph T3.”

“How? Why?” Street questions.

“The guy he hired to do the work thought they were really his cars. Apparently, my name came up and with the message about him going through the automotive grapevine, his former mechanic recommended me for a modification tune-up,” you explain quickly.

Hondo arrives less than ten minutes later with the rest of 20 Squad. He asks what is so urgent as he looks between you and Street, though there isn’t much room between you.

“He isn’t ditching the cars. He’s still driving the cars because the Triumph slid last night and now he’s bringing it here to be repaired,” you tell Hondo.

“Okay, it slid and he’s bringing in one stolen car. What does that mean for me? And no automotive speak,” Hondo replies.

“Could I interest you in the Cybertronian translation?”

“Tell me what my bad guy did.”

“If I can convince him to list every car he may want me to work on in the future, could you get a warrant? I’ll try to get an address and a name for him, though they may not be legitimate.”

“We can certainly try,” Deacon agrees. “But he doesn’t seem like the type that will answer questions.”

“I have a way of getting people to talk. Especially car people. Guys like him like to brag, so if I one him up, he won’t have a choice but to tell me what you need to know.”

“Just be careful,” Street says. “Don’t let him get so cocky he thinks he has to prove himself in any way except talking about cars.”

“I won’t. But you guys need to get out of sight. He’ll want to see the garage and get a feel for the security.”

“We can pretend to be security,” Street argues.

“Nah, you got a cop face, man,” Joel says from inside the truck.

“Joel, I’m going to marry your boss and ask her to fire you,” Street shoots back.

“I want to hear more about that later,” you interrupt. “But seriously, get out of sight.”

A few minutes later, a Triumph T3 stops outside of the lobby entrance. The man who enters looks like the driver in the security videos, but you have to get more information before anything else can happen.

“Hi,” you greet. “You must be the gentleman Josh told me about. He said you had a classic, but I was not expecting a ‘50s Triumph. That’s a gorgeous car, sir.”

“I appreciate it. She’s my baby, but the steering is a bit off since I hit a wet patch last night and the back end slid.”

“That sounds like a simple enough fix. If you can just fill out some information-“

“Josh said you’d do this off the books for me, like he has. Cash upfront.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you agree. “Go ahead and pull her into the garage.”

He nods and exits the front door. You sigh and move into the garage, planning how to get him to talk about the other cars he has stolen and where he keeps them.

“Nice facility,” he compliments as he enters your garage. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a couple incredibly rare classics that I work on often, and those customers deserve the best.”

“Rarer than a 1953 Triumph T3?” the man asks, defensive and growing insulted.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve had a Model T in here, several European cars, including a T2, plus modern sports cars.”

“I’ve got a garage full of classics that make those seem like Hot Wheels.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur as you lift the hood of the Triumph. “I’ve had my hands in a 1931 Bugatti Type 41. I don’t think it gets much better.”

“My collection is worth a dozen of those outdated bugs!” he exclaims. “The Triumph, a Lamborghini Aventador with custom drivetrains, and I’d bet this car that you haven’t seen a Datsun 240z in mint condition with all-wheel drive. If your little dump of a garage could handle even that! My 25,000 square foot garage has cars you’ve never even heard of.”

“LAPD SWAT!” Hondo calls as he and his team enter the garage. “You’re under arrest for grand theft auto, carjacking, assault and battery, murder, and about fifteen more charges that I don’t have the patience to list. Now, when an arrest warrant goes through without a name, you know that’s a bad person.”

“Do not push him up against this car!” you demand as Hondo grabs his shoulder. “Toolbox, wall, anything other than a pristine T3.”

“Thanks for the help,” Hondo calls over his shoulder as he leads the thief out of the garage.

“It’s a shame such a pretty car has to go into evidence before it returns to its owner,” you tell Street.

“Yeah. Listen-“

“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” you ask.

“Do you want to go out with me?” he asks.

You smile as you answer, “I’d love to.”

“Trust me, you’re gonna love this place,” you promise as you take Street’s hand. “All of the food is served in trays that look like classic cars.”

Street laughs as you bounce excitedly and uses your joined hands to pull you close.

“If you could buy one classic car, what would it be?” he asks.

You answer without hesitation before asking him the same question.

“Car? Probably an Aston Martin or a ‘60s Impala. Something sleek, classic, dangerously fast,” he answers. “Motorcycle is still a Ducati.”

“You’d suit an Aston Martin or an Impala,” you agree. “Or you can just ride shotgun in mine.”

“I was born to drive,” Street says dramatically.

You laugh at him as you slide into a booth in the restaurant. Street follows, setting the tray of food before you as he sits beside you.

“Are all of our dates going to be car-themed?” Street asks.

“You’re the one who already planned our wedding, and I’ll go ahead and tell you now that I’m not firing Joel, so you tell me.”

“I don’t care what we do as long as you’re there,” Street decides.

You smile as you turn toward him, and when you raise your chin, Street kisses you quickly. You momentarily forget about the car-themed trays holding your food, too distracted by his affection to care about which model you got. But then he tells you he got the better one and you push him away from you to check. Street laughs as he pulls you close again, and you’ve never been happier to have so much in common with one person. Maybe there are two of you, but the balance and love Street brings is perfect.

#jim street x fem!reader #jim street x reader #jim street fluff #jim street fic #jim street imagine #jim street #swat x reader #swat cbs #fem!reader #requests #hanna writes✯

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year

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Somewhere to Belong | 2/3 | S.R

Part 2 of my Family Challenge Fic.

Part 1 | Part 3

Summery - Spencer moves into his new home and his friends express their concerns. His adoption process hits wall after wall and each time you’re the one he turns to.

Pairing - Spencer Reid x BAU Fem! Reader

Warnings - talk of break ups, arguing, tears, swearing, mentions of Spencer’s childhood, drinking, drunk Spencer, talk of potential relapse, crying child, NA meetings.

WC - 7.9k

Part 2

It took until the end of April, around the time flowers started to rebloom and the grass turned a lush shade of green, when he finally got the keys to his new home.

It felt fitting, the way the world was regrowing, starting a new beginning just as he was.

He’d taken the first offer that came on his apartment, not caring that it was less than he would have liked for it. He had enough money saved from over the years that he could cover the difference needed. Time was of the essence, he couldn’t wait around.

