#brown hair is so lovely i think she deserves it
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Will It Patch Your Broken Wings? // ALTERNATE ANGST ENDING
A/N: I’m trying something out here, and I hope it makes sense. 😅 I got a dm request for an angsty ending for this fic, and a lot of you wanted to see Azriel pay for his crimes, so here you go! I kept the beginning the same, and the new ending starts after the row of black hearts 🖤🖤🖤
Here’s the original request that the story came from! Enjoy!
Betty, I know where it all went wrong
Your favorite song was playing
From the far side of the gym
I was nowhere to be found
I hate the crowds, you know that
Plus, I saw you dance with him
Azriel grimaced as you led him through Rita’s, your hand in his, a bounce in your step. You loved it here: the energy, the dancing, the music.
Azriel, on the other hand, pretty much hated it. But he loved you, so he went along.
The music was pounding in Azriel’s mind, overwhelming his senses. He could normally block it out and will his body to be loose enough to attempt to dance with you, but today had been a particularly long day in which he had to… secure information from some traitors.
He didn’t let his memory go past that, not when he was with you. But it had been a day. A terrible day.
You were dancing now, like you were born to do it, like you didn’t care at all who was watching. You turned to him, a bright smile lighting up your face, and he couldn’t help but soften at the sight, feeling comforted by your effortless radiance.
He would never understand why you had chosen him. He was thankful of course, but he was willing to admit the two of you sometimes seemed like an unlikely pair. You were bright and bubbly, lighting up every room -- a direct juxtaposition to his shadows, his darkness, his tendency to be stoic and silent.
Watching him stay completely still in the middle of the crowd, your face fell, and you sidled up to him, craning your neck to look him in the eyes as you got closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Are you okay? We can go home if you want.”
Azriel smiled faintly at you, dipping his head to give you a quick kiss. “Long day. You can dance. I’m going for a drink.”
You nodded, but still eyed him warily for a moment, gaze lingering on his swirling shadows, before turning back to the dance floor.
By the time Azriel got his drink (the strongest they had), you were fully engrossed in a song that he realized was one of your favorites. He watched as you writhed on the middle of the dance floor, swaying your hips, a bright smile on your face.
A male came up to you then, taking your hand and twirling you under his arm. You laughed brightly before moving away from him, dancing on your own once again.
Azriel couldn’t stop his heart from plummeting. That’s the kind of male she should be with, he thought. The kind that goes to a normal job and comes home without shadows or demons to chase away in his mind. The kind that can dance and twirl and laugh with you without a care in the world.
He watched as you danced and danced, occasionally dancing with a random male for a moment before moving on.
She deserves better than you. She always has.
His breath was coming faster and faster now, the music pounding in his ears, through his skull, all that heat from so many bodies closing in on him. He had to get out, had to stretch his wings, had to get out.
Azriel shoved through the crowd and burst through the doors, out into the cool night, stretching out his wings and breathing deeply. He cursed himself. He was normally better than this, better at maintaining his emotions, his panic. By the Cauldron, he was the Night Court’s spymaster and he couldn’t handle an evening in a nightclub with his lover.
Pathetic. That’s what he was.
“Are you okay?” a light, sing-songy voice broke through his rumbling thoughts.
He turned to see a very pretty High Fae woman. She was dressed a bit like Mor, he couldn’t help thinking, wearing a thin red dress that showed off all her assets, her light brown hair cascading down past her shoulders.
She gave him a look that he hadn’t seen, or at least paid attention to, from a stranger in a very long time.
He blinked. “Honestly? I don’t think so.”
Her lips slowly curved up into a sultry smile. “Anything I would be able to help you with?”
No. No, you cannot help me. I don't think anybody can.
She watched him, her eyes sparkling with mischief, before she tilted her head for him to follow.
And Mother save him, he did.
---
And I can see us twisted in bedsheets
August sipped away like a bottle of wine
'Cause you were never mine.
Your heart had been pounding, your body trembling, ever since you realized that Azriel was nowhere to be found.
Something must have happened to him. It was the only explanation. He wouldn’t just leave you without a word.
But, what could have possibly happened to the shadowsinger, in Velaris, of all places?
Your hand shook as you raised it to pound on the door of the river house.
Rhysand was the one who answered, shirtless, hair a mess. He looked very unhappy to see you.
“I need you to find Azriel,” you nearly shouted before he could scold you.
He sobered immediately, noticing your distress. “What do you mean?”
You explained to him what had happened, that he had seemed off at Rita's, that he told you he was going to get a drink, then vanished. You had assumed that he had been lingering on the outskirts of the dance floor, and didn't notice for quite some time that he had left completely.
“I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation,” he said soothingly. “Did you check your apartment?”
You nodded. He wasn't there, at the home he shared with you. “And the townhouse.”
Rhysand's violet eyes were contemplative. Hesitating.
“Can't you just…feel for him or whatever?”
He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah. I can.”
“Then do it!”
Rhysand's eyes went unfocused after a beat, and when they widened again in surprise, you knew he had found him.
“What is it? Is he okay?”
“He's… at a random apartment. At least it's not one that I recognize.”
Your heart lurched. “What? Why?”
Rhys shrugged, his expression darkening. “Okay. Shit. Wait here, I'll go tell Feyre what's going on and take you to him.”
Rhysand came back a moment later, now in his normal black attire, and winnowed you in front of an apartment complex not far from Rita's. You had certainly never been here before. The silence was agony as you followed Rhys up the stairs, to the door.
He glanced back at you, a question in his eyes. You shook your head and he knocked, the sound rattling around in your skull.
You heard shuffling, giggling, and then.
Then.
A woman answered the door. A beautiful woman who was wearing Azriel's shirt.
A woman who was wearing your lover’s shirt and nothing else.
Your knees nearly buckled. You tasted bile in your mouth. You were going to be sick.
She cocked her head to the side. “Yes?”
Rhysand was deathly still, his power rippling from him, darkening the doorway. You remained behind him, but you had to know. Had to know for sure.
So you peeked around Rhysand's shoulder, further into the woman's apartment.
And saw Azriel, bare chested, lying in her bed, the sheets bunched up at his waist, his wings drooping on the ground, his hand tucked under his head, staring at the ceiling, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
You barely had time to spin around before you emptied your stomach in the hallway.
---
The worst thing that I ever did
was what I did to you.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Az?” Rhysand's voice boomed from the door the woman had just answered.
Hearing such a familiar voice in such an unfamiliar setting was initially what shocked Azriel enough that he nearly fell out of bed.
Then it hit him.
Rhysand was here.
No no no no no no--
Azriel scrambled up out of the woman's bed, frantically searching for his pants and tugging them on.
“I-”
“Don't answer that.” Rhysand spat, and it was then that Azriel realized Rhys was holding you upright as both of you lingered in the doorway.
His heart stopped working. His mind stopped working.
He said your name, but it came out more like a croak.
You were trembling in Rhysand's arms, tears sliding down your cheeks.
What had he done what had he done what had he done--
Azriel took a step forward, but you recoiled, and he knew you would've fallen to the ground if Rhysand hadn't been holding you.
You looked… afraid of him. Not just hurt, not just disgusted, but actually afraid.
He said your name again, his voice and his heart breaking, but you turned to Rhysand and said in the smallest voice he'd ever heard, “Get me away from him.”
Rhysand shot you one last withering glance before he winnowed out of sight, taking you with him.
It was silent for a moment, until the woman said, “If I'd known you were such an asshole, I never would have done this.”
Azriel sank to his knees and wept.
---
You drew stars around my scars
But now I'm bleeding.
Back at the river house, Feyre was holding you as your body continued to shake, silent tears continued to fall, while Rhysand paced back and forth, rage radiating off of him.
“Azriel?” Feyre asked, wide eyed. “Our Azriel?”
“He's certainly not mine anymore,” you sniffed, and Feyre winced, shooting you an apologetic glance, holding you a little tighter.
“I can't believe it,” Rhys said, still pacing in the spare room where they had set you up for the night. “I cannot believe him.”
There was a knock on the door of the house and you froze. You all knew who it was.
You looked at Rhys, your eyes pleading.
“I won't let him in,” he said, his expression softening as he turned to you. “I'll ward the fucking house against him if I have to,” he growled, mostly to himself, as he retreated to send him away.
You leaned further into Feyre, grateful for your friends.
For his friends, you realized. His family.
They were on your side now, but you knew where their allegiance would ultimately lie.
In losing Azriel, you would lose your family, too.
Sobs racked your body then, and Feyre held on tight, settling her cheek on the top of your head.
You thought of all the walls Azriel had broken down around your heart, all the promises he had made about love and forever. All the broken pieces of you that you had let him see, that he had helped you heal.
But it was all a lie.
You couldn't stop seeing it -- the woman, naked except for his shirt; Azriel, naked in her bed.
You wept and wept until there was absolutely nothing left of you.
---
A friend to all is a friend to none
Chase two girls, lose the one.
Azriel had come to the river house twice a day for the past three days.
Each time, Rhysand opened the door, molten hot rage in his eyes, and told him to leave, that you weren’t ready yet. Azriel couldn’t blame him.
He knew there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to make it better. To make you better. He could try to explain what he had been feeling that night, but it wouldn’t matter, not really. It was all excuses, and he knew it.
Azriel had destroyed everything. And now he just had to watch as his world burned down.
Letting out a shuddering sigh, he knocked on Rhysand’s door, expecting to see his pissed off brother again, but it was Feyre who appeared.
He had never seen his High Lady look so disappointed. He hated that it was directed at him.
“How could you do it?” she said, crossing her arms, leaning against the doorway.
Azriel felt tears prickling his eyes, and willed them not to fall. “I never felt like I deserved her,” he said quietly.
“Well you definitely don’t now.”
He winced. “I know. I just -- I want to see her. How is she?”
Feyre furrowed her brow, furious. “How is she? She hasn’t left her room since she got here. Elain’s been forcing water down her throat so she doesn’t shrivel up and die, that’s how she is.”
Azriel swallowed, trying to steady his shaking hands. He felt like he was drowning. He wished he would, if it meant that it would make you stop feeling like that. “Do you think she’ll talk to me?”
She studied him, her mouth a hard, thin line. Finally, she turned, heading inside and he followed her, his knees wobbling.
When they made it to your door, she knocked softly, saying through the door, “He’s here.”
Azriel held his breath until the door opened, slowly.
And when he saw you, he couldn’t breathe. You looked… devastating. Your eyes were red and swollen, you were pale, your hair was a mess.
It was his fault. He had done this to you. He felt sick.
Your eyes were hollow when you looked at him, like you didn’t feel anything at all.
“Do you want me to stay?” Feyre asked you quietly.
You shook your head, your eyes darting away from Azriel. Feyre shot him a warning glare before she reluctantly went down the hallway.
You turned, moving to sit on the bed that looked like it hadn’t been made in days, every movement you made looking wary, exhausted. Destroyed. Your eyes were fixed on your hands in your lap, unwilling to look at him.
Azriel lingered just inside the room, feeling uncomfortable in his skin. He longed to hold you in his arms, to kiss your pain away.
He said your name, willing you to look at him. You flinched.
It felt like a punch to the gut. Azriel wanted the earth to swallow him whole.
“I am so, so sorry,” he rasped.
You shook your head, not looking up. “How could you do this, Az? How could you do this to me?” Your voice cracked when you said his name.
Tears started to fall down his own cheeks as he said, “I… don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I saw you dancing with those males, looking so carefree, and I didn’t feel like I fit into that part of your life. I’ve always felt like you deserved someone better than me, someone… easier.”
Finally, you looked up at him, and he wished you hadn’t. Your eyes were full of fury. And hurt. He had never seen you like that before. “You cheated on me because I danced with some guys for two seconds?”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Azriel tried.
“You think I wanted somebody like them? Somebody easier?”
Azriel opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I thought--”
“I wanted you,” you spat, and he recoiled at the hurt in your voice, at the pain in your eyes that he had put there. “All I ever wanted was you.”
He couldn't breathe. His voice came out weaker than he had ever heard it, “I'm sorry. It was a mistake, I'm a miserable, miserable fool. I want you. You're all I want.”
You laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. “How can you even say that after what you did?”
“I know, you’re right,” he sighed, raking a scarred hand through his hair, his shadows dancing around his arms. “It doesn’t make sense, what I did. It was stupid and awful, and the worst thing that I’ve ever done, and I am so so sorry,” he said, taking a step forward, reaching his hand out to take yours.
“Don’t touch me,” you spat, wrenching your hand away.
He blinked, taking a step back, his heart in his throat.
“You said you loved me,” you said, your voice now barely a whisper, as if all your energy had been completely drained. “You said you wanted to be with me forever. Did you ever mean any of it?”
“Of course I did,” he said softly. “I still do. I love you. I want you.”
You sniffed, putting your head in your hands. “Well. You should’ve thought of that before you fucked her.”
He blanched at your tone, at your language. He didn’t think you’d ever said that word before, at least not around him.
“Please,” he said, his voice breaking, as he knelt down in front of you, trying to meet your eyes. “Please, what can I do? What can I do to fix this?”
Your eyes rose to meet his. You took in the sight, the shadowsinger kneeling before you, begging for your forgiveness. “You can’t fix it,” you said, seething. “You left me. You abandoned me at Rita’s. Do you have any idea how that felt? I thought something horrible had happened to you!”
Azriel tightened his jaw. He hadn’t known, hadn’t even thought about --
“And then to see you. With her. In her bed,” you broke off, looking at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears from falling, he knew.
“I’m sorry.” It was all he could say. His tears were flowing down his cheeks now and he hastily wiped them away, not wanting to take his eyes off you for fear that you would vanish.
After a long moment, you leveled your gaze on him again. “Would you have told me? If I wasn’t worried sick, if I had just gone home, and waited for you to stumble on in, would you have told me? Or would you just keep acting like everything was fine, knowing that you had just betrayed me?”
Azriel swallowed hard. He thought about the guilt he had felt immediately, how he was contemplating what the hell he was going to tell you as he was staring at that ceiling before Rhysand had knocked. “I would’ve told you,” he said, his voice husky. “I was going to tell you.”
You scoffed, shaking your head, looking anywhere but him. “I don’t even know why I asked. How can I trust anything you say?”
“I don’t know. But it’s true,” he said, shifting on his knees, wishing he could reach for your hand.
Hiding your face in your hands, you said, barely audibly, “I hate you. I hate you for doing this to me and making me feel like this.”
Azriel’s heart finally shattered completely. He knew he would never be able to put the pieces back together, as long as he lived. He had done this to you, his beautiful, bubbly, happy love. Reduced to this. To hating him. And he couldn’t even blame you.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you.”
“Stop saying that,” you cried.
“It’s true. It’s all I’ve got. I won’t try to make excuses, I’m just … I’m sorry. And I love you. I’ll never stop loving you.”
You sniffled, and took your hands away from your face, looking to the ceiling once again, like you were steeling yourself to say what you were about to. “I never want to see you again,” you said, weakly. “You can have the apartment. Elain and Nesta are packing my things right now.”
Azriel shook his head, his panic rising, “No, no, you don’t have to--”
“I do,” you cut him off. “It’s done, Az. We’re done,” you rose off the bed and went to the washroom, looking unsteady on your feet. “You can go now.”
You shut yourself in behind the closed door, and it was five hundred years of will and training that carried his legs out of the river house, and out of your life forever.
Azriel took to the sky, flying and flying, the wind biting at his skin, at his eyes. He kept picturing your heartbroken expression, the words you spoke to him.
He didn't stop flying until he made it to the depths of the Illyrian mountains, where he knew he would be well and truly alone.
Spotting a flat section nestled between several mountains, he landed in the snow, barely stopping long enough to punch the mountainside. It was stupid, he knew, he was more likely to break his hand than blow off any of this steam, but he had to do something to stop this pain, this panic, this despair that he could blame on nobody but himself.
He had lost you. He had lost the love of his life forever because he couldn't overcome his fears. He had been so scared that he wasn't good enough for you that he made sure that it was true.
Grunting, he punched the mountainside over and over again until his knuckles bled, and then he punched it some more. Tears froze on his cheeks, the wind chilling him to the bone.
Az was dimly aware of someone landing behind him, so hard it shook the ground beneath his feet. He kept punching.
“You're not going to solve your problems out here,” Cassian called to him.
Finally, Azriel halted, turning around to face his brother. “You know, we have better things to punch,” Cassian added.
Azriel scowled, sinking into the snow, exhausted.
Cassian strode over to him, plopping down a few feet away, hissing at the cold now sleeping through his pants. He studied Azriel, seemingly waiting for him to speak.
“She hates me,” Azriel whispered finally. “She said she never wants to see me again.”
Cassian sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Fuck.”
Azriel could only nod sadly.
“You know she didn't mean it. At least not the second part. She loves you.”
Sniffing, wiping at his eyes, Azriel groaned. “I don't know if she does anymore.”
“She does,” Cassian said quietly. “I know she does.”
After a beat of silence, Cassian asked, “What are you going to do?”
Azriel shrugged, watching his bloody hands start to heal. “Well. I could either hang around, keep apologizing, and piss her off more, or… leave her alone…”
“And piss her off more,” Cassian added.
A dry laugh escaped Azriel. “Exactly.”
Cassian was quiet for a moment, seemingly pondering how to help him.
“I’m not giving up on her,” Azriel finally said, with more conviction than he felt. “I just… I don't want to make it worse.”
“Az, I hate to tell you this, but I don't think it could get much worse,” Cassian said, grimacing.
Azriel just sighed, stretching out his wings behind him.
---
I knew I'd curse you for the longest time
Chasing shadows in the grocery line.
Seeing Azriel again, seeing him beg on his knees for your forgiveness, seeing how hollow his eyes looked, how his shadows were so unrelenting around him, had absolutely wrecked you.
It was another few days until you had the courage to leave the river house at all.
Azriel had come back to the river house several times, but you had your friends send him away. You couldn’t bear to see him again.
Feyre and Rhysand had checked on you frequently during your stay at their house, consoling you, cursing Azriel’s name right along with you. Rhys had even loaned you what you needed to get your own apartment, on the other side of Velaris from the one that you once shared with Azriel.
That part seemed to make it final, somehow. You could almost convince yourself it had all been a dream until you made your way to your new, empty apartment, without a trace of the love that used to be yours.
That empty apartment wrecked you all over again, and as you looked around it for the first time, your body folded in half, arms wrapping around your stomach as your body racked with sobs.
You had started to regret insisting that you do this part by yourself.
It was really over. Azriel really cheated on you and it was really done.
You knew it was time to start distancing yourself from Azriel’s family. They had undoubtedly been on your side this whole time, but even Rhysand and Feyre were starting to change their tune slightly. You know he loves you still. You know he’s a good male. You know he’s so sorry.
