#(( time to pack her in my bag and get ready to bring her to raps for a photo )) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kindahoping4forever · 3 years

Text

I Don’t Wanna Spend One More Christmas Without You // Poly!Cashton

@cal-puddies and I want to thank everyone who read/liked/reblogged/left us feedback during our Hoe For The Hoe-lidays event. We keep saying we can’t believe we pulled this off: between our 10 solo fics and this co-write, we posted over 30k words this week! I’m proud of not only that impressive feat but also the work we produced, these have been some of my favorite pieces in recent memory.

We knew we wanted to close out with a Galaxybrain co-write but we weren’t sure which of our lanes to feed. We figured, hey it’s the season of giving: why not both? 😏 In true Cass & Crystal fashion, this started out with us just being thirsty (we wrote the smut first lmao) but ended up being super heartfelt and emotional? Please be sure and let us know what you think, we couldn’t be prouder of this one!

Warnings: Reader x Calum, Reader x Ashton, Calum x Ashton; a relatively new throuple trying to figure out how to express their feelings for one another, filth but make it fluffy, unprotected sex within a triad relationship, oral sex performed on both a male and a female, manual stimulation of both a male and a female, cum play

Word Count: 9150

Cass & Crystal’s Masterlist // Hoe For The Hoe-lidays Masterlist

Let us know what you think!

“Food’s here,” a voice quietly announces with a rap on the door.

You turn to see Calum in your bedroom doorway, sheepishly mouthing ‘sorry’ when he realizes you’re on the phone. You step over to him and whisper, “I’m almost done, bub,” reassuring him with a quick peck on the lips.

A few minutes later, you follow the sounds of loud laughter and conversation to the living room; you smile when you see Ashton standing there, in the midst of an animated story while Cal sits on the couch, hanging on every word, laughing as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever witnessed. You honestly wonder if maybe it is.

You bounce over behind Ash, throwing your arms around him, nuzzling his back; his leather jacket feels cold against your face so you assume he hasn’t been here long. “I didn’t know we were seeing you tonight,” you chirp.

He chuckles, slinging an arm around you. “I was texting with Cal when he was ordering dinner and it sounded good so I invited myself,” he explains, kissing your forehead.

“Bullshit, I absolutely invited you!” Cal insists, smiling eyes betraying his words of protest. You giggle at their banter and untangle yourself from Ash to serve yourself some dinner. Cal continues his teasing, “The food sounded good, just admit you missed us and move on.”

Ashton sits down on the couch next to Cal and nudges his knee tentatively with his own. “Of course I missed you,” he says simply. The two men exchange sweet, almost shy smiles and you feel your entire being light up with affection as you watch them.

It’d been four months since you and Ash had asked Calum to be a part of your relationship and while the three of you were still individually and collectively deciding exactly what all that means, you were happy and that’s all that mattered to you.

In the year and a half you were with Ashton, it was as intense and meaningful a relationship as you’d ever had - but it was never quite right and you’d split up a handful of times. During one of your “breaks” last year, a friend of a friend suggested that Cal might be the answer to your search for a new roommate. You met for coffee one day and immediately hit it off; you’d be lying if you said you didn’t quickly develop feelings for him but more than anything at that point, you needed a friend and Cal was there for you when it really counted.

It came as no surprise that when Ash started hanging around again, he bonded with Cal as instantly as you did and the three of you became inseparable. You and Ashton reconciled once again and couldn’t help but notice how much more communicative and at peace with each other you were with Calum around. It’s like he had been the missing piece all along, he made everything feel right - and you eventually told him as much.

Which is why you’re struggling so much with the bad news you have to deliver to your boyfriends. You sit on your living room floor, picking at your dinner, going over the dilemma in your mind for the 100th time, trying to find a different solution.

“Darlin’?” Cal’s gentle but firm voice shakes you out of your thoughts and you look up blankly. “Ash asked if you wanted another soda.”

You blink a few times, as if that will reset your mind and bring clarity. “Oh. No thank you, love, I’m good!” You call out towards the kitchen.

“You feelin’ OK?” Cal asks, reaching across the coffee table to stroke your arm. “We’ve been talking about this food all day and you’ve barely touched it.”

You look into his dark eyes, full of care and concern and know you have to be honest with him. “I need to talk to you both about Christmas… it’s not great,” you admit.

Ashton searches your face as he sits back down. “Is your mom alright?” He gently asks, remembering a health scare your family was dealing with when he went home with you last winter.

You offer him a faint, loving smile. “Everyone’s fine… great, even. Uh… my sister is getting engaged,” you share, chewing your lip.

“Oh! ...Oh,” he responds, starting to understand the issue.

Calum looks between the two of you, baffled. “I don’t understand, why is that bad? I thought we liked her boyfriend?”

“We do,” you start, carefully. “It’s just… With this news in mind, I don’t know if it’s really the right time to tell everyone about our relationship now.” You can’t bring yourself to look in Cal’s eyes yet, not wanting to see if he’s as hurt as you fear he may be.

He sits back on the couch, trying to process. “I thought you said your parents would be super understanding and chill about us?”

Ash sees you struggling to find the words so he tries to help. “They would be. They will be,” he reassures Cal with a warm smile. “I think the concern is that an engagement might seem kind of mundane compared to an announcement like ours. What’s more exciting than a daughter bringing home one son in law? How about the other daughter bringing home two?”

“They’d spend the whole time doting on us, making sure we’re comfortable, Facebooking all the extended family who’s coming to visit to make sure no one says anything that might offend us… her moment would get totally overshadowed,” you explain. “And I’d hate that, this is a big deal, she deserves to be The Story.”

Calum listens intently, nodding. You finally catch his gaze and are relieved to see nothing but understanding and compassion on his face. “OK. Well, wouldn't it be better if I just didn’t go at all then?” He offers sincerely.

Your exclamation of “Bubba, no!” blends with Ashton’s soft sigh of “Cal…” and you all have to laugh at the outburst.

"That's not me trying to be dramatic or anything, I just don't want to cause any trouble," he shrugs.

You scoot around to come sit next to the couch. "I've really been looking forward to us spending our first Christmas together," you insist, squeezing Cal's knee. "If you're uncomfortable with coming under these circumstances, I understand but for what it's worth, I would like you there."

Ash places his hand on top of yours, reassuring Calum as well. "The family's already expecting you, just as a roommate," he points out. "Plus… trying to keep our secret could be kind of fun." He winks at Cal, who can't resist breaking into a wide grin.

Your “fun” holiday couldn’t be off to a worse start the next morning when Ashton arrives bright and early to pick you and Cal up only to find you still in your pajamas, rushing to finish getting your bags together. After a few minutes of Ash stomping around, huffing about getting a late start, Cal, peacemaker that he is, offers to help him pack the car while you finish up.

You meet them in the driveway a few minutes later, dragging your suitcase behind you. Ash promptly snatches it away from you without a word and you glare at him fiercely.

Calum appears at your side and holds you by the waist. “You can’t blame him for being irritated,” he says quietly, rubbing your arm. “You knew what time he was coming, you should have been packed.”

“Yeah… but,” you start.

Cal is already shaking his head. “No, darlin’, there’s no excuse. We had a plan, you should have been ready.”

“See!” Ashton says, coming up beside the two of you.

“Well, you don’t get to gloat, babe, you could have handled it better,” Cal chides.

“I don’t like it when you don’t pick sides,” Ash says, coming over to peck Cal’s cheek. He presses his lips to the top of your head. “I’m sorry I was a grouch.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t ready and delayed us 15 whole minutes,” you reply.

Cal pinches your hip. “Passive aggressive much?”

Ash shrugs at you. “It’s coming out of your breakfast time. It’s a 6 hour drive, love.”

“I’m aware, love,” you fire back, helping yourself into the back seat. He sighs as you pull the hood up on your sweatshirt and stuff your hands in the pocket.

Ash huffs as he shuts your door. Cal gently grabs his arm. “Give her a few minutes. We’ll make breakfast quick, coffee and bagels; smother hers in cream cheese, get some caffeine in her and she’ll forgive you,” he reassures.

His prediction is spot on and by the time you’re halfway through your cup of coffee, you’re leaning into the front seat to run your fingers through both of your boyfriends’ hair. “I’m so glad I get to take you both home with me,” you say warmly. “I’m sorry it can’t be exactly what we wanted, but I know it’ll still be special, because we’ll be together.”

The rest of the drive goes smoothly and when you arrive at your parents’ house, the family is waiting at the door for you; after introducing Calum, you’re immediately whisked away by your sister, gushing about the recent trip her boyfriend took her on for their anniversary. You listen quietly and hope your smile doesn’t give anything away, you love that she has no idea what’s coming in a few days.

Your dad loves Ashton and couldn’t be more thrilled that you brought him home again; he offers to help him unload the car and makes a big show of pointing out how similar their leather jackets are, going so far as to make a “like father, like son” joke.

You sneak a few apologetic glances over at Calum, who you hope isn’t feeling too left out in his role of “your roommate” as he makes small talk with your sister’s boyfriend. You feel endlessly grateful for your mother when you see her sit down and start showing Cal all the gourmet vegetarian recipes she’s bookmarked on her iPad, asking what he’d prefer for Christmas dinner; she’s clearly charmed by his shyly polite responses and you fight the urge to go over and kiss over his squishy, crinkly face as her attention continues to make him more smiley and flustered.

While your mom and sister set the table for dinner, your dad and Ash carry the luggage to your respective rooms for you to get settled; you take advantage of the opportunity to break away and check in with Cal, under the guise of showing him the trick to operating the shower in the guest bathroom.

You turn the overhead fan on to help drown out your conversation. “You doin’ OK, bub?” You ask, massaging his shoulders.

He squeezes your hip. “It was hard at first but your mom’s sweet,” he gives you a sad smile. “Guess I didn’t realize how weird it’d be to see you and Ash act like a couple again, since I’m used to seeing you be… whatever we are.”

“The best thing that’s ever happened to me, that’s what we are,” you easily respond, drawing him in for a quick, soft kiss.

He holds you by the hips, resting his forehead to yours. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “You better get out of here before people get suspicious.” He presses his lips to your forehead and you step out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

You spend the next few days trying to make sure Calum doesn’t feel left out. Your dad invites him to join some of the “future son in law” activities he’d planned but Cal is easily swayed to stay with your mom and help around the house. His height and muscle mass are highly desired for decorating or carrying in groceries and he’s so sweet and well-mannered, your mom is just tickled to have him around. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think she had a crush on him.

The day before Christmas Eve, Cal agrees to join the men for lunch and last minute shopping; your mom encouraged him to go because she wanted to make a secret shopping trip with you so you could pick out a few gifts for the family to give him so he didn’t get left out.

From what Ashton tells you when they return, the outing seemed to go well; you chatted with Cal a little that evening and he seemed to be in good spirits, happy with how things had turned out. But you can still sense him needing the affection you haven’t been able to provide; aside from a stolen kiss here and there, you’d barely touched him since you arrived and he and Ash had been keeping their distance so as not to raise eyebrows. What weighs on you most is knowing Calum hadn’t slept alone since the three of you became the three of you and you can see it wearing on him.

Ashton climbs in bed next to you. “Love… who’re you texting?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“I just want to make sure he’s OK,” you say sheepishly.

“He’s fine, love,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, then letting his lips trail down to your neck. “You’ve said he’s had fun with you and your mom and I saw him have a great day today. He’s good… now, me on the other hand? I could use some attention.” His lips firmly attach to your jaw and he’s practically laid himself on top of you, hovering.

You giggle at his lack of subtlety. “When do you not want attention?” You tease, pulling him into a hungry kiss. “I’ve been missing you too, Ash. I’m sorry I haven’t been here for you much, I’ve just been worried about how Cal’s handling things and I love my family but being around them is kind of draining…”

He cuts you off with a sweet kiss. “I know, baby… ‘s why I thought we could use a little stress relief,” he flirts, leaning in to mouth at that spot behind your ear that makes you crazy.

You hum with interest and brush his hair off his forehead. “We’d have to be quiet, we can’t have another incident like last year,” you say with a smirk.

Ash pulls back to playfully glare at you. “We’ve gone over this, technically that noise I made was your fault. If you hadn’t done that thing with your tongue, I wouldn’t have cum so suddenly and the incident would’ve been avoided,” he argues, tickling your side.

You try fighting him off to no avail. “My sister did think it was pretty funny… after the initial horror wore off,” you giggle, batting at his hands, trying to get him to let up.

After another minute or so of play fighting, you “win” by wrapping your legs around Ashton’s body and using them to draw him back over you. He kisses you with a little more emotion behind it than last time, pulling away to whisper, “I’m very happy I get to be here with you.” Your stomach flips at his sincerity and you wrap your arms around his neck, letting your kisses tell him how much you appreciate him.

Things start to heat up and Ash’s hands slide up your sweatshirt and over your hips; his hands are slow to tease you the way they usually do and when you rock against him, you’re slightly surprised you don’t feel him straining against his sweatpants yet. Your fingers travel under his long sleeve tee and dance over his abs to meet his waistband. You’re just about to dip your hand in when he stops you.

“Does this feel weird to you? This feels weird to me,” he sighs, flopping over onto his back beside you. He runs his hand through his long, dark hair, distressed. “Why does this feel weird to me?”

You roll onto your side, curling up next to him. “Well… we haven’t been intimate together, just the two of us, since Cal happened,” you say gently, stroking softly at his chest. “Do you think maybe you miss him being with us?”

“Yeahhhhh, I think so…” He lets out a long exhale, playing with your hand on him. “I just… it’s silly, you and me had sex a million times before we met him and now… I pull away from you and expect to see his eyes smiling at me while he kisses your shoulders. Expect to feel your skin already warm from his touch… expect to feel him warm next to me. Want it, even.”

“Ash,” you pout, touched by how he’s opening up to you, how open he’s being with himself about his feelings for Calum. “It’s not silly, you care about him. It’s not that you and I are suddenly uncomfortable with each other, it’s just that we’re used to more than this now. Need it, even.”

You rest your head on his chest and lay together, quiet and understanding while you both evaluate your feelings. After a while, you decide to lighten the mood, lifting your head up to tease, “A million times, eh?”

Ashton laughs loudly, clamping his hand over his mouth to muffle the noise. A beat passes and he meets your eyes for the first time since this conversation started, giving you an almost shy smile. “Think we could slip him in here undetected?”

You grin at him as you reach for your phone. “I don’t think the three of us would be able to keep it down, so no funny business,” you warn, texting your boyfriend. “But at the very least, we’ll get some alone time, even for a few minutes.”

Ash gets up and cracks the door, waiting for Cal to make his way down the hall; when he appears in the doorway, you see Ashton’s shoulders instantly relax. He gently closes the door behind him and wraps Calum in a tight, warm embrace; you can’t tell what Ash murmurs in his ear but whatever it is, it casts a soft, lovestruck glow across Cal’s features when he hears it.

His eyes meet yours and you open your arms wide. “Come lay with us, bubba,” you invite him.

“But…” He motions to the door, looking unsure.

Ash shrugs, “We can say we’re watching a movie.” He rests his chin on Cal’s shoulder from behind. “What do you say, babe? We miss you.”

Calum relaxes, gently reaching up to scratch at Ash’s scruff. He moves toward the bed but clearly doesn’t know what to do.

“Lay next to me, bub!” You smile, patting the bed next to you.

Ash lets a soft smile cross his face. “Why don’t you get in the middle?” He suggests.

Cal lays next to you and you instantly snuggle into him, throwing your arm across his body while Ash settles in on his other side. Cal wraps his arm around you and kisses your forehead; you look up with a pout and he presses his lips to yours. He pulls away from you when he feels Ashton nuzzle his cheek; Ash looks at him lovingly and gently plants a chaste kiss on his lips.

“Thought we were cuddling, lovers,” Cal whispers against his mouth.

“We are… just wanted to give you affection too,” Ash murmurs.

The three of you lay quietly for a while, Ash’s head next to Cal’s on the pillow and you draped across Cal’s body. His arm is tight around your back while he and Ash shyly play with each other’s fingers.

Ash looks over at you and you watch as his eyes take you in. “Our girlfriend sure is beautiful, isn’t she, Cal?” He whispers, lips gently pressing to Cal’s jaw.

“Gorgeous,” he agrees, turning his eyes to you, sweeping your hair back. Ash leans in to you first for a kiss, with Cal wanting one right after. You sigh, scooting up so you can rest your head in the crook of Cal’s neck, and let yourself drift to sleep. Calum knows immediately, he’s felt your even breath on his neck many times.

“She sleeps so easy with you,” Ash comments, brushing his fingers against Cal’s for the umpteenth time. Cal finally laces his fingers with Ashton’s, looking over at him. They stare at each other for a few moments before Ash speaks again. “I’m so glad you decided to come with us after all… I know it’s not perfect and not what we talked about, but I don’t think either of us would enjoy this without you.”

“I’m really happy to be here,” Cal responds quietly, squeezing Ash’s hand and your sleeping body gently. “I was definitely missing all of this though... thanks for bringing me in tonight.”

“We needed you,” Ash confesses, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Weird when you're not here now.”

Calum turns his face toward Ashton’s, nuzzling in and enjoying the warmth of his boyfriend, his rough hand wrapped with his; he grins against Ash’s cheek and Ash responds with a kiss to his forehead.

Cal stays, wrapped in the both of you, for another 45 minutes before the men agree it’s time to call it a night. He tries his best not to wake you as he slips out of bed but he fails, leading to an extra 15 minutes of your soft whines and insistence that he stay. He finally leaves you with a passionate kiss and a kiss on the cheek for Ash.

The next day, Christmas Eve, goes by fast. Various family and friends are in and out of the house all day, stopping by to share their holiday greetings. Continuing your family’s tradition, the men head out in the afternoon to pick out and haul home a Christmas tree and after dinner, you all decorate it together.

Like you’ve done since you were kids, the lights in the living room get turned off for a dramatic “reveal” of the lit and decorated tree when you’re all finished. The multi-colored lights get plugged in and brighten up the room, illuminating your sister’s boyfriend down on one knee. You squeeze Ashton’s hand and subtly brush your pinky down the back of Calum’s hand. Her “moment” is perfect and you silently thank your boyfriends with your eyes for understanding why you wanted this for her.

After some dessert and celebratory cocktails, everyone is exhausted but happy to be together. Your dad gets a fire going and your sister puts on the old Rudolph special you loved as kids; you plop yourself in Ashton's lap on the couch, with Cal sitting close by, close enough for you to keep throwing him little glances undetected. You know it must’ve been hard for him to go back to bed alone after the time you spent together last night and even harder today, having to watch you and Ash continually couple up and be gushed over by your holiday visitors.

Halfway through the show, your dad starts snoring so Mom decides it’s time for them to head up to bed. Your sister and her fiancée make it through to the end of the show but when you suggest following it up with Frosty The Snowman, they decline and tell you and the guys goodnight.

After such a long day, filled with so much unspoken emotion, it's surprising how quiet the three of you are now that you're alone. Sitting with your men in a room lit only by the warm glow of the fire and the soft colored lights of the tree - this was the type of scene you imagined when you envisioned your first Christmas together. But the feeling's not quite right.

You peck Ashton on the cheek before sliding off his lap, moving to sit on the other side of Calum, putting him in the middle of you and Ash. You run a hand through his hair, tentatively at first, just in case everyone in the house isn't quite settled yet. "How are you, bub?" You ask softly.

He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch and you feel your heart both swell and break a little at how badly he was clearly needing your affection. "Good. Tired. Happy I can finally do this," he replies, leaning in to give you a short but needy kiss.

When he pulls back, he grabs your hand out of his hair and brings it up to his lips for a kiss; he waits a beat then reaches for Ash’s hand and kisses it as well. “Missed you too, bub,” you murmur with a smile.

Ash looks at both of you, adoration in his eyes. You recognize that look on his face, the one that means he’s searching for the right words, trying to line up his emotions with his nervous tongue.

You squeeze his other hand that’s resting on the back of the couch behind Cal, sensing he needs encouragement and he glances at you, grateful.

"We both missed you, Cal,” he starts, shaking his head as he decides to go all in. “I’ve missed you, is what I mean actually. Not being able to have you close the past few days has me realizing how much closer I would like you to be."

He cups Cal’s face, stroking gently with his thumb while he waits for his words to sink in and his nerves to settle. He inches forward and gently kisses him; it’s brief but Ash is purposeful in the way their lips slot together. When he gets bold and slips in his tongue, Cal visibly tenses and Ash pulls away gracefully, not wanting to push.

You stop yourself from obviously reacting but your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest. You've watched them both struggle to navigate their feelings for each other over the past four months and you couldn't be happier to see at least Ashton take a step towards clarity. You gently rest your palm on top of their intertwined hands and squeeze twice; a supportive one for Ash and a reassuring one for Cal.

Cal, dazed, turns to look at you briefly before his eyes briefly widen as if a light bulb has gone off. He grabs Ash’s neck to pull him in for another kiss, this one more desperate, with daring tongue and teeth.

You quietly pull your hand off theirs, not wanting to intrude on the intimacy of their moment. You can't deny that witnessing their hunger for each other has you feeling needy yourself but you know how important this exploration is for them, how important it is for the three of you, so you patiently sit and watch.

They eventually pull away from each other, panting. You see them exchange a look of some sort and then Calum is reaching for you; he kisses you feverishly while lifting you over his lap and fitting you in between him and Ash. His lips move down to your neck and suddenly Ashton's tongue is slowly tangling with yours; you can tell by his kiss he's still in his feelings and you do your best to match his energy, letting him know you're there for him.

You break apart, one of your hands in each of your boyfriends' hair. You all look back and forth between each other and quietly laugh, ecstatic to be alone together and ready to take advantage of this opportunity.

Ashton gives you another lingering kiss, massaging your breast over your sweater before pulling away and immediately drawing Calum in for a kiss; they sit up on their knees, making out over you and you watch how they lose themselves in it, yet keep their hands occupied in each other's hair, almost as if they're unsure if they should go further. They each let out a quiet groan and you note the tents forming in both of their pants; you decide to help them out and reach to palm their straining cocks while they kiss.

It surprises Ashton more than Cal; he stops their kiss to look down at you. He runs a hand over your face and smiles at you briefly before his mouth is back on Cal’s.

You turn toward Calum, gently lifting his shirt and kissing on his stomach. He lets out an appreciative moan for your touch and you take that cue to unzip his pants; he eagerly cooperates in helping you pull him out of his boxers.

“Oh god,” he moans against Ash’s mouth as you use yours to slick him up before stroking your hand over his now wet cock. You’ve missed him: his sounds, his taste, the way he feels against your skin, the way he appreciates you and the attention you give him. You press sloppy kisses to his length, grinning to yourself as precum beads at his tip, moving to kitten lick at it.

Ashton gently tugs on your hair, wanting attention for himself. You continue rubbing over his bulge, adding in a few squeezes, buying yourself a little more time with Calum. You finally pull off and look up at your boyfriends, still lost in each other, though Cal steals a glance down at you while Ash’s lips are pressed to his jaw. He gives you a little grin and pushes his hand under Ash’s shirt.

You notice Ash falter for a second in reaction to Cal touching him that way but he quickly recovers from his hesitation, moaning quietly and tucking a hand in your hair. You pull at the button on his pants, taking his cock out and slicking him up as well; you swirl your tongue around the head, enjoying the soft groans you hear coming from him, thrilled that you're not sure if they're being caused by you or Cal. You notice that his hand has left you and has begun unbuttoning Cal's shirt; Calum reaches down and yanks at the shoulder of your sweater, gesturing for you to take it off.