The team, now all apprised of his adoption intentions, helped him move on a rare weekend they had off from the BAU. Well all of them except for you anyway.

Luke and Matt did most of the heavy lifting, much to Spencer’s elation as honestly he had no idea how he’d planned on doing it himself.

Rossi, Emily and Tara helped fix together furniture while he and JJ started on painting the room that would hopefully one day belong to Wren.

It broke her heart a little as she aided him in filling the little bookshelf with all the girls favourite titles and putting stuffed animals on another shelf all of which he’d brought for her.

Because what happened if Wren didn’t come home to him? What on Earth would be left of her best friend if he wasn’t able to adopt her?

He’d spent nearly all his savings on this house and furnishing it, even stencilling Wren’s name above the bed. She knew there would be no coming back for him if this didn’t work out. She would help in any way she could but she wished he was erring on the side of caution more.

After hours spent getting Spencer’s new home in order, Rossi cooked them all carbonara alla Rossi which they all sat down to eat as a family.

Minus you.

And your absence was brought up about halfway through dinner.

“I have to ask,” it was Tara who finally dared broach the subject that was on the tip of everyone’s tongues. “Y/N was really cagey when we told her about today. She said she had plans but wouldn’t say what they were.”

“Did something happen between the two of you?” JJ added over her glass of wine.

Honestly Spencer didn’t really see the point in lying about it. Whatever happened between the two of you was over now so he supposed it didn’t matter if the team knew.

He put his cutlery down, leaning it on the edges of his plate and taking a sip of water. He leant on the table and cleared his throat.

“Uh well…we were dating.” He shrugged. “For a few months. But it’s over now.”

The members of his former team all exchanged looks, silently questioning each other to see if anyone had any idea. It seemed none of them did.

“Wow, I’m kinda impressed you managed to keep that from us.” Emily chuckled dryly.

“Me too.” Spencer replied.

“What happened?” Matt asked the million dollar question.

Again, Spencer didn’t see the point in lying. It wasn’t as though there were two sides to this story, it was cut and dry; about as straightforward as it could be.

“I wanted a family. She wasn’t ready. I guess that’s on me for choosing to date someone so much younger than me.” He shrugged again, trying to act as if he didn’t care.

“So you broke up because of Wren?” JJ asked him softly.

“Yes and no. I’d already mentioned having a family before Wren came into the picture and she freaked out. And then Wren came along and I realised it was perfect timing. But uh, I guess my decision to adopt her didn’t exactly help matters.” He picked his knife and fork back up, hoping if he resumed eating they would understand he didn’t want to talk about this.

“You’re sure about this right, Reid?” Luke dared to ask.

Spencer huffed and dropped his cutlery again, letting them angrily clang against the China plate.

“Am I sure about what, Alvez?” He shot Luke a look across the table none of the team had ever seen on Spencer before. “About my break up or about adopting Wren?”

Luke shrunk in on himself a little, Spencer’s gaze heavily upon him. He’d hoped maybe someone else would jump to his rescue but no one did.

Cowards.

“Any of it.” Luke’s voice cracked as he spoke. “We’re your friends and we want you to be happy, but I think I speak for everyone when I say this is all happening so fast.”

Spencer’s nostrils flared. His jaw tightened. One by one he looked at the former members of his team under a steely gaze.

“Does he speak for all of you?” Spencer spat. “Someone please speak up. If you all think I’m making such a huge mistake, please-”

“No one said it was a mistake, boy wonder, chill.” Garcia piped up, cutting Spencer off. “But Newbie is right, it’s so fast. Have you really stopped and taken a breath to think about it?”

“You’ve decorated her room, Spence and you don’t even know that you’ll get granted parental rights. What happens if you don’t? It’s going to crush you.” JJ added, her tone sombre.

“And if you do manage to get through the adoption process, you’ll have a five year old girl to take care of. A five year old girl who lost her parents in the most horrific way possible.” Tara chimed in, tone equally as morose and JJ’s.

“And you’ll be doing it alone. On top of a full time job at the university.” It was Rossi’s turn to speak.

“We’ll support you whatever you do, Reid. We’re just worried that this is some kind of…a, uh…” Emily trailed off, looking at the others for help with finishing her sentence.

But Spencer knew exactly what she wanted to say.

He slammed his hands on the table and pushed his seat back, the wooden chair legs scraping against the tiled floor aggressively.

“Just say it,” he growled, with a shake of his head. “You’re worried I’m having a mid life crisis, right?”

He got to his feet and glared down at his so-called friends in disdain.

“No one said it was a mid life crisis, kid.” Rossi sighed as though Spencer was some kind of nuisance child.

“You didn’t need to say it. You’re all thinking it.” He grunted.

“Spence,” Emily looked sadly at him. “We’re just worried about you.”

“I don’t need you to be worried about me, I am perfectly fine. Why is it such a big deal that I’m doing this? You know I’ve always wanted kids.”

“Not like this though.” JJ rolled her lip between her teeth. “I have absolutely no doubt you will be a good father, someday. This…it doesn’t seem right.”

“Thank you all for coming,” Spencer forced his anger down before he said something he would regret. “But I’d like you all to leave now.”

He turned his back on them, the way they had all metaphorically turned their backs on him, and stormed to the kitchen.

The rest of them silently decided among themselves who would be the one to go after him. Usually the job would fall to JJ but she knew Spencer was too angry with her right now.

Eventually Penelope exhaled and pushed her chair gently back before getting to her feet. She didn’t look at the others as she left, tottering on her too high heels as she followed in Spencer’s wake.

He heard the door swing open, heard her heels on the floor so he knew it was her. He gripped the counter top, his back to her.

“Please don’t try to make it better, Garcia.” He spoke without turning.

He heard her come closer and then there was a warm hand on his shoulder, turning him around. When she saw his face, the tears that were now rolling down his cheeks, her own face fell.

“Oh boy wonder,” she pouted, immediately throwing her arms around him.

Spencer sniffed, burying his head against Garcia’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“I understand what you’re all saying, trust me I get how crazy this sounds.” He whimpered a little. “But I love that little girl. And I want to be her father more than anything else in the world.”