You understood where they were coming from, really, you did.
But that didn’t make it hurt less. What you needed was to hate him. It was the only way you could ever bring yourself to move on, to start living your life again.
You had been solemnly unpacking for a few hours when there was a knock on your door. You stiffened immediately. Rhysand and Feyre had said that they wouldn’t tell Azriel where you lived, but maybe he had figured it out?
“Relax sweetheart, it’s me,” Cassian said on the other side of the door, and you did relax, if only slightly. You hadn’t seen him since before this all started.
Reluctantly you let him in. He was sauntering, wearing that easy smirk he always donned. You couldn’t decide if it was comforting or annoying.
Cassian whistled as he looked around. “Nice place.”
You settled on the couch, tucking your feet underneath you. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes softened as he walked closer to you, then perched next to you on the couch, not quite relaxed. “I wanted to check on you.”
“You can report back to Azriel that I’m just as pissed as ever,” you grumbled.
“He doesn’t know I’m here,” Cassian said quietly.
Skeptically, you turned to face him. You were sure he would be the most likely to take Azriel’s side.
After a moment, Cassian said, “If it’s any consolation, he hates himself probably about as much as you hate him right now.”
“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse,” you admitted.
Cassian sighed, leaning back into the couch. “Did you mean it? That you never wanted to see him again?”
You shifted, hugging your knees to your chest. “In the moment I did. Thinking about seeing him now… it breaks me apart. But, thinking about the rest of my life completely without him…”
“That breaks you apart too?” Cassian offered.
You nodded, tears stinging your eyes.
“Okay, look,” Cassian said, turning so he fully faced you. “I’m going to tell you something. You’re my friend and he’s my brother, and I love you both, so I need you to know I’m not trying to convince you of anything, I am merely giving you information. Okay?”
“O-kay…”
He took a deep breath, seemingly gathering his thoughts, before he continued. “Azriel has always felt like he was inferior. The way he was raised… he carries that around more than a lot of people think. He often thinks that he isn’t good enough for people, but especially you.”
“How do you know?” You knew that Az still dealt with a lot from his childhood, but he wouldn’t often voice those things to you. He had mentioned something about not feeling good enough when you saw him, but you weren’t sure what to make of it.
“He mentioned it to me a few times, that he didn’t feel like he was the kind of person you should be with. You’re so bright and bubbly, he felt like you deserved somebody who was the same.”
You rested your cheek on your knee, trying to digest the information. “But… he must have known I never actually felt like that, right?”
Cassian shrugged. “On a good day, maybe. But deep down I think he always had it in the back of his mind: that fear that he wasn’t right for you.”
“He should’ve told me,” you said quietly.
“I agree. And I’m not saying that it excuses what he did, but that day…it was a hard one for him. What he had to do in the Court of Nightmares.”
Your stomach dropped. You hadn’t even thought about that.
“Well, he should’ve told me that too.”
Cassian nodded. “Yes. He should have.”
You groaned. “I hate this.”
“I know,” he said quietly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “I’m sorry.”
Cassian let you cry on his chest for a long moment before he said, “hH wants to come see you, you know. He doesn't want to give up on you.”
When you didn't respond, he said softly, “Just think about it.”
🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤
You did think about it. And the more you thought about it, the angrier you got.
Azriel and you had been together for years. You knew him. You knew that he sometimes got insecure, that he felt like the two of you were on opposite sides of the world sometimes in terms of your personalities. But, who cares?
When you’re insecure, you tell your partner. You express your concerns like an adult. You don’t go and cheat on them, and then act like it’ll all be okay, because you’re in love.
You were seething, your thoughts racing around your mind over and over again while you walked through the market.
Out of the corner of your eye, you could have sworn that you saw the curl of a shadow trying to hide from the sunlight.
Blinking away the thought, you kept walking, determined not to let him get to you, not to let him haunt your countless thoughts surrounding what-if.
Later, after you had picked up what you had come for, you were shocked to see that Azriel indeed was there. The shadow you had spotted wasn't just a figment of your imagination, but him staring right at you across the crowd.
You were frozen as he made his way over to you, his face blank as ever, but his eyes stormy with emotion, with pain.
“Hey,” he said, clearly nervous, his muscles taut, his wings tucked tightly behind him.
Crossing your arms over your chest, you said, “What do you want?”
Azriel winced, his brow furrowed. “I miss you. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
You scoffed. “How I'm doing? I'm awful, Azriel. Obviously.”
Grimacing, he said, “I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do-”
“There's nothing you can do,” you seethed, your voice raising. People around you were looking. You didn't care. “You betrayed me, don't you understand that? Don't you see how you hurt me? Do you even care what it'll take for me to ever trust anyone again?”
A single tear ran down his cheek as he reached his hand out to you, before dropping it again. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly, his voice breaking.
“I know you are Az, but it's not enough,” you said, your voice cracking as you focused on reining in your own tears. “You should've talked to me.”
“I know,” he croaked. “I'm sorry.”
You shook your head. “I can't unsee it,” you whispered. “For as long as I live, I'll never unsee it.”
Azriel murmured your name, his expression the very picture of anguish.
But you took a step back, forcing your tears back in, willing yourself to be strong. “I have to go,” you said, then turned from him, darting away as quickly as your feet would carry you.
---
But if I just showed up at your party
Would you have me? Would you want me?
Would you tell me to go fuck myself?
Or lead me to the garden?
It had been weeks since Azriel had torn his own world apart with his bare hands, taking you down with him.
He didn't know what to do. He didn't know if there was anything to do. He didn't know where you lived, didn't know your routine anymore.
He was well and truly losing every scrap of you that he had ever had.
And it was killing him.
He stumbled into the river house one day, feeling absolutely miserable.
It was made even worse when it was you he saw first, sitting with Feyre near the foyer.
Feyre's face twisted with concern immediately, her eyes flicking to you, perhaps silently communicating to you, I swear I didn't know he was coming.
Azriel could only watch as your face contorted with disgust as your gaze landed on him.
His heart shattered, remembering the way your eyes used to light up when he would walk into the room, your smile bright just for him.
Before he could say anything, you got up and exited the house without a word.
Azriel watched you go, his heart breaking more with each step you took.
“She really meant it,” he said quietly, more to himself than to Feyre. “She really wants nothing to do with me.”
“She's really hurt, Az,” Feyre said gently. “She's trying to move on. I think you should let her.”
His heart sank. “I still love her,” he said, tears pricking his eyes.
“I know you do. But some things…they just can't be fixed.”
Azriel knew that she was right. That he had made his bed and now would have to lie in it.
What a miserable, long existence it would be, without you. He wondered how many times this would keep happening, when he would run into you somewhere and you would run away.
A long, long time, he guessed.
He wondered how long it would be until he stopped feeling like his lungs were caving in, til he could get a full breath.
All he could do was wait.
@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @evergreenlark @ecliphttlunar @bookloverandalsocats @melmo567 @headacheseason @sillysillygoose444 @yourqueenlilith @mariamay02 @halibshepherd @azrielshadows1nger
#acotar fic#acotar one shot#acotar x reader#azriel x reader#azriel one shot#acotar#azriel acotar#azriel x you#azriel angst#azriel fic#azriel fanfic#acotar fanfiction#acotar fanfic#acotar azriel
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focus on me.
pairing: mattheo riddle x reader
request: I NEED MATHEO OR THEODORE X FEM READER AND SHE JUST LOVES HIS HANDS AND ARM VIENS AND SHE WALKS INTO HIS DORM AND IS GOBSMAKED TO SEE HIS ABS AND SHE WANTS TO RIDE THEM AND SHES JUST SO OBSESSED AND THINKS HES THE HOTTEST MAN IN THE PLANET- AND SHE FOLDS LIKE A PRETZEL WHEN HE GIVES HER THOSE EYES- JESUS IM A CATHOLIC BUT THEO AND MATTHEO COULD BE MY NEW RELIGION-
author's note: big thanks to @writingsbychlo for listening to me rant about this man in her inbox. posting this now so she can wake up to her mans. the way that i would fold for mattheo so fast (theo look away). anyways, enjoy this purely smutty fic 😮💨
You were supposed to be studying.
When you came into his dorm, you specifically told Mattheo not to interrupt you under any circumstances. Usually, you preferred the library but some prat had accidentally set off a dung bomb, which meant closure until further notice.
You tried studying in your dorm, but your fellow housemates decided that there was no better time to throw a back to school bash in the common room than the night before your Ancient Runes exam. Harry and Ron, who shared the same class, appeared completely unbothered as they chugged firewhisky straight from the bottle.
Your roommate Hermione was long gone. Probably holed up somewhere in the dungeons with Draco. You followed your friend’s cue and snuck into your boyfriend’s dorm, narrowly avoiding Filch. It never seemed fair that the Slytherins got individual rooms, but tonight you had never been more thankful for it.
Mattheo had set up a whole battle station for you on his desk. There were fresh ink pots, newly sharpened quills, and blank parchment waiting for you when you arrived. After kissing your sweet and considerate boyfriend, you went straight to work.
By the time midnight struck, the parchment was filled with glowing runes, making your ink stained hands cramp from drawing out the symbols over and over again. To Mattheo’s credit, he kept to himself and read quietly on his bed while you studied.
You were so engrossed in the material that you barely registered him kissing you on the cheek before leaving to take a shower. That little mistake cost you because as soon as he walked back into his dorm with nothing but a towel on, you nearly spilled fresh ink all over yourself.
Water trickled down Mattheo’s chest, the little droplets snaking through his perfectly chiseled abs only to disappear beyond his v lines, which pointed like an arrow to what you knew was hiding underneath that towel.
The fabric hung dangerously low on his hips as he walked over to his dresser to pick out something to wear. You watched with rapt attention as he braced himself against the wood, those delicious, juicy veins protruding from his forearms and nearly making you dizzy with desire.
Finally, Mattheo turned. The silence had caught his attention and he smirked when he saw you ogling him.
“See something you like, pretty girl?”
You flushed. “Just got a little distracted.”
Mattheo’s grin grew. He sauntered over to you, leaning over so that he had you caged against the desk.
“Oh?” he asked, his voice low and husky and absolutely fucking sexy. “Maybe it’s time for a break then. You’ve been such a good girl studying so hard all night. I think you deserve a reward, my love.”
Your breath hitched as Mattheo’s lips grazed yours. He tilted your chin up, giving you a perfect view of those brown eyes. Then he gave you the look and you knew you were done for.
It was a look that said he wanted to devour every inch of you until you couldn’t even recall your own name. You gave in. Of course you gave in. How could you not?
“Maybe for a second…”
Mattheo took the opening. One arm snaked around your waist, bringing you up with him as he pressed you against the desk. His other arm crept up your back until he reached the nape of your neck, fisting your hair through his fingers as he kissed you roughly.
“Do you even know how fucking sexy you are, princess? My smart schoolgirl in her tiny little skirt.”
Mattheo carefully moved your studying materials aside before picking you up and setting you down on the table. He gripped the top of your thighs and brought you to the edge while sliding his tongue against yours. You whimpered as he grinded against you, showing you exactly how hard he was underneath the towel.
“Been thinking about bending you over this table all night,” Mattheo whispered in your ear. His hand climbed higher up your thigh and you felt your body instantly respond to his touch. “Bet you’re soaking wet for me already, aren’t you angel?”
You moaned as he toyed with the waistband of your panties. “Matty, please.”
Your boyfriend smiled at your nickname for him, knowing that he had you right where he wanted you. “What is it that you want, darling?”
“Touch me. Please.”
Mattheo smirked as he tugged your panties off. His lust filled gaze drank you in as he dragged two fingers through your slick folds.
“Fuck. You’re so wet. Is this all for me, princess?”
“Mhm,” you mumbled, nipping at his neck. “It’s not fair. You play dirty, Matty. You can’t just walk in here with nothing but a towel on.”
“Why not, angel?”
You sighed, tracing the hard planes of his chest. His muscles flexed under your fingertips as you gently raked your nails against his six pack. “Because you’re sexy and I can’t help myself.”
Mattheo chuckled darkly, plunging two fingers in your pussy. You bucked against his hand, watching in stunned silence as he withdrew it only to stick his middle and pointer finger into his mouth. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he tasted you on him.
“This is exactly what I mean,” you whined. “For Godric’s fucking sake, how am I supposed to concentrate after that?”
“Maybe we can compromise, angel.” He shuffled through your parchments and stuck one to the wall. “I’m going to trace the runes inside of you and if you get them all right, then I’ll give you your reward.”
You swallowed thickly and nodded. Mattheo grinned before giving you a quick peck. “Pay attention, sweetheart.”
His fingers dipped through your folds once more and you gripped his arm, fighting the moan from escaping your lips. Mattheo curled his fingers inside of you, drawing a familiar shape.
“Urus,” you said in a breathy voice. “It means strength.”
“That’s right, angel.” He shifted as you ran your hands down his arms. You could feel his veins throbbing underneath your palm as he fingered you. “Don’t get distracted now. I know how much you love my hands. I promise they’ll be wrapped around your throat by the end of the night if you get all these right. Now focus.”
You nodded, eyes fluttering close as he traced another rune. “Algiz,” you answered. “For protection.”
“Hot and smart,” Mattheo announced proudly. “How’d I get so lucky?”
His lips grazed yours and you willingly parted for him, fluttering around his fingers as his tongue slid into your mouth. He pumped his digits inside of you, teasing and taunting.
“Let’s try something harder, princess.”
Mattheo’s skillful fingers prodded against your walls, sketching a complicated shape. You closed your eyes and focused. It was a tricky one, but you remembered the cris cross pattern.
“Inguz,” you said decidedly. “Fertility.”
“That’s right,” Mattheo said with a smile. “You're doing so well, sweetheart. One more and you can have anything you want.”
“Anything?” you asked with a small smile.
“Whatever that devious little mind of yours desires, my love.”
“Okay,” you replied. “I’m ready, then.”
Your boyfriend nodded, staring right into your eyes as he marked the last and final rune. It was an effort not to get lost in those warm, brown eyes. But you steeled yourself, determined to claim your prize.
“Rerth. For luck.”
“Good girl,” Mattheo said with a smirk. “Fitting since you’re getting lucky tonight, angel. Where should we start?”
You bit your lip, cocking your head at him. It was nearly an impossible choice. You wanted to kiss him. Bite him. Lick him. All of the above and more.
But there was one thing that stood out from all the other deliciously sinful choices. You pressed your palm against his abs and grinned.
“I want to ride your abs.”
Mattheo’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected it, but fuck he was so down. He would’ve given you anything with the way you were looking at him right now.
“You never fail to surprise me,” he said fondly. “Well come on then, let’s make your filthy little fantasy a reality.”
In one smooth move, he lifted you off the table and deposited you on top of his bed. Mattheo reclined against the headboard and watched with hungry eyes as you straddled his stomach. He smiled as you slipped the tie off your neck and looped it around him.
It was a simple move, but so fucking sexy and possessive at the same time. You were claiming him. Mattheo was yours and you were his. You belonged to one another—mind, body, and soul.
Mattheo trailed kisses down your neck and throat, leaving marks on your skin as his deft fingers made quick work of the first few buttons on your blouse. He leaned back and admired his work, his hands gripping your hips while you grinded your soaking wet sex against his muscles.
He didn’t think it would feel this good. There was something about you using his body to get yourself off that fucking turned him on like no other. Mattheo lifted your skirt up, fisting the fabric in his hands and watching as you coated him with your arousal.
The little whimpers you were making sounded like music to his ears. “My good little slut,” he said, squeezing your tits as you rode him with reckless abandon. “You’re so fucking filthy, baby. Using me to get yourself off. I’m just your fuck toy aren’t I princess?”
“So good,” you murmured. “You feel so good, Matty.”
The desperation in your voice set him off. He gripped your hips hard enough to bruise and bucked forward, smirking in satisfaction when you moaned. The ridges of his abs rubbed against your clit, providing the perfect amount of pressure to the sensitive area.
“Keep riding me,” he said in a low, rough voice. “Just like that, angel. Such a good girl for me.”
You closed your eyes, lost to the waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Mattheo gripped your chin, his voice rough around the edges as he spoke. “Open your eyes, darling. I want to watch you cum.”
His rich brown eyes pinned you in place, drinking in every detail. That sexy smirk curved against his lips as he hooked his arms behind his head, admiring the view of his girl riding him.
“Look at you, baby. You’re making such a fucking mess. Such an innocent face, but you turn into a filthy whore when you’re with me.”
“Only for you, Mattheo.”
“Damn fucking right,” he said, sliding his hands under your skirt to rub at your clit.
You bucked against him, riding out the high. Heat exploded in your core and seeped into your veins. Mattheo kissed you roughly, staking his claim on you as he devoured your moans.
“That’s it, princess. Cum for me, pretty girl.”
The orgasm felt like a lightning strike. It hit you all at once, making your walls spasm as you came all over Mattheo’s abs. He cursed when he felt you soaking him through, utterly turned on by the mess that you’ve made. Mattheo had never been harder in his life.
Your boyfriend peppered kisses on your face, pulling you taut to him as you came down from the high. Mattheo brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, tilting your chin up so he could press his lips against yours. He groaned and held your hips down, grinding his boner against your ass.
“I’m not done making you cum, princess. You’ve got one more in you, don’t you angel?”
As sensitive as you were, your pussy throbbed at his words. When it came to Mattheo, you could never really get enough.
“I thought I only got one reward. You’re spoiling me, Matty.”
“There’s no question about it. You’re my spoiled rotten little princess. But this reward isn’t for you, it’s for me.” He smacked your ass, gesturing for you to get up. “Now come on, angel. I was serious about that desk.”
He smirked as he walked you back to his desk, his hands disappearing underneath your skirt as he massaged your ass. Mattheo kissed you roughly before he flipped you over, bending you on the desk so you were face down and ass up. He flipped your skirt up, hissing when he found you soaking wet again.
“You just can’t help yourself can you, princess?” He pumped himself in his hand before sliding the tip of his cock along your folds. “Gods, you’re fucking wet. Are you ready, baby?”
You whimpered, rocking your hips against him for more friction. Mattheo held you in place, fisting your hair in his hands.
“Use your words, darling. I want to hear you beg like the good little slut that you are.”
“Please, Matty,” you whined. “I need you so badly that it hurts.”
He kissed the base of your spine, grinning as he eased his length inside of you. Still sensitive from your last orgasm, you gripped the edges of the table as Mattheo buried his cock within your walls. Your legs felt like they were going to give out any minute, but he kept you upright, cursing when he felt how wet and tight you were.