Ash quietly sighs at the loss of your mouth but is quickly distracted by kissing over Cal's now exposed chest; you pull your sweater over your head and tug your leggings down while you're at it, leaving you in your bra and panties. You give a small whimper of relief as you press your thighs together before reaching for the cocks on either side of you, shiny and red, begging for your attention. You stroke them both evenly and firmly, watching with pride as their expressions change in response to your actions.

Calum is the first to glance at you and notice your new state of undress. "Fuck, darlin', look at you," he rasps, leaning down to kiss you, sneaking his fingers inside your bra to play with a nipple. "Look so pretty under all these lights." Cal smiles against your lips as he feels Ash's hand stroke through his hair while he kisses you.

Ashton pulls his own shirt off and then his hand snakes between your legs, tracing over the front of the lacy, damp material. "Mmm, so wet for us, baby,” he teases lowly, dipping his fingers underneath your panties to tap lightly at your clit. “Think you’ll be able to keep quiet if we decide to do anything about it?” Cal groans as he sucks just below your earlobe; he loves how responsive you are when Ash taunts you like this.

Proving his point, you let out a whine before quickly biting your lip to fight back any other sounds that might come out. Ash chuckles, suddenly rubbing hard and fast at your clit just to see how much restraint you have. You screw your eyes shut, determined to remain silent. “You’re one to talk, most of the noises I’ve heard tonight have come from your mouth, love,” you point out once you catch your breath. You squeeze his cock and he breathes out a deep moan, proving your point.

Cal chuckles at the exchange and Ash shoots him a glare, pulling him back over to him. “Laugh it up,” he smirks, kissing his neck to distract from his hand traveling to thumb over Cal’s nipple; Cal loudly gasps, body rigidly jolting like he’s been struck by lightning. He grabs Ash’s face with both hands and muffles his moans with an intense kiss.

You turn your focus back to Ash’s cock, knowing Calum is already dealing with a lot of stimulation from the nipple play. You bob your mouth on him a couple times, just because you feel like it and then work on building a steady rhythm with your hand. You bite back another moan when Cal’s hand moves down to cover yours, essentially helping you jerk Ashton off.

Despite their obvious attraction, your boyfriends have never gone beyond the occasional kiss during sex with you so tonight had already been a big step for them. You look up and see Cal, Ash’s lips firmly attached to his neck, looking curious but confident as he watches his hand move with yours. Your eyes meet and you nod, understanding; you drop your hand from Ash’s cock, leaning back to watch Cal seamlessly take over, continuing with the rhythm you started.

Ashton immediately reacts to the difference in touch: the unknown grip, the new sensation of rough calluses running over his shaft, the unfamiliar feeling of a hand much larger than yours stroking him. “Cal,” he shakily breathes, pulling back to look at him.

“Is this alright?” Calum whispers, hoping the quietness of his voice will mask his nervousness.

Ash closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Cal’s, breathing deep, trying to ground himself, trying to process all the thoughts and emotions swirling in his brain right now.

“Don’t stop,” he states with certainty.

Cal’s hand swipes over the tip of Ashton’s cock, spreading around the precum he’s coaxed out, expertly keeping with the established rhythm. You watched Ash’s expression change from confusion to curiosity and now you see it switch to the confidence you’re used to seeing from him, especially in the bedroom; you see his hand fidgeting at his side moments before he clenches his jaw and reaches out to touch Calum’s cock. His strokes aren’t nearly as precise or measured as Cal’s are but his boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind; Cal lets out a throaty sigh of his name and you swear it’s the most erotic thing you’ve witnessed yet.

The men lock their mouths into another heated kiss while they continue to explore pleasuring each other; with them distracted, you slide yourself up and off the couch, moving down to the floor to give them some space and to give you some space to spread out and really enjoy the sight before you. You tug at your nipples like Cal would and slide your hand down your stomach and into your panties to swirl your clit like Ash would. You miss their touch but you’re more than happy to wait your turn for it this time.

Your eyes don’t leave them for a second as you make slow, careful work of pleasing yourself. You watch as Ash boldly tugs at Cal’s jeans, trying to pull them down more; he gets them just below his ass and his free hand grips it tightly. You let out a little moan and Ashton reaches his hand out for you, finally realizing you’re no longer between them.

They pull out of their own little world, searching for you. Calum spots you on the ground first. “What’re you doin’ down there, darlin’?” He teases, moving down next to you.

You press a quick kiss to his lips while he undoes your bra; he quickly moves his mouth down to your tits, lavishing your nipples with much needed attention. “Just enjoying the show,” you confess, looking directly at Ash.

Ash moves from the couch, grabbing a blanket to lay in front of the fireplace. He discards his jeans before beckoning the two of you over to join him. You both crawl over to the blanket and before you get settled, Ash helps your boyfriend out of the rest of his clothes. He wraps a hand around Calum’s cock; he pauses to look at you briefly and then back over to the beautiful man naked in front of him. His tongue darts out of his mouth and before any of you can process it, he’s licking the tip of Cal’s cock.

“Oh,” Cal moans, tucking his fingers into Ash’s hair. Ashton, feeling emboldened by that response, wraps his lips around the head, continuing to test the waters. “Yeah,” Cal mutters. “That… that’s good.”

Ash’s other hand pushes up your thigh and you interlace your fingers with his. You watch as he tests circling his tongue around the tip before pulling back to turn his attention to you. He pulls your panties down, kissing your thighs and up over your lips, letting his tongue spread them so he can tease your clit. He pulls up as Calum settles in next to him, wasting no time in getting his turn at flicking his tongue over your clit.

“Been so good for us, think it’s time we repay you,” Ash murmurs, kissing up to your hip. He watches you tangle your fingers in Cal’s hair and groans when you do the same to him. His hand travels down between your thighs and he pushes two fingers into you. “Cal’s tongue feel good for you?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold in a moan. “Yes, love.”

Cal continues working over your clit while his hand reaches up your body, giving attention to your nipples once again; Ashton’s fingers continue pumping inside you, mouth settled against your jaw, unceasingly affirming his and Cal’s affection for you.

“So patient tonight, love,” he whispers, mouthing along your neck, careful not to leave any marks. “Lettin’ me and Cal play while you’re over here so wet and needy.”

You take a deep breath, overwhelmed at all of the sudden attention. “Wanted it for you, could tell you both needed it,” you admit, digging your nails into Ash’s arm as Cal’s lips enclose your clit and start sucking. “Didn’t mind watching either.”

Ashton grins and plants a sloppy kiss on you; he pulls away to lean down and run his hand softly through Cal’s hair before pulling him up from between your legs to kiss him passionately. Both men groan at the realization that Ash can taste your arousal on Cal’s lips; Ashton takes it a step further and removes his hand from your pussy, sinking his drenched fingers into Calum’s mouth. Cal hollows his cheeks and sucks Ash’s fingers deep into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them, bobbing back and forth on them, wondering when he’ll get to give Ashton’s cock the same treatment.

For what feels like the hundredth time tonight, your jaw drops at the erotic sight before you and you reach out for one or both of your boyfriends to tend to you. Your head lolls back as you whine, “Please... babes… I need you so bad.”

Calum promptly pulls his mouth away with a lewd pop and lays on his side next to you. “Need you too, darlin’, you have no idea,” he murmurs as he grabs your hip, easily turning you to your side and slinging your leg over him. “Can’t remember the last time I went this long without having you.” He takes his cock in hand, running it up and down to coat it with your wetness before easing himself inside you, silencing your soft, relieved exhale with a kiss.

Cal softly rocks into you, sucking gently at your bottom lip, stroking your hair back with his hand; you feel Ashton lay down behind you and begin running his fingers down your back, quietly showing you his care while respecting the moment you and Cal are having, much like you respected their time together.

Your hand moves down to grab Cal’s ass, attempting to bring him even closer to you; you feel his muscles tensing and flexing under your hold as he pumps inside you and you bury your face in his chest to keep from crying out. You hear the slick sound of Ash’s hand working his cock as he watches you two together and you reach for him, wanting him near.

“I’m here, love,” he reassures you, nibbling at your ear, massaging over your breast. “You two look so fuckin’ good together, couldn’t help myself.” He extends his arm, reaching to squeeze Cal’s bicep.

Your hand searches behind you until it finds Ashton’s cock, throbbing against your ass; you give it a squeeze and he whimpers into your skin.

“Ash needin’ you too, baby?” Calum asks, voice scratchy with desire. “Know you’re gonna make him feel so good, just like you’re doin’ for me.” He gives you a couple more slow thrusts before he pulls out and helps you onto your other side where Ashton lays waiting.

You smile hazily at Ash as he lifts your leg over his hip and taps his cock against your clit. “So generous with your body, love,” he praises you, hissing as he slides into your wet heat. “Treatin’ us both so good tonight, thank you, baby.”

You caress his cheek as he starts slowly thrusting into you; you press your lips to his and you both lose yourselves in a slow, intimate kiss. Calum hangs back, watching you two communicate what you need to; when Ash breaks the kiss to moan into your mouth, Cal reaches over and begins to play with your breasts.

Ashton’s large hand grips your ass to pull you closer, getting a deeper angle that has you seeing stars. You twist your upper body toward Cal and he kisses you briefly before moving his lips back to your nipples. You push your hand down his body to find his cock, getting in a few strokes before he stops you. “Trust me, darlin’, I’m not needing any help right now.” His hand slips down your body to rub soft circles on your clit. “Let us focus on you.”

“Babes,” you sigh in the form of a soft moan, raspy as it leaves your lips. The sound is so sensual it causes Ash’s hips to lose rhythm and he lets go of your ass, giving a few shallow thrusts before pulling out.

“You gotta take Cal, baby, I need a minute,” he pants, clearly on the edge of losing it. He nuzzles his nose against yours, helping you turn back to your other boyfriend.

“Hey, darlin’,” Cal coos, grinning as he enters you again. You immediately pull him as close as possible.

“Want you both close,” you announce, looking over your shoulder at Ash. He scoots in against your back, kissing over your shoulders. You sigh, “Thank you.”

You give Ashton a short kiss before turning to press your face into Calum’s chest as he works his hips a little faster, harder. You feel a moan reverberating in Cal’s chest but it’s muffled when it spills from his lips; you look up to see him kissing Ash hungrily.

You moan, getting lost in your own world, letting Cal have your body, feeling his body on yours, Ashton’s body at your back, the strength in their frames as you lay between them.

Calum pulls out and turns you back towards Ash. Ashton is still breathing heavy and his kisses are needy, almost frantic, as he pushes into you. “I’m sorry, love, I’m s’close,” he chokes out. “Between you and Cal…”

You cut him off with a kiss. “Nothin’ to apologize for, love,” you murmur. “Want you to cum for me.”

His fingers dig in and hold on to your ass hard, pulling you tight against his body. “Cum for us, Ash,” Calum whispers as he slides his hand down to grip Ashton’s ass, causing Ash’s hips to stutter and jolt against you. You watch Ash pull on Cal’s neck so he can sink his teeth into Cal’s plump lower lip as he spills his cum into you, shuddering in your arms. You let out a loud moan and you all hold your breath waiting to see if it’s woken anyone up.

Once Ash comes down, he tenderly kisses you. “Love,” he murmurs. You give him a few more sweet kisses before you feel Calum’s eager fingers on your skin.

Ashton helps turn you around and his lips shower your shoulders and neck with affection as Cal sinks into you. He groans at the new sensation of Ash’s hot cum surrounding his cock, making you feel even more wet and warm to him.

Ash pushes his hand between your bodies and starts rubbing your clit in time with Cal’s thrusts. “It’s your turn, love, been so good and selfless tonight. Let Cal feel you cum,” he coaxes. “Look at you, look at Cal, look at how good you feel to our boyfriend.”

Cal’s eyes are screwed shut, his lip between his teeth as he tries to hold in any noises. “Calum,” you moan softly. His eyes open to find yours and you lean in for a feverish kiss, a kiss that becomes all tongue as you work your body against him.

Ashton mutters “Fuck” behind you and Cal lets out a guttural moan as you start to squeeze around his cock. You whine helplessly, “I’m cumming.”

“I feel that… let it go,” Cal encourages. You press your face into his chest to quiet yourself and without thinking you start biting and sucking his skin. Ash keeps rubbing your clit through your orgasm until you gently push his hand away, too sensitive to let him continue.

When Ash pulls his fingers up, it’s immediately noticeable they’re covered in both your arousal and his cum that leaked out of you. As soon as that registers to Calum, he grabs for Ash’s hand and takes his fingers into his mouth again, cleaning and sucking them like before. Once he’s done, Ashton takes the opportunity to explore a little more, pumping his fingers, treating Cal’s mouth like he does your pussy.

You shift yourself slightly back, leaning more into Ash so you can watch Calum come undone. You feel his hips continue to drive his cock into you as you watch the obscene way Ash fingers his mouth. You could almost cum again from the visual alone.

“Gonna cum for us, baby?” You breathe, out of your mind with desire. Cal glances at you with a question in his eyes but you answer it before he has a chance to ask. “It’s OK, I want you to.”

Ashton pulls his fingers from Cal’s mouth and pushes your bodies tighter together. He wraps his hand around the back of Cal’s neck, thumb caressing his cheek. “Need you to cum for us, handsome.” And that seems to do it for him. Cal’s hips falter and he clings to you, groaning deeply as he pumps you with cum. It’s the first time you’ve ever let him cum in you and it couldn’t feel more right. His body is tense for a few more moments and then he relaxes, first pressing his lips to yours and then to Ashton’s.

“You’re gonna make a mess,” he chuckles as he gently pulls out.

“We’ve got plenty we can clean her up with,” Ash shrugs.

Cal considers that point and sits up, lifting your thigh to watch in awe as his cum - at least he assumes it’s his - starts to leak out of you. “Incredible,” he murmurs, leaning in, pressing kisses along your thigh.

Ashton sits up to join him and his eyes ping pong back and forth between watching you drip and watching Cal’s reaction to it. He swirls his fingers in the cum that’s now pooling on your thigh. He pulls back a little, drawing your and Cal’s attention. You watch in shock as he pushes his fingers into his mouth, tasting all three of you together. He moans and repeats the action, only this time, pulling Calum in for a kiss, sharing the taste with him.

They break apart and the three of you smile at each other, basking in the intimacy of everything that’s just happened. Cal lays down next to you, stroking over your hair as Ash reaches for his shirt and cleans between your thighs. When he’s done, he curls up next to you and Cal kisses him and then you. “So lucky to have you both,” Cal murmurs.

“We’re the lucky ones,” Ash smiles, grabbing Cal’s hand, interlacing their fingers and letting them rest on your hip.

“I hate that you have to go to bed alone after this,” you pout, kissing on Calum’s jaw.

“I’ll be just fine, this was worth it. Thank you both,” he whispers sincerely. He squeezes Ash’s hand and kisses your forehead.

You’re practically asleep, warm and naked, feeling safe with your loves when they finally decide it’s time for bed. The guys quickly pull their clothes back on and help you into yours. Ash takes the blanket to the laundry room while you put out the fire and turn off the Christmas tree lights. You hold their hands as you navigate the dark house, pulling them up the stairs.

You stop at the guest room to say goodnight to Cal. “You should come to bed with us,” you whisper.

Calum smiles at you but shakes his head. “I think we’ve already pushed our luck quite a bit tonight, darlin’.” He looks to Ash for backup.

“Your sister got her perfect engagement, we pulled off the world’s quietest threesome… we should take the win,” Ashton chuckles quietly.

You pout but know they’re right. Cal pulls you into him by your hips and kisses you, slow but passionate. “Get to bed, darlin’.”

You walk to your room and stand in the doorway, waiting for Ashton. You smile as you watch your boyfriends flirt, easily the most comfortable they’ve ever been with each other. Ash actively reaches out to pull Cal into a kiss and you decide it’s a moment for them; you lay in bed and close your eyes, letting the memories of the evening wash over you, filling you with warmth and contentment.

Ashton quietly enters the room, unsure if you’re awake; you feel the bed shift as he climbs in and you turn over to gaze at him dreamily. “How you feelin’, love?” You ask, carefully, wanting to encourage him to share with you without seeming like you’re pressing.

He lays on his side and gives you a loving, appreciative look. “Happy. Excited. Very, very grateful to have someone like you by my side,” he reflects, gently tracing where your t-shirt has lifted to expose your hip. “I know it’s taken me a while to kind of figure out what I need from this relationship… even back when it was just us, honestly. You’ve just always been so patient and open with me and I hope I’ve made clear how much I appreciate that. And you.”

You scoot in closer, resting your head on his pillow, your face inches from his. “Even before Cal happened, I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy, Ash. With me, without me… with me with someone else…” You both giggle and you peck his lips sweetly. “I’m glad you’re finding your place in all this. And I’m happy to do whatever I can to help you find it.”

You know it takes a lot for Ashton to share with you like this and you savor it when it happens. You lay yourself on his chest and he strokes your hair as you quietly talk some more. You’re starting to drift off to sleep when you hear your phone buzz on the nightstand. You look up at Ash, concerned, before reaching for it.

“It’s Cal, asking if we’re awake?” You shrug, quickly responding that you are.

Seconds later, your bedroom door slowly opens and Calum carefully closes it behind him. Unlike the previous night, he doesn’t hesitate to help himself onto the bed and snuggle into your back, resting his hand on top of Ash’s on your hip.

“Couldn’t sleep. It just… I don’t know... didn’t feel right being without you both after that,” he explains, kissing your neck.

Light kisses and soft touches are exchanged between you all and then there’s a brief discussion about how long the cuddle session should be. You push to have Cal sleep in bed with you and Ash and though they’re reluctant at first, you eventually convince your boyfriends that the family will be none the wiser as long as you set an alarm to get him back to his room before everyone is up and around for Christmas morning.

Ashton untangles himself from you both to set both the alarm clock on the nightstand and the alarm on his phone, just to be safe. You turn towards Cal and peck his nose. “Feelin’ OK, bubba?”

He smiles, brushing your hair back. “Me? How are you? Tonight was kind of a lot. This week was kind of a lot, I feel like I haven’t checked in enough…”

“Bub, I’m so good,” you promise him, snuggling into his chest. “I’ve got you, I’ve got Ash… I get to wake up with you both on Christmas morning. It seems crazy to say but I actually think this all turned out perfectly.”

You feel Ash press himself tightly against your back, stretching his arms out to hug you both, sandwiching you between the two men. It’s sweet at first and then it quickly becomes silly and the three of you giggle quietly, giddy with exhaustion and affection.

“Plus, now everyone has an idea of what we're all like together so it won't come as too big of a shock when I post a picture of me kissing you both at midnight on New Year's Eve," you grin back and forth between the two.

Calum chuckles, "Oh is that the new plan?"

You wrap their arms tighter across you and contentedly say, "New year, new beginning. Let my sister have Christmas, New Year's will be ours."

Your words hang in the air as you all consider the weight of them. Ash breaks the silence by laughing to himself, causing both you and Cal to look at him with inquiry.

"Care to share?" You ask, using Cal's hand to playfully jab Ash's side, causing him to laugh more.

Ashton looks at you both and smirks, "I was just thinking… if tonight was Christmas sex at your family's house, the fuck are we gonna do to celebrate New Year's Eve at home?"

Calum snickers beside you, a naughty look on his face making you wonder what's running through his mind.

"Well," you start, playfully nipping under each of your boyfriends' jaws. "We've got a whole week to figure that out, now don't we?"

————-

Taglist issues again so my apologies if you get notif’d more than once (or not at all)

@mymindwide @suchalonelysunflower @pxrxmoore @loveroflrh @ghostofmashton @sexgodashton @feliznavidaddycal

@castaway-cashton @ashtonlftv @cashtonasfuck @megz1985 @ashdork-irwin @angelicfluffs @findingliam-o @youngbloodchild @irwinsbetch @everyscarisahealingplace

@wiildflower-xxx @metalandboybands @realisticnotes @makeamovehemmings @golden166 @burstintocolor

@mfartzzz @babyoria @petunias-pet @youngblood199456 @notinthesameguey @seanna313 @zhangyixingxing1 @stardust-galaxies @zackoid

@lovelybonesetc @xsongxbirdx @justhereforcalum @ashtonangst

@laura66sos @calumrose @karajaynetoday @pilunb @jazzyangel242 @babylon-corgis @heyheyhaleyd @calmsweetcreature

@spicycal @talkfastromance4 @holystxne

@meetmedowntown @myloverboyash

@irwindoll @cheekysos @carrielfisher @lukedorkyhemmings @creampiecashton @lovelywordsblog

@trix-arent-for-kids @uh-huhh-honey @tobefalling @aladyofalbion @likehuhdude

@curlycalums @cxddlyash @reddesert-healourblues

@fedorable-killjoys @iamcalumswhore @i-like-5sos

@aquarius-hood1996 @babylonashton @letmeadoreyoucalumx

@begluketostay @four-brits-and-an-irishman @mateisit-balsamic

@crazyforcal @neso-k @deliciouslydisturbed365 @blxndeprincess

#5sos smut #Cashton smut #PolyCashton smut #Calum hood smut #ashton irwin smut #Calum smut #ashton smut #5 seconds of summer smut #smut #Kindahoping4forever #cal-puddies #cass & crystal #the dream team 🦦🦦#Feedback is appreciated #cass and crystal present: hoe hours #cass and Crystal present: hoe for the hoelidays #I Don't Wanna Spend One More Christmas Without You #Thank you for reading and supporting our clownery this week!#We love you all and happy holidays!

490 notes · View notes

ellie-e-marcovitz · 2 years

Text

Just the Way You Are…

Yes, the title is a Billy Joel song... @lifeofkaze

Valentine’s Day, 19-something, Ministry of Magic

Cyrus’s pov

I was taking advantage of Jackson being out with his wife, Adeline, and their daughter, Rosanne, to head down to the Archives. Despite it being a number of years since we had graduated Hogwarts, she had apparently rebuffed all advances.

I didn’t blame her. Even at Hogwarts, she had made it clear that she wanted to be treated equally, which had left a large part of the male population either shunning her or trying to change her mind. I had done neither, except nurse a rather large crush that formed after the ball on Valentine’s Day back in sixth year.

Rionnach still mocked me for it ever since, even after having gotten married herself.

I knew it was in good humour, even if the reminder was painful. I knocked at the doorframe, and several heads popped up from the documents they had been examining.

“Is- ?” I barely started my question, before close to a dozen hands pointed towards her office. “Thank you…” I headed for her office, rapping gently on the doorframe before entering.

“Cyrus…” she breathed, standing up, pushing the heavy looking book away as she did so. “What brings you down –"

I felt my face flush. “Erm- I suppose I wanted to – well, possibly ask you out tonight?” I managed to get out, before feeling myself flush further, and she put her hand in front of her mouth, as a large smile broke.

“I’d love to, Cyrus.” She grew serious, pulling at her dress. “But I’ll have to change…”

“Don’t.” I said, admittedly brushing off her concern. “You’re perfect in that. And there’s always transfiguring it, if need be.”

“But the muggles - !” she started, mouth open in horror.

“Probably won’t notice.” I reassured her, and she sighed.

---

14 February 1983, Library

Jacob’s pov

I groaned quietly, well aware of Pince hovering around her desk, softly hitting my head against the table. Next to me, Olivia was engrossed in a book about the portraits of the castle.

Both of us were still reeling from the loss of Duncan, and I was keeping a wary eye over my shoulder for Rakepick or any of R that might be following us.