“I know you do, Reid.” She cooed, running her hand up and down his back. “We just worry about you is all. No one is saying you shouldn’t do this, we just want to make sure you’re certain of what you’re doing.”

“Penelope,” he raised his head so he could look her in the eyes. “I have never been more sure about a single thing in my life.”

Garcia smiled at him softly, wiping away the tear stains on his cheeks.

“That’s good enough for me.” She placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Anything you need, Spencer, just say the word. If you need any red tape cutting through, I am a master of that.”

“Thanks Garcia.” He half-smiled. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

Garcia kindly corralled the others out of Spencer’s door and stayed to help him clean up. By the time she left he was utterly exhausted.

He climbed the stairs, running his fingers along the bannister, feeling his way in his new home. He bypassed his own bedroom and found himself in the room he’d slaved away to make perfect for Wren.

He collapsed on her small bed, the one with the My Little Pony bedspread, clutching one of many stuffed toys he’d brought for her.

He closed his eyes and he nuzzled against the pillow. If he concentrated hard enough he could feel her here in this room she’d never actually stepped foot in.

He could hear her heart warming giggle, smell her on the pillow. He could imagine her crawling under the pink pony bedspread, lying beneath a string of pumpkin fairy lights while he read to her.

He could hear her inquisitive line of questioning every time he reached the end of a page.

He could picture her hugging Rover tightly to her chest while her bright green eyes slowly closed.

His tears fell from behind his closed lids. His friends were right and he hated that.

He’d gone through all this trouble, all the time, money and effort but what if it proved fruitless? What if he never got to bring Wren home?

What if he was doomed to live in this large house all alone for the rest of his days, pinning for the life he could have had?

***

Two days later a social worker came round to do her initial assessment of his new home. He didn’t miss the small smile that crept to her face when she saw the room he hoped to be Wren’s.

He made tea and sat down in his new living room with Jenny, Wren’s permanent social worker and tried to mentally prepare himself for another grilling.

The application process itself had been particularly probing but he knew this would be worse. Garcia had emailed him over a list of potential questions which he’d tried to cultivate answers for ahead of time but right now everything went out of his head.

Jenny sipped her tea and retrieved a notebook and pen from her bag.

“So, shall we?” She smiled at him but it didn’t help alleviate his nerves.

“Sure.” He nodded, shakily smiling back. He drummed his fingers against his thighs.

“I’d like to know what your childhood was like, if you could, Doctor Reid.”

Fuck, what a place to start.

“Well,” he swallowed thickly. “It wasn’t exactly conventional. I’m sure you know about my mother from my application.”

“I do.” She nodded, pen poised above the page.

“Uh, I was pretty much responsible for myself from ten years old when my dad left. And I was also responsible for my mom. I’ve never really had anyone to depend on and on top of that I’ve had to look after a parent. I guess the parental roles got slightly tangled in my head somewhere, but I think it’s why I’m so determined to do right by Wren. She’s lost her parents and I just want her to have a family again. I want to be her family. I want to be the father I never had.” He took a big sip of tea as a way of indicating that he was finished.

Jenny jotted down some notes before looking back at him.

“So what’s your relationship with them like now? Your parents?”

“I’ve only ever seen my dad once since he walked out on us.” When I was accusing him of being a child molestor and a murderer. “I’m really close with my mom though. She’s in a facility in DC and I visit her once a week. She’d love Wren, I think Wren would love her too.”

“I think you’ve already kind of covered the effect your upbringing had on you, so I’d be interested to know what a day in the life of Spencer Reid looks like.” She paused her note taking again to look at him.

“I’m still getting used to that myself if truth be told. I left the BAU after fifteen years so I could have a job with more reliable hours for Wren. I lecture four days a week at Marlborough, I’m a criminology professor. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. Thursdays are usually paperwork and grading papers but I can do that from home.

It’s normal hours, I can be here in the morning to take Wren to school and be here to pick her up and cook her dinner. Read her bedtime stories. She likes it when we read together. She has this incredible mind, she reminds me of me when I was a kid. She’s so curious and smart. She loves to learn and I love to teach and I…I’m rambling. Sorry.”

“It’s ok.” Jenny smiled softly. “Doctor Reid, no one is doubting the fact that you care deeply for this little girl. No one would be going through the lengths you’re going through for a flight of fancy. I’m just simply trying to ascertain the best fit for a frightened and traumatised little girl who lost everything.”

“And I might not be the best fit.” He sniffed, eyebrows knitting together. “Because it’s just me. Because she lost not only her dad but her mom too and you think she needs two parents.”

He was a profiler for so many years, he couldn’t just turn it off. He understood the things she wasn’t saying.

Jenny put her pen down and leant forward in the chair.

“I have no doubts that you love Wren, Doctor Reid.” She prefaced. “But unfortunately in these kinds of delicate situations we have to consider where the child has been. And where Wren has been was in a home with two loving parents.”

The tears flooded to Spencer’s eyes in a flash and he fought to keep them at bay. He rolled his lip violently between his teeth to try and stop them falling.

He tried to speak a few times but the words wouldn’t come out. He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath.

“What are, uh, what are my chances here?” He croaked.

“I don’t know, Doctor Reid.” Jenny sighed. “I have no doubts you would be a great fit for some child out there but maybe…maybe don’t set your sights on Wren.”

He opened his eyes again, the tears broke free.

“I don’t want another child. It’s not just about having some child.” He suddenly stood up. “The moment I met her I felt an intrinsic need to protect her. She is special and she is wonderful and I…I feel like her dad, don’t you understand? I love her as if she were my flesh and blood. I don’t want a child, I want Wren.”

Jenny inhaled sharply and pushed herself to her feet, slotting her notebook back in her bag.

“I’m not saying it won’t happen, Doctor Reid. But you need to be prepared for the fact it might not.” She shook her head sadly. “We can pick this up later in the week ok? I’ll call you.”

Spencer couldn’t get any words out to reply. He just stood there dumbly and watched the social worker leave.

He watched her leave him alone in this house, this fucking suburban nightmare of a house that he’d only brought for the sake of Wren.

Wren who he’d promised he would look out for, who he promised he would bring home with him. And now that could all go up in smoke.

His tears wouldn’t cease, like a never ending waterfall flowing down his face.