“Fuck,” he grunted as he thrust into you slowly. Mattheo gripped you from behind, picking up the pace. Your pussy clenched around him like a vice. “Gods, pussy’s so good baby. You’re doing so well. Taking all of me like my perfect little whore.”
Mattheo fucking adored the way you blushed at his filthy words. He leaned over, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss as he fucked you into the table. He thought he was going to pass the fuck out when you grinded back into him, meeting his movements to take more and more of him. Mattheo leaned over and shielded your head from the wall, making sure you were protected as the table shook underneath you.
The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with your breathy little moans was enough to send him over the edge, but he wanted to make good on his promise. Mattheo always put his girl first. The boys were right. He might be just a little bit pussy whipped.
Even without the sex, you could’ve asked Mattheo to kill for you and he would’ve done so without question.
“I fucking love you, darling. I’d kill for you. I’d die for you,” he said, every word laced with conviction. “Forever and always.”
“I love you too, Matty. Forever and always.”
He kissed your cheek, the action surprisingly soft compared to how rough the sex was. You felt like you could’ve melted onto the floor.
“Cum with me, my love.”
Mattheo wrapped his arms around you as that familiar heat spread burned in your core. He held you as the orgasm rocked through your body, sharing in the euphoric high while the two of you finished together. His grip around you only tightened, hugging you from behind while he slowly pulled out. You were barely keeping upright as it was, your legs threatening to give out under you.
Without a word, your boyfriend scooped you into his arms and brought you back to bed. He cradled you against him, whispering praises and encouragement while stroking your hair.
“You did so well, baby. I’m so proud of you for remembering all those runes. You’re gonna ace your exam tomorrow.”
“You really think so, Matty?” You snuggled against him, burying your head in the crook of his neck. Mattheo stroked your back and placed a kiss on your temple.
“I know so, darling. You have no idea how proud I am for having such a smart girlfriend. I love bragging about you to our friends.”
You flushed. “Well, I couldn’t have done it all on my own. I had some help from my smart, sweet, and sexy study partner.
Mattheo grinned and kissed you gently. “Glad to be of service, my love.”
taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468
please let me know if you'd like to be added.
#FERAL FOR THIS MAN#THE DELULU IS THE SOLULU#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle smut#mattheo riddle fluff#mattheo riddle x y/n#mattheo x you#benjamin wadsworth
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you can ignore me for the rest of time and I will still dutifully show up to read your work every day ~ can I request some angsty bombshell x spencer? maybe their first actual fight and spence snaps at her so bombshell r crying and locks herself in their room and he apologizes through the door but still sleeps on the couch and she comes and snuggles in the middle of the night and forgives him bc she can’t sleep? this is so self indulgent pls feel free to change anything you want love you jade
thank u for requesting! —spencer makes you cry. fem, 1k
Spencer can’t stand hearing you cry. He can’t believe he’s the one who caused it —he didn’t mean to, he just got so annoyed at you, everything’s difficult lately now you’ve moved in together permanently because you practically living at his apartment is apparently not the same as truly living with one another.
He knows neither of you are unhappy living together, but you haven’t fought before, not like this. He stands just outside the bedroom door where you’ve sequestered yourself, ashamed of making you this upset. He doesn’t let himself in. “Y/N?”
“Go away, Spencer,” you say. To your credit, you try to sound calmer than you are.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far. Please don’t cry.”
“Spencer,” you say, a line of anger darkening your words, “leave me alone.”
He shouldn’t have said you were being lazy. You aren’t lazy, you’re tired. Moving in together has been really hard on you, even if you won’t admit it, or show it externally. He just wanted to say something mean, because you’d said you allowed him to have that ugly armchair in the living room and he got mad —it’s not ugly, and he wasn’t allowed, he’s a grown man.
He just can’t feel angry about it anymore hearing your sad sniffling. He said something too mean, he took it too far, and maybe he was ‘allowed’. Moving in together is about compromise, and you’d compromised, and he’s punishing you for it.
“I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t mean to make you cry, I– I was being mean and you didn’t deserve that. I’ll be out here if you… if you wanna talk to me,” he says, turning to leave with his head held low.
He waits all night for you to come out, if it were just to drink some water or use the bathroom, but after a few minutes he can’t hear you crying, and you don’t make any sounds. He thinks he might hear you moving the sheets aside some time toward 10PM, but there’s nothing after that. He falls asleep on the couch, sulking, wishing he hadn’t been such an idiot.
You let yourself out of your shared bedroom in the middle of the night. The sheets don’t smell enough like him, and you want to hold his hand, and you want to know he’s really not mad at you. That he doesn’t really think you’re lazy.
Quiet, you walk downstairs and into the living room, where Spencer sleeps stretched out on the couch. It’s a big couch, meant for soft sitting, wide enough that, were you to set a baby down, they couldn’t roll off accidentally. Spencer’s on his side with his arm curled around one of the bigger pillows, brown strands of hair falling into his face.
He’s not a deep sleeper, but you can’t say you’re scared to wake him. You pull the pillow from his arms and sit on the couch beside him, working your way into his side, and encouraging his arm over yours. Gentle, you brush the mess of his hair from his eyes. He doesn’t even have a blanket.
You hold his sleeping face in your hands. His eyes twitch and scrunch tighter at your touching, worried, but you give a gentle, “Shh,” and he relaxes. His eyes smooth, then open, lashes struggling apart, the brown of his eyes dark as a roasted chestnut.
He whispers your name, tongue heavy with sleep.
“Mm,” you reply, tucking his hair behind his ears.
“You okay?” he whispers.
You press your face to his neck, letting yourself deflate as you wait for his arms to lock you in. It can’t be five seconds before he’s curling his arms around you carefully, kissing your hairline, the first bit of skin he can reach at this angle. He’s not quite awake yet, you know, can tell from countless times sleeping in his bed. If he were to fall back to sleep, he wouldn’t remember this tomorrow.
“Can’t sleep,” you whisper.
“Oh,” he says, with all the tenderness of a pet name, dripping, palpable adoring, “want tea?”
“Want you.”
He strokes your shoulder. You’re the one being hugged, really, but Spencer’s grip gets so tight you worry he needs one. You wrap your arms behind him, close your eyes tight to stop from getting teary.
“I don’t like fighting,” you say.
“M’sorry.”
“Do you want to kiss and make up?”
He stills. “You’re not mad?”
“You really upset me, Spence. N’ I bet you know that n’ feel bad enough already,” you mumble.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was being childish.”
You forgive him. Everybody’s allowed to be mean every once in a while. You’d been arguing, and you can feel now that he regrets it, his hands apprehensive but somehow loving still as they touch your back through the thin fabric of a t-shirt he’d bought you. The front has a silly graphic on it, some equation that spells out love.
“It’s okay,” you whisper. “I’m not mad. I can’t sleep when you’re not next to me, so… Let’s not fight again.”
“I don’t like it when you cry.”
You shake your head gently, slotting yourself into all his nooks and crevices. Your legs tangled, the couch is an ample bed for two people trying to be as close to each other as humanly possible. You don’t like crying either, not over Spencer, not thinking he doesn’t see you in the light you’d thought he did.
“Do you really think I’m lazy?” you ask.
“No, I was being awful,” he says, sounding deeply repentant.
Well, there’s no need to punish him, you decide, not when he’s beating himself up already. You cup the back of his head to tap your foreheads together, any aches and pains of the bed disappearing in the eye of his softness. He’s gaining confidence now you’ve touched his hair, his hands travelling low to the small of your back, your face once again pushed into the curve of his neck, where you stay.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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Lorelei — Simon ''Ghost'' Riley x Reader | Part I
1 2 3 4 5
Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.
''So you're just goin' to sit there and tell me that isn't my daughter.'' Simon says bluntly, tone even yet carrying a snark hidden that you came to listen so many times after working with him— never once directed at you until now.
''It's really none of your business, Ghost.'' You don't even spare a glance at him, simply looking at your little girl, fingers gently running through her short hair. She looks exactly like Simon, though that will never take away your love for her.
''You're not denyin' it.'' He hesitantly sits down next to you, secretly afraid you'll bite his head off. The glare you shoot his way is enough confirmation that you would if you could. You sigh softly, the air leaving your lungs before being sucked back in, not wanting to argue in front of your little girl despite her not understanding words yet.
''Well, what's it to you? Why do you need to know?'' I can't handle you leaving me again.
''Don't be like that.'' His tone is soft, almost pleading. It has been over a year since he broke up with you, yet that doesn't make the loss any easier, not now that he knows he has a daughter, no matter how much you tried to hide it from him.
''Why didn't you tell me?'' He asks gently, feeling like he's walking on eggshells. It's the first time ever he feels that way with you, and he doesn't blame you in the slightest. It takes a few seconds of you thinking before you answer.
''I was terrified of you choosing to walk away from her... to be a deadbeat. I didn't want to have that image of you, because that would have hurt more than the break up.'' Your voice is more calm, though for all the wrong reasons. The familiar tingling all over your nose is back, eyes stinging as you try to hold back tears, too prideful to cry in front of him again.
''That's what you think o' me?'' He replies in nothing but pure disbelief and slight disgust. He would never walk away from his child, no matter how much that would destroy all the walls he has been building for years, stones upon stones carefully piled on top of each other, so strong nothing could ever break through— until you came along.
''I was fucking scared, okay?'' You look away and wipe your eyes with one hand, the other one carefully supporting the neck of the baby on your lap. Simon sighs, his bare hand hesitantly reaching down to trace the features of the tiny girl, being careful with her as if she would break if he applied any pressure. He notices your eyes glued to his hand, eyebrows furrowed. He's about to move his hand away until you adjust the little girl so he can touch her face without the awkward angle.
''Give me one more chance. Please— please, let me be a father to her.'' Simon never begged for anything, not even when he was tortured for months to no end, drugged, beaten like a dog, yet here he is; begging his ex for a chance to keep the girl in his life. You don't reply.
''I'll do everything I can. What I should've done. I want to be here, please.'' He was so damn ready to get on his knees and beg if that's what it took for you to let him be involved in her life. He's not asking you to be together— he knows he doesn't deserve that chance.
''She's looking at you like she knows you.'' Your response is ominous to say the least. You want to deny him, to tell him he doesn't even deserve to be able to touch the little girl you birthed alone, that he doesn't deserve the chance at a family after he destroyed 4 years of a relationship because of the very same thing, but... your little girl is looking up at him with pure admiration and curiosity in her big brown eyes, her tiny hand struggling to hold one of his fingers. Growing up with a single parent yourself, you know she deserves better, and you're willing to put your pride and pain aside to make sure she gets the world.
''Okay.'' You reply after taking a deep breath, holding it into your lungs for what feels like forever, choosing to ignore the strong arms wrapping around you, bringing all three of you close. It feels... right.
[NEXT]
#cod mw2#cod mwii#simon ghost riley#ghost mw2#simon riley#ghost cod#ghost call of duty#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x you#call of duty#simon ghost riley imagine#ghost x f!reader#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#dad!simon riley#dad!ghost#ghost mw3#mw2 x reader#mw2 x you
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Brain Scramblies
Joel Miller x Fem! Reader
Summary: Bubbly and sweet Reader slips and falls at Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party, hitting her head hard on the floor. Tommy tasks Joel, her grumpy patrol partner, with getting her home safe. In her dazed state, she spills to Joel how she really feels about him! Basically two idiots dancing around their feelings for each other
Word count: 3.6k
Warnings: Talk of traumatic brain injuries, but that’s it. Brief mention of smut but mostly goofy fluff. Joel is afraid of feelings lol
A/N: I actually don't feel fantastic about this story, but felt like you all deserved something new from me to satisfy the absence. Next week I'll have a bit more time to continue my bd!joel story and a few others! yes, the title is from wwdits. my other favorite show lol
if you like this story, please leave me a comment 🩷
masterlist
It’s a beautiful night, laughter and music fill the air of the Tipsy Bison bar in Jackson, Wyoming. It’s Tommy and Maria’s anniversary party and you were having a ball celebrating with the two of them. Tommy and Maria loved you, and you loved them. You often babysat their child, took care of chores around their home, and brought them baked goods and other treats. They loved you like you were their own.
The party was a blast, you spent the night dancing and chatting with Tommy and Maria and others. It couldn’t have been a better night.
Until you trip over your own feet. .
Boom. In one swift motion, too quick for your brain to process, your legs kick up into the air and your back slams the ground, your head following suit.
Your vision goes dark then, voices fading out. You feel a strong pair of hands grip your shoulders and jiggle your face slightly. You open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times, and the figure in front of you speaks. “Hey, now. Wake up, wake up, Jesus, girl. What did you do?” he asks, but his words sound muddled, like he’s underwater. “Maria, go get Joel. I think she might have a concussion.” he shouts in the opposite direction.
Your fuzzy vision focuses then and you recognize the friendly face and long black hair in front of you. It’s Tommy. You squint your eyes and look around, confused as to why you’re on the floor. The lights are blindingly bright and the music is blaring. It’s too much for your senses.
“Can you hear me, honey? You took quite a tumble and it looked like you hit your head pretty hard. Drink too much?”
You struggle to respond, finding it difficult to form words and coherent thoughts. You feel dazed and foggy and there’s a pounding throb at the back of your head. and “Think I tripped,” you finally mumble out, carefully prodding the back of your skull.
“Wouldn’t be the first time, you klutz,” he chuckled, tilting your chin and looking into your eyes. “Maria’s getting Joel, I think we’re gonna have him take you home. Infirmary’s closed at this time of night but we can get you checked out tomorrow, make sure you didn’t thump your head too hard.”
Joel. Your eyes widened at the mention of him. Now that was something your brain had no issue focusing on. “Your older brother, Joel?”
“Yes, Joel, my older brother,”
“I like Joel,”
“I know you do, honey,”
“I really like Joel,” you say through a long sigh. “Isn’t he just lovely?”
Tommy looks at you with an eyebrow cocked, completely amused by your honesty. Tommy and Maria had a feeling you were crushing on him, but you stayed tight lipped about your feelings for him. “Yeah, sure. Lovely describes Joel perfectly,”
Joel was your patrol partner. He was tall, handsome, brave, and skilled. He had the most gorgeous brown eyes you had ever seen, and the prettiest gentle curls atop his head. And he couldn’t fucking stand you.
You didn’t often go on patrol, but everyone pitched in with patrol around Jackson. Being so near and dear to Tommy and Maria’s hearts, they wanted the best for you and always put you on patrol with Joel. He’d keep you safe, they told you.
And he did keep you safe. But not without constant grumbling and griping about your sprightly attitude and constant chatter. He thought he had it rough with Ellie, but she was a walk in the park compared to you, with your sweet and pure heart and bubbly personality.
“What’s your favorite kind of cookie?” you asked him once while traveling horseback through a grassy meadow. It was a beautiful day, the clouds were big and fluffy and tall. The wildflowers were blooming left and right, painting the grass with violet and crimson. You held onto Joel tightly, pressing your face against his back. He tried his best to ignore how much he enjoyed the feeling of your arms around his stomach.
“You ask too many goddamn questions,” he grunted.
“That’s not an answer,” you scolded playfully.
Joel stayed silent. You were like an annoying, buzzing bee. If he ignored you, hopefully you’d go away. Easy, he thought. Just ignore the annoying, cute, thoughtful, and beautiful bee.
You asked him again. Maybe he didn’t hear you, you spoke into his right side after all. Still, nothing. “Joel?”
You could hear him inhale and exhale deeply. He was definitely ignoring you. That just wouldn’t do.
So you pinched his side.
He yelped in surprise. “Ow! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I asked you a question,”
“I’m not answerin’,”
“That’s rude of you,”
“Yeah, well, tough,”
You pinched him again.
“Gaah!” Joel swatted your hand, nearly losing his balance. “Jesus, fucking snickerdoodles!” he hissed at you. Oh, how you got under his skin. Snickerdoodles were, in fact, his favorite cookies. He wasn’t just saying that to shut you up. His grandmother used to make them for him and Tommy when they were young. His heart broke a little at the thought of her, thankful she had passed long before the world went to shit. “Happy now?”
Yes, you were happy. You rubbed soothing circles into where you pinched him.
The next day, you whipped up a batch of the best snickerdoodles Joel would ever taste. You dropped them off on his doorstep and left, not alerting Joel or Ellie to what you had done.
Ellie was the one to find your cookies. “Joel, what’re these?” she called into their home, shoving a cookie into her mouth. Joel looked up, rolling his eyes when he recognized the treats in her hand. “Give me those,” he grumbled.
He took one cookie and examined it, then brought it to his lips. He took a bite, and melted when he tasted the sweet cinnamon and sugar cookie, so buttery and slightly tangy, just how a snickerdoodle should be. It was soft and chewy, just how he liked them.
And dear lord, it was orgasmic. The best snickerdoodle he had ever tasted. He prayed his grandmother up in heaven would forgive him for enjoying it so much, but this was definitely his new favorite. How dare you weasel your way into his heart with baked goods? What a contemptible thing to do. He felt his heart swell at the thought of you and your sweetness. And it fucking terrified him.
Joel put on his boots and practically sprinted to Tommy and Maria’s. Without knocking, he let himself inside and sat down at the table with Tommy as he tried to catch his breath. Tommy looked at him with wide eyes, completely perplexed by his brother. “You have to–” he stopped for a second, breathing in and out deeply. “You have to take her off patrol with me. I ain’t gonna be her partner anymore.” Joel’s heaving began to slow.
“And why would I do that, Joel?”
“She talks too much,”
Tommy let out a dry laugh. Joel Miller, ever the grinch. Heart two sizes too small. “Are we eight years old? Suck it up, big brother,”
Joel shook his head, squinting his eyes and squeezing the bridge of his nose. “She fuckin’ pinched me,” Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but Joel interrupted. “Twice!”
Tommy smiled at the thought of sweet little you pinching Joel. “I’m sure she had a good reason for pinchin’ you. What’d you do to her?”
“I didn’t–it doesn’t matter,” Joel sighed exasperatedly. He had a penchant for the dramatics at times. “You don’t get it. She made me cookies.”
Tommy gasped sarcastically. “No, not cookies. How horrible, Joel! What should we do with her, throw her in jail? Banish her? Feed her to lions?”
“Tommy,” Joel warned with a low voice. “I am not doin’ patrol with her anymore.”
“Joel,” Tommy warned back, matching his tone. “Quit your bitchin’. She’s a nice girl, and you’re gonna take care of her. She likes you, why, I haven’t got a clue.”
Tommy knew the real reason Joel wanted to stop patrolling with you. He was catching feelings for you. And Joel reacted exactly how Tommy expected. He was frightened of these feelings, terrified to let anyone new into his heart. He already made room for Ellie and her bad puns, he didn’t know if he had room for you and your snickerdoodles as well. He did. You were already there.