Thankfully, Rakepick was largely occupied by her day job, being a cursebreaker for Gringotts.

“Jacob?” she asked, looking over at me. “Are you all right?”

“Perfect.” I muttered, looking over at her, and trying not to drool on Pince’s library book. You look perfect…

“D’you really think so?” she asked, startling me. Apparently, I had spoken out loud.

I flushed. “Uh, yeah. Y-you do.” Idiot, idiot, idiot… I felt sick. I didn’t need Rakepick or R to find out I had a massive crush on my oldest friend, and have her be more hurt than she already was. Even quick glimpses at her letters from home revealed that her father and older brother wanted her to return home, and that she refused to, wanting to finish her Hogwarts education.

I picked up that her emotions had downturned, and I gathered her in a hug.

“You really are perfect,” I murmured, hoping she wouldn’t cry. It always made me feel awkward when girls cried. Not to mention, we both didn’t need to be kicked out of the library.

---

14 February 1999

Ellie’s pov

I groaned as I woke up, not entirely sure where I was. The sun beaming through the window nearest to me only told me that I wasn’t at my flat.

There was a knock, before Charlie entered, waft of honeysuckle tickling my nose. The light pouring in dimmed some, as he pulled the shade down. I pulled myself up with a groan, throwing off the sheets.

In some ways, this was looking to be a better Valentine’s than in ’93. Charlie was here, albeit for only a short amount of time. But he was here.

“Hey beautiful,” he murmured, helping swing my legs around. While the nerve damage was getting better, it was slow going.

“Hey,” I murmured in return, leaning my head against his shoulder. “I take it breakfast is ready…”

He nodded, and I started looking for my clothes from yesterday, or the bag I had packed for this weekend. He handed me my coat.

“You’re perfect. Mum won’t complain. I think you’re the only one she hasn’t complained about…” he noted, his tone light and a hint of laughter. I cracked a smile, pulling my leg on and standing up.

He helped me down the stairs, where I was greeted by the cheers of the extended Weasley family, scattered around the kitchen, and in various stages of eating and dress.

I squeezed in between Fred and Harry, who appeared to be making heart eyes at Ginny across the table. Charlie took the spot across from me, squeezing in himself next to his sister.

The chatter was fast-paced and delightful, the twins really laying the teasing on, and who were promptly ribbed back.

This was perfect.

#fic #Cyrus x Eleanor #Jacob x Olivia #Ellie Marcovitz x Charlie Weasley #Day 2 #valentines challenge 2022

18 notes · View notes

bluejayblueskies · 3 years

Text

the before, the after, the in-between

Chapter Seven: daybreak trains Words: 3.3k

Relationships: Jon & Daisy, Jon/Martin Tags: Post-Canon, Scottish Safehouse, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mute Jon, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Hopeful Ending

Work Summary:

There was no knife, no blood, and Jon was not dead. And when he heard a strangled noise from beside him and looked over to see Martin standing in the doorway of the safehouse, flung open and letting in the frigid bite of near-winter and sunlight, there was sunlight, he felt such a dizzying, intense wave of relief that he could hardly breathe around it.

Then, he opened his mouth to say Martin’s name, and nothing came out, and all of the relief fell away in an instant.

Jon wakes up in the safehouse in October of 2018, alive and well but without the Eye and without his voice. In the days that follow, he finds himself confronted with a world that has reset itself in space and in time, a version of himself that is no longer the Archivist, and the fact that death during the end of the world had not been so permanent as it had seemed.

Chapter Summary:

Daisy sighs and stands, brushing her hands off on the thighs of her trousers. “It’s not like you’re never going to see me again. I’ll still visit.”

“I know,” Jon signs, his hand gestures a bit too wide. “I’ll still…” He pauses, his hands lingering in the air for a moment as he tries to figure out what the next sign should be, before giving up and stepping forward instead, reaching for Daisy’s hand and capturing it in his. He squeezes tightly, looking up at Daisy with an open, vulnerable expression. Then, he brings her hand up with his as he presses it against the left side of his chest, a few inches above the jagged line of scar tissue, and settles his other hand on top of it. He may not know how to sign I’ll miss you, but he’d learned love early on.

Read on Ao3 (link in source)

Or read below:

(cw for mentions of canon-typical worms)

A quick note that all sign language in this chapter (BSL) is indicated via italics in quotation marks. I recognize that BSL has different grammar and sentence construction than spoken English, but for the purposes of this fic and for clarity’s sake, I’ve written all sign language as it would be translated into English syntax and sentence construction. Further disclaimer that I am not deaf or mute and that I don’t speak any version of sign language, so if I’ve made an error in depicting the dialogue here, please let me know!

Jon raps his knuckles on the frame of the bedroom door, and Daisy glances up from where she’s crouched on the floor next to the bed, halfway through packing her bag next to the cot they’d gotten so Daisy didn’t have to sleep on the couch. (Though they have been saving up for a new couch, a decently nice one that doesn’t sag in the middle and leak stuffing. Martin’s new job at the village’s library pays adequately enough, but in the three months it’s been since the world snapped back to normal, they’ve only managed to accumulate a few hundred pounds in savings. It’s all right though, Jon thinks. They have time.)

“You don’t leave until tomorrow,” Jon signs, his hands still a bit clumsy around the words but adept enough to get his point across. He still carries his notebook with him for when the modest collection of signs Daisy’s been able to teach him so far aren’t enough for him to convey his thoughts, and he has a cell phone now with a speech-to-text app that he uses occasionally even though he finds the mechanical voice grating, but he’s been having to use them less and less. He still likes having the notebook, though. It feels nice to look down and see his words still scrawled on paper even after the conversation is over. A reminder that, for all that his voice has been used and stolen and manipulated over the years, his words are still his own.

“I know,” Daisy says, tucking a few more things in her bag before zipping it closed. She sits on her heels and looks up at him, her hair loose and falling just beneath her chin from where they’d cut it a few weeks prior. “But now it’s done, so.”

Jon sighs lightly and shakes his head, more an expression of resignation than irritation. The spot where Daisy’s things used to sit looks empty now, barren. It makes something heavy settle in the pit of his stomach. It must show on his face, because Daisy sighs and stands, brushing her hands off on the thighs of her trousers. “It’s not like you’re never going to see me again. I’ll still visit.”

Daisy’s hand relaxes underneath his, and she stares at where their hands are clasped, mouth settling into something warm and fond. “Yeah. Me too. But it’s… time.” Her mouth twitches into something halfway displeased. “Basira’s waited long enough.”

She can wait a bit longer, Jon thinks, even as he nods and lets go of Daisy’s hand. Besides, he… he knows she’s right. The longer she stays, the less of a chance there is of her leaving at all, and he knows that it’s for the best if she goes. For her and for him.

That doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Daisy must see the vaguely sullen look on Jon’s face that he’s trying to hide, because she gives Jon an amused look and says, “You’ll be fine. No need to be so… grumpy.”

“I know,” Jon signs again, perhaps a bit more forcefully than is strictly necessary. “I’m not.”

“Sure,” Daisy says, her eyes wandering past his face and over his shoulder, where the door is sitting ajar. Jon knows Martin isn’t out there—that he’s still at work, will be for another hour or so—but he still has to resist the urge to follow her gaze, to check for himself that the doorway remains empty. “You’ve got my number? So you can call if you need to?”

Jon nods, signing the numbers just to make sure, and Daisy hums. “Good. I know the reception’s shit out here, but if I call three times with no response, I’m on the next train to Scotland. Understood?”

Jon rolls his eyes and tries to pretend like the fact that Daisy cares doesn’t make something warm and comforting settle in his chest. “Yes, mother.”

“Don’t be cheeky,” Daisy says, amused.

Daisy’s bag of things—clothing, toiletries, a few other items she’d accumulated over the past few months—sits accusingly by the door as Jon goes through the motions of making dinner, timing it so it’ll be ready by the time Martin gets home. It’s achingly domestic, and though Jon doesn’t really mind it, he’s found himself restless more days than not, hands itching for something to do that isn’t practicing sign language with Daisy or dusting the windowsills for the twentieth time. He thinks he’d be fine finding a job in the village; Martin insists that it’s still too dangerous, that people are still too angry. It’s a recurring argument, so old that almost all of the vitriol has bled out of it by this point, but still, they have it. Every moment he spends confined in this house is just another aching reminder of why he’s confined, and it builds and builds until some part of it springs free and brings with it all the frustration and hurt and pain that he just can’t seem to shake.

Maybe that’s why Jon’s so frustrated about the… therapy situation.

He stabs the knife through the pepper he’s cutting with a bit more force than necessary, and it makes a dull thunk on the cutting board. Daisy glances over from where she’s taking spices out of the cabinet, one eyebrow raised. “You’re going to wear a hole through the plastic if you keep doing that.”

Jon sighs and sends her a withering look. “Thank you,” he signs with a roll of his eyes, the motion sharp and forceful, before turning back to the cutting board and continuing to slice with clipped, jerky motions.

Daisy exhales slowly, turning back to the cabinet. “What’s wrong?” she says, reaching in and sorting through the frankly obscene amount of spices they’ve accumulated over the past few months.

“Nothing,” Jon signs without looking away from the pepper. “It’s fine.”

“Hm.” Daisy locates the spice she was looking for and pulls it out of the cupboard. “Is it because I’m leaving? I told you, it’ll be fine.”

Jon sighs and shakes his head, brushing the cut peppers off to the side and starting in on the onion. Daisy is quiet, busying herself with the spices and clearly waiting for Jon to elaborate. She’s patient, and he knows from experience that she’ll wait and wait and wait until he finally tells her what she wants to know. It reminds him distinctly of a persistence predator, stalking their prey and waiting for them to tire before they pounce.

Jon makes it all the way through the onion, ginger, and mushrooms before he finally sets the knife down with a clatter and signs, “It’s Martin.”

He leaves his hands in the air for a lingering moment, three fingers pressed tightly to the palm of his left hand, before forcibly relaxing his hands and dropping them. After a moment, Daisy prompts, “Okay. It usually is. What about Martin?”

Jon flexes his fingers by his side a few times before resigning himself to the fact that Daisy won’t let this go until he explains himself fully. He turns to gather his notebook from the kitchen table, sets it flat on the counter next to the cutting board, and taps the pen on the page a few times before deciding to just be blunt. I don’t understand how going into town for therapy is different than going into town for any other reason.

Daisy hums. “Are you upset about the therapy part or about the rest of it?”

I’m fine with the therapy part, Jon writes, a bit messily in his haste and frustration. So the rest of it.

Daisy crosses her arms, clearly waiting for him to explain.

It’s just, Jon writes, then scribbles it out. I just don’t understand, he tries, before scribbling that out too. Finally, with a frustrated huff of air, Jon settles on, I don’t think doctor-patient confidentiality is going to be as protective as Martin thinks it will be.

“Hm.” Daisy leans back against the counter and taps her fingers against it thoughtfully. “Maybe he thinks it’s worth the risk.”

Jon makes a breathy hmph sound, not sure if he’s displeased about the fact that this is what finally convinces Martin that it’s ‘worth the risk’ or about the fact that Daisy has a point.

“Why don’t you talk to him about it?” Daisy asks. Which is a perfectly reasonable question, Jon knows, so there’s no reason for him to grow even more frustrated when Daisy asks it.

He sighs, stares at his notebook, and eventually just shrugs wearily. We just haven’t been very good at talking lately, he writes, feeling every bit of his energy seep out into the ink. The end of the last letter bleeds when he leaves his pen pressed there for too long, which he thinks is fitting. That’s sort of the point of the therapy.

It’s not that Jon’s resistant to therapy. He’s not. He’d done a few sessions with a child psychologist when he was eight (that had eventually dropped off when he’d decided that never think about it again and pretend like it never happened was a much better method of coping than trying to explain something unexplainable to a smiling woman in a pantsuit), a good month or two in uni when the stress of it all had compounded and he’d shut off sometime after exams, and they were… fine. He’d taken away a few tools that he still uses—breathing techniques, the occasional bout of journaling that he’d never managed to maintain, things to help him at least identify when his thoughts begin to spiral—but nothing had really ever seemed substantial enough to justify going back. Even when things had gotten… bad, in the Archives, he’d never entertained the thought, because what would he say? He’d sat in his flat after Prentiss, laptop open as he scrolled through the available services, and found the phone number he was meant to call. His wounds itched underneath his bandages; he tried not to scratch them. The ones in his mind were a bit more difficult to let be.

He hadn’t called, in the end. He’d imagined it—sitting in a sterile office, bandages from head to toe, trying to explain being half-eaten alive by worms without saying those words—and had felt a lump that was equal parts desperation and despair rise in his throat, so acute that he’d shut his laptop with a bit more force than necessary. Therapy just… wasn’t in the cards for him, he’d decided.

And then things had gotten more complicated, and he’d been paranoid then on the run then comatose then just trying to fight against the hunger, and he’d resigned himself to the fact that he… he couldn’t be helped. Every aspect of his life was so entwined with things that he couldn’t explain to someone else, with things that a therapist wouldn’t understand, and to try to separate the parts of him that were human from the parts of him that weren’t seemed like an impossible task. Better just… not to try at all, he’d decided. He’d be fine. He always was.

Jon supposes that now, the problem is quite the opposite. Before, he’d avoided talking about the parts of himself that were supernatural because the therapist wouldn’t understand. Now, he’s avoiding talking about them because they’ll understand a bit too well.

“I think you’re still meant to try,” Daisy says, and Jon’s confused for a moment before he remembers oh, right. Talking to Martin. “Besides, he’ll… be able to help more than I can. I can’t tell you what he’s thinking; only he can.”

Almost flippantly, Jon signs, “I know.” He sighs and, after a moment, writes, I think it’ll be easier if I just trust him on this. If he thinks it’s safe, then

Jon pauses, pen still sitting on the paper, before finishing with a bit more conviction than he feels, then it’s safe.

Daisy just watches him for a moment, forehead slightly creased, before shrugging. “All right. If you need somebody to tell you that that’s fine, then here I am—telling you that it’s fine.”

“Thanks,” Jon signs with a fond sigh and a roll of his eyes. “Very helpful.”

“You’ve got to work on your ‘sarcastic’ face, or I’m going to start taking you seriously.”

“Ha ha.”

“Hm. Much better.”

. . .

The bus from the village to the train station in Inverness leaves just after dawn. Jon shifts from side to side by the door to the safehouse as Daisy does a final check to ensure she hasn’t forgotten anything, Martin trailing close behind. When they finally join him by the door, Martin hardly has time to open his mouth before Jon signs, quick and crisp, “I’m coming with.”

“Jon—” Martin starts, but Jon shakes his head.

More emphatically, he signs, “I’m. Coming. With.” When Martin opens his mouth again to argue, Jon holds up a hand, digs his notebook out of the pocket of his jacket, and scribbles, If we can visit a therapist for the foreseeable future, I can go into town once to say goodbye.

Martin’s lips purse, but after a moment, he sighs. “No, you’re- you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just…”

“Scared?” Jon signs, one hand still holding the notebook and the other brushing against his chest.

Martin’s expression deepens, and he nods.

Jon worries his bottom lip between his teeth, then reaches forward and takes Martin’s hand in his. He squeezes it gently, reassuringly, then threads their fingers together and holds it tightly. Martin takes a deep breath, lets it out, and squeezes back. “Okay,” he whispers. “Sorry. I just- I worry.”

I know, Jon thinks. He nods and fumbles to tuck the notebook back in his pocket, then brushes his fingers gently against Martin’s cheek. I’ll be okay.

He hopes the sentiment comes across. He thinks it does, from the way Martin leans slightly into his touch and takes another, more even breath.

“I think I’ve got everything,” Daisy says, breaking through the tension between them a bit indelicately but not without purpose. “We should start walking.”

Martin presses his face into Jon’s hand for a moment more before pulling away, and Jon drops his hand back to his side. “Yeah,” Martin says with a short, firm nod. “Let’s go.”

The trip to the village is surprisingly short. It might be because of the anticipation building in Jon’s stomach, half from the knowledge that he has at best another hour with Daisy and half from the clawing worry that he’s horribly miscalculated and the moment he steps past the village limits, an angry mob will coalesce around them and demand reparation for all of Jon’s past mistakes.

It doesn’t happen. They arrive at the village and the streets are quiet, most people still asleep or preparing for the day as the sun tickles at the horizon, tinting the landscape around them with a soft morning blue. The few people they do pass pay them no mind, save for an older gentleman who wishes Martin a good morning and nods politely at Jon and Daisy. As they get closer to the bus station, Jon relaxes in increments until, by the time they reach it, he’s nearly free of tension entirely. A new wave of anxiety rushes through him as he sees the small crowd clustered by the pickup area, but they stay away from the crowds, instead stopping a bit further away near a grouping of benches. Jon settles down gratefully, the walk having made the ache in his knee flare up slightly, and after a moment, Martin and Daisy sit down as well, one on either side of him. They’re warm and solid, and even as a few more people begin to filter into the station, Jon relaxes once again as he stretches his leg in front of him carefully.

The bus is there too soon. Jon cuts off halfway through his sentence, his pen pressed against the paper as the rumble of the bus fills the air and people start to shift and stand, making their way towards where the bus is slowly rolling to a stop. He looks at Daisy, suddenly feeling a bit lost, and she places her hand atop his and applies a gentle, firm pressure. “Call,” she reminds him. “Twice a week, at minimum. I expect you to be alive and well when I come back to visit, okay?”

Jon takes a deep breath. When he lets it out, it hitches in his throat. “Okay,” he signs. He flutters his hands in the air for a moment, caught between signing I love you and Be safe, then gives up and leans forward, wrapping Daisy in a tight hug instead.

She huffs out a laugh, but after a moment her arms curl around him and she settles her hands flat against his lower back, pressing down lightly. “Yeah, yeah,” she says softly. “I’ll miss you too.”

And then she’s standing and walking towards the bus and boarding and the bus is pulling away and then it’s just him and Martin, sitting side-by-side on the bench and watching the bus disappear from their line of sight. After a moment, Martin settles his hand on Jon’s knee and says quietly, “You okay?”

Jon takes a deep breath, lets it out, and nods. “Let’s go home?”

Martin nods, shifting his hand so it slips into Jon’s and squeezing tightly. “If you’re sure.”

Jon runs the fingers of his free hand along the cover of his notebook, now lying closed on his lap. The back half is filled with words, thoughts, some carefully inked and others scratched down quickly before Jon forgot them. He has another two just like this one, tucked away in his drawer in the bedroom underneath his jumpers. There’s so much contained within them, so much more that’s still contained within himself, and the path ahead—the one where he sits side-by-side with Martin and faces a trained professional and tries to iron them all out into something manageable—is a daunting one. But he wants to try. God, he wants to try. So badly he aches with it.

“I’m sure,” he signs, then reaches down and picks up his notebook and pen. For all the uncertainty he’s faced in the past, all that he still faces, that, at least, is clear to him.

“All right.” Martin bumps his knee gently against Jon’s once before standing, helping Jon to his feet. Jon’s knee twinges in protest, and without missing a beat, Martin slips his hand out of Jon’s and around his back instead, subtly supporting his weight as they make their way out of the station and back to the paved road that turns to gravel that turns to dirt that leads to the small wooden cottage at the top of the hill.

Right now, the soil outside their house is dark and barren. But in a few months’ time, Jon knows, it will grow warm and the days will grow longer and he will be able to sit outside and look at the sky and think of just how lucky he is that he’s allowed to have this. That, despite all of the bad that has happened and all of the bad that has followed them still, he’s allowed to be happy.

And in the spring, the daisies will bloom once again.

#tma #the magnus archives #jaisy week #jonathan sims #daisy tonner #martin blackwood #my writing #my fic #before tag #ahh i did it! it's done! :D #also a note that the sign jon uses for martin here is just the letter 'm' and isn't a sign name

42 notes · View notes

katyleen · 3 years

Text

This is my first time posting something. Warning though I'm not good at writing and the characters are probably OOC. Enjoy the story :D

[FNF] Lucian x reader

Found this art in instagram: franbobisdrawing

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

Y/n's POV

I was chatting with Girl, Carol, and Annie when suddenly we heard a commotion and a...rap battle?

"Hey, let's check it out." I said.

"Sure. I'm also curious what's happening there." Girl said while standing up. Soon we all stood up and went to the crowd. We managed to squish ourselves to the front and I saw a boy with blue hair battling someone who's carrying a baseball bat.

'They're pretty good. I wonder what're their names?' I thought to myself as I continue to watch the battle. Eventually the battle ends and the blue haired boy is the winner. We all cheered loudly, kinda startling both of them.

"Woahh!! That was amazing!" Girl exclaimed, and I caught her staring at the blue haired boy.

'I am so teasing her later.' I silently giggled to myself as I clapped my hand.

"That was a really good battle." I said. I then looked at the boy with a baseball bat only to see him also looking at me. We both then look away quickly.

'Holy crap he's gonna think I'm staring at him like a creep.'

"Hah! Is that all you got, Lucian?" The blue haired boy asked, snapping me out of my thought.

"What happened to the smirk on your face? Guess I wiped it right off, huh? Just goes to show that bring 'edgy' doesn't mean you're good at anything." He finished. I frowned hearing those words. 'Lucian' looked away when he said that.

"HEY! You can't just say that to him. That's rude!" I glared at him.

"Hey Y/n calm down-" Girl said but I continued anyways.

"If you think you can just insult anyone like that, then you're gravely mistaken. Can I borrow that mic please?" I asked Lucian as he hesitated but gave me the mic anyways.

"Let's have another rap battle. Right here. Right now." I demanded. He seemed nervous but tried to look brave anyways.

"I-I'm not scared of you." He stuttered a little.

"Well you should be."

We then start the battle with me using a lot of tricky notes and keeps on getting faster. He can't keep up and eventually loose the battle.

"This is what you get for making fun of people." I told him. I then went up to where Lucian is and handed him his mic back.

"Thank you for letting me borrow your mic." I said.

"N-no problem." He replied.

"Y/n that was so awesome! I didn't know you can rap?" Carol asked, walking up to me.

"I've been practicing actually. Anyways break time is almost over. Let's go to our class." I said and we walk away from the crowd, not noticing someone is staring at me.

Lucian's POV

I didn't expect to loose to some random guy I didn't even know, not to mention being completely made fun off. I could tell Abby was about to say something until someone spoke up.

"HEY! You can't just say that to him. That's rude!"

It was the same girl as the one I accidentally made eye contact with.

"If you think you can just insult anyone like that, then you're gravely mistaken. Can I borrow that mic please?" She asked me. I hesitate whether I should give her the mic or not but complied in the end.

She declared another rap battle in front of everyone. When she started rapping I couldn't believe how good she was. The guy obviously lost and she returned the mic to me.

"Thank you for letting me borrow your mic." She said.

"N-no problem." Damn why did I stutter?!

She and her friends then left the crowd and I couldn't help but stare at her until I couldn't see her.

"Dude you're staring." Abby nudged me playfully.

"Wh-I did not." I said, crossing my arms.

"Let's get back to class. Break time is almost over." I said, trying to end the converstation.

"Whatever you say simp." Abby snickered.

"Shut up. You almost went ballistic on that guy too if it wasn't for that girl."

"Yeah I don't like him at all." She grumbled in anger.

"Wait-what was her name again?" Abby asked.

.......well I didn't get to know her name.

"I think her name is Y/n. She's in class (wherever Girl's class is)." Tac said.