The walls of this goddamn house suddenly felt so small. This house was the last place he wanted to be right now.

Without much thought to where he was going, he grabbed his car keys before throwing open the front door and disappearing into the balmy spring afternoon.

***

It was late when the jet touched down and so Emily sent you all home from the air strip telling you all paperwork could wait until the morning.

You could barely keep your eyes open as you drove home, tired down to your bones.

When you found a body slumped on the floor using your front door to prop them up right, you could have burst out laughing because this was just perfect.

His shirt was wrinkled and his hair hung messily in his face. As you approached, he didn’t move, not even an inch.

You frowned as you fished your keys out of your purse, clearing your throat but he didn’t look up. His head was flopped forward to his chest, hair obscuring most of his face.

“Spencer?” You spoke his name but received no response. “Spencer?” Still nothing.

Goddamnit.

“Spencer!” You kicked him firmly in the hip and he wobbled a little and then you heard a sharp intake of air.

His head shot back, his eyes suddenly wide open and staring at you like you’d woken him from a deep sleep. You most likely had.

“Y/N?” He croaked, running his hand through his hair, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “W-where am I?”

It was then you realised his bloodshot eyes, red raw and you knew it wasn’t just from crying.

“Spencer, are you ok?” You swallowed, feeling your hands start to shake.

“How did I get here?” He squinted at you.

“I have no idea.” You reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him to his feet.

He didn’t make it easy, he was like a led weight in your arms. He stumbled once he was up, falling against your door.

Your heart thrummed against your chest.

“Spencer,” you swallowed again. “Are you…are you high?”

He averted his gaze to the floor, a symbol of guilt you knew all too well. But then he looked back at you and sighed.

“No.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I appreciate that’s what it must look like. I’m…drunk. Really fucking drunk. Not high. I swear.”

Oh thank god, you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief. Half a sigh anyway.

“That’s probably not much better though right? You don’t drink.”

“True.” He nodded. “But if I didn’t drink I might have gotten high. I don’t even know how I ended up here. Or how long I’ve been here.”

This seemed way over your head, a job for JJ or Emily, not you. You didn’t know how to handle this, you weren’t equipped for it.

You knew about Spencer’s history with dilaudid, he’d told you he didn’t drink on your first date when you’d asked him what wine he wanted with dinner. He proceeded to tell you he didn’t drink because of his past addiction, he didn’t want to find himself dependent on something else again.

But here he was, drunk. Drunk and telling you he’d thought about getting high. And you had no idea what to do.

“Come inside.” You got your door open and helped him inside as he couldn’t walk in a straight line. You guided him with an arm around his waist to the couch where he fell down like a rag doll. “Should I call JJ? Emily?”

“No, p-please don’t.” He whined, his words slurring together.

“Spencer, I don’t know that I’m the best person to handle this. Do you need a meeting or something?”

“I haven’t been to a m-meeting in over ten years.” He slurred again.

You had to strain yourself to understand him, all his sentences sounding like one long word. You sat down on the coffee table in front of him and sighed.

“Why did you drink? Why did you want to get high?” Maybe you could help if you understood why. Probably not, but it was worth a shot.

He ran his fingers through his tangled hair, sweeping it back off of his face. It struck you then how old he suddenly looked, like he’d somehow aged thirty years since you’d last seen him.

“I…my social worker…she thinks…” his sentence was punctuated with heaving breaths, as though trying to stop himself breaking down into tears. “I might not be able to a-adopt Wren.”

Ah, so that’s what this was about.

The last time you’d seen him you’d argued over this exact thing. So why of all people were you the one he’d come to?

“I see.” You didn’t know what to say if truth be told. Thankfully he continued.

“She grew up in a t-two person household. J-Jenny thinks it's more likely they will place her in a home with two p-parents.” It was the most coherent he’d been, which was good. But he sounded so unbelievably sad. “I get it. I do. I w-want what’s best for her…but w-what if that’s not what’s best for m-me?”

You felt your heart ripping in two. It was painfully obvious how much this girl meant to him and you hated seeing him this way. Again you didn’t need to speak as he carried on.

“It’s ironic, you know? The only reason I even w-want to adopt is because I can’t h-hold down a relationship, c-can’t seem to find someone to have my own family with. And now it m-might be the reason I can’t adopt.” His breathing grew really frantic and you could see the tears welling in his eyes.

You really did hate that he was going through this. You leant forward and placed a gentle hand on his knee.

“I really wish I knew what to say.” You whispered. “I really am so sorry Spencer. I know I was less than thrilled with the idea but I can see how much she means to you.”

“Just wanted to take my mind o-off of it.” He mumbled. “Just needed to forget. Wanted to get high, for the f-first time in years. Didn’t though. I didn’t.”

“I know. I’m proud of you.” You gave his knee a squeeze. “But getting drunk isn’t going to help anything, you know that right?”

“Yes.” He sniffed. “Just wanted to forget.”

Suddenly he jerked forward, his large hands gripping the sides of your face and tugging you closer until his lips slammed against yours.

He tasted like whisky. Whisky and tears.

You were so gobsmacked for a moment you let him kiss you. But once your brain caught up to what was happening, you quickly pushed him away.

“What are you doing?” You frowned at him.

His eyes widened as the realisation of his stupidity washed over him and he stumbled up to his feet.

“Oh my god.” He shook his head frantically. “What am I doing? I’m so sorry, I should…should go…”

His shaky legs tried to carry him to the door but you managed to jump up and grab his wrist before he could get too far.

When he looked back at you his cheeks were bright red with his embarrassment and he struggled to look you in the eye.

“Don’t go.” You spoke softly. “I can’t let you roam the streets in this state. Stay, you can sleep on the couch. We’ll forget that ever happened.”

He pulled a face like he might argue with you and maybe if he hadn’t had so much to drink he may have.

But god knows where else he could end up with the alcohol clouding his brain, he was sure he hadn’t meant to come here in the first place.

He exhaled and nodded slowly, moving away from the door and further into your apartment.

“I really am sorry about Wren. But it’s not over, Spencer. You have to try and stay positive. For her.” You whispered before you turned away to gather blankets for your ex’s drunken stay on your couch.