Joel and Maria appeared in front of you then, your eyes brightening when you met Joel’s sour expression.
“What’d you do now, trouble?”
Trouble. That was Joel’s nickname for you. When he and Ellie finished your cookies, he returned your container to you on your porch.
“Thanks for the cookies, trouble. They were delicious,” he said, his voice was low and gravelly. “Didn’t need to do all that for me.”
“Trouble? Is that what I am?” you asked incredulously.
“Yeah, actually. Pinchin’ me. Talkin’ too much,” Joel did his best to bite back the smile threatening to form on his lips. “And now you’re tryin’ to make me fat, so yeah. You’re a troublemaker.”
Your glassy eyes scanned his face. “What did you do now, trouble?”
Joel bent down to meet your gaze and Maria checked the back of your head for cuts or swelling.
“Maria says you’re hurt. What’d you do?”
“I tripped and fell,”
Joel scoffed. “Figures,” Joel pushed Tommy to the side, crouching in front of you. He took your face into his hands, checking for any other injuries. Your eyes were unfocused and pupils blown wide. He held a finger in front of your eyes, moving it from side to side. You had difficulty following the movement.
“Ouch,” you winced, feeling Maria’s fingers on the tender spot at the back of your head. “I think she smacked her head pretty hard.” she told Tommy. “Very swollen back here.”
“She’s not following my finger. Think it’s probably a concussion, but I don’t know for sure,” he said. “She seems pretty out of it.”
In your fuzzy state, you reached forward and held Joel’s face, mimicking how he did to you. “Handsome,” you murmured.
Joel felt his face go hot at your compliment. You thumbed his cheeks, savoring the feeling of his prickly hairs on your fingertips. “Uhh,”
“You’re so handsome,” you repeated. Not even drinking a barrel of whiskey could have pried that out of you. You did a number on your poor brain.
“That’s nice, sweetheart,” Joel turned his head to the side and coughed, trying to hide his embarrassment. He gripped your wrists and pulled your hands away from his face as you pouted. “Think she needs to go home.”
“That’s right. You make sure she gets home safe,” Tommy said.
Joel looked up with a furrowed brow. “Me? Why can’t you deal with her?” his words came out more bitter than he intended, like taking you home was the biggest inconvenience of his life.
“Hey,” you whined. How rude!
Joel apologized quickly. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it like that,”
“Because it’s our anniversary, and I told you to keep her safe. Remember? Come on now, Joel. Be a gentleman,” Tommy motioned to Maria to help you up. Slowly, you stood up. On shaky legs, you felt your knees begin to give out. Joel lunged forward to catch your fall.
He rolled his eyes with a sigh. Joel held out his arm for you and you wrapped your hands around his bicep. “Can you walk for me, trouble?” He didn’t actually mind leaving the party early. He wasn’t having too much fun anyway.
“I’ll do anything for you, Joel,” you erupted into a fit of giggles. “You’re so strong!”
Joel felt his face go warm again as he cleared his throat. Wow, you really did hit your head hard. Joel was used to being flirted with, but this was an entirely different animal. You hit your head so hard it knocked your filter loose. What would you say next?
His eyes darted to Tommy and Maria, who stood there watching you both, smirking. “Take good care of our girl,” Maria ordered.
Joel begins walking slowly, taking careful steps. You stumble along and can hardly maintain your footing as you make your way out of the bar. You’re still giggling and squeezing his arm. “You are so strong and so handsome!” you squeal.
“Jesus,” he whispered to himself. Was this real you or concussed you speaking?
You walked silently for a bit, gaining a slow and steady rhythm. The world around you blurred and moved quickly.
“I have a crush on you,” you blurt out with slurred speech.
“That’s nice, trouble,” Joel said, not believing you. You might as well be completely wasted, the way you were making no sense.
“I mean it,”
“I’m sure you do,” Joel replied sardonically. You tripped again, nearly falling over a second time. Joel caught you and held you tightly. Frustrated, he groaned.“Alright, no more talking. We’re playing the quiet game the rest of the way home,”
“Seriously,” you giggle. “You’re so fucking handsome. You’re the most handsomest man I’ve ever met,” You kept walking and stumbling awkwardly. It was as if you weren’t even walking, just floating along. Your legs didn’t feel real.
“Thank you,” Joel mumbles. He was never good at accepting compliments. But you seem so insistent on informing him of his good looks, he might as well take the compliments in stride.
“You have such pretty brown eyes. Did you know that?”
“I did not,”
“You do. And you have pretty hair,” you paused for a second, catching your breath. “And you have a nice butt,” Joel rolls his eyes, biting back his smile. “I want to have sex with you.”
“Woah,” he barks at you, unable to contain his shock at your sudden boldness. Where is your fucking filter? Is this even real? Joel will be thinking of this night for weeks to come. “You have brain damage,” he tells you. “Need to stop talking like this,”
“You have brain damage!” You giggle, your feet crossing with Joel’s. Bam. It’s his turn to hit the ground now. You couldn’t walk in a straight line to save your life, even with Joel supporting you. “Oh, shoot. I tripped you.”
“Okay, that’s it,” Joel stands up and without asking permission, he lifts your body over his shoulder. He tries to ignore the fact that your ass is so close to his face. You erupt into laughter, absolutely tickled by his actions. “I know this probably isn’t great for your head, but we need to move. Almost home anyway,”
“Fine by me, handsome!” you poke his back and his sides. He’s trying to fight off the tingles your touch leaves on his skin. “Are you gonna take me home and have sex with me?”
“Behave,” he warns you. “No, I am not having sex with you. I’m puttin’ you to bed and going to try to forget any of this ever happened. Now quiet, you.”
You let out an angry groan, but oblige. You’re running out of steam, fogginess filling your head even more. You can hardly keep your eyes open.
Before you know it, Joel is at your doorstep and sets you down. “Where are your keys?” he asks you.
You slap your thigh, indicating that your keys are in the front right pocket of your jeans. Joel pulls you close and quickly pulls the keys out of your jeans, looking up into the sky to avoid your gaze. He’d need to drink an ocean of alcohol to forget this night.
Joel fumbles with the keys, trying each one and jiggling it in your door. He figured asking you which key was futile, you were so far gone.
As he’s working diligently to open your door, you can’t help but sigh in admiration. His back muscles tense through his shirt, the fabric stretching and moving back. And god, his ass. So round and plump in his tight jeans. You can’t help yourself. It needs to be pinched. “You really do have a nice butt,” you whisper.
You reach forward and pinch his ass with your thumb and pointer finger. Joel jumps and whips around. “What is wrong with you?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, but his frustrated heart softens when he sees your expression. You’re smirking, eyes big and without a single thought behind them. You have no idea what you’re doing. He knows that. The real you would probably die of embarrassment if she knew of your flirty and bold antics tonight. He can’t help the smile curling up on his lips. You have to mean all of it, right?. All the compliments and confessions. He knows they’re all true. At least, he hopes they are.
Joel grabs your hand and helps you inside. He leads you through your house, checking each door to find your room. He could ask you, but he really doesn’t want you talking. You need to relax.
Once he finds your room, he turns on the light, leads you inside, and helps you sit your bed. Your room reflects your personality perfectly, so bright and colorful. Decorations everywhere.
Then, he leaves.
You feel like crying. Your head feels so murky and full, and the pounding has worsened. “Joel?” your voice is thick.
No answer. He just left without saying goodbye?
Your bottom lip wobbles and you feel tears well up in your eyes as your heart begins to break. How did you even end up here? What even happened tonight? All you knew is that you felt cold and sick and all alone. Your head feels like it’s going to fall right off.
You sniffle and hear a thump in the distance. And then another. And another. They’re getting louder now.
Footsteps.
Joel returns and your heart blooms. He always kept you safe, even when you drove him fucking nuts. Of course he wouldn’t just leave you. You see that he has a glass of water in his hand.
He sits on the bed and faces you. You smile gently, admiring all of his features. His scars, his freckles. His sparkly brown eyes. His salt and pepper mustache. “You didn’t leave?”
“‘Course not,” he grips the back of your head softly and tilts it back, then presses the glass to your lips. “Gotta make sure you’re safe, right?” He doesn’t let you respond to his question and tilts the glass into your mouth, forcing you to take a little sip of water.
“You take such good care of me, Joelie,” His cheeks turn rosy at his new nickname. How sweet it sounds from your lips. He presses the glass to your lips again and makes you drink.
“You’re so handsome,” Sip. “Did you know I have a crush on you?” sip.
“I did, actually,” Sip. “Now drink. You need to finish the glass.”
Sip. “You have such gorgeous brown eyes. Like coffee beans,” you whisper. Sip.
“Is that right? Coffee beans?” Well, that’s a thoughtful compliment. He doesn’t bother hiding his smile anymore.
“Mhm,” Sip. “And your butt–”
“What about my butt?” he teases you with a raised eyebrow. You won’t remember any of this anyway, he might as well play along.
“Like a peach,”
“A peach, huh?” He presses the glass to your lips again, this time not pulling it away. You drink the rest of the water.
“What about a peach, Joelie?” you question. Your eyes are big and lost. It’s as if the last thirty seconds didn’t happen.
Your forgetfulness would have worried Joel, but he was no stranger to concussions. Had a few of his own. His daughter, Sarah, also had sustained a few concussions from flying soccer balls. She’d be like this too, acting goofy and speaking incoherently. She was always back to normal within a day or two. You would be okay too.
“Nothin’, sweetheart,” Joel lifts your legs onto the bed and takes off your shoes, plopping each on the ground. He pulls a knitted blanket over your body and gently leans your head back into your pillows.
You stare into his eyes, his gorgeous coffee bean eyes, let out a big yawn. Your eyes are heavy now and your head feels like a weight, like you couldn’t lift it even if you tried. Joel stares back at you, the gears in his head are spinning. He places an experimental hand on your head and combs his fingers over your scalp.
He continues stroking your scalp, soothing you. Your eyes fall shut, and within seconds you’re in a peaceful slumber.
He doesn’t leave. He stays with you for another minute, making sure you’re really asleep.
He still doesn’t leave. One more minute passes.
He’s still sitting there, stroking your head. He can’t bring himself to leave you. He needs to make sure you’re safe, just like Tommy and Maria told him to.
He’ll stay here all night, gently stroking your head and your back. Telling himself he’s just making sure you’re safe, that’s all. “Goodnight, trouble,” he whispers.
He’ll deal with his feelings later.
Part two: troublemaker
@swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @venusdemonroe @guiltgoldglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @oliveg95 @ifall4dilfs @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @harriedandharassed @vickie5546 @louisxosblog @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @ihatespoilers @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @sesigsss @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @palomaluvsdilfs @kyloispunk @tiredbuthappy @yuk-for-president @jazzy-music-cat
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#the last of us#joel miller fluff#strang3lov3#the last of us hbo#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller#i love laszlo cravensworth#brain scramblies
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guard dog
bi-han/reader
summary: your husband doesn’t like when other men flirt with you.
tags: established relationship, fluff, protective! bi-han, sunshine/moody duo bc i live for this
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.❅.* :☆ﾟ. ───
“I’m telling you,” Johnny runs a hand through chestnut hair. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous! You could seriously be a model!” He gushes, giving a grin to you. You chuckle softly, waving him off. “I dunno about that, but thank you.” You respond calmly. A chill washes over the two of you, cold fingers curling into your waist. Bi-Han, your husband, glares at Johnny over your shoulder. “Hey, man- convince your wife to become a model for me.” The actor chuckles. “I wanna see her on Vogue!”
Bi-Han growls softly, pulling you a little closer. “She’s off-limits, Cage.” He grumbles. You simply laugh, patting your husband’s strong forearm. “Relax, hun. It’s fine.” You assure him. Bi-Han gives Johnny a wary look, but when he looks at you, that coldness melts. “Come. We should start preparations for our evening early.” He nudges your side gently, guiding you away from Cage. The ninja gives Johnny a pointed glare over his shoulder, a silent warning to back off from his wife. Johnny snorts with amusement, shaking his head as he chuckles.
—
Sitting at his side, like always, you put your fork down gently, finishing with your meal. Dinner was always nice. The atmosphere was always so calm, a hint of normalcy to this crazy life your lover’s dragged you into. A foot nudges yours beneath the table, and you look up. Raiden gives a shy smile, and you smile back. “How have you been, my lady?” He asks politely. “Well. How about you?” Your response has your husband glancing to you, then to Raiden.
Bi-Han grips his glass, raising it to his lips to sip his water. His brown eyes scan over Raiden, who keeps talking to you. What are his motives..? Bi-Han thinks to himself. Clearing his throat, his fingers thread through yours, squeezing gently; just to bring your attention to him a little. Smiling at your lover, you squeeze back, warm palm sitting in his. Bi-Han smiles slightly at you, a rare sight. You return to your conversation with Raiden, and as Bi-Han listens, he figures out that the young man is just being friendly. It’s nothing to work himself up over, Raiden isn’t like Cage. Speaking of… his eyes scan across the table, spotting Johnny flirting with someone else. Rolling his eyes, Bi-Han returns to his meal, not letting go of your hand.
—
Reading is a calming activity. Bi-Han is busy training across the yard, you’ve chosen to sit beneath a tree, book in hand. It’s idyllic, soothing. You hear boots crunching on leaves, approaching you. “Hello.” A voice greets, and you look up. Tomas, always nice company. “Tomas,” you smile in greeting, letting him sit beside you. “How’s my brother been treating you? Good?” Tomas asks softly, smiling back. His mask is down around his neck, so you can see his face.
“Of course.” You nod. “That’s good,” your friend responds, glancing to the book you hold. “Catching up on your reading?” Tomas chuckles, still smiling at you. “Finally, yes.” You share his soft laugh. “I want to ask… would you accompany me to lunch tomorrow?” He asks, leaning a little closer. Thinking nothing of his offer, you nod. “Of course. I’d love to.” You reply, smiling at him. “Great,” Tomas smiles back. “I think you deserve a better man than my brother… he can be really cold.” He murmurs, fingers moving up to gently touch your cheek. You chuckle, shaking your head in amusement. “Nonsense, Tomas. Bi-Han treats me well.” You respond to him, letting him touch you.
Boots storm over, a rough hand snatching Tomas harshly, tugging him up and slamming him to the tree. “Tomas-“ Bi-Han growls, not appreciating his adoptive brother’s attempts at wiping his wife. “Relax.” Tomas responds smoothly, resting a hand on his brother’s strong forearm. “Just offering lunch.” He smirks at his brother. Tomas has always been mischievous, he loves getting under his brothers’ skin. Eyes filled with anger, Bi-Han lands a harsh punch to Tomas’ jaw. “Bi-Han..!” your eyes widen, getting up to grab your husband’s arm before he could hit his brother again. “Unhand me.” Bi-Han growls, but he doesn’t tug against you, letting you pull him away from Tomas. “No- stop it. You can’t just punch him!” You frown, squeezing your husband’s arm. He scowls, frost biting at his fingers, ready to hurt Tomas again. “Leave my wife alone.” He commands, dismissing his little brother.
Sighing, you let go of Bi-Han’s arm, watching Tomas chuckle and leave. “Bi-Han.” You speak, but he cuts you off. “Don’t,” he growls, pulling you to his chest. “You’re mine. No more flirting with him.” The tall man scowls. “I wasn’t-“ he grasps your jaw, gently, tilting your head to steal a kiss to silence you. “I saw him touching you. I know he thinks I’m not enough for you,” Bi-Han grumbles, fingers gently squeezing your cheeks. “You are my wife. I am the one who married you. I don’t appreciate him thinking he can steal you away from me…” he whispers, kissing you again. “No one’s stealing me,” you giggle softly, shaking your head. “I’m yours.” You add on, hands moving to rest on his sides. Bi-Han hums, satisfied with your response. “Good. I won’t let any man flirt with you.” He murmurs, squeezing you close to the flat plane of his chest. “Mhm. I know.” You chuckle, letting his forehead rest to yours.
#mk1 2023#mk1 x reader#bi-han x reader#bi han#bi-han#bi han x reader#bi han sub zero#bi han x you#| kenshiluvr
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Something Sweet
Pairing: Sugar Daddy! Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+ smut ahead!!! Thigh riding, public stuff, dirty talk, sugar relationships, power dynamics, dom/sub undertones
Word Count: 4.9K
Summary : A chance run in with a handsome stranger turns out to be the opportunity of a lifetime
a/n: for @the-slumberparty September Bingo Challenge! No bingo for me this round, I got it in JUST UNDER THE WIRE! Takes me waaaaayyy to long to write lol. Thanks for reading, I’d love your feedback! Reblogs and comments are love <3
You placed the candy bar on the counter in front of the very bored cashier. You dug through your purse and pulled out your debit card and handed it over. A queue had started to form behind you as you tapped your hand in anticipation.
“Declined.” The cashier said, holding out the card for you. Your stomach dropped. You were afraid this was going to happen. You were so sure that you had enough in your account for at least a candy bar. You had paid the overdraft fees from last month, so you should have been set. Your stomach gurgled a bit. You were so hungry.
“Um, can you try it again?” You asked, hoping it was some sort of mistake, that the bank was just a little slow to catch up with your account. She let out a sigh and placed it in the machine again.
You could feel the stares behind you. You looked back at the line; directly behind you was a tall man dressed in a suit, checking his watch. He looked like he must be very important. He had dark brown hair that was neatly styled and just a touch of a five o’clock shadow. It was incredibly handsome. His icy blue eyes flicked from his Rolex to you, making you quickly turn back to the cashier.
“Declined. Again.” The cashier handed it back this time with a look insisting you take the card from her. Humiliated, your cheeks began to turn red.
“Sorry.” You mumbled as you shoved your card back into your purse so you could clear the shop as quickly as possible. In your haste, you accidentally ran into Mr. BusinessMan. You collided with his body like a brick wall. “Sorry! I’m so sorry! Fuck I’m a mess.” You cried out as you ran past him this time.
You ran directly out onto the street, the cool air filling your lungs. You dropped down onto the curb to spend a minute catching your breath. You could feel your heart still racing, your body going into fight or flight mode.
Money, money, money. It all always came back to money. If you didn't have the money for a god damn candy, how were you going to make rent in less than two weeks? Tears threatened to escape your eyes and you squeezed them shut.
Here you were, no food in your stomach and soon to be no roof over your head. You looked at your phone, a flip phone from 2013 that miraculously still worked. The last text you had gotten was from your mom “Fridge broken. Send more this month.”
God fucking damn it.
“Hey! I think you forgot this.” A deep voice called out behind you. You turned to see the business man from the shop! Confused, you grabbed your purse and checked to make sure you hadn’t left your keys or something. The man held the bar you had left at the counter. He held it out to you. You didn’t go to grab it, you just stared.