"We better thank her after school then. Better yet, let's asked her to hang out with us sometimes. I know someone will like that idea." Abby said, looking at me.

"Shut up already." I said clearly embarrassed, but feeling a little happy cause I can see her again.

Few hours later...

"This is her class right?" I asked, making sure we're not in the wrong class.

"Yep. This is it." Tac answered.

"I see her. C'mon let's go." Abby said, signalling us to follow her. We then saw Y/n packing her stuff in her bag but didn't see her friends. Probably already went home first.

"Excuse me..." She looked up confused.

"Can I help you? Oh wait-you guys are from earlier!" She gasped in realization.

"Yep. I'm Abby. This is Tac and he's Lucian. We just want to say thank you for earlier today and want to know if you'd like to hang out with us sometimes."

"Oh it's no problem at all. I just can't stand people like that. And sure, I'd like to hang out with you guys" She said, smilling.

'I swear her smile is so adorable not gonna lie.'

"Cool. Feel free to sit with us tomorrow at lunch. Are you going home after this?" Abby asked.

"Yep. My friends already went ahead first. Why did you ask?" She asked, tilting her head a little.

"Then do you want Lucian to walk you home? Y'know...just to make sure you're ok." Abby explained, giving me a smirk.

'Abby I swear I'm gonna-'

"Oh uh...sure if he doesn't mind." She said nervously.

"I don't mind." I said, trying to keep cool when on the inside I'm screaming.

"Ok it's settled. See you guys tomorrow." Abby and Tac waved goodbye and ran off outside. It was silent for a moment.

"...are you ready to go now?" I asked.

"Huh? Oh yeah I'm ready. Let's go!" She said.

We walked in akward silence for a while but little by little we totally warmed up to each other. Turns out we have lots in common. Too bad it only lasted for a while though cause we're already at her house.

"...y'know...I'm really glad I met you today." She started.

"Welp...thank you for walking me home Lucian." She said. She then kissed my cheek and hurriedly went to her door.

"S-see you tomorrow Lucian." She waved at me and closed the door. I was still frozen, processing what just happened.

'She kissed my cheek....and her blushing face is cute...' I thought to myself as I put a hand on the cheek that she kissed. I'm definitely having a crush on her. It's like love at first sight.

'Can't wait to see her tomorrow.' I smiled at that thought.

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

I'm not satisfied with the story and the ending but at least it's something :)

#fnf #lucian #abby #tac #fnfxreader #lucianxreader

26 notes · View notes

whatareyousearchingfordean · 4 years

Text

Happiness Continues

Part 1: The Conception

Summary: Y/n has been feeling stressed with moving and big things happening at work. After a stupid argument with her husband, they both find a way to help her blow off some steam.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 3.7K+

Warnings: Language, verbal argument, sexual tension and teasing, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

Author’s Note: Now it’s time to officially dive back into the lives of my favorite idiots. Can’t wait to go on this journey with you guys again. Special shout out to my constant hype woman @waywardbeanie who willing squeals with me all the time and my beautiful beta @emoryhemsworth I couldn’t do it without all of you too, so please, let me know what you think. Feedback is golden! xoxo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and then check out Alexandra’s Library for more by yours truly!

The highway whizzed passed outside her window as she made her way home. Y/n had one hand on the steering wheel as the other rubbed small circles into her temple. It was a Sunday after all, and she had to go into the warehouse. Et Cetera was working on launching a new skincare line, and one of the new machines had caught fire. It was just the icing on top of her already tipping cake. It felt like the only thing she had been doing for the past few weeks was putting out fires, whether it was at work or at home.

The only thing getting her through the current shit storm that was today was the Memorial Day barbeque celebration at Jared and Gen’s later. Well, actually it was starting about now, but she needed to get home and grab her bathing suit before she could go anywhere. She was pissy that work was making her late, but she had to try and remember that it would all be worth it once the line launched.

As Y/n pulled into the driveway of her and Jensen’s home, she could see the garage door was open, his black Land Rover pulled out and ready to go. Y/n replaced its spot inside with her car, jumping from the cool cab into the sweltering heat of Texas.

Y/n went for the door leading to their mudroom before remembering that the hall was packed tight with boxes, ready for the movers to come and whisk them away. She made a detour back down the drive and into the house through the front door.

The television played softly somewhere in the background and Y/n assumed Jensen was on his ass in front of it, considering that was where she often found him nowadays. He was enjoying his time off a little too much, but after fifteen years, she couldn’t say he didn’t deserve to. She stopped to take off her heels before venturing further inside, carrying them and her purse in one hand.

“Jay?” She called out, hoping to find her husband ready to pack the car and go. But as she entered the kitchen, the cooler sat open on the floor, empty of anything, even ice. The woman bit her tongue before moving on towards their bedroom, the sound of the television growing as she neared.

Passing by his home office, she stopped short, peering through the cracked door. Inside, the room looked as it had been untouched. The books were still lining the large shelves and his desk was strewn with papers and various contracts.

The sight was all she needed to boil over. Granted, she didn’t have a far way to go considering having to go into work on Sunday had already riled her up. Y/n chewed on the inside of her cheek as she stormed into their room, finding Jensen perched on the edge of the bed. He had their beach bag seemingly packed already behind him, but it was no help to him now. His wife was already steaming.

“Hey honey,” he smiled, the grin fading as she stalked passed him without a word. Y/n tossed her heels into their nearly empty closet before continuing to their bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

Jensen cocked his head to the side as he stared after where she had disappeared. He knew when she left this morning she was in less than a stellar mood, but he was, unfortunately, completely clueless as to what had her in a mood now.

“Babe?” He shut off the television and went over to the door, rapping his knuckles against the wood lightly. “Are you okay?”

“Not now.” Her voice was soft from the other side, a slight echo to it as it reverberated in the empty bathroom.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” He tried the handle of the door, surprisingly finding it locked. His brows knit together, as his wife never locked the door on him. “Y/n/n?”

“Don’t,” the door swung open then, revealing her now sans the suit she had gone into work in, and only in her panties. “I cannot talk to you right now.”

“What the hell did I do?” Jensen followed her as she pushed past him, pulling her bathing suit from its place in her drawers and exchanging her panties for the bikini.

“I have been asking you for a week, a week Jensen, to pack up your office, and this morning I have to go into work to deal with an emergency. I figured that'd be the perfect time for you to get it done, but no! You couldn’t even be bothered to fill the damn cooler for this party!”

Her husband backtracked, blinking at her sudden outburst. “It takes two seconds to fill the cooler, I was waiting until you got home, and my office will take no time at all.”

“Jensen, the movers will be here tomorrow. Tomorrow!” She repeated for emphasis as she pulled a tank and a pair of shorts over her swimsuit. “And we have a party to go to. Are you gonna get all of that done before ten in the morning?”

“I have time. They have plenty of other things to move first.”

Y/n clenched her fingers into a fist before relaxing them with a deep breath. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t have done it this morning or even yesterday. Why do you insist on making me more anxious than I already am?”

“Oh, come on. You know I don’t do that on purpose. I’m sorry that it’s not helping you, but it’s all going to be okay,” he tried, his apology only ticking her off more than she already was.

“Whatever, I’ll just get over it. Come on, we have a party to go to.” Her tone was clipped and Jensen knew he was still in the dog house. But he also knew his wife well enough to know now was not the time to push her. The two of them could talk about it later.

He left her to finish getting ready and went to pack the cooler with beer and water and loaded it in the car. Y/n followed him out of the house not even a minute later, their swim bag over her shoulder. The couple climbed into the car in silence, and that’s how they remained the whole drive to Jared’s.

All the other guests had arrived already when they pulled into the driveway. Jensen sighed as he watched his wife jump out of the car without a word. He hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, hoping that her nosy family didn’t pick up on the anger rolling off of her.

He unloaded the cooler and dragged it along behind him, though the garage and out to the poolside. Setting down under some shade, he wasted no time in reaching in and cracking open a bottle of craft beer.

“What did you do?” Jared’s voice had him nearly choking on the fizzy liquid as it went down his throat. He didn’t even hear his brother-in-law come up behind him.

“What makes you think I’ve done something?” Jensen knew he was being far too defensive, but fuck Jared and his perceptiveness. He had known this would happen.

“Uh, you two didn’t walk back here hand in hand forgetting there are other people in the world.” Jared had that inquisitorial look in his eye, the same one that nearly had Jensen shitting his pants when he and Y/n had been running around.

“Okay, first off, we don’t forget there are other people around. And secondly,” Jensen sighed before continuing, “she’s just stressed and taking it out on me.”

“Uh-huh, what did you do?”

“I didn’t pack up the office this morning when she had to run into work, so sue me.”

“Ah, dude, the movers are coming tomorrow.” Jared wrinkled his nose, but Jensen could see the glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

“I swear to god, you need to go somewhere else, away from me.” Jensen shoved his friend's shoulder, causing Jared to burst out laughing as he sauntered away. The actor shook his head as he reached for another beer to bring his wife.

As he made his way further into the backyard, he found Y/n sitting at the deck table, having already discarded her tank top. She was chatting with her sisters-in-law, a smile on her face until she noticed him walking her way. But she didn’t make a move to stop him as he neared, instead accepting the beer from him and leaning into his touch when he kissed the crown of her head. It was her way of telling him that she was okay, she only needed a little time, and he could accept that.

What he couldn’t accept was her blatant teasing throughout the day. Now, he knew she was pissed at him, but she was playing a very dangerous game right now. It started out innocent enough when she had asked him to rub sunblock on her back. She’d laid out along the lounger and Jensen had knelt beside her, rubbing the cream into her skin. It was the small moan she let out as his fingers dug into her muscles that had his breath hitching in his throat. She was careful to keep it low enough that only he would hear but loud enough to set him on edge.

Her next trick came in the form of flaunting herself in front of him, over and over again. Jumping into the water right in front of him and coming out to lean down for something, giving him the perfect view down her bathing suit. Jared knocked him upside the head one time when he caught Jensen staring and then adjusting himself, quirking an accusatory eyebrow up at his not so subtle action. Jensen supposed he deserved it, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He finished God only knew what number beer as he glared at her retreating figure. It was clear to him that her actions were no accident now, she knew exactly what she was doing.

It wasn’t until the watermelon incident that he knew just how much she was riling herself up in all this too. Jensen was in the pool with the kids, having fun tossing the boys in the water between him and Jared. The girls were readying the food for dinner, and Y/n had decided to steal a piece of watermelon. His wife sat down in the chair, biting into the soft flesh of the melon. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the juice dripped down her chin and landed on the swell of her breast. Y/n made eye contact, smiling at him as she wiped it away with her finger and placed the sweet liquid on her tongue, sucking her finger between her lips for a moment too long. He had to fight back an eye roll, instead deciding to narrow his eyes at her, his tongue licking along his lip and pulling it between his teeth. It seemed to do the trick as he noticed the subtle way she clenched her thighs before crossing her legs. Now he had her right where he wanted her, all primed for the perfect payback.

“What are you up to?” Gen appeared next to Y/n as she watched the interaction between the couple.

“I’m eating watermelon.”

“And making a mess.”

“That’s one of the joys of eating watermelon in your suit, you don’t have to worry about where the juice goes.” Y/n turned away from her husband’s heated stare to look at the small brunette next to her.

“Okay,” she raised her hands up, “I do not want to know.” Gen backed away from where her sister-in-law was laughing. No, she really did not want to know.

Her last harebrained scheme to get her husband going came as the night was coming to an end and she had more alcohol coursing through her veins than was necessary. The sun was disappearing behind the trees and the boys had lit a bonfire. Jensen found a spot on one of the loungers near the fire, his long legs crossed at the ankle in front of him. Y/n came out of the house behind him with his sweater hanging off her shoulders, that glint in her eye still present as she walked over to where he was.

“You have the bug spray?” She asked him politely.

“Maybe,” he tilted his head at her as she looked around him for it. Spotting it on the patio below, she reached over him, placing her hand for balance on his thigh. Jensen grunted as she stretched across him and snatched the spray bottle, watching her every move. As she moved to stand back up, a devilish smile crossed his features before he grabbed her wrist and caused her to stumble into his lap.

“Don’t use too much,” his voice was nearly a growl as it reverberated in his chest.

“Never, dear,” she replied, skimming her supporting hand across the bulge in his swim trunks as she went, feeling her husband up.

Y/n had to take a deep breath as she walked away from Jensen, the buzz from her many drinks was making her brain fuzzy and needy for her husband. Her plan hadn’t been to wind herself up along with him, but she should have known better, that two could play her little game.

After applying the spray, she sat down across the fire from her husband, Odette choosing her lap as her resting place as she made her rounds through the adults. Y/n helped her make a couple of s’mores on the fire before handing her off to her father as she headed inside for a mixed drink from Gen’s fridge.

The air conditioning caused pimples to rise on her heated skin as she entered the home and took off her sweater. Y/n stumbled slightly as she crossed the threshold inside, the numerous drinks of the day taking hold of her brain. The day wasn’t over yet, and she was determined to slip in at least one more.

By the time she reached the fridge, she heard the door behind her opening and closing again. She paid it no mind as she pulled the juice and soda from the fridge, turning on her heel and bumping the door closed with her hip.

“I know what you’re doing,” his growl had her nearly jumping out of her skin, the bottles in her arms tumbling ever so slightly before she clumsily regained her grip on them.

“Jesus.” Y/n set the bottle down on the island in the kitchen, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. Jensen stepped closer to her, invading her personal space, and squaring his shoulders to make himself even bigger than he already was. He knew just how much it made her weak in the knees when he displayed his size difference over her, and he was using that knowledge to his advantage.

“Come on babe, you can’t play me.” His voice was low, the sound of it reverberating deep in his chest, sending shivers down her spine. “I’ve been watching you clench your thighs all day.”

“I—” The syllable barely slipped from her lips before his hands were on her, dragging her down the back hall and into the dark laundry room. The soft glow of the moonlight and a far off street lamp illuminated the room just enough for them to see each other.

Jensen pushed her body against the dryer as he closed the door behind them both. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the low lighting, giving him enough time to lift her onto the machine and slot himself between her open thighs.

“I’m still pissed at you,” she murmured as he dove into her neck, placing soft open-mouthed kisses against her sensitive skin.

“So you’re torturing me then?”

“You tick me off, I tick you off. I think it’s only fair.” Her words were a whimper on her lips when Jensen nipped against her collar bone. Y/n ran her hands up his bare back, his skin still heated from the Texas sun. The woman could feel his muscles rippling under her fingertips as he ground his arousal into her core.

“Mmm, don’t think that’s how this works,” Jensen stepped back from her, her hands falling to her sides to catch herself from falling from the machine. Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath as she tried to calm her hammering heart. “See, I think now’s the time to show you who’s really in charge here.”

Y/n bit her lip as she looked at her husband up and down. Y/n loved this side of him, the small upturn in his lips sent heat pooling deep in her stomach. Without breaking eye contact, she reached behind her, untying her bathing suit top and dropping it on the washer next to her. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he fought to keep his composure, but his wife knew him well enough to see the way his tongue peeked out to wet his lower lip. He was on the brink of breaking, and she had just the idea of how to push him over the edge.

“Then show me,” she purred, sucking two fingers between her lips before disappearing her hand into her bathing suit bottoms. Jensen moved like lightning, his fingers wrapping around her wrist and pulling her hand up near his face.

“No time for that, baby girl.” Jensen dropped his grip on her, moving to pull her bottoms from her body. Y/n lifted her hips to help him and Jensen placed the barely-there material with the other piece of her bikini. He took back his place in between her legs, attacking her mouth with fervor. Y/n could taste the beer he had been drinking all day on his lips, the taste all-consuming of every other flavor she so loved of her husband, but she didn’t care at this point. She’d been trying to rile him up all day, in turn doing the same thing to herself, and now she wanted the release she knew her husband could provide her.

He had one hand on her hip and the other was cradling the base of her skull, keeping her as close to his body as he could. The soft moans escaping her body only drove him crazier than he already was. Y/n ran her nails down his back, slipping her hands underneath the elastic of his bathing suit and squeezing the taut muscles of his ass.

“Fuck me, please,” she begged, far past caring for any decorum at that moment. He already had her naked and wet in her brother’s laundry room, her whole family just outside enjoying a bonfire as the night came to an end.

“God, anything for you, baby,” Jensen murmured against her lips as she moved her hands to pull his erection from its confines. Y/n guided him to her entrance, a collective sigh falling from their lips as he bottomed out inside her. He stilled as her body adjusted to him, his forehead dropping to her shoulder as he breathed deeply. A surprised gasp popped from her mouth as he pulled out and fucked into her in one swift movement before easily finding his rhythm.

The laundry room filled with the couple’s collective breaths and the soft creaking of the machine she was placed on. The air grew thick around them as they both frantically chased after their release that they had been building up all day. Y/n’s hands were roaming across the heated skin of Jensen’s back, looking for purchase anywhere she could.

Every muscle in her body was clenching as he drove himself home time and time again. “Jay, fuck—” She wasn’t sure what she was asking for from him, all she knew was that she was almost there.

“I know honey, I’ve got you.” His voice was low, rumbling deep in his chest as he licked over the shell of her ear. Everything about him was invading her senses, making her forget anything but her husband. Jensen adjusted his hold on his wife, giving himself access to rub tight quick circles to her clit. Before she could react to his touch, she felt her body falling, every muscle shaking around him. Her orgasm pulled him into his shortly afterward, his hot seed coating her walls as his cock twitched inside her. Jensen shuddered under her fingertips, his shaky breaths like music to her ears. Her husband fell into her chest, nuzzling his nose into her collar as he waiting for his breathing to even out.

“Someone’s gonna come looking for us,” Y/n chuckled as she combed her fingers through his hair. She could feel his smile against her skin before he huffed out a breath.

“Yeah, and I really don’t feel like being murdered by your brothers tonight.” Jensen placed a kiss to the underside of her jaw before standing up and separating himself from her. He adjusted himself quickly before grabbing her suit for her. Y/n struggled to get the wet garment back on, needing the help of her husband to straighten the material back out.

Jensen peeked out the door into the dark hallway to ensure the coast was clear before they exited the laundry room. He slipped his fingers between hers and pulled her along with him and back out to enjoy the fire.

“Well, well, well, look who is holding hands again.” Jeff piped up from the other side of the fire. He had his youngest dead asleep in his lap as he chuckled at his baby sister.

“Oh,” Y/n laughed as Jensen fell back into his original seat, pulling his wife down with him to sit across his lap. “Can’t stay mad at this face for too long.” Leaning down, she pinched his chin between two fingers and brought his lips to hers, the couple both smiling into the kiss.

Part 2: 5 Weeks Pregnant

Tags are open, send me an ask to be added to the list <3

Forevers: @polina-93 @22sarah08 @callmekda @hobby27 @dawnie1988 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sleepylunarwolf @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @akshi8278 @superfanficnatural @malfoysqueen14 @deanwanddamons @waywardbeanie @emoryhemsworth @talesmaniac89 @winchest09 @katehuntington @flamencodiva @janicho88 @anathewierdo @ellewritesfix05 @mrsjenniferwinchester @jensengirl83 @lyarr24 @smol-and-grumpy @supraveng @tranquility-or-chaos

Continues: @traceyaudette @death-unbecomes-you @rebelemilu @colbyskoalas @ashleyrose0117 @zpandaqueen @stoneyggirl @parinarain @onethirstyunicorn @smoothdogsgirl @harryhook-lover @spnfamily-j2 @deanmonandnegansbitch @lunarmoon8 @dvnmbabe

258 notes · View notes

re1d · 4 years

Text

closure to those who need it | spencer reid

→ summary: after a tough case, all spencer needs is you. → warnings: mentions of murder, nothing too graphic, mentions of nudity, oh and cavity inducing fluff → word count: 2.3k → a/n: based on no.60 from the prompt list ; “you’re so warm.” “you’re so cold.” “mmh. that’s why i like your warmth.” // bro this fr one of my favorite things i’ve written omgg

Spencer is desperate for this case to end. He’s been looking at pictures of the same four crime scenes for far too long, and all he wants to do now is see your face. JJ watches him as he ponders a million things at once whilst staring out of the Georgia precinct’s windows. Walking over to him, she places an affectionate hand on his shoulder, coaxing him into looking at her. She offers her best friend a small smile, and he returns it with a tired one. “Have you talked to [Y/N], lately, Spence?” His silence is the only answer she needs, and her voice is gentle as she continues, “Maybe it’s time to?”

Nodding, he reaches into his pocket and makes his way to your contact easily. JJ’s eyes are still on him as she cautiously returns back to the rest of the team. It’s obvious he’s operating on autopilot, not completely conscious of his body’s movements. The phone rings. Once, twice, three times. A pang of worry cracks open the previously unresponsive doctor, and intrusive thoughts fly through his mind. What if something happened? What if you were hurt and no one was there to—?

“Spence? What’s up? Are you on your way home?” Your voice is a calm rain. It floods him with relief while bringing him back to life. A breath he hadn’t realized he was holding falls from his lips. He can hear the confusion over the phone, and he thinks that he should probably say something, but he can’t bring himself to. The line is silent as the two of you merely soak in the presence of each other, not necessarily needing words at the moment. Eventually, Spencer breaks the silence with a simple request.

“Can you just talk to me, [Y/N]? About anything, I don’t mind—I just need to hear more of your voice.”

The question takes you by surprise. Your boyfriend sounds exhausted, but not just physically exhausted—mentally, too. Deciding against asking about the case, you begin to talk. Moving from topic to topic aimlessly, wandering alongside Spencer in a muddled mess of everything that had happened in the week he’d been gone. “ ... I didn’t feel it, but apparently there was an earthquake not to far from the apartment. Can you believe that, Spence? I know I couldn’t. I was actually out with Izzy when it happened. Oh! While we were out, we went to this shelter and, God, I saw the cutest kitten ever to grace the face of the Earth. Like, this little thing could fit in your hand, it was that small. She was a tiny tortoiseshell, and for some reason—she made me think of you. I don’t really know, she just had this pensive look in her eyes. Just like you, you know?”

A reluctant grin plays on his lips, and Spencer finds himself so captivated by you that he neglects the feeling of the fond stares of his teammates. Their gazes rest on him as they pack their bags and briefcases. Seeing him happy after a tough case makes their hearts swell, even if they’ll never admit it. “You’re comparing me to a cat?” His chuckle is deep as it resonates in your ear, “I don’t know how to feel about that, [Y/N].”

“Well, it was extremely adorable, so I’d encourage you to feel honored, Spencer Reid.” Your remark makes him laugh even more, and the certain warmth you feel when you’re with Spencer spreads throughout your body. However, all fun has to come to an end, and you become ten times more serious. And somehow, Spencer can feel it. “Spence ...” You trail off, unsure if his answer will be what you want to hear, “When will you be home? Do you want me to put some tea on for when you get here?”

“We’re packing up now, love. The plane is supposedly already on the tarmac—I’ll be home in about two hours,” he pauses, the thought of seeing you again causing him to choke up, “And yes, tea sounds great. Thank you.”

Smiling at your screen, you hum happily, getting up and moving to the kitchen to start boiling the water. “Call me when you get on the road, okay? I love you, Spence.” The tone of the phrase is calm, but each time it left your mouth, you wanted to scream it from the top of Mount Everest. Putting the water on, you don’t expect a response. It had been over a year and Spencer still couldn’t bring himself to say the three words, but it didn’t bother you that much. He didn’t need to say them for you to know.