***

In the morning you found your couch empty, blankets and pillows piled neatly at one end and a small scrap of note paper on top.

In Spencer’s chicken scratch handwriting you read:

Thank you for last night. I thought it best I leave before you wake up. I am absolutely mortified about my actions. I should have known better even in the state I was in.

I’m sorry for putting you in that position and for making you feel as though you had to let me stay. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.

I’m sorry for everything.

Spencer.

Everything; he was sorry for everything.

Sorry for blurting out that he wanted a family? Sorry for reacting the way he did when you told him you weren’t ready? Sorry for calling whatever the two of you had a waste of time? Sorry for diving head first into adopting a little girl without telling you?

You folded up the note and hid it away in your nightstand. You considered calling him but you were fairly certain he wouldn’t pick up.

You made coffee and ate breakfast, all the while Spencer’s heartbreak over potentially losing that little girl was weighing on you.

There had to be something you could do to help him. Anything. You would do anything for him.

You took your coffee over to the desk and booted up your laptop. Even as your fingers were hovering over the keys, you weren’t sure why exactly you were doing this.

Other than the fact you hated to see Spencer so sad.

***

It was deep into the month of June when Spencer was allowed to take Wren out of the halfway home for the first time.

Jenny accompanied them but assured him she was just here to supervise and she wouldn’t get involved.

He’d tried to remain positive, the fact they were allowing him to still see her, to take her out of the home surely meant all was not lost? Maybe he still had a chance to be her father.

The first place Wren wanted to go was for ice cream. He told her they could go anywhere she wanted and she wanted ice cream.

So he took her for ice cream.

She couldn’t decide what she wanted so he brought her seven different little cups of seven different flavours. She ate each one with a smile on her face and apparently each one was better than the last.

Hopped up on sugar, he took her to the park. She held his hand as they walked and hers was so tiny in his. It made his heart soar, spiralling up into the atmosphere and blanketing him in a warmth he’d never felt before.

He pushed her on the swing set while she giggled and screamed to go higher. He caught her in his arms at the bottom of the slide which she went down twenty two times.

And each of the twenty two times he caught her, wrapping her small body in his arms, picking her up and spinning her around causing more laughter to erupt from her. And each time when he placed her back on her feet she screamed, again!

He held her little waist while she attempted the jungle gym, not having the upper body strength to hold herself up.

Once he settled her back on the ground and asked her what she wanted to do next. Her expressive eyes wandered the park, the little cogs in her brain turning while she tried to make a decision.

But then something horrible happened.

When her eyes finally landed back on Spencer, he saw the tears behind them a split second before they started falling. Her bottom lip pouted and her small frame started to shake violently.

“Wren?” Spencer immediately knelt in front of her in the grass and placed his hands on her shoulders.

She was vibrating, sniffing dramatically and shaking her head, curls bouncing as she did so.

“Wren, what’s wrong?” He felt his heart shattering as he looked at her.

“I want to go home!” She screamed, so loudly Spencer was sure he felt an ear drum burst.

Before he could reply she had pulled herself out of his grip, turned away and started running as fast as her legs would carry her.

“I want to go home!” She screeched as she went.

Spencer pushed himself up and suddenly Jenny was at his side. He barely registered her until she spoke.

“What happened?” She asked almost accusingly.

“I have no idea.” He shook his head, not taking his eyes off of Wren who was running towards the tree line at the edge of the park. “Let me go, I’ll find out what’s wrong.”

He didn’t wait for Jenny to reply before he took off running after her. Spencer had never relished running or any kind of physical exertion. In his time with the BAU he’d avoided it at all costs.

But right now he didn’t care. He would run to the ends of the Earth if he had to just to find Wren. Thankfully he didn’t have to.

He found the small raven haired girl collapsed at the trunk of a large tree, legs drawn up to her chest and she sobbed into the fabric of her cream coloured leggings.

Her cries were so loud, so gut wrenching that he could have burst into tears just from the sound. She looked utterly helpless and Spencer wanted to wrap her in his arms and shield her from all the bad in the world.

But he wasn’t so sure that’s what she wanted.

He approached her with caution, not wanting to startle her. When he reached her, he dropped to the grass in front of her on his knees. Slowly he reached out and brushed her tangled curls behind her ear.

“Pumpkin, what’s wrong?” He whispered soothingly, hooking his finger under her chin and raising her head so he could look at her.

Those electrifying green eyes were made almost blindingly bright by her tears.

“The lady,” she sniffed, lips still pouted. “The lady by the swing set. She looked like my mommy.”

Fuck.

He felt a lump form in his throat. Sometimes she was so happy and upbeat it was easy for him to forget what had happened to her parents. She was so brave, so strong, but he couldn’t imagine the kind of inner turmoil she battled with everyday.

“Oh, Wren. I’m so sorry.” He started to brush away her tears but she surprised him when she huffed and shoved his hand off of her face.

“Stop it.” She frowned at him. “I want to go home!”

“Wren,” he tried to ignore the pain of having her push him away. “We’ve talked about this. You said you understood that you couldn’t go home.”

“I don’t care!” She yelled, slamming her little fists in the dirt. “I want to go home! I want my mommy and daddy!”

Spencer felt a presence somewhere behind them, he knew it was Jenny. He hoped she’d let him handle this.

“Wren, I know this must be hard for you…” he trailed off when the little girl pushed herself to her feet. Spencer stayed on his knees.

“I want my mommy and daddy!” She screamed at the top of her small lungs.

“I know you do, pumpkin but-”

“Stop calling me pumpkin.” She huffed again, stamping her foot.

“I thought…I thought you liked me calling you pumpkin?” His chest tightened, his heart breaking.

“Well I don’t.” She folded her arms dramatically over her chest, stomped her foot again.

“Ok, that’s ok. I won’t call you it anymore if you don’t like it.” He spoke softly, he hoped calmly.

“I don’t like you.” She suddenly spat, eyes sad and eyebrows knitted together.

The pain that shot to his heart hearing those words was like nothing Spencer had ever experienced before. It was as though she had taken her tiny fist and punched him straight in the chest with a force much stronger than herself.

The air left his lungs, the wind leaving his sails. The hurt caused by those four words was far worse than getting shot, worse than being beaten by Hankel, or the beatings he’d received in prison. Even worse than the mental and emotional anguish of watching Maeve die.