“Oh. Um, you didn’t have to…” You began but he squatted down next to you and placed the candy on your lap.
“We all have bad days. Doesn’t cost me nothing to be nice. You look like you deserve something sweet.” He had a very kind smile on his face. It did cost him something though, it cost him more than what was currently in your bank account. “You ok?”
“I’m…I’m ok. I’m going to be ok. Thank you, really.” You could feel the tears spilling over and you started to wipe your face so he wouldn’t see.
“You must really like candy to be crying over it.” He lightly joked, which only made you want to cry more. You let out a little laugh that sounded more like a strangled gasp. It was so overwhelming, the simple act of charity.
“It’s just…really really nice of you.” You gasped, the tears finally flowing freely. “I don’t remember the last time anyone has ever given me something…I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Hey, hey, hey, you’ve got nothing to apologize for.” He reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder to comfort you. “I’m James.”
You gave him your name, finally ceasing your tears. You took a deep breath, you couldn’t just fall apart in front of this kind stranger, he was probably running late to some sort of business meeting anyway.
“You have a way to get home?” he asked, he pulled out his phone and began to tap on it. You nodded your head.
“Yes, yes I do. I have money left on a bus card, really thank you so much James.” He smiled at you when you said his name. He placed his phone back into his suit jacket. He took your hand and helped you up. With your spiral into darkness slightly stalled, you took in your savior. He was so classically handsome. When you looked into his blue, blue eyes you felt like you were drowning in them. He tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, your heart raced.
“Get home safe, alright doll?” You nodded, clutching the candy bar to your chest. You took off down the street after giving a soft goodbye. The kindness of strangers had given you more hope than you had in a long time.
You idly wondered about James as you ate on the bus. Your money problems were still lingering in the back of your mind but your thoughts were clear.
You tore open the candy bar, taking a bite of the delicious treat. The chocolate melting on your tongue, the sugary sweetness coated your mouth. You got a rush from the sugar and let out a sigh.
Maybe things were going to be ok, it was a sign that the universe was on your side.
{}{}{}
You put on your waitress face and did your best to keep up the highest energy tonight. You were all bubbles and giggles throughout the shift. You would smile and laugh at every lame joke a customer would tell you.
Half way through your shift the place was packed. You should be grateful it was busy, you were getting good tips but hadn’t had a moment to breathe since you walked out onto the floor. You carefully balanced a tray of shots and an order of bacon-wrapped dates to drop off before you made it to the party that just sat down in your section. The hostess had put them back in the booth that was partially tucked away with velvet curtains. Big spenders for sure. You smoothed down your dress and tossed your hair over your shoulders as you made your way over.
“Hiii how are we doing tonight Gentle--” You began your usually bubbly opener, voice high pitched and energetic but as you took in who was sitting in front of you, you stumbled.
James. Your candy savior. The bodega hero. Him and three other men were waiting to be served. He was wearing a new suit, this one with no tie and a few buttons undone from his shirt. Damn he could really rock a suit, he filled this one out perfectly too. FUCK.
“Ahem, excuse me gentlemen. So what can I start you off with?” You quickly recovered, grabbing your pad and pen and focusing your eyes on the paper. You prayed that with your heavy makeup and fluffed up hair that maybe he wouldn’t recognize you, or maybe just wouldn’t even remember.
“Hey there sweetheart, hope my good looks didn’t startle you.” His charming grin grew as you bashfully waved your hand at him.
“Oh I'm used to handsome, it's just a little busy in here tonight. Are we just starting out the night? Maybe with some shots?” You offered with a grin of your own. He seemed pretty pleased with your flattery. James was silent as the other two ordered a round of shots, his gaze was fixed on you. You went to turn to put the order in but as you went James’s hand shot out and he grabbed your wrist.
You froze and stayed.
“Hold on a minute Doll, you didn’t take my order yet.” His voice was low and easy. You lightly moved your hand out of his grasp to put pen to paper. You nodded to him hoping to get his order. “I want a whiskey. Neat. And bring the whole bottle out.”
“Whoa, we’re getting bottles tonight?”
“Sounds like you guys are going to have some fun!” You said quickly writing down the order with a flourish. This time you managed to escape to put the orders in. As you waited by the bar for the orders you felt your heart racing. It wasn’t just the adrenaline of the fast paced night. Seeing James again had put you completely off kilter. It was humiliating, the last time he saw you, you were crying in the street. He must find you so pathetic. If he even recognized you?
James and his party stayed practically til closing, ordering more and more. The bill they were racking up was so notable that Jeremy himself came out to thank them for their patronage. The other girls were all playfully jealous, it wasn’t you who could normally hook in the big spenders like that.
“Sadly, it seems we’ve got to end it here. Little guy can’t hold his liquor.” James said motioning to the one you learned was named Sam.
“M’fine.” He slurred. The blonde man who was called Steve laughed and threw an arm around him as he swayed. The two made their way to the exit leaving you alone at the table with James. He smiled at you expectantly. You just wanted the night to be done with.
“Whenever you’re ready!” you placed down the bill on the table.
“Hold on Doll, I’m ready now.” He pulled out a shiny black card from his wallet, and quickly scribbled down on the receipt. You took the card with a smile, ready to go charge it. You glanced down on the tip and your eyes nearly fell out of your head.
He had given you a 100% tip.
“Problem?” He asked, innocently cocking his head to the side. You glanced at the bill again, rereading it as slowly as you could to try to make sure you weren’t mistaken.
“I think you might have mixed up the tip and the total-”
“No mistake. I’m tipping for the fantastic service.”
“I really don’t know how comfortable I am with that James. Is this because of this morning?” Your voice was pathetically small.
“Oh so you do remember me?” He asked flatly. You looked up at him. His sudden tone made your stomach clench.
“I mean…of course I do but that’s not very professional of me. I’m sorry-” You immediately tried to amend the situation. This was somehow your fault, you could tell.
“You apologize a lot. You don’t have to be sorry for getting something you want.” James’s tone was no longer angry.
“I don’t need pity.”
“It's not pity, Doll. You gave me a service and now I’m paying you what I think is fair. I know you probably aren’t used to people giving you what you’re worth. You probably don’t even know what your worth is, do you?” When his icy blue eyes met yours it was like you were really being seen for the first time. You loved it as much as you hated it.
“I’m not…I’m not worth anything much. Here’s your card sir, have a good night.”
You ran off, your face hot with humiliation.
{}{}{}
You had hoped that would be the end of it. Even with the insane tip from James you were still on the outs with your money. Now that rent could be made there was the electricity, gas, and water. Then the money you would send back to your family, oh and food for yourself. You couldn’t forget that. You kept all ten shifts that you had managed to beg Jeremy for. The big night with James made him much more amenable to your requests.
It was only for a split second but you saw him at the hostess table. With two different men at his side, there stood James for the second night in a row. You whipped your head around and scurried to the back.
“Wanda, he’s here again. Again!” You squealed to your co-worker who was just preparing to start her shift.
“Who, Mr. Moneybags? Well aren’t you lucky.” She said, giving you a playful glare.
“I don’t want to deal with him again. Please take my table?” you pleaded.
“Don’t need to ask me twice, I’ll be getting that nice tip tonight.” She tossed her coppery hair over her shoulder and smoothed down her dress one final time before strutting out onto the floor.
He wasn’t here for you, you told yourself. You were just being paranoid. Wanda was going to have all of them eating out of her hands by the end of the night, you told yourself as you started out towards your first table. You pushed it from your mind.
But you couldn’t help but glance over to his table, and the glance was more than enough to see that James was not happy. Wanda and her incredible curves didn’t seem to distract him at all. You could see her laughing and chatting but James was a dark cloud.
Fine, who cares, he was going to give Wanda a ludicrous tip because he was a generous tipper. He wasn’t pitying you, he wasn’t trying to give you charity, that's just who he is. You scamper towards the kitchen to put in your orders and hopefully hide out a while.
Wanda came back towards the kitchen, placing her orders and grabbing the food that was ready. Her beautiful smile fading into a line when she made eye contact with you.
“They were really really insistent that it has to be you tonight. Even just to go over and say hi. ” She said, her tone was dry. Nervous butterflies erupted in your stomach. You bit your lip. What could this possibly mean?
{}{}{}
You were normally pretty steady in your heels, but the floor was suddenly uneven as you approached James’s table.
“Well hi there, gentlemen. I-I can take your drink orders tonight. Give Wanda a hand.” You babbled, trying not to flub over any words.
James smirks at you victoriously. He doesn’t need to say anything, his eyes say it all. He had gotten his way.
The party once again racked up a ridiculous tab. Nothing was stopping him. The rest of the table had cleared out quickly, leaving just you and James.
He opened his wallet and laid out the tip, bill by bill. He pushed the fat stack to you, not breaking eye contact once.
It was multiple hundred dollar bills, but you were too stunned to count. The anxiety that had been building since you first caught a glimpse of James again finally came bursting out of you in a tidal wave. You tossed the cash back on to the table.
“Please stop. I can’t…I can’t keep doing this, I don’t know what you expect from me.” You gasped, allowing your facade to crack as you stared up at him with tears wetting your eyes.
You weren’t scared. But you were confused. This sort of attention must have meant he wanted something from you and…you were fairly certain of what that was.
“This is how this business works, you did something for me, and I paid for your services.”
“I -- I--” Your breath was caught in your throat as he leaned closer to you to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.
“Poor thing, you’ve never been treated well in your whole life, have you? I know why you’re so nervous. You’re not stupid, you're really smart. I don’t expect anything from you tonight.”
He took a breath and it was like he was stealing the air right from your lungs. “But. I would like to make an offer, if you’d be interested. I just want one hour of your time.”
“I’m not a whore.”
He caught your chin in his hand and made you look back at him, his eyes dark and humorless.
“What an ugly word. Nobody’s calling you that doll. Have dinner with me.” His thumb traced over the apple of your cheek.
{}{}{}
One hour of your time. You kept thinking about it over and over again. It was just one hour. This ostentatiously wealthy man was paying you to have dinner with him. It’s not a crime. But it felt so dangerous. Sneaky and dirty. Part of it was terrifying but it was also…exciting.
This restaurant was leaps and bounds above your place of work. It was all very classy. You tugged on your skirt just a bit, hoping you weren’t going to stick out. You were brought through the restaurant, up some stairs to a private party room. It was a huge table, with only two places set, a glow with dozens of candle’s soft light. The walls were all windows, looking over the restaurant the other a breathtaking view of the city.
James was waiting for you when you arrived. He looked you up and down appreciatively, his eyes lingering. He stood up like a gentleman when you got to the table. He pulled the chair out for you.
“Oh um, thank you.” You said as he pushed you into your spot once you were seated.
“No thanks necessary, Doll.” He placed the napkin from the plate on your lap before returning to the seat across from you. The waiter who brought you up took your drink orders before leaving you alone.
The door clicked closed and suddenly there was a tense silence between you two. What was next? Were you supposed to say something? Or should you wait for him?
“I trust the ride over was pleasant?”
“Yeah, um, no issues at all. I’ve never been here before, any recommendations?” Why were you so awkward? Should you be seductive? Should you be professional? Was this a business transaction or a date? Every time your eyes met his he looked hungry. For you. It made you flush.
“You can get anything your heart desires. Pick out whatever has the most zeros next to the name.” He grinned. “The seabass is pretty good too.”
You wrinkled your nose a bit. “It's not too…fishy is it?”
“Well it is fish.”
“But is it fishy fish?” James laughed at that.
“It's a fishy fish. The steak is good too, but it's a steaky steak. So you know.” He joked. It made you laugh a bit too. It was like a spell was cast over you, the tension was released and your nerves vanished. The conversation flowed between the two of you easily.
Your food came, he didn’t bring up anything. He had asked for an hour of your time, because he was going to propose something to you. You had friends who had “boyfriends” who weren’t really their boyfriends. Men who would pay for the fun that night, but they got paid back in other ways.
You never had thought of yourself as that girl. But here you were. The anticipation made you nervous but you couldn’t deny the excitement.
He ordered dessert for the two of you, champagne and strawberries with cream and chocolate.
You glanced at your phone, there was about ten minutes left of “your time” that he had purchased.
“I hope I’m not so boring that you’re counting down the minutes.” James commented as you put your phone back in your purse. You shake your head.
“No I just…we have some things to discuss right? And an hour is what you asked for…”
“I am willing to pay overtime, if you’re still enjoying yourself. But if we’re down to the minute here, we should talk.” He folded his hands on the table.
“I like you, I think that we can make something together. You seem like you need some help and call me old fashioned but I just can't resist a damsel in distress. I’m a busy man, with a lot of work and a full schedule, not really much time for dating. Not a fan of the apps either. What I am looking for is an arrangement. I want a companion and can keep you very well compensated for it.”
“So you’ve had…arrangements like this before.” You asked slowly. It didn’t make much sense to you. He was so unbelievably handsome. How could he have trouble finding anyone to be with?. He filled out his clothes so well, his strong square jaw made you want to swoon. How could it be you that he wanted?
“Yes. Does that bother you?”
“I-I’ve never done anything like this before.” You admitted. You cleared your throat. “What sort of things are you looking for from your…companion.” Your eyes were suddenly very focused on the bowl of strawberries in front of you. You hadn’t had a boyfriend before, but you’d been with men. Your idea of a sugar daddy was always a creepy old man, desperate for a young thing to fuck. But he didn’t seem desperate at all. The way he pinned you with his gaze was making you feel desperate for him.
James reached out and placed his hand over yours.
“I am looking for everything. I want someone who’ll keep me company at home, someone I can buy gifts for, someone I can take out on dates.” He squeezed your hand, rubbing his thumb in circles over your wrist. “I’d like someone who’s going to stay the night too.”
Your stomach flipped. You knew what he meant.
“Ah, like, sleepovers?” You giggled nervously. “I was never allowed to have those, as a kid. I always had to watch over my siblings.”
“I didn’t have any either. Romanian immigrant parents. They didn’t really…get it?” James smiled, it was different from the grin that had been on his lips all night. It almost seemed shy. “So maybe we should make up for lost time, hm?”
“But what would it be like? Being your…companion?” You were testing the waters. He was being a bit too vague for your liking. The word sugar baby had never been said but that’s what this was going to be wasn’t it? He wasn’t asking you to be his girlfriend. But he wanted you. And you wanted him.
Should you get a contract? Or was that only something that happened in trashy romance novels?
He picked the bottle of champagne, his veins bulged in his strong grip. He easily flicked the cork off, popped the champagne with a loud bang that made you jolt. He smirked at your reaction. He poured himself a glass effortlessly then stood, walking to your side of the table. He was completely relaxed, in total control the whole time.
He towered above you as he poured the bubbling liquor into the champagne flute in front of you. You could smell the rich musk of his cologne. He picked it up to offer it to you.
“If you agree to be mine, I would take you out to nice places like this, buy you whatever you like and then we would keep having fun all night.” His eyes sparkled. Your heart began to flutter, his eyes making you feel like you were the only person on earth. And you could get anything you wanted.
You took the flute from him. You took a sip of the dry sparkling wine. It tasted expensive.
“Do you want me to quit my job?” You said plainly.
“Being CEO means I don't exactly have a 9-5 schedule and neither does a cocktail waitress. I don’t want to have to deal with scheduling around each other. Part of this is about you being available to me. You can take a leave of absence?” He was still standing, but had leaned against the table facing you. The CEO drop gave you a slight pause. You knew he was rich but…you were nervous to ask just how rich. Did it matter? You wondered to yourself. He was so handsome, you didn’t need specifics. You needed him.
“I don’t think that's an option for me.” You said trying not to roll your eyes.
“Trying not to seem too pushy Doll, but…I want you to quit your job. I’ll be your job from now on. I can cover any of the expenses you’d need a job for. Being mine means spending late nights at my apartment, weekend trips to Europe, I don’t want you to worry about anything but me. If you agree, of course.”
He held out his hand to you. “Or is my time up?”
You grabbed his hand. Your fingers interlocked. You nodded your head. James smiled and pulled you out of your seat. You quickly stood, eyes looking up into the icy blue pools that captivated you. His lips lightly pressed against yours. It was so soft and romantic, you surrendered to him easily. Your lips moved against him, assuring him, assuring yourself, you could do this.
“You know why I got the strawberries right?” He asked as he pulled away motioning to the nearly forgotten dessert.
“Yes…I’ve seen Pretty Woman. They bring out the sweetness of the champagne” You replied smartly. He laughed again. You made him laugh a lot, and every time you did your heart would race.
“I got them because I’m pretty sure you have a sweet tooth. And I thought it could be fun.” He scooped a dollop of cream onto a berry and brought it up to your lips. You obediently opened your mouth, taking a bite of the fruit. The bright, sharpness of the berry was contrasted by the fluffy sweetness of the cream. It was so decadent you needed a minute before you could take another bite.
He pressed his hands against the small of your back and guided you slowly towards him.
He eased down onto the chair, planting his feet on the floor.
He gripped your hips and pulled you to straddle his thigh. He guided you down and you followed his lead. You slowly lowered onto him.Your crotch rubbed against his thigh, you grabbed onto his shoulders to try and steady yourself. His fingers went to your dress and hiked it up to your waist.
You let out a gasp, your eyes quickly darting to the door. He grabbed your chin and pulled your focus back to him.
“You don’t have to worry about anything tonight. You just have to be mine.” He murmured, his breath fanning over your face. Your face was burning with embarrassment, you’d never been so intimate in public before.
He began to tap his heel making you bounce up and down. His hands went to your ass. The delicious friction made you bite down hard on your lip as your arousal started to mount.
“James ahh--” You tried to ask but pleasure started to rocket up your core. Your eyes rolled back as he continued to rock you on his thighs. He shushed you, burying his face in your neck. His hands finally left your hips and grasped your breasts. You moaned at the sensation. You wrapped your arms around his neck, arching your back bringing his face to your cleavage.
Your hips moved of their own volition now, faster as the sweet ache between your legs grew.
They glided over and over his thick thighs, building in speed as you chased after your high. Bouncing up and down, no longer concerned with anyone who might see.
“What do you want?” he gasped. Suddenly stopping you mid thrust, his grip on your ass held you still.
“Huh?” you whined, wiggling your hips a bit, but he held you firm.
“Tell me sweetheart, how do I close this deal, what do you want?” James whispered in your ear, letting his breath tickle you.
“I--” You took a moment. Your panties were soaked through, you could feel your slickness on his pants. You felt so wanton, but this was what you wanted. “I want my rent paid.”
“Done.”