“I’ll see you when I get home, [Y/N].” He’s forever grateful that you never pressure him into saying anything he doesn’t feel ready for. But this time, when he presses the end call button, an emptiness forms in the pit of his stomach. As he’s perusing various scenarios that could play out once he got home, three soft raps against the door of the interrogation room he’s in startle him from his thoughts.

JJ’s face glows with a special endearment saved only for Spencer, and she waves him over. “Plane’s waiting, Spence. It’s time to go home.” Those five words almost send him into a fit of body-racking sobs. He’s so unbelievably thrilled to get out of Georgia that he just about forgets his sweater. JJ slings her arm over his shoulder and squeezes him into her side. Accepting the hug with a thankful glance, Spencer walks with her out to the vans and spends the entire car ride staring out the window. He wonders if he would remind you of the kitten in that moment as well.

The plane ride passes as fast as a fly stuck in molasses. Spencer tries to sleep, to forget the recent happenings, but he can’t seem to get the bodies out of his head. Each time he closes his eyes, he sees only blood and agony—everything is red. So, he decides not to close his eyes anymore.

However, as soon as the wheels touch the ground—time seems to flash before his eyes. He says his goodbyes and within minutes, it seems as if he’s at his apartment door, fumbling in his messenger bag for his keys. You beat him to it, though, opening the door to him still searching. “Don’t tell me you were in such a hurry that you left your keys in Georgia,” you laugh, leaning on the door frame. His gaze snaps up to meet yours, and instantaneously, they brim with tears. Your eyebrows rise and you grunt as he practically crashes into you.

Spencer buries his head into your shoulder, and before his arms circle around your waist, he slams the door shut—no doubt earning you both a noise complaint. He weeps into the crook of your neck, trying to pull you closer with each breath he takes in. Your hands rest on both his neck and the back of his head. Whilst rubbing gentle patterns into his scalp, you whisper sweet nothings into his ears. Eventually, you pull away to keep him at arms’ length, and a look of bewilderment crosses his features.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” Cupping his cheeks, you brush away his tears with your thumbs. His swollen eyes bore into yours as he nods, heading towards your bedroom.

Faintly, you hear him getting undressed and you rush to pour two cups of tea. Giggling to yourself, you heap sugar into one cup and pour a ton of milk in the other. Careful not to spill the drinks, you race into your room and see Spencer completely naked. Tonight, it’s not sexual—it’s loving, tender, kind. You head to the master bathroom and place the glasses on the counter top while reaching over to run water. Slipping out of your day clothes, you step back over the threshold and meet Spencer’s eyes with an encouraging smile. The atmosphere in the room is neither heavy nor light; you feel at home. It’s the perfect amount of pressure that moves you to hold out your hands for him to take. He follows you wordlessly to the tub and climbs in. Spencer has the urge to ball up and cry again, but once you sit down behind him, it virtually dissipates.

He allows his eyes to flutter closed when he feels you scrubbing shampoo into his hair. “[Y/N]. There’s something I need to tell you,” he attempts to control the tremor in his voice, but you notice it nonetheless. You wait patiently for what he has to say, moving your hands down to his shoulders and massaging soap into them. He can tell you’re trying to wash away the horrors he’s been put through, and although both of your know that it won’t work—it certainly helps. He inhales deeply, preparing himself mentally for what he’s about to say. Turning his body to face you, he pushes a piece of your hair from your face with wet fingers and smiles.

“[Y/N], I-I—I love you.”

All of the sudden, there’s no breath in your lungs. Spencer has stolen it for himself, along with your heart. Your mind is filled to the brim with thoughts of him—his smile, his laugh, the way that he sacrifices himself for people he doesn’t know. “Spencer ...” you break, your head plummeting into his bare chest. His hands fly to the back of your head as he cranes his neck to place a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you. I love you so much.” It’s as if once the confession finally wormed its way from his mouth, he couldn’t stop. Spencer repeats it, and long after ten times, it’s clear he’s saying it to remind himself that you’re there, in his arms—and you don’t plan on going anywhere else. He registers your lips, kissing up his body. They’re warm as they move up from his collarbones, to the column of his neck, and slower that he would’ve liked, you move to place a chaste kiss on his lips. It’s not enough, Spencer doesn’t think it’ll ever be enough, but right now—he merely wants to lie in wait for the drooling jaws of sleep.

You coax him from the now cold water, pausing for a few seconds to admire the natural beauty he radiates. His gaze is soft as it rakes over your figure with nothing but fatigued adoration. Pulling on pajamas simultaneously, the two of you finish your night routine without another hitch. You stand side by side, brushing your teeth, washing your faces. He doesn’t look at himself in the mirror, it’s almost like he can’t bring himself to—but you conclude that it’s a discussion to be had another day. Once Spencer is clad in flannel sweatpants and a loose t-shirt and you in one of his old CalTech sweaters and shorts, you stumble into bed as a tangled mess of limbs.

A sigh escapes him as he stares into your concerned eyes. He wraps his arms around you, pressing your small form into his larger one. His fingers play at the hem of the sweatshirt you’re wearing before making the plunge. The tips of his fingers dance across the expanse of your back, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re so warm.” Spencer can feel your shoulders bounce as silent giggles courses through your body.

“You’re so cold.”

Perching his forehead on your shoulder, he laughs freely for the first time tonight, “Mmh. That’s why I like you’re warmth.” Relaxation overloads his senses as you card your hands through his drying curls. He slips further into the seemingly innocent embrace of slumber, but something urges him to stay awake. Fear stirs in a deep part of himself, and he can feel tension building in his body once more. “[Y/N]?” He continues only after hearing you’re tired hum, “What time is it?”

“Almost three, why?”

“I’m scared that when I close my eyes, I’ll see them.” Immediately, you know who he’s talking about. The thoughts of the bodies he sees daily slither into your brain, ready to sink their fangs into your good night’s sleep. “I couldn’t sleep on the plane, you know? No matter how hard I try not to, I keep seeing their eyes. Cold, dead. I can’t forget.”

Pulling his head away from your neck, you force him to look at you. “Spencer Walter Reid, you remember everything, right?” You wait for him to nod, “Tell me the names of the people you’ve brought closure to.”

“Baxter and Freida Givens, Yolanda Olsen, Kendra, Oscar, and Will Kofee, and Victor Trembly. Those are the families of the victims from this case.” He stops, his voice giving out on him momentarily, “Quinn Givens, Heidi Olsen, P-Piercen Kofee, and ... and Kara Trembly.” He doesn’t identify them, but you can tell from his tone that those are the victims. There’s no need to push him anymore, so you place his head back on your shoulder and press kisses to the side of his face you can reach.

“Spence, you just listed twelve names. That’s twelve people who have both answers and justice. Don’t think of them as bodies—think of them with their familes, happy and okay. I’m sure, although gone, they’re still here, you know? Their families will keep them from truly dying, Spence, and so will you. Their memory is ingrained in you, so remember them as they once were—not as they are now, yeah?” After a few seconds of silence, his snores echo in the quietude of your bedroom. Doing your best not to wake him, you shift to turn off the light. The darkness envelopes your oneness as well as the occurances of yesterday.

His breathing comes in steady intervals, and you find yourself slowly slipping away. Trying to navigate his features in the inky night, you allow your eyes to fall shut and your thoughts to be consumed by the one you love. Your last concious hope before you descend into blackness is that Spencer’s dreaming good dreams.

And, he is.

He’s dreaming of you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #jennifer jareau

619 notes · View notes

furblrwurblr · 3 years

Text

I suppose this is an improvement...

Douxie x reader, fluff with a side of that good kush crack

Sequel to Patience, Love and a part three on the way!

Warnings: Mild swears, a bit of an innuendo

You and Douxie had been talking the past couple of weeks, and he’d slowly broken your lingering wall of embarrassment from that little incident at the coffee shop. He was indescribably sweet and silly, sending you pictures of items from GDT Arcane books with silly captions. You’d long since met the one responsible for the pawprint signature, and absolutely fallen in love with him. The feeling seemed to be mutual, but you weren’t sure until Douxie brought up his magic to you, allowing Archie to speak with you. It was a loaded conversation for him, his only courage coming from the fact that your thoughts curled around his shoulders every morning and night, and that you knew how much time he spent when he woke up turning this way and that to read your thoughts through his blasted tattoos. He’d been surprised when you very calmly dissolved the ring on your finger, reforming it and twirling it in the air, its consistency like liquid. When he asked why he hadn’t sensed it in your aura, all you really knew was that it was one of the Old Magicks, before Light Conjurers like himself had become the predominant class. After that, he spoke with you far more, wanting to learn about your magic and excited his soulmate was like him.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

Warped Tour had seemed ages away then, but now it was the day of. You’d just picked up your phone when the intercom buzzed, alerting you that he was here. Hm, scarily punctual, you’d just watched the clock on your lock screen flash 7:00. You buzzed him in and waited by the door, his fast footsteps quickly being surpassed in speed by your heartbeat.

He quickly rapped a knuckle on the door, a nervous smile spreading across his face as you opened the door a little too enthusiastically. He brought his hands from behind his back to reveal… a trollish artifact?

“It’s an Antramonstrum shell to protect your flat. I don’t like the idea of anything taking advantage of your limited offensive magic,” he explained, looking from it to you, trying to discern your reaction.

You were in shock. This man comes to your door promising a nice dinner before he whisks you across the country on a traveling band tour, and he brings you a gift? You’d been expecting flowers or a book but this… it was beautiful. Screw whatever protective capabilities it had, the thing was gorgeous. A beautiful dark base of textured, volcanic rock and ethereal spires of glowing, purple crystal. You gently took it from him, turning it in your hands.

“Where would be best to put it?” you finally asked, remembering its intended purpose.

Douxie unsuredly looked to you, the door, then into the flat causing you to remember something else: he’d been standing in the doorway this entire time. Outside. In the hall. Apologies poured out of you as you threw open the door the rest of the way and ushered him inside. He laughed before taking a quick look around the main area before settling on you. That laugh, every time you heard it was like the first, making your heart blossom. Hah, there’s that word again. First.

You shook your head and pulled yourself out of the clouds to give him a quick tour. He placed the shell on the dresser in the front area and turned to you, hands fiddling against his pockets.

“You ready to go? Our reservation’s in half an hour, we’ve got time to walk before we head off. We can drop your bag off at the bookstore.”

You nodded and grabbed your hiking pack. He’d said you’d be camping together, just for the fun of it, so you packed everything. He chuckled when he saw you, the pack weighing you down almost comically. He tapped it as you passed, a flash of blue light instantly reducing the load.

Walking and talking for the next half hour came naturally, both of you playing off one another’s excitement. Animated conversation followed you both on the near-empty streets of Arcadia.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

The dinner was pleasant, nothing extravagant but certainly among the nicer establishments of the area. He tried to tip the waiter after paying for it all, but you’d slapped his hand away and left $15, really the largest you could afford to.

༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓・༓

After picking up both of your bags and saying farewell to Archie, who wasn’t a fan of any concert Douxie wasn’t a part of, he led you to the woods. Ominous, sure, but he assured you it was worth it. Finally, you two reached a clearing and he plopped his bag down, rummaging through it. He revealed a ball that barely fit comfortably in his hand, raised it, and smashed it against a root. You yelped, covering your face to prevent getting hit with any shards of glass, but there were none. Instead, there now stood a majestic gold and eggshell white boat before you, with a swirling mess of rings and green magic at the back. You stared, mouth agape as Douxie turned to you, hands on his hips and a smirk on his face.

“Let’s close that,” he said, gently placing two fingers under your chin and closing your mouth. He leaned in close, breath fanning over your ear. “Wouldn’t want to catch any flies,” he teased, before dancing backward and slinging his pack over his shoulder. He lifted yours in a sustained flash of blue, its contents rattling in protest when it landed in the boat. You followed him up the now-extended wing of the boat, feeling the metal and magic meld below your feet.

“I’ve got a couple questions,” you stated as he rummaged through a long compartment in the boat’s side.

“Go for it,” he responded, eyes lighting up in triumph as he pulled out a long, golden rod.

“First off, how come you lifted my pack and not yours?”

“Magic isn’t a permissible shortcut to hard work,” he recited. It sounded practiced, so he must hear it often. “For you though, there’s a bit of wiggle room.” He sat across from you on the bench, rod laid in his lap.

Oh, so he got flirty as the night deepened. Good to know. You were curious where his little mantra came from, but you brushed it aside and stuck with the questions you already had. “Alright then, you tease, what’s the green thing in the back?”

His chest puffed a bit with pride. “One of my Master’s creations, he calls it a small Heart of Avalon. Runs on time.”

“It runs on time?”

“It runs on time,” he confirmed with a glint in his eye.

If you weren’t impressed before, you sure were now. “That’s all I’ve got for now,” you said, still processing the magical artifact meant to power this boat.

Douxie stood, twirling the rod in his hand. With his other, he summoned a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves! What you’re about to witness is a magical feat like no other!” He tossed it, mic disappearing in a puff of bright blue smoke. He twirled the rod in the air a few times and slammed the end into the circular port between the benches. The lazy rings roared to life, spinning impossible fast. You looked at him, delighted. He winked at you and braced himself against the rod while you stumbled, the boat moving beneath you.

“You could have warned me!” you chided.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he laughed.

The boat soared into the sky, the forest already small. He pushed the rod into a tilt, the boat surging forward. The air tousled his hair, long sides whipping against his face. You two were euphoric, happy to be with one another.

He shifted the rod a bit to stay in its current position before sitting next to you on the bench. You two were quiet for a moment until Douxie spoke up. You couldn’t see him properly, but you could tell he was fighting a smile. He lifted up his sleeve, your thoughts about his demeanor after-hours just beginning to fade. “I’m impressed you were able to wait until after dinner this time, little minx,” he said evenly, a snicker escaping him afterward.

You nudged his arm with an indignant half-scoff, face burning at the nickname’s return.

Some time passed, conversation flowing gently. Douxie’s phone began vibrating, ringtone muffled. He pulled it out, the tune now all too clear, his lip between his teeth trying to suppress a shit-eating grin. Zoe’s smiling face mocked you from the screen to that wretched tune.

“Saw this boy at the mall last week, got the kind of look to make me freak…” the rest faded as you contemplated leaping off the side of the boat to become one with nature.

“Douxie! Why!” you scolded through a fit of giggles.

“Hey, Zo,” he laughed into the mic, putting her on speaker.

“Yes!!! She heard it! That was such a good decision, extraordinarily sexy of me for the suggestion. You guys getting close yet?”

“We’re about a quarter of the way, we’ll be there fairly soon.”

A quarter? It hadn’t been that long, just how fast were you going? The wind had died down, your hair no longer swirling violently. You looked over the side to try and glean any understanding of your speed to no avail.

You returned to Douxie’s side as he was finishing up on the phone. He handed it to you after saying his goodbyes, saying Zoe wanted to speak to you briefly. He’d taken it off speaker, so you held it to your ear.

“Hey, sweets. How you holdin’ up?”

You beamed at the term of endearment. “I’m doing alright, he hasn’t killed me yet.”

“I’m more worried about him after how you two met. Don’t jump his bones on the first night, love you, bye!” she snickered.

You barely stammered a farewell through your embarrassed smile before the line went dead. Douxie smirked at you, knowing exactly what was said despite not being able to hear it.

He stood and walked past you to tend to the steering mechanism, not before pausing, placing a hand on your shoulder and speaking into your ear again. His breath tickled your ear, his voice low.

“Patience, love.”

#snuck in a teensy bit of lore from an upcoming fic oops dkdkdkkd #furblewrites #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #toa #douxie x reader #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux toa #idk #patience love

88 notes · View notes

bevioletskies · 3 years

Text

how sweet it is (to be loved by you)

summary: Although he would never admit it, Apollo really wants to impress Klavier by making dessert from scratch for their first date at his apartment, despite his complete lack of baking experience. With the help of his overenthusiastic sister (and no help from his mischievous cat), Apollo thinks he just might be able to pull it off.

word count: 4.8k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day four of seven (prompt: "cooking"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some distant point in time after Spirit of Justice where Apollo and Trucy have learned that they’re siblings, but doesn’t reference any specific plotlines otherwise. Fic title is from the song How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) by Marvin Gaye.

“Don’t look at me like that, okay? I can feel you judging me, and I don’t appreciate it. I swear, I-I know what I’m doing! But it doesn’t help with you staring at me like you just know I’m gonna screw up!”

Mikeko blinked. “Mreow.”

“Polly, are you talking to your cat again?” Apollo turned to see Trucy walking towards him with huge bags of flour and sugar in her arms.

“Just a reminder - his name is Mikeko, and he’s an asshole,” Apollo grouched, hurrying over to help before she could drop everything on the floor. The last thing he needed was to get white powder stuck in his kitchen tile grout, again. There was a reason Ema wasn’t allowed to bring her forensics kit to his place anymore. “He peed on my rug the other day. I thought he was sick so I took him to the vet, and nothing. He’s an asshole.”

“You talk about your cat like you talk about your boyfriend, and I dunno which one’s worse,” Trucy mused, elbowing him playfully. “Though obviously, you love ‘em both, since that cat tree over there looks like it costs more than your TV. And, y’know, the fact that you asked me to help you bake for him! Er, your boyfriend, not your cat.”

“You don’t say,” Apollo said dryly, hoisting the bags onto the kitchen counter. “Klavier has an insatiable sweet tooth for a guy with a six-pack. I blame his parents and their baking habits.”

“C’mon, you love his parents,” Trucy giggled. She hopped onto the counter, nearly knocking the flour over in the process. Apollo shot her a dirty look that she blatantly ignored. “So, what’re we making? I’m surprised you asked me to help and then didn’t tell me what we were gonna do!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Apollo sighed, smoothing out the wrinkles in his apron. “We’re making, uh...bienenstich, or bee sting cake. It’s one of his childhood favorites, apparently; it’s got vanilla cream and…” He paused to glance down at the recipe on his phone. “...‘a crunchy caramelized almond topping’.”

“Sounds yummy!” Trucy replied, idly swinging her legs back and forth. Mikeko seemed very interested in chasing her untied shoelaces. “Seriously, though, why did you ask me? I mean, when I first started living with Daddy, I learned how to cook pretty fast, but I never really learned how to bake.”

Apollo softened. “I just wanted to hang out with you, Truce. That’s all.”

Trucy folded her hands over her heart. “Aww, Polly!” She then grinned devilishly. “Of course you did.”

“Now you’re an asshole, too,” Apollo informed her, kissing her cheek before turning back to the other side of the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Mikeko, sitting in his sink, lounging lazily across every last mixing bowl he’d just washed. “Mik, what the hell - you were just on the floor a second ago, you - ”

“Meow,” Mikeko interrupted, his tail swishing nonchalantly through the air.

“...cool, cool.” Apollo wiped his hands, then proceeded to lift Mikeko right out of the sink and deposit him onto his cat tree. His paws were still damp; he mewled in protest. “Well, this is going about as well as I expected.”

“I’m excited,” Trucy offered, still beaming. “Let’s go!”

_____

Once Trucy found the appropriate playlist to blast on her phone (“Any performer worth their salt knows they need good background music, Polly!” “But...this isn’t a performance. Also, this is more Maroon 5 than I’m comfortable with.”), she got to work on re-washing the dishes Mikeko had ruined while Apollo shuffled around the kitchen, grabbing the rest of the ingredients. He’d bought quite a few items he didn’t usually have in stock, having next to no experience with baking. The recipe claimed bienenstich was easy to make, though he had his doubts when it came to his abilities - and his luck.

“So, how’ve you and Klavier been?” Trucy asked, drying the last of the spatulas. “Things must be pretty good if you’re baking for him.”

“Good, definitely good,” Apollo replied. “We’ve had a couple of hiccups, but nothing we’ve had to worry about, y’know?”

“Gee, how romantic,” Trucy drawled. “I was hoping for something juicier than that, Polly! Have you had any fun dates lately? Cute moments? Nice gifts? It sure was nice of his mom to send more apple strudels to the agency the other day!”

“Are you my sister, or a tabloid reporter?” Apollo flicked a spray of flour onto the front of her apron, ducking before she could retaliate. “Well, we had a good time at his parents’ house the other day. I made pretzels with his mom, and his dad had a ton of podcast recommendations for like, nerd stuff. We, uh...we even talked about Mom for a bit. They wanna meet her someday.”

Trucy’s eyes widened. “Really? When’s that gonna happen?”

“Not sure,” Apollo admitted. “But hey, do you wanna join us when it does? They’ve been dying to meet you, too.”

“Like you have to ask!” Trucy said brightly. She took a moment to methodically spread out all of their equipment across the kitchen counter, smiling in satisfaction when she was done. “There - we’re ready to go. What’s the actual first step?”

“The dough, it says,” Apollo said, turning back to the recipe. “We’re s’posed to mix the dry ingredients and wet ingredients separately. Although I guess the actual actual first step is measuring the ingredients.”

“I’ll do dry, you do wet,” Trucy replied, passing him one of the mixing bowls. “Y’know…‘cos you're such a wet blanket and all.”

Apollo blinked. “...okay, wow. We’re here to bake a cake, not roast me.” Trucy giggled mischievously, then got to work on measuring out the flour, sugar, yeast, and salt. Apollo, meanwhile, started with pouring the milk - easy enough - then stared at the egg carton and sticks of butter sitting in front of him. He’d never been intimidated by either before, but right now, he found them oddly daunting.

“Polly, are you trying to perceive the ingredients or somethin’?” Trucy asked, rapping her knuckles against the side of his head a little too sharply for his liking. “The cake isn’t a lie, you know.”

Once again, Apollo found himself looking at her incredulously. “Wha - th-that joke is older than you are!” Then, a brief swish of movement over Trucy’s shoulder caught his eye. “Wait…” Sitting on the opposite counter was Mikeko, who was innocently sniffing the bag of sliced almonds. “Mik - ”

“Mrrh,” Mikeko purred, his tail perking up at the sound of his name. He then flopped onto his side, rolling over to present his belly. “Mrrh?”

“Don’t ‘mrrh’ me, get away from there,” Apollo huffed, flapping his hands in Mikeko’s direction. He seemed unmoved. “Do you want me to lock you in my bedroom? Really? Is that what we have to do?” Sighing, Mikeko got up and hopped down from the counter, sauntering off to the living room with a sulky grimace. “Thank you.”

“You really do act like he’s human,” Trucy commented, watching Mikeko go. “Mr. Edgeworth’s like that with Pess, only he’s way nicer to her than you are to Mikeko.”

“Probably because Pess doesn’t sit on his chest in the middle of the night while he's sleeping and make him think he’s having a heart attack,” Apollo said wryly, reaching for the sticks of butter. If he let them sit out for too long, they were going to start melting. “How’s that whole...thing going, anyway? I feel like Mr. Edgeworth’s been visiting the agency a lot lately...only, nothing ever seems to happen.”

“Story of their lives, according to Ema and Aunt Maya,” Trucy said, rolling her eyes exasperatedly. “At this rate, I’m gonna get married before Daddy does!” She then smirked. “Or should I say, you’re gonna get - ”

“Hey, l-let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Apollo protested, his cheeks reddening. “How’s it going with the dry ingredients?”

“All done!” Trucy chirped, tilting her bowl slightly so he could see. “Wait, you still haven’t done the butter or eggs yet? Apollo!”

“Yeah, yeah, I was kinda busy dealing with that jerk over there.” Trucy glanced across the way to the living room; she could’ve sworn Mikeko was sticking his tongue out at them. Apollo then pushed the butter towards her. “Here - you do the butter, I’ll take care of the eggs.” The two of them worked in silence for a minute or so, the only sounds in the apartment being the crinkle of the butter’s parchment paper and the tap-tap of the eggs against the mixing bowl. It didn’t take long before their silence was broken. “...shit.”