Her words were like a knife, cutting and ripping at his flesh, slicing him open and leaving him completely raw.

“W-Wren…” he choked out, his pain evident in his voice. “I know you’re sad but please don’t say that. It’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“I don’t care!” She screamed again. “I hate you! You’re not my daddy. I want my daddy!”

She grew hysteric after that, sobbing so frantically nothing she said made sense anymore. He tried to comfort her, to hold her, but she pushed him away each time.

Eventually he glanced over his shoulder where Jenny was in fact standing and looked forlornly at her from the ground.

She stepped closer tentatively and crouched next to the screeching child.

“It’s ok Wren, let’s get you back to the home.” She was able to put her arm around Wren without being pushed away and the little girl buried against her. “I’m sorry Doctor Reid but I need to take her back. I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?”

Both adults raised to their feet at the same time, Spencer’s tears filled eyes meeting those of the social worker.

“I…I…” he looked back at Wren who was clinging to Jenny like he was some kind of terrifying monster. He wanted to argue but he could risk further upsetting her. “O-ok.”

He stood dumbly and watched as Jenny led Wren back across the park. His tears started to fall despite himself and he curled his arms around his body, hugging himself tightly.

All he wanted in the world was for Wren to be happy. But if she wasn’t happy with him, how did he even begin to be happy without her?

***

“Thank you for coming with me. I’m sorry I keep dragging you into this.” Spencer averted his gaze to the sidewalk as he ambled along.

You strolled next to him, curiously watching the side of his face as you sipped your coffee.

When he’d called you this evening you’d been at the BAU finishing up some paperwork. You hadn’t seen or heard from him since the night he showed up drunk at your apartment and you were surprised to see his name flashing on your phone screen.

His tone had been frantic down the phone, you only managed to catch every few words.

Wren hates me. Fucked up. Want to use.

You managed to get him to calm for long enough to tell you where he was. When you’d hurried to Emily’s office your fear must have been written on your face as all you’d needed to say was, I have to go, Spencer… and she was motioning you out of the door.

You found him where he’d said he’d be, on a park bench with a bottle of whiskey concealed in a paper bag.

It was unopened. Small miracles.

He didn’t tell you what was wrong, instead he asked you to follow him. And you did without question.

He led you to an old community centre and once inside you understood why.

You sat and listened as he spoke to the room at Beltway Clean Cops of everything that had happened, right up until this afternoon when Wren had screamed that she hated him and didn’t want him as her dad.

He told them how he had never wanted to use so badly in over ten years and how he’d gotten drunk a little while ago to stop him getting high.

Afterwards he left and you followed him again.

He brought you coffee at a nearby cafe and the two of you walked in the DC night side by side. That was the first time he’d spoken since he addressed the room at Beltway.

“I’m glad you called actually. I’ve been worried about you.” You kept your eyes on his face but he wouldn’t look at you. “She’s been traumatised, Spence. It sounds like she’s been brave up until now but you and I both know that kind of trauma has to be dealt with eventually. I may not know her but I’m certain she didn’t mean what she said.”

“What if she did?” His hand tightened around his coffee cup. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“You need to give her time, that's all you can do. She needs to feel what happened to her so she can start to move past it.” You wished you had a better answer.

“So I’m just supposed to wait? I can’t do that, I have to do something.”

You reached for him, touching the back of his free hand. He slowed to a stop and you did the same. Finally his eyes flit up to you.

“You know the Serenity Prayer, right? They use it in drug rehabilitation.” You kept your hand on his, he didn’t seem to mind.

“Of course I do.” He frowned a little.

“I know you’re not religious, but I need you to say it with me. I need you to hear it.” You turned his hand over so you could hold it.

He looked like he might argue, huffing out a breath before he rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” He agreed although clearly not happily.

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” You spoke in time with one another, keeping eye contact as you did so.

“You have to grant your own serenity, Spencer. You have to accept that you can’t change some things no matter how much you want to. I know it’s hard, but some things are out of your control.” You went to remove your hand from his but he surprised you by keeping a firm hold on you.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He spoke quietly, his eyebrows still knitted together. “You’re the wind beneath my wings, keeping me airborne when I feel like I might start free falling. You’re…you’re my favourite person in the whole goddamn world.”

“And you’re mine.” You smiled at him, squeezing his hand. “I want this to work out for you but if it doesn’t, you have to be able to bounce back. You just have to.”

“I know.” He agreed with a nod. “Thank you Y/N.”

He let go of your hand but was quickly wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close to his chest. In turn you wrapped your free arm around him too and you held each other tightly.

“You’ll be ok Spencer. I’m sure of it.” You whispered against his shirt.

“I hope so.” He nodded, inhaling the scent of your hair. “Can I…can I call you tomorrow after I’ve spoken to Jenny? Good or bad?”

You lifted your head so you could look at him, a gentle smile on your lips.

“You can call me any time, Spencer. I mean it.”

You noticed the way his eyes grazed over your lips and you thought he might kiss you. And this time you might have let him.

He wanted to kiss you, he almost kissed you, but he knew it wasn’t fair on either of you. You were one of those things he needed the serenity to accept he couldn’t change.

He swallowed thickly and stepped back from your hold, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck.

“Can I walk you to your car?” He asked, eyes once again on the sidewalk.

“Sure.” You nodded and soon the two of you fell in step again and neither of you spoke until you said your goodbyes at your vehicle.

You drove away knowing you had to do more. You’d already started making provisions, taking steps in order to help your most favourite person. But you needed to do more.

And you needed to do it fast.

***

The following day Jenny called him and asked him to come to the halfway home. He was nervous, having no idea what to expect when he got there.

It wasn’t Jenny that met him in the day room though, it was Wren.

She had her curly hair in pigtails and she wore a cute pair of denim overalls with a polka dot shirt underneath. She had a shy smile on her lips, one hand clutching Rover by the ear and the other held a sheet of paper.

“Hi Wren,” Spencer cautiously stepped closer to her, wanting to give her space.

She proffered the paper towards him without a word, which he took and scrutinised.

On one half of the page was another of her crayon drawings, this one depicting a small dark-haired child cuddling an extremely tall man, taller than the trees he was standing next to.