“And I want a new phone.” He just nodded as his lips connected with your neck. You moaned as he lightly bit down on your neck alternating between pain and sweet kisses. You suddenly felt powerful, more powerful than you ever had in your life. “I also have student loans and money for savings a-and my sister’s starting high school this year and she’s going to need a laptop, so--”
His lips had finally worked your neck enough and collided with your lips. He kissed you so fiercely, so overwhelmingly hot that you completely lost your train of thought and surrendered to it.
“Deal.” he panted as he pulled away from your lips, his forehead resting against yours. You started to ride his thigh again, desperate for a release as the coils inside you wind together tighter and tighter.
“Fuck Doll that’s right, use me, ride my thigh, you’re mine now. Show you how good it is to be mine.” James grunted as you chased your high.
Waves of pleasure came crashing over you. You writhed on his thigh, your panties sticking to the sides of your walls as you collapsed forward. Pressing your head to his shoulder, you could feel him chuckling.
You liked being his. You felt small in his lap as he smoothed down your dress. He wiped some of the sweat off your brows.
You take another sip of the champagne. It wasn’t sweet, but you could get used to it.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#navy and roo's sleepover#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes smut#sugar daddy! bucky barnes#avengers fanfic#Ceo! Bucky Barnes#bucky barnes x female reader#winter solider fanfic#sebastian stan#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes
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SKIN LIKE PUFF PASTRY | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [6]
description: the ONE where you help him grieve another woman + the ONE with the promise
length: 8.04k
warnings: maeves death. grief. Spencer is a sad bby. HOWEVER maybe perhaps some fluff? healing journey! gun, blood, usual cm warnings.
author's note. HERE YOU GO POOKIES. I hope you enjoy now I've put you all out of your misery.
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'Lacy, oh lacy, skin like puff pastry,
aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of hell?'
The one where you help him grieve another woman.
It killed her walking up those stairs every day. She knew the gift baskets were piling up, had already had a terse conversation with his neighbour about leaving ‘clutter’ in the hallway, to which she thinks she might have swung at the eighty year old woman if she didn’t think it would cause Spencer problems.
He had enough on his plate already. Maeve had died, for fuck sake.
In fact, she almost entirely blew her top when she made it to the top of the steps to see every single one of Garcia’s gift baskets had been moved, the bunches of tulips she’d brought him every other day over the past two weeks gone with little trace other than browning petals scattering his door mat. Even the cookies JJ had baked him, the card Henry had drawn for his uncle Spencer had been moved.
Bugsy stopped for a second, her head snapping to the door to the right where his neighbour, Miss Cavanaugh, had shuffled out of her apartment in her pink dressing gown, her grey, wispy curls flat against her head as if she’d just rolled out of bed.
She blinked at the younger girl through thick, bubble-like glasses, her blue eyes annoyed the minute she saw her standing there.
“You can’t just take people's things, you know, I don’t care if it got in the way of your daily walk, Miriam, those were for Spencer-” Bugsy started, her voice as calm as she could get it even though her scowl spoke for itself.
“I didn’t touch any of his crap, little lady,” Miriam raised her mottled hand, crooked fingers shushing the outrage Bug had been ready to bark at her, and the women sighed when they realised they might just have another argument like their last one, “Kid was poking around at like six in the morning taking it all in, nearly woke up my dog,”
Bugsy rolled her eyes, “God forbid,” Miriam flipped her the finger which made Bugsy’s jaw drop wide open, shuffling back into her apartment muttering to herself, her mail in her mangled hands, “Old bag,” Bug murmured to herself, but her eyes quickly locked back onto Spencer’s door.
He had been out. Well, he had been into his hallway, but it was something.
Her legs felt like jelly when she took hesitant steps towards his doorway, her knuckles gently rapping on the wood, a frog crawling into her throat that she tried clearing with a cough.
“Spencer?” Her voice was soft, melodic, and it made him wince where he sat against the other side of his entrance, his own hair a state of disarray, “It’s me,”
Of course he knew it was her. He didn’t think a day could ever go by where he wouldn’t know her by the sound of her steps alone. Like he’d grown a sixth sense for these sorts of things, like they were linked by some weird Spidey powers like in the comics she’d brought over to his apartment and begged him to read, because even though he could devour a million words a minute (her words not his) it was the art in it she loved and that forced him to slow down and enjoy the pages.
He wanted to tell her to go away, but he couldn’t find it in him to ever be so cruel, to dig himself a bigger trench of regret than he already felt. He couldn’t save Maeve, physically could never get the image of her dying from his ginormous, genius brain that held onto every detail, and on top of it, he knew he deserved none of the kindness Bugsy showered him with. He’d heard her come stand outside his door every single morning, heard her knocking with the same worried call of his name at the same time before breakfast. He heard her sigh after ten or so minutes and leave, her retreating footsteps clunking down the stairs sadly.
She was too good for him. He’d only solidified it that she was so beyond what he deserved, that he could never treat her the way she deserved to be treated, the same way he hadn’t with Maeve.
Spencer’s self loathing was a poison, slowly devouring him every time he heard her voice, felt her approach through the floorboards, when he’d seen the little notes she’d left on the books she’d dropped off outside his door. Usually they were her reviews on them, a list of pros and cons, her general musings, all things they would have chatted over a bagel if things had been normal between them. But he couldn’t remember the last time they’d had breakfast together the way they had like clockwork since she joined the BAU. That was a lie. He could remember, of course he could, it had been four months, three weeks and five days ago, a Monday. He thinks she knocked around 10am. Something like that.
It was the day before she’d flown to London, actually. She had dropped the boys (the boys being Niko and Sergio) off to his apartment, thanked him a bunch of times for looking after them, given him five months worth of cat litter and kibbles and immediately unwrapped a to-go bag of their favourite pastries from the bakery downtown. He remembered it was close to October because she’d bought over maple buns and they only sold at the beginning of Autumn, and he’d asked if she’d be doing anything for Halloween seeing as their usual plans of a horror movie marathon were being put on pause while she was in England. She wasn’t, and she’d asked to call him instead so they could discuss their favourite trick or treating outfits they’d seen.
He’d promised her a call, only another case popped up by the time the thirty-first rolled around, and it had never happened.
Spencer hated how he was able to remember every detail of her face the day she’d left, the warmth of her hug he’d clung onto for months. He hated that day she’d surprised him and he hadn’t even thought to wrap his arms around her because he’d been so stuck feeling the overwhelming shock of seeing her. He hated that he’d made her frown like that, that she had ever doubted that he wanted to see her. But it had felt like he’d been caught cheating, why had it felt like cheating?
He knew why. He knew why seeing her when he was going out to call Maeve had felt like he was double-crossing her.
Not that it mattered anymore, he thought bitterly. Because Maeve was dead. And Bugsy had every right to hate him. But she didn’t. Because she was too good.
He hated himself more than he’d ever thought was possible.
He heard her sigh, but she didn’t repeat herself. Nor did she leave. Instead, he felt the door rattle behind his own spine as she slumped against the wood, sliding to the floor until she unknowingly leaned against him, little more than a few centimetres from his warmth.
He heard her pull out something from her bag, and the tell tale slip of paper over paper told him she’d brought a book with her, pre-empting staying longer this time. Spencer wanted to tell her not to bother, because if he got brave enough to open the door to her and see her face, smell her clothes, feel the softness of her hugs, he thinks if he told her every thought bouncing around that aching skull of his, it would all come crashing down around him, and he wouldn’t ever be able to stop telling her how sorry he was. For all of it. For letting her pull away from him when she was grieving. For letting her kiss him that night Derek brought her over, because it was obvious she wanted to forget the whole thing. For pushing her away when she came back from London. For being rude and cold when she wanted answers. For trying desperately to completely detach himself from her, which had only ever made him want to scream in frustration because it hadn’t worked anyway.
Maeve had died because of him, an innocent woman he’d seen himself falling for if they’d been given the chance had died, and he was still head over heels in terrible, stupid love with Bugsy.
They stayed there, her reading and him aching from the inside out, for about seven minutes before her phone rang. He heard her huff, letting it go to answer phone and settling back down with her novel. That is, until her dial tone sprung back to life and she half growled under her breath, assuming she pressed the answer button, and he heard her voice again.
“Hello?” She said, the slight annoyance bleeding into her words, and Spencer already knew that duty was calling by the way her book thumped to the floor and he could just picture her rubbing over her temple in frustration. “I have an appointment, Hotch, I can be there in a couple hours,” Silence, where he guessed Hotch was chiding her on her tardiness, “No, I know I’m supposed to book these things off- it’s just- it’s a contraceptive implant removal, yeah I really busted my IUD when I broke my arm, it’s not settled since,” Spencer almost smiled on instinct, almost, though he thought even if he did it would look like a bitter grimace because he’d not moved his face in over ten days. But she was a really good liar, and he’d always found that part of her charm. She huffed again, “God, you sound like Emily, yes I’m being safe- we are not having this conversation, Aaron, I’ll get there when I get there,”
With that, perhaps the only person who would ever be allowed to slam the phone down on Aaron Hotchner in a huff did, and they were left alone in silence again.
“You shouldn’t ignore their calls for my sake,” He found his voice, even if it was groggy with misuse. He felt her straighten against the wooden door, her shock palpable through the brief moment of silence that seemed to stretch on for just a second too long, as if she was scrambling not to say something else than what came out.
“Pot, meet kettle,” She murmured back, loud enough he could hear it, and she felt him shuffle behind the door, wanting to smack herself in the face for not feeling him there sooner.
“New case?” He asked, his eyes heavy, his pyjamas days old. He knew he needed to shower, but the minute he’d walked into his apartment everything had felt pointless.
“Yup.” She breathed in, her shoes brushing against his welcome mat with a scratch as she pulled her knees up to her chest, “Although I think Hotch will stick to Penelope making the calls after today,”
Something between a scoff and a sigh came from his throat, something she couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.
“What is it?” He replied, and she remained quiet for a second, picking the skin around her nails.
“I’ll tell you if you open the door,” She bartered, wondering for a second if she’d gone too far and had pushed him back into the hole she was coaxing him out of.
“Blackmail,” Spencer said, all emotion gone from his voice, and Bugsy winced, “A little on the nose for someone who’s grieving,”
But she could sense it. The way his syllable raised on the last word, that he was being cynical, not cruel like she’d worried.
“Think of it as a trade deal,” She humoured him, though she kept her voice soft so he knew she meant no harm, just to cheer him up if it was even possible, “You get your answer, and I get to give you this incredibly boring book that I know you can devour in a half hour and give me the summarised version,”
He smiled. Weakly, and only for a brief few seconds, because if there was anything that warmed him up from the cold, dark, nothingness place he’d found himself in it was her.
He wished he could dislike the fact she did it so easily, wish he could dislike how simple it was to like her, to feel himself wanting her even in that nothingness place he was crawling through as a lone ranger. He wanted to pull her into him tightly, wanted to let her fuss over him, to apologise until his voice ran even more hoarse, but he couldn’t. He feared if he touched her, she’d be marked for death right then and then; that he’d taint her somehow. And that he could never do.
Yet, he bent to her will. He stood up, prompting her to do the same, leaving his door on the latch as he pulled it open a crack, enough for her to jimmy the book through, The Death of Ivan Ilyich, by Leo Tolstoy.
He had read Tolstoy before, of course he had. War and Peace was one of the first books he ever owned in Russian, ironically enough one that he’d read only a few days before they’d driven to Baltimore and he’d met Bugsy for the first time. Yet it was this one she’d given him of all of Tolstoy’s works; the one where the protagonist goes on a journey of acceptance that he’s dying with no explanation as to why.
He thought she might just be the only person who knew how to crawl into the mess of his brain and find something familiar in there. Because this was the same book he’d read when Emily had died.
He would never tell her he already owned it, however. Nor would he call her out for the fact she most certainly didn’t find it boring considering she was so far into it with annotations already scribbled in the margins. He just took it with a lump in his throat, his eyes burning with the idea she was so incredibly her that it felt like he had no option but to drown in it.
“Body’s been found in San Francisco,” She said gently, and he knew she wished he would open the door fully so she could at least see him. Yet he kept the door on the latch. Because if there wasn’t a barrier between them, he wasn’t sure how else he would keep it all in, “You get to know more when you finish the book,”
He sighed, holding the book tight to his chest, and they stood there for a second, the air turning stifling as they both held back a million words behind brave faces, “Will you be gone long?”
“No, only a few days, I hope,” She replied, zipping her bag up and slinging it on her back judging by the sounds coming from her side of the door. She hovered, not wanting to say the wrong thing, but wanting to stay here on his welcome mat because this was the closest they'd been physically and otherwise in months.
“Be safe,” He murmured, and her hand shot through the gap in the doorway, her pinky finger raised to the heavens.
“Promise,” Bugsy said, her heart jack hammering against her ribcage when a long, warm finger wrapped around hers, and they squeezed them together. It was just a little touch, but it was a start. She wished he would open the door so she could beg him to talk to her, even if it meant crawling to her knees, she wasn’t above it whatsoever.
Reluctantly, she let him go, though she noted the way he had held onto her until she did so.
“I have to go,” She said sadly, drawing her hand to her chest like she’d received a Midas touch, and her hand was suddenly valuable after gracing his own.
Her skin felt electric, her breaths felt laboured. She wanted more, but she couldn’t have it.
And with that, it took every ounce of resolve to turn on her heels and head back down to her car.
–
Bugsy stared at the artwork with a grimace, picking hard at her cuticles because the metallic smell was making her stomach turn. Their UnSub had taken to painting with his victims’ blood, canvasses upon canvasses of leeched ichor brushed out to make out an image of the bodies.
Her nose scrunched when another wave of hot, iron wafted up her nose, and she thought about asking Hotch if she could step outside for a moment, knowing he likely wouldn’t question her perhaps ever again after their little phone call.
“What other reasons would he have for separating plasma from the blood?” Hotch asked, and her brow furrowed, her mouth opening to speak before another voice cut her off.
“It’s a habit,”
She swore she gave herself whiplash with how fast her head snapped to the side. She would know his voice anywhere. It sounded lost and desolate, yes, but her eyes swirled with relief when she saw him standing there, looking skittish and tired but alive.
“Reid,” Morgan breathed, the same level of surprise she felt as JJ darted towards him, her arms wrapping around his middle before he could protest.
“Spence,” She said, and they hugged one another tightly, his eyes following over Jennifer’s shoulder to where Bugsy seemed to watch him unsurely, like she was waiting for him to tell her what to do, how to make it better, how to fix it. A girl who had always been so sure of herself now reduced to pining from afar for answers.
“I didn’t expect you back this soon. You sure you're ready?” Hotch asked, an almost identical look of hesitance on his face as Bugsy had on hers, and it was no wonder half of the department said they were two sides of the same coin.
“No but I think I figured something out,” He breathed, moving out of JJ’s embrace towards the boards where the victim profiles were, and he began speaking in that slow, cold tone he’d taken on.
Spencer, to no one's surprise, was able to all but fit their disjointed puzzle pieces together in the space of an hour's flight, and with just a few pointers in Garcia’s direction, they’d got their UnSub.
“And bingo was his name-o, actually his name is Bryan Hughes, he is an AB positive haemophiliac who works as a janitor at the Bay Area Museum of Art. And before you ask, yes his address has been sent to your phones.” Penelope rushed, pinging the information to their phones just as fast as it had appeared on her screen.
“You’re the best baby girl,” Morgan said into the speaker, hanging up the phone as the team stood from their place at the desk, Hotch assigning them tasks as everyone strapped on their kevlars and guns.
She held back for a moment, her eyes assessing him like man approaching a wounded wolf.
“I’m okay-” He was about to say, because he knew what she was going to ask before she thought to do it, except she simply nodded at him, turning on her heel to follow the others, despite him expecting something more Bugsy-like.
It wasn’t like her to leave him without some final word, some final stand, and he was right. Because no sooner had she gotten all of three paces, she whirled back around, heading back towards him with a timid expression, and she all but launched herself into his arms.
He held her tight, the warmth of her body making his eyes well up, because if there was anything that could have made him crack his resolve, it was her touch alone.
She carded her fingrs through his hair, tucking her face into his neck and breathing in deeply.
“I’ll see you when I get back,” She murmured, stopping herself from saying anymore as she released him, well aware of the fact he had tried squeezing her tighter before she’d had to let him go, like he hadn’t wanted her to go. But neither did she.
“Stay safe,” He said on instinct, and she nodded, her eyes trailing over his empty eyes and sallow skin.
She wanted to kiss away every trace of sadness there, but she couldn’t. Wanted to wrap him into a hug so tight she might just stop breathing, but it would have been worth it. Wanted to tuck him into bed and stroke his hair and feed him tea and chocolate and make sure he was kept well, because she’d do anything to make him better.
But she couldn’t. They had a case.
It took every scrap of resolve to let go of Spencer Reid, sheepish and mourning, and leave him in that room alone.
–
She sighed, scrubbing at the back of her hand with the shitty aeroplane soap they had on the jet, the tiny basin doing nothing to help the fact she was all but peeling off the top layer of her epidermis.
Catching Bryan had been messy; he had come at her with a scalpel, she had shot, his blood had sprayed over her arms, soaking right through. Spencer had all but gone white when she’d gotten to the runway, hoping to make it back to Quantico by midnight.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He fretted, despite the fact it was the closest he'd come in weeks to an emotion that wasn't sadness, and he stood little more than a few centimetres away, his fingers twined together, wanting to check her over himself.
She waved him off, “It’s not mine. I’m going to wash up on the plane, don’t worry,” She replied, her expression exhausted, twitching on the spot to stop herself pushing his hair behind his ear. She knew he’d washed it because it looked particularly fluffy, the way it always did when he hadn’t bothered to style it before he left the house, “Are you okay?”
He nodded wordlessly, and took her mini suitcase from her side, wheeling it along the tarmac for her, his face a worried scowl as they boarded the jet.
She thanked him as she stepped past him putting it in the overhead luggage, heading straight for the toilets to wash up, Morgan and JJ ducking out of the way when they saw Carrie 2.0 passing by them.��
It wasn’t until they were already in the air did she emerge, her change of clothes on her skin that had been rubbed raw, her uniform in a biohazard bag that she swiftly dumped at the back of the jet to keep it out of sight. She threw herself down on the nearest seat, her entire body aching from the long few days, but she didn’t miss the hazel eyes that bore into the side of her head to her right.
She turned to meet their gaze, even though she already knew who it was before she’d even looked. Spencer looked like he was caught between about five different sentences to start with, his eyes trailing down her arms and to her hands that were now squeaky clean.
“You sure you’re okay?” He murmured, and she flipped her palms over for him to see for himself. No cuts. No abrasions. Except her usually marred cuticles she’d been picking at all day.