“Eggshell?” Trucy guessed without looking up. “Sheesh, you really did need help. Here, give it to me!”

Apollo nudged the bowl in her direction, defeated, then wiped the sweat off his brow. “Damn, I didn’t think I was gonna be this bad! I made bread and pretzels with Klavier’s mom, and that went pretty well.”

“I bet it’s ‘cos she did most of the work,” Trucy teased. “Wait - Apollo, there’s more eggshell in here than actual egg!”

“I…” Apollo paused. “...have no excuses.” He then groaned. “Ugh, we still have so much left to do! This cake better be worth it.”

“It’s more like if you think your boyfriend’s worth it, and he is, isn’t he?” Trucy finished fishing out the last of the eggshells, then poked Apollo’s side with her yolk-covered finger. “So c’mon, let’s keep going. We mix them together, right?”

Apollo smiled softly. “Yeah. And hey, I’m...I’m really glad you’re here, Trucy. Thanks for helping me out.”

“It’s just baking, Polly, you don’t hafta be so dramatic,” Trucy said, though she was beaming regardless. “Now move it, or this cake’s still gonna be in the oven when he gets here!”

_____

A little over two hours later, Apollo jumped up from his couch at the sound of his doorbell. His face brightened when he saw Klavier on the other side of the door, dressed casually in an oversized hoodie and joggers. Klavier had been so particular about how he’d dressed for their first few dates that Apollo was always happy to see him in more relaxed attire. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

Klavier raised an eyebrow. “You always greet me in the strangest ways, schatz. Did something happen, are you okay?”

Apollo let out an internal sigh of relief; Klavier had yet to notice anything off-putting at all. “No, no, I-I’m fine, just - i-it’s been a long day, and it’s good to see you. I mean, it’s always good to see you - usually good to see you, depending on what’s going on, ‘cos not gonna lie, you still pull the most inane crap in the courtroom, but, uh. It’s good that you’re here. Hi.”

Klavier’s eyebrows remained raised. “...hi. Anyway, I brought dinner and dessert.” He lifted the two bags he was carrying so Apollo could see. “As it turns out, our favorite Taiwanese place was having a promotion. Spend thirty dollars or more, we get free tofu pudding. Achtung, I love a good deal!”

“That’s not what your bank account says,” Apollo teased. “And, er, that’s great, and we should definitely eat it while it’s fresh, but I actually made dessert for us, too.”

“Really?” Apollo was starting to think Klavier’s eyebrows were never going to come back down. “What did you make?”

“No spoilers,” Apollo said, tugging on Klavier’s sleeve. “C’mon, get in here before my neighbors spot you. I swear, I heard one of them blasting Love With No Chance Of Parole the other night. If they find out you’re my boyfriend, I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”

“Finally starting to recognize my songs, are you?” Klavier chuckled, stepping into Apollo’s apartment. “I’ll make a Gavinners fan out of you yet, baby.” He then looked around, curious, as he took off his shoes. “Your place doesn’t look nearly as bad as you made it sound. It’s...charming.”

“Real diplomatic way of saying it looks like crap,” Apollo said wryly, closing the door behind him. He was well aware of his peeling wallpaper and cat-scratched furniture, his dusty windows and his water-damaged ceiling. “Wait until you have to use my bathroom. I swear the sink is haunted.”

“How comforting.” Klavier’s eyes lit up at the sound of tiny little feet padding over in his direction; he crouched down so he could be at eye level, one hand outstretched to beckon him closer. “Why, guten tag, kätzchen! I’m so glad I finally get to meet you.” Mikeko stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing Klavier up and down warily. Then, without another sound, he turned and walked away, tail swishing pointedly in the air. Klavier looked up at Apollo dejectedly. “Ach, what did I do?”

“Mikeko only likes me and tolerates Trucy,” Apollo shrugged, trying not to laugh at Klavier’s miserable expression. “I wouldn’t take it personally. C’mon, let’s eat!”

“I’m going to take it a little personally,” Klavier muttered under his breath, following Apollo across the open living space. It wasn’t long before they were set up at the dining table, working their way through their Taiwanese beef noodles, fried chicken, and scallion pancakes. Apollo hummed happily as he ate; he hadn’t realized how hungry he was or how difficult baking could be until now. “So, how was your day?”

“Didn’t do much,” Apollo said, shrugging. “Since it’s my day off, I just kinda - y’know, played video games, watched some TV. Re-organized my bookshelf for the millionth time. I still haven’t decided if my brain likes it organized by author, title, genre, or color.”

“You also made dessert, apparently,” Klavier replied. “Are you really not going to tell me what it is?”

“Curiosity killed the cat, and even though my cat’s an asshole, I prefer him alive,” Apollo said, playfully nudging Klavier’s leg with his foot. “You can wait thirty minutes, can’t you?”

“Ach, the suspense,” Klavier laughed. “Fine, fine. Can I at least ask why you decided to bake for us?”

“It’s the first time you’ve been to my place, so I figured I’d do something nice,” Apollo said, sniffing very slightly. The smell of burnt sugar was starting to waft into his nose; he crossed his fingers underneath the table in the hopes that Klavier couldn’t smell it, too.

“Er - are you okay, Apollo?” Klavier asked, lowering his chopsticks. “You’re...sniffling. I didn’t accidentally bring some pollen in here, did I?”

“Sniffing, not sniffling,” Apollo corrected. “There’s a difference. And nah, it’s nothing. Just wasn’t sure if Mik might’ve peed somewhere...as he does.”

“Ah, cats,” Klavier said, nodding sagely. “Don’t tell your kätzchen I’m more of a dog person, bitte. We’re already off to a bad start as it is.”

“Brave of you, saying that out loud,” Apollo remarked. “If Mik comes after you in your sleep tonight, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Klavier turned to look at Mikeko, who was currently on the kitchen counter, scarfing down his dinner. He lifted his head to make direct eye contact, chewing menacingly all the while. Klavier shuddered. “How about you, what were you up to today?”

“The most boring prosecutor’s office meeting ever, not that that’s anything new,” Klavier sighed, turning back to face Apollo. “And I had no cases to prosecute, so I spent my day wishing I was here instead. Even if you and Mikeko weren’t around, I’d rather watch your wallpaper die a slow death than listen to Herr Payne whine about his life while we’re all waiting for the coffee maker. I don’t see how it’s my or Herr Blackquill’s fault that he hasn’t had a raise in over ten years. If all he can brag about is making new defense attorneys cry instead of actually doing his job, then he should be grateful he still has a career to begin with, ach.”

Apollo blinked. “...huh. I guess I never really thought about the kind of office politics you have to deal with. Meanwhile, the only thing I’ve had to deal with lately is Athena nearly breaking Trucy’s finger during an arm-wrestling match.”

Klavier winced, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth. “Is that something that happens often?”

“More often than it should,” Apollo replied sagely. Klavier wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or slightly terrified.

After they finished dinner, Klavier insisted on helping Apollo with the dishes, seeing as how there was a huge pile of them in the sink, almost none of them from their dinner. Some were splattered with cake batter, others with vanilla cream. Thankfully, Apollo had already rinsed all the pans and utensils he’d used to make the topping, or else the sliced almonds would’ve given him away entirely.

“No peeking in the fridge or you’re not getting any,” Apollo warned, waving a spatula in his face.

“Are we talking about dessert, or...something else?” Klavier blinked innocently when Apollo continued to glare. “Ja, ja, I hear you.” He then paused. “Can I at least speculate? I have an educated guess.”

“You have zero patience sometimes,” Apollo complained, knocking his hip against Klavier’s, though with their height difference, it was more like his hip against Klavier’s thigh. “Let’s finish up here so you have nothing to complain about, alright?”

As they puttered around the kitchen together, Apollo had to subtly, but constantly direct Klavier away from the oven before he could see the remnants of a burnt pan still left on one of the stovetop elements; he hadn’t had enough time to completely scrub them away, though he had gotten rid of the worst of it. For once, he was grateful Klavier favored heavy scents, which seemed to be masking the smell for him.

“Mrrp.” Just as Klavier was drying the last of the plates, he felt something weaving between his ankles. “Mreow?”

“Have you changed your mind about me, kätzchen?” he asked, delighted. Mikeko aggressively smushed his face against Klavier’s calf in response. Apollo watched them both in amazement. “Is that a ja or a nein?”

“Mrrh,” Mikeko rumbled.

“Oh, this is definitely a trap,” Apollo warned. “He probably wants something from you, so don’t fall for it, Klav.”

“You talk about him like he’s an unruly witness on the witness stand,” Klavier said, amused. “He’s just a sweet little kätzchen, what could he possibly - ” Mikeko sneezed, violently.

“There it is,” Apollo sighed.

Klavier winced at the wet spot Mikeko had left behind on his sweatpants. “Achtung, gesundheit!” He then chuckled, shaking his head as Mikeko wandered off, clearly pretending nothing had happened. Either that, or he was embarrassed, though Apollo suspected it was more the former than the latter. “Like human, like cat, I see; it’s allergy season all around. Is it my cologne, do you think?”

“Might be,” Apollo shrugged, wiping his hands. “Okay, you big baby, are you ready for dessert now?”

“You’re acting like I’ve talked about nothing else,” Klavier protested, wrapping his arms around Apollo from behind and burying his face against Apollo’s neck. He then began pressing slow, deliberate kisses along the length of Apollo’s throat. His nose was momentarily filled with the scent of Klavier’s aforementioned cologne, the scent of sandalwood instead of burnt sugar. “I would love to have dessert, baby.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Then we can eat what you made after.”

“Why am I dating you,” Apollo groaned, lightly shoving him away. Klavier snickered, hopping up onto the kitchen counter. “Sheesh, you’re like a cheap Hallmark card and a bad pick-up artist at the same time.”

“Is there such a thing as a good pick-up artist?” Klavier mused, still grinning. “Anyway, I’m serious. Let’s see what you made for us, liebe.” Apollo felt oddly nervous as he opened his refrigerator and carefully pulled out the covered tray from the top shelf. He set it down on the counter, right beside Klavier, then went to grab plates, forks, and a decent-sized knife. “Ah, a knife! Was my prediction correct?”

“Can you let me live for two seconds, please?” Apollo grumbled, softening when Klavier leaned down to kiss him on the cheek. “Okay, okay, careful around the guy with the knife in his hand. I-I’m gonna take off the cover now.”

They both held their breaths just as Apollo lifted the tray cover, as overly dramatic as it sounded. The sensation was stupidly similar to how they felt during a particularly stressful trial. Klavier’s eyes widened at the sight before him. “...bienenstich?”

“Wait…” Apollo leaned closer. “...what happened?!”

The state of his bienenstich was...questionable, to say the least. To start, the caramelized almond topping, which had hardened nicely in the refrigerator earlier, now looked like it had been through an earthquake, full of little holes and fissures. The thick layer of vanilla cream between the two layers of cake was oozing out the sides, having somehow melted since Apollo put it in the fridge over an hour ago. Finally, most of the bottom layer of cake was soggy and crumbling apart, clearly thanks to the melting cream.

“You gotta be kidding me!” Apollo exclaimed, setting the knife aside and hurriedly digging his phone out of his pocket. “Here, I took a picture earlier, i-it - it looked perfect, I-I made sure of it - ”

“I’m sure it did, Apollo,” Klavier said gently, rubbing his shoulders in sympathy. “Let’s see your picture, then.”

Groaning, Apollo held his phone up to Klavier’s face. “Seriously, look. I took so many photos, I was gonna send ‘em to your parents and thank them for teaching me the basics...I even made the topping three times ‘cos I burnt the first two attempts!”

“Is that what that smell was?” Klavier shrunk at Apollo’s venomous expression. “Sorry, baby, I just - I didn’t want to say anything in case it was, you know, a weird apartment smell.” He then perked up. “But if you ask me...looks have nothing to do with taste. That goes for both food and people, apropos, though I consider myself blessed that you’re the very best of both.”

“Har, har...also, ew,” Apollo added, wrinkling his nose. “Well, let’s hope you’re right.” With renewed vigor, he picked up the knife once more and carefully cut two modest-sized pieces, transferring them to their respective plates. He passed one plate to Klavier, then, after they exchanged nervous looks, they both took their first tentative bites. “...oh.”

“See? It’s just as I said!” Klavier declared, grinning victoriously. “I’m not going to pretend it’s the most perfect bienenstich I’ve ever had, but - it’s good, Apollo. It’s really, really good. I wouldn’t have known it was your first attempt if I hadn’t seen it. Even then, it’s hardly a disaster. Just a bit, ah, lopsided.”

Apollo was quiet for another moment or so, letting the taste linger on his tongue. The texture was a bit odd, thanks to the half-melted cream and the soggy cake, but it was just as sweet and satisfying as he’d been hoping it would be. “...huh. So I guess we didn’t accidentally swap the salt and sugar like I thought we might’ve done.”

“We?” Klavier echoed as he took another bite, more generous in size this time.

“Yeah, Trucy came over to help me. Guess I forgot to mention that,” Apollo added. “We haven’t had much time to hang out outside of work stuff lately, so...I thought it’d be a fun afternoon thing. Kinda turned into a nightmare instead? Like, the smell of burnt sugar is everywhere for a reason. Don’t look inside my oven, please.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Klavier laughed, delighted. “I can only imagine what went on before I got here, achtung.” It wasn’t long before he was scraping his plate clean; he was still eyeing the rest of the cake hungrily. He turned when Apollo made a mild noise of disgust. “Ah - what happened?”

“What always happens around here.” Apollo plucked a tiny, but obvious cat hair from the end of his fork. “At least I didn’t eat this one. I think I’ve consumed more cat hairs than I’ve had paying clients.” He then looked at Klavier with raised eyebrows. “You’re not expecting another piece right now, are you?”

“I like bienenstich, okay?” Klavier said defensively, though he finally got down from the kitchen counter so he could put his fork and plate in the sink, dropping a sticky-sweet kiss on Apollo’s cheek on his way over. “Danke, baby, that was really good. Can I take some back with me, bitte?”

“Of course, babe. I’m certainly not eating the rest of it by myself,” Apollo snorted, finishing off his own piece. He put his dishes in the sink, taking a moment to rinse off his and Klavier’s plates, then let out a relieved sigh. “Well, at least it tasted good, even if it looked like crap.”

“I know it’s pointless, saying this to you, but - don’t worry so much, hm?” Klavier wrapped his arms around Apollo’s midsection; before Apollo knew it, he was being lifted and set down onto the counter, right where Klavier had been. He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, bringing his hands to rest on Klavier’s shoulders, his legs wrapped loosely around Klavier’s waist. “I’m impressed, liebling, I mean it. I know Mama’s been teaching you how to bake, but for you to do it on your own time for us to enjoy...I should really step up my game here, don’t you think?”

“Hardly,” Apollo said, dropping his head to Klavier’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to Klavier’s neck. “Thanks, Klav. Glad you liked it.”

“Bitte schön,” Klavier replied, gently lifting Apollo’s chin so he could kiss him properly. They both tasted like vanilla and honey; Apollo pushed Klavier’s hair out of his face so it wouldn't run the risk of getting sticky. Mere seconds later, they were interrupted by a tiny, impudent meow. Sighing, Klavier reluctantly broke away so he could stare down at the culprit by his feet. “Can I help you, kätzchen? I thought we were cool...until you used my sweatpants as a tissue, that is. These are Moncler, I’ll have you know.”

“Mreow,” Mikeko trilled, tail thrashing violently against Klavier’s leg. Shaking his head in amusement, Apollo got down from the counter so he could pick him up and cradle him, rocking him back and forth like a baby. “Mrrp.”

“I’m kinda curious to see if he’ll let you pet him,” Apollo said. “You wanna try?” Klavier lifted a cautious hand, then slowly began petting Mikeko, taking care not to disturb the sleekness of his long, thick fur. Klavier let out a soft laugh when Mikeko began to purr, his eyes closing contentedly as he smushed his face against Klavier’s hand, just like he’d done to his leg earlier. “Hey, would you look at that - it’s a not-Christmas miracle!”

“I feel as if I’ve been blessed,” Klavier chuckled, rubbing Mikeko’s ears for good measure. “Have I passed your secret test somehow, kätzchen? Am I a good partner for your papa?” Mikeko mewled happily.

“I can’t believe you didn’t even do anything and he already likes you,” Apollo sighed. “Mik, I thought you were smarter than this.”

“I can’t tell if you want him to like me or not,” Klavier said dryly, dropping a kiss to the top of Mikeko’s forehead. Mikeko’s purr only seemed to intensify. Apollo rolled his eyes; now Klavier was just showing off. “So now that all of our bienenstich excitement is over, should we put a movie on, maybe try a small bite of that tofu pudding? I have a desperate need to cuddle after the day I’ve had.”

“Day you had?” Apollo echoed, neatly depositing Mikeko back onto his cat tree. “You said you had a boring meeting and no trials. How bad could it have been?”

“I had to listen to Herr Payne gush about his wife that definitely exists,” Klavier bemoaned, lifting the back of his hand to his forehead as if he were about to faint. Apollo was sure if he rolled his eyes any harder, he would sprain something. “Herr Debeste kept asking to borrow a pencil for some reason. I’m serious, baby, don’t laugh at me, he kept knocking on my door every thirty minutes - ”

“The only baby I see around here is you, baby,” Apollo teased, prodding Klavier in the chest. “But fine, fine, I hear you. You go sulk on the couch and pick out a movie while you wait. I'm gonna put the bienenstich back in the fridge and send your mom my pre-disaster pictures. Maybe she’ll have some advice for my next attempt.”

Klavier perked up. “Next attempt? You mean you’re going to make it again? Ah, ich liebe dich, mein schatz, mein süßer, mein - ”

“Oh my god,” Apollo groaned, sighing. “Maybe, okay? Maybe. I’m not making any promises, I don’t want my apartment to permanently smell like burnt sugar hell.” Still, Apollo found himself biting back a smile, kissing Klavier briefly before lightly nudging him in the direction of his living room. “...and I love you, too. Dork.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my fourth entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the sixth of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. Mikeko being a jerk who only likes maybe three people at a time is one of my favorite random headcanons! I know I set a lot of my fics in Apollo's apartment (or Klavier's), but one of the main reasons that I do is for Mikeko and Mikeko alone. If you're looking for a Mikeko-centric fic (kind of), if you could read my mind is one of my favorite short-ish fics that I've ever written.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you’re all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

#KlapolloWeek2021 #klapollo #kyodoroki #klapollo fic #ace attorney #ace attorney fic #myfic #long post #almost forgot to post this oops lmao #also my day two fic hasn't been archived! guess i'll send y'all a quick ask later #i think i'd tagged something incorrectly so that's my bad

13 notes · View notes

hannahcoursey · 4 years

Text

Jealous Minds Part 2

Author: Hannahc56

Word Count: 3,391

Request: Hi! Can I put in a request for a dean x reader? Dean and the reader are friends with benefits and neither want a relationship because they’re too much pressure for both of them being hunters. But then during a case, YN runs into an old boyfriend and they actually had a great relationship and broke up because he had to move for work and they both got out to catch up and Dean is super jealous because he wants that same type of relationship with her. (Sorry if it’s too much. LOVE YOUR WORK!!!)

PART ONE

A few hours had passed and you found yourself eagerly waiting for Daryn to pull into the gravel parking lot of the motel. You had put on a nice pair of jeans, without blood or holes, and a nice black tank top. You’d popped in a pair of earrings you always had sitting in the bottom of your bag that you never got to wear. With a few quick swipes of mascara, you were as dolled up as you were going to get. It wasn’t much, but you felt alright and put together for once and a small part of yourself wish you could do this more often. It was nice to feel pretty every now and then, but your lifestyle didn’t call for a nice manicure or decent clothes. Loud pounding on the door pulled you out of your thoughts, as you took one more look at yourself in the mirror before running to open it. The smile fell off your lips when the door revealed Dean. His face was hard, it was obvious he was in deep thought. When he looked up and saw you, his expression softened. The two of you stood there while he took every inch of you in. A heat rose to your cheeks and you cleared your throat.

“Can I help you with something?” You asked, leaning your arm on the door. Dean’s eyes shot up to yours and he slightly shook his head.

“I-I just wanted to come and,” he hesitated, licking his lips, “Wish you good luck on your date.” He finished. You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“Funny, Dean. See ya.” You turned to shut the door, but his hand sprawled across it.

“No, I mean it,” He nodded, “I know how much you cared about Daryn, I-I hope that it goes alright.” He said, letting his hand fall away from the door. You stared at him, your brows crunched in confusion of what sort of scheme he was playing at. His eyes darted back and forth between yours as your brain searched for words to string together to respond. When you didn’t say anything, his eyes fell to the ground and he nodded slow. “You look nice.” He said, his lips in a tight smile, “Anyways, have fun.” He finished, before turning and walking away, leaving you standing in the doorway. You blinked, trying to process the words that’d just come from his lips. Your heart felt like a cinder block in your chest. You let your hand fall to the door knob and slowly pushed the door shut. You leaned against it, your mind running a million miles a minute. Across the room from you was a dusty mirror, only your reflection stared back at you. Why was your heart pounding in your chest? Why were you even going on this date? Was this even to be considered a date? Before you could answer any of the questions that rattled around in your mind, a loud knock from behind the door you were leaning against shook you out of the deep consciousness you’d fallen into with a jump. Maybe Dean was back - maybe he was going to tell you not to go, that the two of you would spend the rest of the night tangled up in the scratchy motel sheets, whispering throughout the night, stealing kisses on exposed skin. The thought alone had you ready to bolt out of your room to find him. You turned and opened the door, Dean’s name about to fall off your tongue, when your eyes fell on Daryn.

His eyes shimmered when he saw you, a smile lighting up his face. Your expression dropped for a moment, before you forced a smile. He pulled a small bouquet of roses from behind his back and flashed his picture perfect grin at you.

“Daryn, these are beautiful,” You shook your head and accepted the gesture, “You shouldn’t have.” You turned and set them down on the table beside you. He threw a hand up and waved.

“Hey, it’s the least I could do,” He laughed, as you pulled the door shut, locking it behind you. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked at you as if he was memorizing every detail of your face. Color rose to your cheeks and you looked down. “You ready?” He asked, your eyes floating up to meet his again. You nodded and followed him as he walked over to his car, a new sporty car that surely was meant to be impressive. He walked with you to the passenger side and held open the door for you as you got in. Right as you sat down, you heard someone call your name from down the motel strip. You looked around, scanning for someone underneath the overhead flicking lights of the walkway until your gaze fell on Dean. He waved a hand at Daryn, who hesitantly waved in return.

“Have her back by midnight alright? Trust me, you don’t wanna see what she looks like when the fairy godmother’s spell wears off.” He laughed, throwing a wink in your direction sarcastically before turning towards the motel room door and walking in. Daryn pulled open the driver side door and slide in the low-riding seat. His eyebrows were crunched in confusion as he looked over at you.

“So, do you guys usually share rooms or?” He trailed off, the awkward tension in the air filling the small cabin quickly. You felt embarrassment rise to your face as you shook your head, trying to laugh it off.

“No, no, most definitely not, he just was probably grabbing something from the room, I guess,” You struggled to string together a sentence and rubbed your hands against your thighs nervously. Daryn let out a strangled laugh and started the car without saying anything more. You looked out your window, silently cursing the older Winchester as your heart fluttered at the thought of the things the two of you did behind locked motel room doors.