On the other in orange crayon was a note, every word spelled correctly, he wasn’t sure if she was just that smart or if she had help. It didn’t matter much either way, what mattered were the words themself.

To: Spencer

From: Wren

I’m sorry for being mean to you. I don’t hate you and I still want to live with you in the pretty house. I miss my mommy and daddy but I still want us to be a family.

He felt the tears filling his eyes before he reached the end and once he’d read it through a handful of times he looked back up at Wren who waited patiently for him to finish.

“You’re sure?” His voice cracked, betraying him.

“Yes.” She nodded, pigtails bouncing,

“Come here,” he sniffed, holding his arms open for her to make the first move.

She was quick to come closer, falling into Spencer and wrapping her small arms around his waist while he enveloped her in a tight embrace.

“God I love you kiddo.” He blurted out, as she snuggled against him. He’d never told her that before, always too scared of what a five year olds reaction would be to that.

She squeezed him as tight as she was able, nuzzling her head into his stomach.

“I love you, Spencer.” She replied and Spencer felt the pieces of his shattered heart fall back into place. “And I do like it when you call me pumpkin.”

Spencer held her tighter still, feeling as though his chest could explode with love. He bowed his head and kissed her curls.

“Ok, pumpkin,” he whispered into her wild hair. “You want me to read to you while I’m here?”

“Yes please.” She nodded, pulling back from his arms.

She soon started running away, over towards the couch they usually occupied how he read to her. He glanced down at the piece of paper in his hands and smiled.

If it was the last thing he did, he was bringing this little girl home.

***

July came and went in a blur of home visits, parental training, family profile meetings and days out with Wren and Jenny.

August came and Spencer felt positive. With each passing day he was getting closer and closer to being able to finally bring Wren home.

But just as quickly as he’d gotten his hopes up, they were dashed again, leaving Spencer spiralling towards a dark abyss with no way to break his fall.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Spencer stared at Jenny across his coffee table, his mug of tea wobbling in his shaky hands.

Jenny inhaled, sitting back in the armchair and crossing one leg over the other.

“I said there’s a young couple who have taken a liking to Wren. They’ve expressed interest in pursuing adoption. They’re already approved, done their home studies and training. They’d just been waiting for the right child.” Jenny braced herself, waited for the doctor's reaction.

“They’ve met her?” He swallowed.

“Yes, they adore her.” Jenny told him somewhat morosely.

“And Wren?”

“She seemed to like them.” Jenny smiled sadly at him.

“So, uh, it’s over? Just like that?” The tears misted his eyes but he managed to keep them at bay.

He recited the serenity prayer in his head like a mantra.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

“It’s not over, Doctor Reid. And if you wish to still pursue your adoption you are well within your right to. But you’re entitled to know what’s going on and I’ve said before-”

“The state will be more likely inclined to place her in an environment similar to where she came from. Two parents instead of one.” His voice was monotone, not an ounce of emotion to it.

“I’m afraid so.”

Spencer wanted to cry. He wanted to laugh. He wanted to scream and break something. He wanted to drink or take dilaudid.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.

“O-ok.” He croaked.

“Ok?” Jenny frowned at him, clearly expecting him to put up more of a fight.

“I want what’s best for Wren above all else. Maybe two parents can give her more than I can.” He choked back a sob. “I’ll keep fighting for her, to the bitter end. But if it doesn’t work in my favour there’s nothing I can do, right? I have to accept the things I can’t change.”

“For what it’s worth,” Jenny pushed herself to her feet. “I’m rooting for you. But there’s only so much I can do.”

“Thank you.” He stood as well.

He saw her out and padded back to the couch, running his fingers through his tangled hair.

It was only then he realised how exhausted he was. These last few months had taken everything out of him, physically and mentally. He’d continue to go through the motions in the hopes this might end in his favour but honestly, he couldn’t keep fighting the way he had been.

He loved Wren, with every beat of his heart. But perhaps it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe he was never supposed to have a family.

He grabbed his phone and typed out a quick text, hit send and closed his eyes.

Before he could succumb to sleep, there was a knock at his green front door.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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strangerquinns · 2 years

Text

Deadly Reunion | Chapter 1

Eddie Munson x female!reader

summary: You and Eddie have been best friends since childhood. But when the outbreak happened five years ago, you were torn from one another in the chaos. but now you're left alone, after your group was killed by another radical crew, leaving you to seek out what was once home.

warnings: angst + adult themes w/ descriptions of violence, blood, torture + other zombie apocalypse related issues

word count: 2K+

next chapter ➵ | stranger things masterlist

Your eyes scanned along the shelves and grabbed a few supplies you were able to locate. Band-aids, tweezers, a few sticks of beef jerky that were kicked under a shelf, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and lastly a box of tampons.

“You find anything?” a voice called from the end of the aisle behind you.

Turning around quickly you watched as your friend Wendy walked toward her. Her curly dark hair was pulled loosely from her face into a bun, tendrils falling in front of her face. Blood dotted across her face and blended with the freckles that seemed to kiss her skin more this time of year. The sun is not being gentle even more with the sunburn showing on her shoulders already. You could already hear her higher pitched voice wining about the pain.

“Just a few things, more so for Judy and adding to her medkit.” You shrugged, before tossing your finds into your backpack. “You?”

“Nothing. This place is pretty cleared out. Randall and the other moved to the building next door hoping to find something.”

You scoffed “He needs to stop leaving without everyone accounted for. That’s how we get killed.”

Wendy shrugged rolling her eyes slightly, “He’s a jackass. Come on, we gotta hurry and catch up.”

She playfully bumped your shoulder as she passed you and headed back to the front of the store. Your eyes did a quick sweep to make sure nothing else was missed, before following right behind her. The two of you moved with ease as you jumped back through the window you’d come in from before. Your eyes squinting as the harsh sun came back into your view.

“How much longer do you think we’re gonna be out here? It’s not like we’re find anything.” Wendy asked, “It’s been weeks since our last good search.”

“I don’t know.” You sighed heavily “My mom’s starting to get worried, keeps talking of heading north back to our hometown.”

Wendy’s eyebrows shoot up, “That’s nearly a two-day travel.”