“Pinkie promised, didn’t I?” She teased, but no humour met his face. He just looked back at her, like he didn’t quite believe her still, like she was a ghost where his best friend should be sat, or a trick of the light. She turned her knees towards him, her sleepy eyes buttery and genuine, as if she was trying to make herself as relaxed as possible, just so he would stop worrying, “Spencer, I’m fine. Didn’t even knick me,”
He stayed quiet for a moment, looking down to his satchel bag where he played with the buckle, the brown leather cold in between his fingers, “I’m sorry I’ve been weird and distant and ignoring you- I just…”
“Spencer,” She tried to interject with a honeyed voice, but he shook his head, a crease forming between his brows when he heard her say his name like that.
“I just worry I’m letting everyone down, but when I saw you covered in blood-” He gulped, willing his eyes not to burn up again with unshed tears.
“Spence, it’s okay,” She cooed, shuffling closer to him in her seat, her hand migrating to his knee, because she didn’t know if he’d want to touch her after she’d had someone else's blood all over her hand. She liked her chances, yet the last thing she wanted was to push him. “No one’s expecting you to go back to normal, I just want to know you’re safe. I owe you as much, I mean you looked after me when Emily was gone,”
“You don’t owe me anything, Bug,” He shook his head again, his brows furrowing and she was quick to correct herself, “Besides, I loved living with you,” He rested his palm over her hand and gave her what he hoped looked like a small smile.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Spence,” She said, flipping her hand over to squeeze his fingers gently, “Did you not think I loved living with you too? I just want to take care of you for me,”
He looked at her, her eyes hopeful as she roved over his clean clothes, his freshly washed hair, his satchel he’d kept tight in his lap, as if checking him over for bruises despite the fact he hadn’t been in the field. The crushing weight over his chest like a fallen log seemed to shift, and with it, her hand soothed the wound, her smile dried his eyes, her warmth engulfed his very core in a blanket.
Spencer knew he was going to be okay if it was him and her. He knew the world was livable again if she was fighting in his corner. But then, when hadn’t she been?
Sensing his ease in attitude, or perhaps she just knew his eyes so well to notice the way they seemed to carry less burden as soon as she’d spoken, she leaned back in her seat, “Besides, the boys miss you. They said you gave them more treats than I do and Niko appreciated you brushing his fur for him,”
He smiled over at her bashfully, his head dropping down to lean on her shoulder as she pressed her cheek to his head.
“Well, if the boys miss me, I guess I have no choice,” He murmured, his eyes heavy the second he rested against her, like she’d sprayed a sedative over him, and he couldn’t help think that her new perfume wasn’t nearly as them as her old one had been. Not that he disliked this one, just that the other one reminded him of morning breakfasts, and movie marathons, and nights when they would bake apple cake at twelve in the morning because she made it how he liked it to a tea.
She chuckled, and it sounded like a hum in his ear, as he curled up to her side, “Get some sleep, I’ll wake you up when we land and I’ll drive us home,”
And it didn’t take much for him to do so, even if something had been right on the tip of his tongue; his apartment had only felt like home when she said it like that.
+1. The one with the promise.
He’d had that dream again.
It had been four months since Maeve died, but he’s had that dream again.
He’d start out in a restaurant, the walls lined top to toe with books, the chandelier the perfect amount of dust that it had character but not tackiness. A waiter would bring him over a menu and an iced tea, his favourite. He’d go to look up to ask why he’d been sat at a restaurant he had no recollection of getting to, and he’d see her staring back at him.
Maeve. Looking healthy and happy, like he hadn’t watched her brains sprayed across that warehouse floor.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” She would say, a glass of some kind of white wine swirling in her hand, her teeth straight and white and pretty when she smiled.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you,” He’d say, though he couldn’t feel his mouth moving, he just knew it had come from him. “Where are we?”
“You promised me a date, so this is it,” Maeve said, a glint in her blue eyes, “First and the last. Let’s make it count,”
His heart would give a jump then, because he’d remember this was the only time he’d ever get to see her. He’d remember that she was dead, that he had never seen her in person like this until the day she’d died.
He’d open his mouth to apologise, to beg for an explanation or forgiveness, whichever one he thought was more pressing, and then the door would swing open.
And Bugsy would walk in.
Donned in the same bluebell dress she’d worn at JJ’s wedding, only her arm wasn’t broken. And she’d walk right up to him, that smile on her face that said she was excited to see him.
And Maeve would look at her, and instead of scowling or sneering like a woman soaking in jealousy would, they would look at one another and grin like they’d known each other decades.
“Car’s out front when you guys are done,” Bugsy would chirp, her eyes warm when she looked down at the dead woman, satiated in genuine happiness to see her, “Don’t keep him too long,”
“One dance, Agent Prentiss, and he’s all yours,” Maeve would reply with a giggle, her brunette locks falling like a waterfall over her shoulder when she’d stand, offering a hand to him to sweep him onto the dancefloor, “You coming, Spencer?”
And his eyes would snap open, returning him back to the horrible reality of his darkened bedroom, his apartment silent other than the sound of Bugsy tossing in the spare room, the way she did when she got too warm in her sleep, and he threw his legs out of bed to go get her some cold water.
But the dream never left him. The same one he’d had for months, since she’d moved in with him to take care of him, make sure he was eating and keeping as happy as he could be.
The sight of her in that blue dress, waiting for him to finish his dance haunted him almost as much as Maeve did.
–
“Why didn’t you tell me you hadn’t been sleeping?” She asked, cornering him in the kitchen once they’d both dropped their go bags in their room and he’d jumped for the kettle to make them both coffee.
He blanked, the mug nearly slipping from his grasp as he plonked it down on the counter in front of her, “Why would you think-”
“Spencer,” She said as a warning, her lip quirking between her teeth as she gnawed at it worriedly.
“I didn’t want you to worry,” He confessed too quickly, scratching the back of his neck the way he did when he was nervous, “I know you worry about me, especially right now, and when you worry, you don’t sleep, and I just thought what’s the point in both of us running on nothing,”
She huffed, and he shuffled around the island to meet her where she stood by the bar stools, looking like she wanted to be cross with him but she couldn’t find it in herself.
“You should have told me, I could have stroked your back the way you liked, or, I don’t know,” She shrugged, looking anywhere but his guilty looking hues, “Smuggled night nurse in your tea,”
“Drugs. Cause that’s way better than my thing,” He teased, and she snickered, and he sighed in relief that she wasn’t really mad at him. He hated lying to her, he’d just wanted to keep his odd dream to himself until he could make sense of it, “Did Dave tell you anything else?”
She shook her head, and he knew she was telling the truth because she seemed to immediately be the one assessing him for anything else she should have been told much sooner.
“Is your head okay?” She asked, putting a gentle hand to his forehead to check for migraine heat, “I know they get worse when you don’t sleep-”
“My head’s fine, Bug,” Spencer replied, grabbing her hand with his long fingertips, pulling them from his face to squeeze at her side with a warming smile, “Promise. I’ll tell you if it gets bad,”
She watched him sceptically for a moment before she leaned over to grab her coffee, taking a long sip, and sighing in delight when it tasted perfect, “I love your memory, did I ever tell you that?”
He chuckled, dodging a rogue Niko that bobbed between his feet because it was almost dinner time for the two miscreants, moving back over to the sink to tidy the granules of sugar he’d spilled, “Many times. But I’d remember your coffee even if I had a normal brain,”
“Humble as always,” She remarked, smiling devilishly when he shot her a glare over his shoulder. It was then that Sergio jumped up onto the counter, the way Spencer had tried scolding him for a million times because of the germs, only for the onyx black cat to flick his tail in his face as if to flip him a middle finger, yowling in the man’s face for his usual dinner of kibble and water.
“Alright, alright,” Spencer sighed, reaching into the cabinet to grab their food, two fluffy bodies immediately weaving in between his long legs with mews and head bumps, because those boys knew how to wrap him around their little finger, “You ought to start being nice to me, boys. One day it’ll probably just be me and you guys, and then you can’t just bat your tails at me like you do your mom-”
“I know I’m turning twenty eight but I still got a few years left kicking, Spence,” Bugsy protested, her brows furrowing when she heard his murmurs, which she hadn’t found entirely odd since he always spoke to the boys when he fed them, except this time it had made her draw back in confusion, “Where am I in this hypothetical bachelor pad you got going on?”
“You’ll be with whatever guy is lucky enough to talk his way into dating you, maybe engaged, maybe married,” He said like it was nothing, despite the fact he’d been thinking about that exact scenario for months. Since Penelope had mentioned just how good British men were in bed, in fact. Because he felt both sick and curious as to whatever it had been that had come out of her mouth in return, “And I’ll look after the boys while the two of you move on, because you’ll feel sorry for taking my only friends away from me when you leave, and I’ll be forced to become a lonely, old cat man,”
“That’s not true,” She said, her face warming when he chuckled cynically, running a hand through his hair, “Spence, you can’t actually believe that?”
“Yes it is, Bugsy, you don’t need to try and make me feel better,” He brushed her off, wiping his knuckles over heavy eyelids, “You and I both like facts, right? It’s a quantifiable fact that zero women except Maeve have ever fallen in love with me in thirty years. Even if we call it twelve years to remove the factor of less meaningful relationships developing before adulthood, that means I’ll be forty two by the time I next get a shot, at which point I’ll be too old and washed up for anyone to find me attractive. Let’s face it, no one is ever going to love me like that again,”
“That’s not true,” She repeated, her chest hammering, her face scrunched into a scowl, “You’re wrong. Quantifiably wrong.”
“You have no data to back that statement up, Bug,” He replied with a dark snicker, and maybe it was the lack of sleep or the idea of her engaged to some other bonehead that had made him so crass, “Can’t make a conclusion without drawing on your evidence, to which you have none,”
“Yes, I do, asshole. I know for a fact that someone is in love with you,” She snapped, and it was like a bolt of lightning had cut through their conversation, blowing up in her face, her entire body freezing the second the words had left her mouth.
She looked at him, her eyes panicked, and all teasing had dropped out of his expression, leaving something confused, “Bug-”
“I don’t know why I said that,” She cut him off, jumping into action and avoiding his burning gaze. But he was fast, and he was pushing off the counter just as quickly as her.
“Bugsy, what do you mean? I don’t understand,” He persisted, darting only a pace behind her when she moved towards the living room to grab her cardigan off the back of the sofa.
She shook her head, “Ignore that, it doesn’t matter,”
“No, what did you mean by that?” Spencer asked, his voice tense because he had never seen her cower away from him like that, her body moving entirely into a state of flight. She shook her head, snatching the white fabric in her fingers and spinning on her heel to head for the doorway. But there he was, blocking her escape, his impossibly tall body stopping her right in her tracks, and she didn’t need to look up to know he had that special Spencer brand of Puppy Eyes.
“I’m going to the store-”
“Bugsy,”
“It doesn’t matter, Spence, just leave it,” She said shakily, trying to duck around him only for him to dodge to the left and stop her advance, “Spence, leave it, please,”
“What did you mean? Just tell me,” He begged, his cadence wary, the sound of it flushing her entire chest with a heat she’d never known. She swore she was going into cardiac arrest, her heartbeat was in her throat, and it made it difficult to swallow, let alone push him away, “Do you know something?”
Her breaths were deep, begging her chest to behave as it damn near spun her vision into dizziness. He was just a man. He was just a boy. How could he have so much control over her entire body when he had barely even touched her? When he had just asked her one tiny little question?
It was unethical, how her stomach rippled with butterflies the second she dared to look at his hazel eyes, round and intense where they never left her face. It should have been illegal for begging to look so good on him.
She took a sigh, shaking her head and looking back to his mismatched socks, chuckling bitterly, and putting her head in her hands. She couldn’t escape from this, her only defence mechanism was to curl into herself like an armadillo against a predator, her attacker being the god's honest truth that he was owed years ago.
“I really,” She cleared her throat, her eyes starting to burn with unshed tears, “I really messed things up with you,”
“What?” Spencer’s hot hands wrapped around her wrists, pulling them away from her face so he could hear her every word clearly, “I thought we were okay now, I thought we were friends again,”
She laughed emptily, her bottom lip quivering, her hands shaking under his touch. He was so warm, he always had been, but it felt as if he was everywhere when he was only really touching the skin of her pulsepoint. She hoped he couldn’t feel just how it beat for him, beat so loud and fast all for him.
“That’s the problem,” She whispered, her glassy eyes meeting his as she gave an unsure breath, gulping loudly. It was like he stared right at her soul, and pleaded it to speak to him. And she had never been able to say no to him, not when he looked like that, “When I came back from London, I came back to tell you that…”
She breathed again, because she felt like she was holding it while she confessed, she knew it was no wonder she felt so dizzy, but she couldn’t look away from him, where his face was morphing into realisation.
“I came to tell you that.. I-I’m in love with you, Spencer,” A single tear dribbled down her cheek, but he let go of her hands quickly to catch it, his lips pressing together in a silenced word, most like ‘oh’. His brows quirked above his nose, his eyes turning into devastation as soon as she’d said it. But it was out there now, so there was no use in trying to keep it in anymore. “I have been, for a while I think, and I wanted to tell you because I thought you might-might-” She gulped, the finger that had brushed the first tear stroking down until it rested under her jaw, the feeling of it damn near making her whine, “I don’t know, I just hoped you would feel anything back- but you don’t have to say anything, I know you’re hurting and so I just kept it in, but every time I see you I feel like I’m choking and I don’t know how to make it stop-”
“Tell me you’re lying,” Spencer said with a biting tone, his eyes honey comb gold and glistening when he looked at her. It couldn’t be true. He never got this lucky. It couldn’t be, he refused-
She shook her head frantically, her eyes pleading and wet, “Never, Spencer. I would never lie to you. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you- I know you’re hurting, I know you’re grieving and I shouldn’t have assumed-“
“I love you too,” He whispered, and it was like her words came to fruition as her voice was robbed, the air leaving her lungs. Her jaw dropped, her wet eyes boring into his chest, his hands skirting up to hold her face in his hands, thumbs stroking over her tear ladened skin, “God, Bug, I’ve loved you for so long, I thought you didn’t want anything like that after that kiss-”
Her expression dropped, eyebrows scrunching together, “What kiss?”
He blanked, for once speechless. Only the kiss he’d torn himself to pieces over for weeks and weeks. “The night- that Derek brought you over when you’d had…” He trailed off, wanting to throttle himself for how dumb he’d been in retrospect, “When you’d had the Molly,”
Her hand slapped over her mouth, his own hands flying to palm at his eyes, because how could he be so incredibly stupid. Ecstasy was a memory suppressant. He knew, he knew better than most, that taking recreational drugs like that robbed you of even the most life shattering moments.
She didn’t remember. How could she? She was so out of it she could barely walk without stumbling over a flat surface. And instead of asking her, instead of simply growing a pair and seeing what she remembered, he’d gotten a girlfriend.
This was all wrong. This was so wrong. The guilt from Maeve dying was a wound that had cut him deep, and yet having Bugsy in his arms so placid and warm and adoring was a salve he had never dreamed would feel so numbing.
“We kissed?” She asked, her eyes blazing with embarrassment, her hand running through her hair in shock horror, “I don’t- how don’t I remember that- that’s all I dreamed of for months-”
“Technically you kissed me,” He explained, despite the fact his cheeks had set on fire hearing her confess even the smallest bit more to him. She loved him. She was in love with him. She had been for months, she said. She loved him. “It would have been wrong if I did anything even if it was all I’d thought of too. And I just thought, because you never mentioned it, that you didn’t want to remember it at all,”
He felt like he’d taken some sort of truth serum, like he should shut himself up any second now because he was spilling his longest kept secret to the one person who should have never been privy to it. But it was okay if she knew. Because she loved him.
She looked at him, and he swore he’d never seen eyes so beautiful, but then he’d always loved her eyes. But the way they looked at him, as if he’d had a bag pulled from over his head, or his glasses had been given the correct prescription, because it was like he suddenly saw just how adoring she looked when she watched him like that.
And despite herself, she laughed.
It was girlish, and carefree, and happy. So, so happy. And he started laughing too. She fell into his chest, her face hot with embarrassment, and he wrapped his arms around her, feeling her giggling into his shirt, shaking her head.
“We’re so fucking stupid,” She said, and it was mumbled, and the sound of it made him smile wider.
“I’m a stupid, stupid man. I’m so sorry, Bug,” He replied, his large hand stroking down the back of her hair though a sour taste crawled up his throat.
He still owed Maeve that dance. Just as he’d told Rossi. Who had told Bugsy, because he knew she had some magic way of getting her way with everyone.
She pulled away, her eyes young and so incredibly pretty when she smiled at him like that. Sensing his hesitation, she tried to pull away from his embrace, worried like it was second nature to her by now that she’d overstepped. Only he didn’t let her. He kept his hand at the back of her head, one under her arm to pin her close to his body, because he wasn’t going to be stupid enough to let her go twice.
“You said you tried to tell me when you got back from London?” He said softly, and she nodded, like her confession had taken everything out of her, “But then when you got here… I was with Maeve,”
She swallowed, worried where he was going, and nodded again wordlessly.
He chewed the inside of his lip, taking a deep breath for courage, “I’m still- I feel terrible if-”
“You can still grieve, Spencer,” She cut him off, knowing what he was struggling to say, and his eyes crawled back up to meet her gaze, “It’s not heinous to need time to think, I know it’s a lot to ask, I never expected you to-”
He cut her off with a kiss to the apple of her cheek, warm and angelic, the feeling of it forcing her mouth shut, because she worried she might just whimper in delight if she didn’t. Her hand flew up to his forearm that moved around to cup neatly under her ear, his fingers weaving into her hair as he kissed again down near her jaw, her eyes fluttering shut. And when she thought it was done, when she thought her luck was spent, he kissed her again, on the cusp of her lips, a ghost breath slipping from a parted mouth, because she thought she might have just died and gone to heaven.
“Bugsy, I love you,” Spencer said, and her heart felt full, so full her eyes welled up all over again because it was everything she had ever wanted, “I just need a little time,”
Her eyelids flicked open, and the bliss written over her face took a knock, her head reeling back like he’d burned her. But, as before, he didn’t let her go, He refused to let her run away again. Not when he had everything he wanted, “That’s not a ‘no’. It’s just a very stupid man who has loved you for longer than you’d know hoping on everything that you’ll be willing to give me a month or two. I want to do this right, you deserve to have this done right, and I want to give you only the best version of myself,”
Spencer’s heart pounded against his slender ribcage as he waited for her response, because he knew he was pushing his luck. But he’d meant every word of it, and he figured if he had any chance at being the guy he’d always told himself she needed, he’d need to be honest with her. They’d need to be honest with each other.
But she smiled at him, sweet and besotted beneath his palm, and he didn’t know why he’d ever doubted her.