The ride to the bar was mostly quiet, the sound of the radio filling the spaces where neither of you could manage the right words to say. When you pulled up, Daryn escorted you to a booth in the corner. The place was packed. It was loud, lights strobing every second, making it hard for you to make out where you were walking, and you struggled to imagine how fun it would be to actually get drunk in this type of atmosphere. The bass music of the loud rap made your chest rumble and you found yourself yearning for a biker bar, squeezed between the boys at the bar while classic rock played from a jukebox.

“Y/N? Y/N/N?” Daryn said your name and you shook yourself out of your daydream.

“I-I am so sorry, was I spacing out?” You ran a hand through your hair and took a breath, letting out a light laugh, “Long day, you know how it goes.” You gave him a grin. He nodded and waved down the bartender before turning his attention back to you.

“I was just saying how great you looked tonight,” He said, his tone genuine and inviting. You couldn’t fight the smile that rose to your face thinking of the memories the two of you shared.

“Well thank you Daryn,” You tucked the hair behind your ears and leaned forward on the table, “You don’t look half bad yourself.” You beamed at him. Before he could answer, the bartender stepped up and asked for your orders.

“I’ll take a-” You began, but Daryn reached out and laid his hand on top of yours, effectively stopping you in your tracks.

“I’ll take a beer and the beautiful lady will have a Vodka Cranberry please, extra cranberry.” He told the bartender as she nodded and walked off. A feeling you couldn’t put a name to filled your chest. Was it nostalgia? Or was it disappointment? You flashed him a quick smile. “Not too bad for not seeing you for this long, I still remember your favorite drink.” He laughed, reaching over and grabbing your other hand with his other hand, focusing entirely on you.

“No, I’m impressed, that was pretty good. I gotta tell you though, I’m more of a whiskey bourbon kinda gal these past few years.” You said, trying not to visibly shiver as the thought of a Long Island Iced Tea hangover. His eyes grew wide for a moment before he let out a breath.

“Wow, you?” He shook his head, “Now that surprises me. You could hardly keep it down when we were younger.” He chuckled, bringing back memories of your high school days, sneaking around drinking your parents alcohol.

“Well yeah,” You snorted, “We were drinking rubbing alcohol it seemed like, we had the nastiest stuff.” You felt yourself thinking of all the times you’d use a fake ID to get the cheapest vodka you could find, only for it to taste twice as bad the second time later on in the night.

“Yeah, yeah, that led to some pretty rough nights,” He agreed, squeezing your hands softly, “But also some of the best nights too, you know?” He finished, his voice softening as his expression did. And there it was - that same pang in your chest. The more it happened, the more it began to feel like disappointment seeping through your lungs. He stared at you, his iri’s moving from your E/C eyes to your lips. You nodded and pulled your hands out of his, pretending to scratch the back of your neck. He leaned back in the booth, your mind grasping for things to talk about.

“So, what have you been up to? You were at State College for half the first year then disappeared off the face of the earth, no one knew where you went.” He pried, your heart sinking to the bottom of your chest. God, anything but that question. You cleared your throat and tried to force eye contact, but the topic proved too difficult.

“T-That’s a very fair question,” You let out a laugh that came out more like a sigh, “I-I just needed some time off, I traveled for a while,” You said slowly, which wasn;t necessarily a lie, “And just needed to figure out what I wanted to do with my life.” You finished, trying to tell him as much of the half truth that was possible without getting too much into the nitty-gritty. It was true, technically. You did travel while hunting monsters with the brothers and you did struggle with what you wanted to do for awhile; keep fighting the good fight or take a stab at the apple pie life. He nodded slow, as if he was ingesting what you were telling him and you prayed he wasn’t overanalyzing it too much. The holes in your story would be too large for him not to notice how it didn’t add up. “Anyways,” You scrambled to try to change the subject, “What made you want to become a ranger? I never would have pegged you for the type.” You asked right as the bartender brought over your drinks. He smiled while looking down the neck of his beer, thinking of his answer. Before he had the chance, you phone rang in your pocket. You struggled to get it out of the small compartment of your tight jeans and threw a hand up to him and he nodded. The phone vibrated as Dean’s name flashed across the screen. Throwing your legs off the side of the booth, you made your way outside to answer.

“Dean?” You tried, holding the phone to one ear while you pressed a hand over the other. Mumbles came through the other end that sounded like gibberish. “Dean, I can’t hear you, gimme a second.” You said, hoping he could make out your words better than you could of his. As soon as your reached the parlor doors to the outside, you called his name again through the phone. “Okay, sorry about that, what’s up?” You asked, shoving your hand in your pocket.

“Y/N,” Dean said, his voice raw, causing your heart to plummet, “Something’s wrong, you need to get back here,” He coughed, hardly audible on the other end.

“Dean, talk to me, what’s going on?” You asked, panic rising in your tone.

“J-Just come home,” He wheezed before the line went dead. Your hands shook slightly, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You turned on your heel and ran through the crowd, bumping into people and elbowing your way through them. When you reached Daryn, his soft expression had turned to a look of confusion.

“Daryn, I have to get back, something’s wrong.” You shook your head, trying to settle your hands as Daryn quickly got up from his seat and threw a few bills down next to your untouched drinks. Without making sure he was following, you raced back to the front doors, beelining to his car. When the both of your reached it, you strapped yourself in and he drove off, leaving dust in the rearview. The drive back to the motel felt like it took hours. When you pulled up to the strip, you noticed the Impala still sitting outside and your feet were on the ground before the car was in park. Your heartbeat thumped in your ears, your eyes scanning the surroundings. You noticed your motel room light was on. You turned to Daryn.

“Listen, I really appreciate you taking me out tonight and I-I’m sorry it had to be cut short, but I need to make sure everythings alright.” You rushed through your words while you managed to throw him a smile over your shoulder.

“Y/N, I can stay and make sure- '' He bega, but the thought of what unnatural force could be inflicting pain onto Dean was enough to make you cut his speech off short.

“No, no, I got it under control - I can call you, you still have the same number?” You spoke fast, trying to politely get to your motel room as quickly as possible. Daryn looked at a loss for words. To see him scrambling to try to spend another minute with you made your chest heavy with guilt, but this was Dean at stake. You turned before he could answer and opened the door so quick, you almost hit the wall behind it yourself. You were in fight mode, ready to rip apart whatever was wreaking havoc, ready to patch up Dean if he needed it, a million thoughts going through your head. Taking in the scene in front of you, the breath you had in your lungs slipped from your lips.

The room was dimly lit by dozens of small candles of all different colors and heights. On the table next to you was the beautiful bouquet from Daryn and a simple rose sitting next to it. Dean sat on the edge of the bed, nervously rubbing his hands down his thighs. Your hand fell to your chest as you took a deep breath in.

“Dean,” Your eyes filled with tears that you begged not to slip down your face, “You scared the shit outta me.” You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. Dean looked down at his hands.

“I-I know, I didn’t know how else to get you to come back,” He said, his voice low. You couldn’t believe the sight before you and you stood still, taking it all in. “Y/N, I should’ve done this a long time ago, but seeing you with Daryn” He said, shaking his head as he looked up at you, “ I couldn’t take it, watching you leave with him.” He stood up and crossed the small room to you, his hands picking up yours and rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand. “I don’t have the fast car and the big bouquet and all that crap - but the way I feel about you,” He struggled to find the words and you knew that all of the effort he’d already put into this gesture was big for him, “What I can offer you is to always be there for you, to always stitch you up, to make sure you’re not alone when you wake up in the mornings - We don’t have to do this stuff alone Y/N and we’re crazy for thinking we had to.” He shook his head and his warm hand cupped your cheek. “I wanna do this with you, I mean it.” He finished, his eyes anxiously looking into yours, waiting for your response. Even in this lighting, his eyes were bright and lively, his nose peppered with the freckles you’ve loved since you noticed them the day you met him. Bringing your hand up to his other cheek, you pulled him in, your lips colliding together as if it were the first time. His other hand found its way to the side of your head and his fingers tangled in your hair as he pulled you in, passion filling your every movement. You pulled away, a few tears making their way down your flush cheeks.

“I would love to Dean,” You leaned forward and pressed your forehead against his, “I’ve been in love with you since I laid eyes on you.” You smiled, your heart beating loudly at the confessions the two of you were sharing. He leaned back and pressed a kiss onto your forehead.

“God, me too sweetheart.” He mumbled into the kiss, before pulling away and taking in every inch of your face before letting go of your hands and moving to the bed. Out of a small plastic bag, he pulled out a few styrofoam containers. “Got you your favorite,” He spoke as he opened the containers, spreading them around the bed. Two burgers sat in their separate containers with fries, and a few slices of pie in the other. You walked over and sat on the bed with him as he laid the food out and sat next to you.

“Mhhh, bacon cheeseburger.” You took a deep breath in, the aroma of the greasy food filling the room. He rubbed your back, smiling.

“Extra bacon, the usual.” He laughed, still looking at you. You turned to him and kissed him once more, the feeling of his lips against yours making your heart drop to your toes. When you pulled away, his eyes were still shut, savoring every kiss the two of you shared.

“I am so in love with you, I hope you know.” You whispered, still close to his face. He blinked slow and a lazy grin crossed his features.

“I know.” He replied, his sarcasm causing you to throw your head back and let out a laugh.

“Good, I’m glad.” You replied, smacking his shoulder. He took a deep breath and looked at the candles around you.

“Now can I blow these out? It’s starting to smell like a friggin’ hallmark movie in here it’s nauseating.” He grumbled, your laugh filling the room as you shook your head at him.You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing as he went around to each of the candles and huffed them out.

You put on the tv and played the first movie that popped up and thought about all of the choices you’ve made in your life that got you to this exact moment. Life with the Winchester boys isn't for everyone. The life you lived was fast and dangerous, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. With Dean’s arms around you, shitty take out food in front of you and a whole life to share with him ahead, you found yourself filled with the sort of peace you didn’t think you’d ever get your hands on.

----

Hope you guys liked it! My requests are always open!

73 notes · View notes

atths--twice · 4 years

Text

Refuge

It’s Mulder’s birthday today! I have a delightful, squishy, and disgustingly sweet story in the works, but last night this little story sat up and demanded my attention. I love when that happens and so... this birthday story emerged. I hope you enjoy it. ❤

Finally able to slow down and take a breath, Scully has a realization, and that moment needs to be celebrated- no matter how small it may be.

October 13, 2004

“Well, we’ll need a few things,” Mulder said, looking around the empty room as Scully smiled.

“Only a few?”

“Hmm…” He smiled and walked into the kitchen, his fingers running across the stove. Turning on the sink, he touched the water and nodded. He opened up the refrigerator and closed it after a second. “Well, maybe more than a few things. Food at least.”

“It’s good that we’ve become used to living simply, I suppose. Everything we need, for a few days at least, is in the car. Aside from the food, of course.” He nodded and sighed, turning to look at her.

“This place will be good. It’s far enough away and obviously quiet with hardly any neighbors. I think… this will be what we need.”

She grinned and breathed a sigh of relief that he was pleased with the house she had bought nearly sight unseen. One tour of the place and she had known this was where they could stay and finally stop running.

It was a decent sized house, though it looked larger without any furniture. A large living/dining area with two rooms just off of it. Already she could imagine creating a library with cozy chairs in which to curl up. There was a full bathroom downstairs, a basement, laundry room, and two bedrooms upstairs.

The realtor had been surprised how quickly she had agreed to the price. He had been even more surprised when she told him she would pay in cash. The paperwork had been pushed through quickly and the keys were in her hand in less than a week.

Taking back roads, doubling back and finally arriving at the small motel she and Mulder had been staying in recently, she had walked in with a grin, asking if he was ready to go home. He had grinned and their few possessions were quickly packed up.

Driving over only after it was dark and cutting the lights as they drove down the road and up the drive, they had walked up the stairs in near silence. He reached for her hand as they stood in front of the door, staring into her eyes.

“This is it,” he had whispered, the bright moon reflecting in his eyes. “We’re home.”

“Home,” she had agreed and he stroked her cheek, bending to kiss her softly.

“Thank you,” he had whispered and she hummed quietly, her hand grasping his wrist.

Stepping back, she had taken the key from her pocket and opened the door, turning on the flashlight she took from her pocket. Mulder had done the same before she closed the blinds, feeling safe enough to turn on the dim lights in the room as they stood and looked around the empty room.

“Let’s see the upstairs,” he said, breaking into her thoughts of where they would place furniture as she looked around again.

“Okay,” she agreed and turned toward the staircase.

Walking up the steps, she turned to the right, and led him into the bedroom which would be theirs to share. She switched on the light and watched him look around, hoping this room was met with the same approval as the ones downstairs.

He walked into the bathroom and nodded as he let out a sigh. Turning around, he smiled at her, walking forward to pull her into his arms. They held one another, in the soft light of the room, the night quiet around them.

“It’s just what we need, Scully. I’m so tired of constantly moving. I’m ready to settle down. Get out of the damn car.” She chuckled softly, though tears pricked at her eyes; she was so ready too.

“Then let’s unpack that car,” she said, pulling back and smiling at him. He nodded, dropping his forehead to hers, each of them taking a deep breath.

“Let’s do it.”

They kept the porch light off, unpacking by moonlight and flashlight, bringing in their bags of clothing, bedding and an air mattress, toiletries and any food and water they had. Everything was brought upstairs, the bags placed in the corner and the bed blown up and made up with the bedding.

“We’ll need some food before morning. Granola bars and jerky isn’t going to cut it for me,” she said, grimacing at the thought. He laughed and nodded, taking off his shoes and sitting on the end of the bed.

“I’ll go get a few things, some basic staples and be right back.” He looked up at her, about to say something when she stopped him. “It won’t take long. Stay up here and keep the door locked, just in case.”

“Scully…” he started and she squatted down, her hands on his thighs.

“We need food, Mulder. I will be fine.”

“I know. I just…”

“I know.”

He sighed, closing his eyes, with a nod. Opening his eyes, he nodded again. She squeezed his legs and stood up, smiling at him before she walked to the door.

“Lock this. Wait for my knock.” He nodded and she nodded back. Stepping through the door, she waited until she heard the lock click to walk down the stairs and out the door.

Pulling up to a large grocery chain, she parked in a well lit area, always watching over her shoulder as she walked inside the store. Grabbing a cart, she kept her eyes ahead as she walked to the produce department.

Her cart full of the basic needs, she walked through the bakery, looking for a special treat of some kind. As she did, she frowned, realizing the majority of the cookies and cakes were of the fall and Halloween variety.

Not sure of the exact date, she avoided the fall decorated items, instead picking out a small toasted coconut loaf cake. Smiling, she placed it in the cart and walked to the baking aisle looking for candles. With a nod, she turned around and headed to the register.

As she left, she looked at the receipt and smiled; the coconut cake now an even better idea. Putting the bags of groceries in the car, she looked around again, making sure no one was watching her. Driving away, she kept an eye on the rearview mirror, making a few unnecessary turns, just in case.

Coming back to the house, she once more cut the lights before opening the gate. Closing it after she had driven in, she pulled up to the house and turned off the car.

Leaving the groceries in the car, she went inside the house and up the stairs. She rapped her knuckles on the door of the bedroom, using the special knock they had created.

“It’s me,” she said softly and she heard the door unlock. Smiling, he stepped out of the room and they walked downstairs to once more unload the car.

The refrigerated items were placed inside and the other food into the cupboards. Sliding the candles into her pocket, she kept the cake in the bag as Mulder put the empty bags in a pile on the counter. He looked at the bag and she shook her head.

“Just some things I need to take upstairs.” He nodded and she held it close, walking to the stairs. Turning off the lights, he followed her, after making sure the doors were locked.

Closing and locking the bedroom door, she set the bag on the bed and searched in one of the bags for the matches she knew were in there. Finding them, she took them into the bathroom bringing the bag with her.

Closing the door, she quietly opened the cake and took out the candles from her pocket. Sticking four into the cake, she lit them with the matches. Smiling, she opened the door and stepped into the softly lit room.

“Happy birthday to you…” she sang quietly and he looked up in surprise from the end of the bed. She knelt down, continuing to sing as she looked at him.

“What?” he asked, the glow from the candles adding more light to the room and creating a glow around his face.

“We get so wrapped up in simply existing, time slips past us. I picked this cake up just to have a sweet treat, but it’s actually your birthday today and well…” She looked down at the candles and then back up at him, with a smile. “We don’t usually have much to celebrate, but this…” She gestured around and he nodded. “It’s not much yet, but we have a house . A place to come home to. No more running.”

“No. No more running,” he whispered with a soft smile, caressing her cheek.

“Make a wish,” she whispered back and he shook his head.

“I don’t need any wishes. I have all I need right here.”

“Cheesy…”

“I am.” He kept his eyes on hers as he blew the candles out, the room now darker, the smoky scent of burning wax heavy between them.

She pulled out the candles and set them on the floor, not caring if wax dripped and made a permanent stain on the hardwood. A moment had been created and a visual reminder was more than welcome.

They sat on the bed, leaning against the wall, sharing the cake in silence. She laid her head on his shoulder and he kissed the top of it as she sighed.

“This will be good for us. A place to put down roots and be safe.”

“Mmm,” she agreed. “We’ll figure out the furniture situation tomorrow. We also need pots and pans, plates, utensils…” She sighed and he rested his head on hers.

“A coffee maker… that’s definitely high on the list.”

“Indeed,” she said with a small chuckle. “Happy birthday, Mulder.”

“Hmm. Thank you, honey.”

“Honey?”

“Yeah. We’re living in a house now, gotta play the part.” She laughed softly as he set his fork down and reached for her hand, giving it a small squeeze.

“I love you, Scully.”

“I love you too, Mulder.”

And in the soft light of the sparse room, roots began to grow and find their way into the ground, creating a place of refuge for two people who had spent far too long with nothing to hold onto, but each other.

#The X Files #XF Fanfic #Post The Truth #On the Run #Finding the Unremarkable House #Time to Stop Running #Mulder's Birthday... Unexpectedly

52 notes · View notes

janekfan · 4 years

Note

yeeeEEEESSSS I love your writing so much!!! I'm here with a prompt!! so i have a personal headcanon that Jon and Tim gave each other their spare apartment keys back when they were still in research, because neither of them know many people they trust for emergencies. so what if, idk. there was an emergency? :) (if you want a more specific prompt i could think of one!!!)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26740198

@taylortut This was great! I too have done what Jon did...we try so hard T_T

It wasn’t a surprise when Tim called out for the third time in a row, but Jon was getting worried. He was usually so hale that to be laid low like this was really out of the ordinary and Jon spent all day waffling between going to check up on him and minding his own business. They each had a key to each other’s flats for emergencies, considering they were, as Tim put it, two eligible bachelors living a lonely life.

This was an emergency?

Right?

Or something like one?

It was probably too late really to go back on his decision considering he was already on the train and he checked again on the contents in the bag despite having checked out front of the tesco immediately after their purchase. Lemsip, some sort of blue sports drink because he remembered Tim saying it was superior to all other colors, his favorite soup, popsicles for his throat if it was sore, tissues, crackers, tea, honey, lozenges...

Maybe it was too much.

Maybe he’d forgotten something.

Jon checked again as he stood shifting nervously from foot to foot outside the flat before knocking quietly and letting himself in.

“Tim?” He slipped off his shoes, glancing around the sitting room before locating him curled up on the bed seemingly caught in between hot and cold. Tucked up in a veritable mountain of blankets and quilts, he had one leg hanging off the bed. “Hey, Tim.”

“Nnnngh…”

“I thought as much.” Shivering and sweating, he looked absolutely godawful when Jon folded back the covers; sniffling and coughing and making pathetic little noises that Jon responded to sympathetically. “When’s the last time you had any medicine?” Tim shrugged with one shoulder, hair messy and sticking up in all directions, but he’d been sleeping for a little while and when Jon pressed the inside of one wrist against his blazing forehead he decided it had probably been long enough. He poured an electric glass of blue and handed Tim an open blister pack of pills, waiting until he’d downed both before tucking him back in and gently shushing his muttering.

Jon unpacked the rest of his supplies, leaving them where Tim would easily find them, now confident that he’d made the correct call before checking in on him one more time. Asleep and considerably less flushed, Jon felt alright leaving him, placing a note with instructions to call him should he need anything else underneath a glass of neon liquid and leaving the way he came.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise. Jon had been feeling out of sorts all weekend and coming into work certainly hadn't alleviated any symptoms. If anything, he felt worse and though Martin did what he could and made him tea and made him go home relatively on time, Tim was just angry; snapping at him when he blocked the narrow archive hallways, slow from still healing injuries and aches brought about by his cold and drawing attention to the fact that Jon was damaged goods. It wasn't a good feeling, especially when Sasha seemed to join in on the fun in her backhanded way. Or maybe not really at all? Maybe he was misinterpreting it, probably. They’d been so upset with him lately and his paranoia and he didn’t mean to, really he didn’t. Rather than think on it any longer, Jon let his head fall to his desk, closing his eyes against the thin line of hallway light because even that small amount was like looking into the depths of the sun.

Couldn’t record.

Couldn’t research.

Couldn’t ask anyone for help with either task.

Or for. Well. For help at all, really.

And he thought he might like a little help at the moment. Someone to bring him lunch knowing he wasn’t feeling well even though he wouldn’t be able to eat it. Checking in to see if he was set on medicine. Asking after him so he could deny feeling so poorly only for them to see past it and send him home.

He wished someone would just…see him.

He'd always had trouble accepting that his actions had consequences and learning those types of lessons never had been his strong suit.

Martin’s tea was the one bright spot in his day. He could and did look forward to that in the afternoon. Would just lay here until then. Waiting for a bit of perfectly steeped comfort. And he didn’t disappoint because if Martin was anything, he was reliable.

“Jon, you look dreadful.” Blessedly, the light was still off because Martin was smart like that, in the little ways that really mattered, and he was silhouetted against the door, blocking the beams just waiting to fall over him and dig the icepick deeper. When he opened his mouth to answer, nothing came out, lips forming around the shapes of the words he’d tried to say and quickly forgotten in mild surprise at how sore his throat was. He reached for the tea with trembling hands and when did that happen? Pulling it towards him across the desk and sipping from the rim without lifting it. Hot. Lovely. Full of honey and lemon and the noise he made was wholly unprofessional. Humming, he let his eyes close, taking another swallow. “I think you should go home early.” Large and cool against his skin, Jon leaned into the palm on his forehead. “Yeah, you’re burning up, you shouldn’t be here.” Sad at being scolded, Jon hid in his tea and Martin let him finish, pen scratching against a scrap of paper. “Can you make it on the train?” Probably? He made it here didn’t he?

“Y’yes, Martin.”

“Ah, there you are.”

“Thank you. For, for the tea.” Really.

“‘Course. Now, here.” He pressed the note into his hand, wrapping his scarf around his neck after he did so while Jon tried to parse the information. “You’re to stop off at the chemist, all right?” Jon nodded, the squiggles dancing in front of him and he knew Martin’s handwriting wasn’t that bad. “Give that to them, they’ll help you collect the medicine, alright?” A hand on his shoulder caught his attention. “Alright?” He nodded again. “I’d go with you, but, my mum.” And again. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own? I could ask Sasha or Tim--”

“No! No, no need to bother them. I’ll, I’ll be fine.” He could feel Martin looking him up and down, he could feel the weight of his disbelief.