“I know. But all our sources seem to be out here. And she’s got it made up in her head that Hawkins would be better.” You shrugged. “A part of me wants to go back too, see what we can find. We left so much behind when everything was happening.”

As you spoke your hand moved up to the faded and worn down red and black pic that swung from the silver chain around your neck.

“Well…maybe I’ll come with you.” Wendy smiled, swinging her shoulder to wrap and rest around yours. “Not like I have anything holding me here.”

You frowned at her flippant comment.

It had been two years since Wendy’s brother and father died from a mob and her mother dying at the beginning. Leaving her alone, till she’d join the group a few months back. The two of you gravitated toward one another becoming more than best friends.

Wendy was like a sister.

“I would really like that, Wen.” You spoke softly. “I’ll talk to my mom more, convince her on leaving.”

Wendy’s face lit up with a smile that spready across her face and caused her brown eyes to shine.

The familiar sound of a growl snapped you awake and ripped you away from the dream that had clouded your mind. It was rare that you were able to fall asleep without the dark clouds of your nightmares fogging them. You were welcomed with smiles last night instead of screams.

Your head moved from side to side as you tried to find the source of the sound, scrambling to look over the edge of the building you were able to find refuge in. You’d learned quickly while being on your own it was smarter to camp up high, instead of chancing it down below. The sun was barely peaking out from behind the clouds as the morning started to switch back from night. Your heart jumped again when the growl from before sounded louder and multiplied.

The sound a Flayed was enough to churn your stomach with the deepest of dread.

You grabbed your gun from the back of your pants and checked to make sure it was loaded with the safety off. When your gaze returned to the streets below, you saw the movement of them. Shuffling across the overgrown lawn of the business that was across from where you stayed. The blackened veins beneath their skin are dark enough for you to see even at your distance. One’s face nearly decayed back enough that the bone beneath showed.

“Fuck,” You cursed, before moving to line up your shot. You knew the chances of you getting down and past them were slim.

A Flayed’s hearing was something one didn’t want to bet with.

You always came out on the losing side.

Your first shot hit its target.

Its head knocked back from the force of the bullet before the body fell to the ground like dead weight. But the loud cracking sound of the gun alerted the other quickly to your location. Its head snapping with its dead eye seeming to look right at you. The speed that it broke off into was something that one could never get used to. A flayed moved slowly with no motivation till the possibility of a kill presented itself. Then it became the monster it created to be. It’ broke across the street in what felt like mere seconds.

But you were ready, finger pressed against the trigger, before sending a second bullet out. You missed slightly by hitting it on the shoulder. But it was enough to slow it down before you aimed again and sent one through its skull.

You breathed a silent prayer of thanks before letting your body relax. But only for a moment. Knowing the sound of gunshots were only going to bring attention to your location.

You rolled your sleeping bag up tightly and tied it back beneath your bag before looking around and double checking that you’d left nothing else. Once you were satisfied, you moved quickly, climbing back down from the ladder of the fire escape.

You gave no second thought as you walked by the dead bodies of the Flayed before walking down the main road of the familiar small town you were in.

-x-

“It’s been a couple of days since we came across a Flayed.” Robin spoke softly, Steve and Nancy a few paces in front of her. “Think they’ll lesson patrols?”

“The last thing that Hopper is going to want to do is to lesson patrols. That man is more paranoid than ever lately.” Steve shook his head, his grip tight on the bat that rested on his shoulder, nails sticking out of it every direction. The wood is worn and stained from months of use.

“Can you blame him? Sarah only died a few months ago,” Eddie spoke with a heavy sadness in his voice.

His head swiveled slowly as his eyes scanned over the forest that surrounded him. The only thing that could be heard amongst the group was the sound of their shoes against the dead leaves at their feet.

This was Eddie’s second patrol in a couple of days, and it was already starting to ware on him. His shoulders ached from the clearing they’d done from the night before. All he wanted was a shower and his bed but knew that was hours away. But he knew that being out of the camp was better than staying behind and lingering with his guilt. It was getting harder each day to see Hopper as he walked through the halls or sitting at the head table in the meetings.

Hopper had told Eddie that it wasn’t his fault that Sarah was gone.

But his guilt said otherwise.

And hearing her screams in his sleep was enough to make sure that guilt didn’t leave any time soon.

Just as Eddie’s thought almost ran away down the dark hole he was too familiar with lately, the cracking sound of a gunshot cut through the silence. Everyone stopped the moment the sound was heard, their heads turning in the direction of the source.

“That’s coming from downtown,” Nancy said, sliding her knife into her small waist sheath, before reaching back for her Smith & Wesson.

“Wasn’t that cleared four days ago?” Robin asked. “Who else could be this close to town already?”

“Sadly, we’re gonna have to go and find out.” Steve sighed before starting off toward the direction of Downtown Hawkins.

The four of them moved quickly and effortlessly through the forest that was quickly overtaking the small town that once existed. As they grew closer and closer to the city limits the more the old town came to life. But just as they were a couple miles out, Steve froze and threw up two fingers, causing the others to stop with him. Eddie listened closely and soon able to hear what had caught Steve’s attention.

The sound of feet moving through the woods, from the light sound of it, it was only one.

“Nancy and I will take the north,” Steve instructed “You two head in the south and hopefully we corner them. No shots unless needed, we don’t need Flayed and Crawlers coming this way if they are close.”

Eddie nodded his head quickly and stiffly before moving in the opposite direction of Nancy and Steve. He used the fallen trees and bushes as cover unsure of what they were all going to come across in the woods. Flayed was their top concern, but lately strangers were becoming just as dangerous.

“Munson,” Robin whispered harshly, causing Eddie to turn and look in the same direction she was.

His eyes caught movement of a dark form through the trees a few feet in front of them. Already he knew it wasn’t Nancy nor Steve.

“It’s a transient.” Eddie said.

“Think they are from the group last time?” Robin asked, her tone faltering as it shook with worry.

Flashes from the few months before played through Eddie’s mind quickly with flashes of Sarah’s blood warming his hands.

“If it is, we end it now,” Eddie spoke angrily.

AN: please leave or message me your thoughts, would love to know what you think. I'm nervous about this one since it's been a moment since I posted. But it's a nervous & excited feeling.

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