“I’ll see you to the door.” Gently, he steered him through the archives, “I’ll be texting. You’ll be answering.” Nodding, he knew Martin was watching him as he set off towards the station.

By the time Jon staggered into the sitting room, he was ready to collapse. He was weighed down by several medications and the instructions on how to take them and he would make sure he took them. And drank water. Because Martin said and he’d been disappointing so many people lately that the thought of disappointing one more made tears sting the corners of his eyes. A buzzing woke him from where he’d fallen asleep on his couch.

Did you make it home? Oh. Yes. Martin did say. Jon stared at the screen before shoving himself up. He should take some medicine and go to bed. Bed, that sounded lovely. Laying down sounded lovely.

Yes, thank you, Martin.

Good, get some rest. DO NOT come in tomorrow.

Yes, Martin. He waited a few seconds before sending again, Thank you, Martin.

The next day passed in a blur of different medications, glasses and mugs of water, and shifting from bed, to couch, to overstuffed chair in his restlessness, sleeping hours wrapped up in each in between responding to Martin’s texts.

Martin was surprised, to say the least, at how well Jon was keeping in touch. He responded to each inquiry within a few hours, hopefully spending the time between resting, was taking medicine, and keeping himself hydrated. Martin was. Well, he was a little stunned, to be honest.

Got medicine. Even a glass of water. He’d included a blurry picture of said glass and it was so Not Jon, Martin’s laugh got away from him.

Doing fine, thank you, Martin. His standard response.

You don't have to keep checking on me. What Martin was sure was his guilty response.

I'm alright. There was more and more time in between these. More time, and fewer words, and worry settled heavy in his stomach.

tired Unnerving.

And then on Saturday, nothing at all.

Martin couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong and when Jon didn’t text back, or pick up the phone when he called on repeat, he rang Tim.

“Martin.” No. There was no way he was going over there. He’d sooner chuck the key into an open drain and walk into the next fear ritual voluntarily than check on him.

“Tim, I, I can’t, or I would. Please. Please, you have a key and I just know he’s in a bad way.” He sighed. Martin’s voice was shaking on the other end of the line and Tim knew that if he could have been there for Jon, he'd be there already. "Just, just a quick look. To make sure--to make sure."

Make sure.

"Please, Tim."

"I. Fine. Fine. Five minutes, that's all I'm wasting on him."

All told, Jon didn't live more than a few stops away and Tim thrust his hands into his pockets angrily, hunching into the collar of his coat and swearing under his breath. Jon was fine. He was ignoring Martin because that's what he did to people. At the door he stood waiting before finally rapping his fist sharply against it.

"Oi! Jon!" A few seconds of silence and he was counting down his promised minutes. Cheating he supposed because he had yet to see him, but whatever. "Open up! It's Tim!" Who else would it be, you miserable, paranoid, overblown librarian. He'd have to use his key and even touching it made his stomach flip. He didn't want to be here. He wanted to be far away from here and he couldn't even do that. But for Martin, he twisted the key in its matching lock, shoving into a chilly sitting room strewn with half-empty mugs and glasses of water littering each flat surface. "Jon?" No sign of him yet, he could have stepped out. Tim picked up his phone, balanced on the edge of a scratched and worn table. A string of missed calls and increasingly panicked messages ending finally in threats to send Tim I know you have a key Stoker. "Christ." He wasn't in bed, the small thing practically hidden beneath every blanket in the place and he pushed into the bath, flicking on the light like he'd suddenly appear and gawping like a fish when he did.

Curled up on the freezing tile, shivering fit to fly apart and soaked through with sweat, lay one ailing Jonathan Sims.

"Jon?" Ashen and struggling to breathe, he didn't respond until Tim kneeled and shook one bony shoulder and even then it took far too long for him to become anything other than barely aware. Face twisting up, Jon blinked, pulling in a labored lungful of air and gearing up to use it.

“T’Tim? How…?” Fucking hell, even with a foot out the door--

“Enough with the paranoia!" The flinch was like a physical blow and Jon began hacking unproductively into his folded elbow.

“S’sorry...din’t…” Breathless and trying hard to catch it. Flooded with guilt, Tim dragged a hand down his face. Here he was in his flat, miserable and ill and now Tim was here out of nowhere shouting at him? “Sorry. D’you n'need somethin'?” He’d always been small, a subject of much contention when things used to be good, but his voice, small and tired--he was barely there, skin and bone, burning away into nothing if the flush high in his cheeks meant anything. He was just sick. Hit hard with a bad flu and trying his best to manage it alone. And how did that make him even angrier? There was medicine scattered around and he even had an empty glass on the floor with him--he'd been trying and instead of just asking for some damn help!

"Do I--no!" Yelling at a half naked man lying on the floor. Nice Tim. What energy Jon had was gone, and he was back to gasping between words, confused.

"Then… I, I don't… What--" He heaved for another gulp of air, like he couldn't get enough.

Multiple types of meds, some with overlapping ingredients. Idiot had probably overdosed himself on the different kinds, too disoriented to keep careful track.

"Jon, how much did you take?" Tim grabbed him now, fingers digging painfully into his hot, hot skin.

"Dose… the, the dose."

"How much?" He demanded and Jon whimpered, ducking his head.

"I, I--" Shaking harder now and crying silently, huge tears rolled down his face. He was scared of him, afraid and pushing himself off the tile in an attempt to put more distance between them only succeeding in bouncing his temple off the tub. With a hoarse cry he curled into himself, and he'd hate the comparison, but like a dying spider. Hunched forward and protecting his no doubt aching head with gangly too thin limbs. "Instructions… M’Martin said. Said water an’ an’..."

Tim was terrible at this. Barging in, yelling and shouting. Jon probably didn't know which way was up, let alone how much medication he took trying to get through this by himself with his only connection being the phone he'd left on the table. Clearly, he hadn't been well enough to retrieve it.

Damn it, Jon.

"Let me see." Another squeak, wretched and sneaking from his throat. "Jon." Stern, not angry, scooching forward and he could see one red rimmed and wary eye peeking between his fingers and the curls escaping from their tie. "Lemme take a look." Gently and after a moment's more scrutiny he was allowed to touch, to guide his trembling hands away, brush back the tangles to examine the forming bruise. It didn't look too bad. Certainly no more than either of them had experienced before. What was bad was the heat under his palm, the tiny shivers, the way his chest stuttered trying to pull each breath into his body. “Okay, the floor isn’t the place for you.”

“S’sorry. I--” Cut off by another fit, this one harder than the last, and it left him winded, apologies forced out by halves. “Been d’dizzy…”

“You don’t need to apologize for being ill, Jon.”

“M’sorry.” Tim sighed, reaching for him again and hating the way he shrank away. But he supposed just minutes ago he was shaking him.

“S’alright, boss.” Relieved by the way the old nickname relaxed him, he hefted him up and Jon was like a new colt trying out his legs for the first time, hands fisted in Tim’s shirt, inhale, exhale, shallow and fast.

Safely deposited on the bedside, Tim handed him an oversized shirt from the half-open drawer, recognizing it as his own, left behind sometime before. It would have been big on Jon back when they worked in research but now. The fight to yank off the sweat soaked tee took it out of him, evidenced by the way Jon had just tossed it on the floor and now he was bare chested, ribs beginning to show, all scarred skin and exhausted shaking. Tim hated it; this man was a stranger and he shouldn't be. He slipped his shirt over his head, leaving him to figure out how to get his arms through the sleeves.

“Lay down.” He’d arranged the pillows to keep him up off his back while breathing was still a chore. “Text Martin.” Tim pressed the phone into his hand, stepping away and returning with a cold compress, smoothing it over his forehead and checking to make sure he’d fired off a message. It was short and poorly spelled, but Tim knew it would put Martin at ease, especially when he followed up in a moment or two.

And he sat at the other end of the bed. Feet up and legs laid beside Jon’s.

Watching.

Watched.

Until even half out of his mind, Jon had to ask.

"Y’you’re staying?" Eyes barely open and just above a whisper.

"Well.” Tim crossed his ankles and took out his own phone to pass the time, settling into a comfortable position. “Since you went ahead and poisoned yourself, guess I have to." He nudged his blanketed thigh with a toe. “Go to sleep, Jon.”

#TMA #The magnus archives #jon sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #they share keys!#prompt fill #sickfic #tmafanfic #sick character #sick jon #sick tim #Hurt/comfort #accidental overdose #of cold meds

59 notes · View notes

dontshootmespence · 4 years

Text

Through It All

Part 24

Summary: Now married, Spencer & Y/N navigate the D/s lifestyle. How will their relationship change?

Words: 2,765

Warnings: Voyeurism, p in v, threesome, oral sex (fem receiving), face sitting, pussy slapping, bit of degradation. I think that’s it.

A/N: My next entry for @cm-kinkbingo run by my beautiful girlfriend @heycasbutt. This fills my voyeurism square.

So much waiting. Before this all started, you knew there would be long periods of waiting, and it hadn’t even been that long, it had been about three weeks, during which time you’d been taking your classes, but the waiting still had you on edge so often and so intensely that Spencer made some secret plans behind your back.

When your parents show up at the door, you stare blankly, confused, but they take no offense and pull you in for a hug. “Spencer still hasn’t told you?”

“Told me what?” You laugh so loud Charlotte looks up quizzically from her toys, eyeing you with a smile before she sees your parents. Her little legs carry her quickly across the room and into your mother’s arms.

Grandma assaults her with kisses, which she can’t seem to get enough of lately, not that you or Spencer are complaining. “Dad and I are gonna stay here for a few days so you and Spencer can go on a little impromptu trip.”

“Really?” You ask in surprise, turning to see Spencer’s big smile. Reaching back behind the counter, he pulls out a bag. “I already packed for you.”

Your mind races with the thought of what this trip might be, relaxing and comforting or the sexy kind. Leaning in, you kiss Charlotte on the cheek and make her promise, in her 15-month-old way to be a good girl for Grandma and Grandpa. “I love you sooooo much, Charlie. Daddy and I will be back in a couple days.”

Spencer plants a big kiss on the top of Charlotte’s head, which makes her smile and lights up your world. “Be a good little flower, okay?”

“Ooo-kay,” she replies. She’s got a whole little voice now! It’s amazing and you almost get emotional leaving her, but you know in the long run, having a break from parenthood to focus on you and Spencer as a couple is what’s best for all of you.

After giving your parents a hug and kiss goodbye, Spencer takes your hand and shrugs the duffel bag over his shoulder. As soon as the door is closed, you can’t help but ask. “So what kind of a vacation is this?”

“Remember that party we went to?”

“The sexy one?” You ask as your voice goes up an octave. It’s a good memory; just the mere thought fills you with warmth again.

“I think it’s time for another.”

---

Instead of going straight to the penthouse complex the party had taken place in last time, Spencer takes you to the hotel first, checking you in and insisting you take a nap because you are ‘going to need your rest.’

With a beautiful threat like that, it takes 20 minutes of anticipatory tossing and turning before you can fall asleep. When you wake almost an hour and a half later, you glance toward the armchair in between the bed and wall and see an outfit laid out for you. Draped over the back of the chair is a tight, rouched, pink dress with a sweetheart neckline and nude pumps. Heat floods through you. It’s normally not your kind of outfit, but knowing Spencer picked it out, means he has a picture in mind.

From behind, you hear his voice low and gravely. “You won’t be wearing any panties. I want you open for me from the second we walk in the door. And don’t worry, there’s a built-in bra in the dress.”

“When do we leave, Sir?” The stark difference between headstrong mom and wife and docile sob is apparent, but it’s you, two sides of the same coin. You truly believe one couldn’t exist without the other. “Do I have time to put on some makeup?”

“We leave in a half hour. And I packed your makeup. It’s not waterproof. I plan to mess it up anyway.”

---

Before you leave, Spencer ensures that your limits and wants haven’t changed. He also asks if you have the mental energy for a bit of degradation (you do). Him asking is what makes him, him. It’s what makes him a dominant worth kneeling before. “It’ll be a lot of the same people as last time,” Spencer says as you stride out of the elevator and down toward the penthouse. “This time though, it won’t be a ‘show’ per se, so much as we’ll have our own room, I will do as I please with your beautiful body and anyone that wants to come in and watch can. Like a revolving door for people to witness what a little slut you are for me.”

Biting your lip, you move to kiss the underside of his chin. Wetness begins to drip down your leg. “Only for you, Sir. Forever.”

Taking your place, you stand slightly behind him and watch as he raps at the door three times. Each knock sends a jolt through you, anticipation building. “Welcome back,” your host says when he opens the door. “Married since last we saw each other, right?”

Spencer nods and guides you inside. There’s already a ton of people milling around with drinks and food. From the sounds of it, at least a few people are already getting into things. And out of the corner of your eye, you spy Christina. Floating across the room to greet you, she bats her eyelashes at you. “Nice to see you both. Will I be seeing you here? Or are you just here to observe?”

“We’re here to play,” Spencer says, voice low.

Your pussy clenches around nothing at his tone, soft yet forceful. After your host welcomes everyone to party, reminding you all to stay ‘safe, sane and consensual,’ the crowd disperses. Some individuals that you know for a fact aren’t in relationships, find each other and go off to have some fun. Other couples, like you and Spencer find empty rooms and prepare to provide the guests with an amazing show.

Once inside a room, Spencer focuses on you, ignoring the first few people that walk through the door. They’re familiar faces and although you can’t remember names, you’re almost positive they were viewers that last time you were here. “Ready?” He asks.

You nod.

“Word?”

“Red, Sir.”

Spencer pinches your chin in between his thumb and forefinger, responding with a condescending ‘good’ before addressing the growing audience. “Who here wants to see my wife’s amazing body? See how wet she already is?”

A few men have no problems grunting in approval, their hands floating over hardening cocks, the anticipation building. Without a word, Spencer grabs your arms roughly with both hands and turns you so that your ass is facing the crowd and you’re staring at the wall. Cool air quickly hits your heated pussy as he yanks the bottom of your tight, pink dress just above your ass. He places a finger on the middle of your back, so you pitch forward. He wants to show off what’s his and you’re more than happy to comply.

“See?” He asks them, directing their collective gaze toward your slick entrance. “She’s already soaking wet. Frankly, I think she’s been wet since I surprised her with this party this afternoon. Haven’t you, love?”

“Yes, Sir.” You remain still while he waits for you to elaborate. “I’m always wet for you.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I love when you use me. I belong to you.”

“That’s right.” Reaching to your shoulder, he applies the slightest bit of pressure and allows you to stand up straight again. “Now, should we get the audience involved with a little poll?” His eyes glance up and down your body quickly and you’re pretty sure you know where he’s headed.

“I think so, Sir.”

“What does my little slut think I’m thinking? What do I want to ask them?”

“Whether I should keep my dress on and have you expose my breasts or take it off all together.”

Spencer smiles proudly and looks toward the crowd. “Show of hands. Dress off?” A few hands go up. “Dress on?” Most of the room votes for dress on, the image of Spencer so taken with you that he can’t even bother to undress you, you so blissed out and fucked that you don’t care, so long as he fucks you.

As soon as you have your answer, you lie back on the bed and put your hands above your head, your dominant hand clenching around the opposing wrist.

“Legs open,” he says firmly as he peels his jacket off and lays it neatly on a chair at his side, kicking his shoes off nearby, piling them not-as-neatly as his jacket. Even in control, he’s losing bits of it. “We want to put on a good show, right? Show everyone what a wet little slut you really are?”

You let out a breathy, “Yes, Sir,” in reply, already feeling the urge to touch your breasts, rake your fingers around your nipples, pinch them for the sweet bit of pain.

Once Spencer’s unbuttoned his shirt and stepped out of his pants, leaving him in just a shirt and boxers, he steps to the edge of the bed and wraps an arm around each of your legs, pulling your ass to the precipice. He thumbs your clit and you whimper, moving gently down into his hand, but he quickly pulls away, laughing at your dissatisfied whimpers.

Even in a room full of people, he’s fixed on you. That’s your superpower. Something no one else can do for him. “Your pussy is needy, Sir.”

“I can see that,” he replies. “You’re glistening already. I think I’ll actually invite someone up for a closer look.”

Your heartbeat pounds in your chest and you wait excitedly for Spencer to pick someone. His eyes fall to someone standing above where your head is. “Would you like a closer look?”

The man doesn’t reply, giving you a small smile as he rounds the other side of the bed and comes to stand a few feet from Spencer.

“Isn’t she soaked?”

“Disgustingly so,” the man says.

Spencer laughs and immediately brings his open palm down on your clit. “And that made her even wetter. Why is that, love?”

“Because I’m your slut, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

Without dismissing the man, Spencer pulls his cock free from his boxers and lines himself up at your entrance, teasing you as your special viewer takes his former place on the opposite side of the bed.

As he pushes inside you, he takes a calf in each hand and pushes your legs back, leaving you open and raw for him. “Fuck, you take my cock so well, baby.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

With each thrust he swells inside you, the friction so intense that you’re begging for him to let you come within minutes, but he refuses, insisting you stave off your orgasm unless you want to be punished in front of the crowd. You kind of do, but you want to make him proud more, so you bite your lip and try to push your mind in a different direction - anything to push away the growing feelings in your core.

For a minute, you think to focus on the faces in the crowd, but most of them are watching with rapt attention, their hungry and jealous gazes doing little to tone down your growing need. Each thrust of his hard cock fucks you open so beautifully, your juices sliding down your ass and onto the sheets below.

When you go to beg again, beg for sweet release, Spencer pinches your clit in between his fingers, ripping the words from you. It’s time to be quiet. Every pinch, every scrape of his fingers, every pointed thrust gets you closer and closer to where he wants you, fucked so senseless you can’t form words or thought, his name the only thing that’s able to fall from your lips.

“Fuck!” You cry as he pulls out and slaps your pussy with the head of his cock and his hand in quick succession.

Spencer’s gaze falls on Christina, at least you assume so. All you’re aware of is Spencer’s voice claiming that your mouth needs a distraction. Sauntering over, Christina lifts her dress, climbs onto the bed and straddles your face. She’s pink and perfect and wet and now you have a mission of your own.

Your tongue hungrily laps at her wetness and you laugh to yourself as you feel it drip down your chin. She grinds down onto your mouth, begging for you to fuck her with your tongue as Spencer pounds into your pussy without any thought.

As Spencer bottoms out, you cry into Christina’s wet cunt and tear rolls down your face. “Spencer, she’s actually crying she’s so well fucked,” Christina teases.

“Tell her she doesn’t get to come until she makes you come.”

You hear that and grasp onto Christina’s legs, pulling her pussy back to your mouth so you can eat her out like your life depends on it. It does right now. All you want is to come. Your entire body is burning with need. Spencer’s purposely slowing his movements, drawing out each sensation so that you can focus on what you need to do before you get your reward.

When Christina shakes above you, you smile, watching her as she casually removes herself from the bed and returns to her place in the crowd. “Christina, did she do a good job? Should I let her come?”

Whining, you buck down into Spencer’s cock and pray that Christina was satisfied. It sounded like it.

“I think you should fuck her so hard she forgets her own name.”

Spencer chuckles and reels back, bottoming out so hard that your eyes roll to the back of your head. Without saying a word, he flips you over so you’re face down on the bed before pushing back inside. At this angle, you feel even fuller. It feels like both seconds and hours before you’re crying out, no words, just noise as your mouth hangs open.

Once you’re able to focus again, you see people leaving the room and feel Spencer’s hands turn you back to face him. “You okay, love?”

“More than, Sir.” You smile.

---

In a haze, you’re able to get dressed and get back to the hotel. You curl into Spencer’s embrace. “Did you have fun?” He asks, the lightness in his voice already giving you an answer of your own.

Nodding, you tighten your grasp around his waist and kiss his chest. “Yes, Sir.”

---

The following day, the two of you wake up at your leisure and Spencer takes you out to breakfast. It’s leisurely. There’s coffee. He takes charge when it comes to ordering and paying the bill. It’s amazing. All you have to do is smile and bask in the afterglow of the previous night’s amazing time.

After a little bit of swimming at the hotel pool, a nap and a quick, late lunch, you head home to see your mother in Charlotte’s room, her eyes hooded and near to closing as she smiles down at her granddaughter. Your dad’s already passed out on the floor next to them. How Charlotte hasn’t woken up to tell Grandpa to stop snoring is astounding. “Have fun?” Your mom asks softly.

Nodding, you give her a hug and thank her for giving you and Spencer the time to breathe. It’s refreshing. Your dad stirs awake so you leave the room to let Charlotte sleep peacefully. “Thank you again, guys.”

“No problem.” Both your parents understand the importance of time outside of parenthood. Your mom cranes her head back toward Charlotte’s room. “You two plan on another one of those anytime soon? I can’t believe she’s 15 months already. It feels like she was born yesterday.”

“It really does, and mayyyybeeee.” After assuring them you’re not pregnant, you confide in them about your adoption journey thus far. “We haven’t heard anything yet. Still too early. But we’re looking into it.”

Your mom begins to tear up and even your dad gets his congratulations caught in his throat. “We’ll be praying for someone to pick you soon.”

“Thanks, dad. You okay to drive? Spencer or I can drive you home.”

“No, kiddo,” you dad replies, resting his hand on your shoulder. “I’m good.”

“Okay, text me when you get home.”

“We will.”

As they make their way down the stairs of the complex, you and Spencer slip into Charlotte’s room, sleepy smiles painting their way across your faces. “Refreshed?” Spencer asks. “Ready to really dive into adoption?”

“More than anything.”

@heycasbutt @ultrarebelheart @katherineisagubler @proud-slytherin-ghost @randomwriter23 @fandom-queen67 @sixx-sic-sixx @xqueenofthecraziesx @aofay02 @groovyreid @criesinreid @jdougl-love @xreider @cringeemospntrashassbutt @prettyboyeffect @prettyboyreid @themanip @spencerreidsthings @augustgraceful @whollytaciturn @prisonreid @factualfic @jasmine-negron @snitchthewitch @ellabobella051419 @crazyforsstuff @kaatelyyynn @jane-dough @dreatine @bitter-post-millennial @adlerorzel-blog @hallieedrew @psychedelephantt @krisymccall996 @4ueijos @mclaujac @ray-likes-starwars @nurseemilyblog @slightlyvicked @she4567 @guesswhosback129 @princessdolan @happycreatorfangirl @fallwhisper @nyemadowell @sammy-jo1977 @sin-bin-and-tragedies @imsuperawkward @ahhahahaheehee @crispygiantsaladgarden @reputay-swift @pizzarollsfordayz @andiebeaword @timey-wimey-lovi @garbagecanfics @friedparadisetale @dereksbetaa @idontevenknow2 @holyfishloverfarm @nohemi2500 @typeshitbih @sadgirlhan @kmc217 @bigbuttsowhatuniverse @charmedfandomgal @im--blushing @dangerouspersonllamabagel @fichoe21 @yes-sir-hotchner @thefandomallrounder @mrsenos08 @walkerchick007 @letsdisneythings @winchesterqueenie @specialagentleigh @spn-wheresthepie @haileymew @bitchyoulied @geniusgub @urdicksmol @6lack6erry @slutlanna976 @downondilaudid @baileysb1tch @la-vie-en-amour1 @letsdoit-tomorrow @eideticprettyboydrreid @lazynoodledragon @shybaby231 @aimzonicles97 @grace-superpowers @softestlavender @ssa-dr-ladylock @drprettyboy @patricks-fabulous-face @tearosaria @shxdowofdarkness @marvels-gurl

#through it all #the most natural thing in the world #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #dontshootmespence

81 notes · View notes