“I waited six years, what’s a few months on top of that?” She smirked, her face glowing when he pressed another gentle kiss to her forehead, and he felt how hot her blood ran under his touch. He hoped she couldn’t feel how his did the same.
“I promise. Just a few more months, bug,”
And he meant it. With everything in him, Spencer meant it. He wouldn’t let her go ever again.
--
TAGLIST:
@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions. @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches s @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3 @rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @theoraekenslover @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred @yondiii @cultish-corner @lllucere @escapismurmom @stillhere197 @hiireadstuff @amortencjja @queermaxwooo @telengraph @ivyflowers13 @estrela-rogers @greenvita @busy-buzzing @kitty-kei @universallyblizzardlove @suckstobrlaurie
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fic#matthew grey gubler x reader
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triple trouble, atsumu miya
pairing atsumu miya x f!reader
word count 1.6k
synopsis atsumu steals every reporters' attention as he introduces the media to his triplets during a post-game interview; or, more accurately, his triplets steal all the attention. like father, like sons.
content contains domestic fluff, dad!atsumu, atsumu & reader are married and so in love, babies, mention of pregnancy
more in this collection!
The flashes of cameras going off, the constant exclamations of “Miya! Miya!” coming from the crowd of journalists and reporters all vying for his attention, the fact that the foldout chairs they use for all these post-game interviews are harder on your ass than falling on asphalt — all of this is being handled with ease by a smug Atsumu Miya.
Or, normally all of this would be handled with ease by a smug Atsumu Miya.
But right now, the Atsumu Miya struggling to take a seat in the most uncomfortable chair known to man, dyed hair a mess, his usual trademark smirk replaced by furrowed brows and a look of concentration, doesn’t appear to be the godlike adversary on the court. In fact, he looks oddly human.
The cause of what has humbled this cocky athlete and reduced him to mere mortal man are the three chubby toddlers he’s cradling in his arms.
All of them are identical, from their chubby cheeks to their little grubby hands. Heads full of thick, dark brown hair (reminiscent of their father’s natural color) poke out from Atsumu’s hold, and the eighteen-month-olds’ eyes are all full of childlike wonder as they watch the crowd, confused as to who all these people are.
After finally getting settled into his seat, Atsumu addresses the crowd casually, as if he didn’t spend the last two minutes ensuring that his baby boys weren’t going to slip from his arms while he tried to prepare for this interview. Akimitsu is secured in his left arm, Akihiko in the right, leaving poor Akinari to cling onto Atsumu’s neck.
While athletes have been getting more comfortable with bringing their kids up on stage with them, no one has ever seen a professional athlete haul his three babies with him.
A fact that one reporter is more than happy to point out.
“Miya, wife put you on babysitting duty?” A male journalist calls out from the crowd. A few chuckles follow, but Atsumu just smiles at the mention of you.
“Nah. It’s not babysittin’ if they’re your damn kids, right? Besides, she deserves a break.” A few appreciative murmurs flutter through the crowd.
After the initial surprise of seeing identical triplets being carried in the MSBY Black Jackals’ setter’s arms, the reporters are back to business as usual. They’re all professionals — even if hearing Atsumu give them a great quote to use as a hook (“I respect Nakamura as a human bein’ but calling him a setter for a professional league volleyball team is an insult to setters everywhere.”) is followed by him cooing sweet words of affirmation to whichever of his sons happens to be babbling in his ears.
“Nakamura isn’t a very good player, is he, Akihiko?” No one outside of your family and his teammates have ever heard Atsumu sound so affectionate. His words are practically coated in sugar, and it’s hard to remember that he’s insulting another player in the league whenever he’s practically bumping noses with his toddler son when he says it.
Akihiko, most likely due to his father’s influence, lets out a stream of enthusiastic gurgles that Atsumu automatically translates to him being in complete agreement with him.
“Write that down.” He says to the crowd. “Even my baby knows he’s shit at the game.”
There’s a few more minutes of Atsumu answering the usual post-game questions, but halfway through one of his responses, Akinari loses his grip on Atsumu’s neck and is about to tumble to the floor before Atsumu’s reflexes kick in. You’ve made a joke once that you think Atsumu’s reflexes have become heightened after becoming a father; his athletic instincts have merged with the famous “dad reflexes” all fathers seem to be gifted with. (Atsumu tells reporters that this is why he keeps on becoming a better player; people think his family would hold him back, but once again, family is his greatest blessing.)
“Ya gotta hang onto me, buddy.” Atsumu can’t even pretend to be stern when he tells this to Akinari, who only smiles at him and exclaims something unintelligible. He shifts Akinari to his left arm, relaxes back in his seat, and is even excited to answer a question concerning his play style compared to Tobio Kageyama’s, but as he readjusts the two boys in his arms, Atsumu can’t help but startle at the fact that he has three kids. Not just two.
Momentarily panicked, he almost wants to ask why the hell no one told him one of his kids jumped ship but then he feels a tug on the bottom hem of his volleyball shorts.
Peering under the table, Atsumu is greeted with the sight of Akimitsu’s mischievous little face. He’s the oldest of the three and takes after Atsumu the most — meaning, he’s the cutest little nightmare there could ever be.
“Whatcha doin’ under the table, Mitsu?” Atsumu asks, and Akimitsu gives out a happy, gleeful shriek. He’s clapping his grubby hands together and cheering.
“Dada found me!”
“I did find ya, buddy.” Atsumu coos. “Now why don’t you come sit on daddy’s lap?”
After wrangling up all his kids once more, Atsumu sighs and looks up at the timer in front of him.
“I have enough time for one more question.” He tells the crowd.
“Are you excited to get out of here and get back home to the wife?”
“I’m always happy to come home to [Name]. If there’s a professional league for motherhood, she’s going into the hall of fame. I don’t know how she handles these fools by herself all day.”
Akihiko takes a tiny, chubby hand and smacks Atsumu in the face. Repeatedly.
“Home! Home!” His slaps get slightly more aggressive, but Atsumu’s received some serves with his face before, so it doesn’t really phase him. “Home! Mama!”
“Well, you heard the man.” Atsumu actually gives a genuine smile for the cameras. “We gotta head home.”
You’re applying your moisturizer in the bathroom despite the mirror being fogged up from the hot shower. It’s probably why you don’t anticipate strong arms wrapping themselves around your body, and you gasp before your muscle memory recognizes him. Your body easily relaxes against his, and you’re smiling as you ask your husband,
“Had a good day today?”
“We took ‘em in two straight sets. Slaughtered the other team to the point where it wasn’t even fair.” He angles his head just right so he can kiss you on the cheek, but you gently slap him away.
“I’m putting on moisturizer right now.”
“Great. My lips are dry.” He goes in for another kiss, and even though you’re giggling, trying to pull away from him, he still plants a peck on your soft skin. “Should I go for seconds, just for good measure?” He teases.
“Hmm, I guess so.”
“Oh? What’s with the change? Realize how much you can’t live without my touch?” He pulls you in closer to him, your back pressed firmly against his chest. He’s fresh out the shower, stray droplets of water greedily clinging onto his skin.
“Maybe.” You tilt your head back on the front of his shoulder so that you can see him. “You know your interview is trending on Twitter, right?”
“Oh, yeah? Bet Nakamura’s pissed.” Atsumu sounds too happy at the concept.
“No. There’s actually an interesting clip that keeps going around. Someone already used it as an intro for a thirst edit of you.”
You like it when Atsumu is thinking. There’s an adorable crease in between his furrowed brows, and you can practically see him going through the memory files in his brain, trying to figure out what could possibly be worthy of inspiring an edit of him.
“You seriously don’t know?” You’re laughing at him, and it’s the sweetest sound in the world. Atsumu doesn’t take kindly to being the butt of a joke, but from the moment he saw you, he knew he’d do anything to stay by your side, even becoming a fucking court jester if that’s what it took.
You reach for your phone on the counter, taking a few seconds to load up the fan edit you have favorited.
He’s burying his face in your hair, hiding away as he hears the audio of him going now why don’t you come sit on daddy’s lap playing on a loop. He groans when you let it replay, uncharacteristically shy as you keep telling him to watch it.
“The comments are the best part, though, baby!” You haven’t been able to stop giggling at jackingthejackalsoff’s very bold and very true statement of yeah, if i were [name], i’d pop out triplets for him too tf 😭🙏.
As Atsumu’s hands travel to rest against the growing swell of your belly, you tease him. “So, when the twins are born, do you think you’ll have enough space in your arms to haul all five of our kids, or should we finally use that baby chest carrier Shoyo gifted us?”
“I can carry all of ‘em and you onto that stage.” He regrets making this smug remark whenever you slightly drop your teasing tone and use what he dubs The Mom Voice on him.
“Oh? If that’s true, then why did it take you so long to realize Akimitsu crawled out of your arms while you were busy calling your opponents scrubs?”
“Have I ever told you what a wonderful mother you are? And this moisturizer! Wow, I don’t know what you’ve been doing with your skin, baby, but keep it up.” He’s peppering your face with more kisses, hurriedly trying to change the subject, and you gladly let him.
#atsumu miya x you#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu x reader#hq x reader#hq headcanons#fluff#one shot#drabble#hq fanfiction#atsumu headcanons#dad!atsumu#imagine#series: sweet everything
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Come Home With Me (part 1)
Pairing: Carlos Sainz x reader
Warnings: angst
a/n: was sorta crying while writing this, i love this sm..there’s going to be part 2! hope you enjoy it!
From the first moment one of your close friends told you she was getting married, you knew you'd have to mentally prepare for the fact that on her wedding day, your ex would be there.
It wasn't just any ex. It was Carlos Sainz. Your first true love. The boy you thought was the one. The boy with whom you were the happiest ever and for whom you thought there was no one else after him.
But things don't always work out the way we want them to. There is no greater pain than when two people who are made for each other meet at the wrong time.
Even though you both knew it would be difficult, you didn't want to give up on each other at first. When you met, you were 23 and he was 28. You were in the middle of finishing college in Madrid, which meant a lot of responsibilities, a lot of sacrifices, a lot of hard work and effort, a lot of suffering. And he just signed the contract with Ferrari and wanted to prove himself, show what he can do, show that he deserves to be where he is, he focused all his time and energy on his career.
You pushed together for two years, you tried somehow to find time for each other, but over time it became too difficult. He had no understanding of your needs, he devoted himself too much to work and, if you were the one to ask, in the end he gave up too easily on you, on the two of you.
Being with him was difficult at times, but being without him was countless times worse.
Even though you were very young when you first started dating, you wanted everything with him. You didn't see yourself with anyone else but him, nor did you want anyone else but him. And he, 5 years older than you, for him you were not his first love, but you were his greatest. You were his niña. That's how he used to call you. His niña bonita.
You were the one who ended things with him, but that didn't ease your pain at all. On the contrary, you expected him to fight for you, to say okay, we'll find a way to solve this, but he didn't. Therefore, you couldn't wait to finish college and return home to Monaco. You adored Madrid, you fell in love with that city as much as you did with Carlos, but after the breakup it was simply impossible to stay where every street, park, square, every corner where you were together reminded you immeasurably of him.
And so two years later, when your friend Isabella told you she was getting married and that Carlos would be at the wedding, you knew you weren't ready to see him. Two years later you had a new boyfriend Andrew, but deep down you knew you never got over Carlos.
Isabella was the one who introduced you to Carlos. The two of them have always been good friends, so it was logical that he would be invited, but you didn't think about it at all because you tried to suppress every thought about him. You knew you weren’t ready, but there wasn’t nothing you could do about it.
When that long-awaited wedding day came, as you all watched the bride walk towards the altar, you couldn't help but search for his face in the crowd of people in the church.
You shifted in place the whole time, your knees rocking back and forth. Even Andrew noticed something was going on with you.
“Are you alright, love?” He startled you when he asked. You almost forgot Andrew was standing right there behind you.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” You gave him a fake reassuring smile just so that he doesn’t ask any more questions.
You searched and searched and suddenly your eyes stopped at the last row of benches. There he stood, in a dark blue suit, his hair brushed to the side and freshly cut, more beautiful than ever. When you saw him, you didn't know that his brown eyes had already been watching you ever since he entered the church.
Your eyes immediately filled with tears as your gaze met his. It was the perfect moment to pretend you were crying for Isabella walking down the aisle.
“You sure you’re alright?” Andrew whisper-asked again.
“I’m just emotional, everything’s okay.”
In the evening when you arrived at the hotel where the wedding party was, your idea of having a good time was long forgotten. The venue was beautiful and luxurious. Everyone was happy, dancing and enjoying the newlyweds' day, only you were extremely nervous because you could feel Carlos' eyes on you all evening.
You tried to ignore him, to relax with a few drinks, but it was simply impossible to pretend he wasn't there.
“I'm going to go out on the terrace for some fresh air, okay?” You turned to Andrew who was talking to a friend that was sitting next to him.
“Okay, love. Give me a kiss.” He said. You leaned down to peck his lips before taking a glass of champagne and heading out.
There were a few people on the terrace, but you found an empty corner for yourself. You leaned your elbows on the fence and took a deep breath, closing your eyes in front of the night lights of beautiful Monaco.
Feeling the cool breeze on your skin, you wished it would take away all the pressure and sadness you carried with you. You wished that it would clear up everything cloudy in your mind that has been preventing you from moving on for two years already.
After about 10 minutes, you pulled yourself together and wanted to go back inside. Just as you finished up the champagne from the glass, you turned to go inside, but suddenly your breath stopped when you saw none other than Carlos standing behind you with his hands in his pockets and watching you with tilted head.
Your heart started pounding like crazy and your body froze in front of him.
“Carlos..” You barely spoke in a whisper.
“Y/n” He said quietly taking a step closer to you making you take a step back until your back hit the fence.
You didn't know what to say, what to do, even if you wanted to run away, your feet were as if glued to the floor. You just stood there in front of him looking straight into his eyes.
“What are you doing out here alone?” He asks breaking the silence between you two.
“I just needed to get some fresh air, that’s all.” You weren’t lying.
“Did my presence make you nervous?”
“No, your presence here doesn’t have anything to do with me.” But now you were.
“How have you been?”
“Good, very good actually.” Another lie.
“You’re not gonna ask me how I’ve been?”
“That’s none of my business anymore, so no. I don’t care.” He nods his head at your untrue words looking down at the floor.
“So who is that boy you came with?”
“That’s Andrew. My boyfriend.” You say biting the inside of your cheek. You almost felt guilty for calling him your boyfriend. Andrew. You were sure he was gonna go look for you if you don’t come back soon. “I should go. He’s probably looking for me right now.” You say trying to walk by past him, but he stops you by pulling you back by your elbow.
“Don’t go yet.”
“Why not? We have nothing to talk about.” You pull your elbow out of his grip, but you don't leave.
“Because you never left my mind.” He says. “Or heart.” He adds.
“It’s a little too late for that. You should’ve thought about that before you let me go.”
“Y/n, you were the one who broke up with me. I never wanted to end things between us.”
“You didn’t want to end things between us yet you gave up on us without a fight, so easily Carlos..” You fought with yourself not to cry. You didn't want to look weak in front of him even though you wanted to let him know how much he hurt you.
“That doesn’t mean I stopped loving you.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better or what?” You asked with a sneer. “I have a boyfriend now, I moved on Carlos. I’m happy.” You say hoping you sound convincing at least to him if not to yourself.
“You’re lying, I know you are. I can feel it.” He takes another step closer until you can feel his breath on your skin as he looks down at you. He puts his hands on the fence on either side so that you are between them. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but you know you’re always gonna be mi niña. Mi niña bonita.” Your heart aches and trembles at the same time at your forever favorite nickname. He puts his hand on your cheek as he leans very close to your face.
“Carlos, stop..” Your voice cracks as you lean your cheek into his hand.
“Come home with me, baby. Please.”
“And where is that Carlos? Where is my home?”
“Your home is in Madrid, with me.” His hands move from your face to your hands taking them into his and bringing them to his lips.
“You know, while Isabella was walking down the aisle, I couldn't help but imagine that it was you, and that I was there waiting for you at the altar.” Tears just flowed down your cheeks as you listened to him say everything you once wanted to hear.
“Remember how we used to fantasize about it. I still want all of that, y/n. Letting you go was the biggest mistake ever. I am so sorry baby.”
“Yet you never cared enough to look for me. Your words don’t match your actions, Carlos.” Once again you pull yourself out of his grip and step away further from him. Listening to him was causing you too much pain especially because you still wanted all of that as well, but your pride did not allow you to surrender to your emotions.
“Because I knew you were suffering and I didn’t want to be the reason of that! I’m sorry, y/n, I wish I could go back in time and make you stay.” He says flustered, waving his arms.
Right in that moment, Andrew’s voice interrupts you breaking you from your bubble in which you found yourself in completely forgetting where you are.
“Y/n?” You quickly wipe the tears from your cheeks and the smeared mascara under your eyes.
“Well, I’m sorry too, Carlos.” With that you leave him standing there on the terrace as you turn around and head towards Andrew.
part 2
#carlos sainz#carlos sainz fluff#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz one shot#carlos sainz x reader#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#carlos sainz smut#carlos sainz x you#f1 x female reader#f1 smut#f1 scenario#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fluff
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baby girl / nanami
wc: 1154
!! not proof read, sorry. + i'm dead, bye !!
! reblogs and comments/feedback are greatly appreciated! they motivate me to continue writing! :)
-
the cry of your baby daughter interrupts your beautiful dream. with a small sigh you sit up and stretch, throwing the covers aside and before you can fully get up, a warm hand rests on your shoulder, stopping you. it's kento's hand, of course. you look over to him, a brow raised. "i'll take care of her. go back to sleep, love." he presses a small kiss to your shoulder and then gets up to go into your daughters room which is right across from yours. you smile, laying back down and getting comfortable beneath the sheets again. it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep again.
kento takes your crying baby girl out of her crib and holds her close to his bare chest. he sits down in the rocking chair that's next to her crib, a small night light softly illuminating the room. he slowly rocks in the chair and gently rubs her back, humming a random melody. she calms down a few moments later and falls asleep quickly. kento chuckles to himself and softly kisses her forehead. he stares down at her tiny body and thinks back to the moment you told him you were pregnant. it is without a doubt one of the happiest moments of his life right after his daughters birth of course. when you told him that you were pregnant, kento wasn't scared for even a second. you are both secure and stable financially, so secure in your relationship and he knew you would be the best parents. the amount of love that spilled out of his body the second you showed him the positive pregnancy test was so overwhelming and he'll never forget the way he felt. he never thought he would be able to love like this, until his daughter was born and the love he felt not just for her but also for you, grew even stronger.
when she was born, kento cried happy tears. he didn't try to hide them or hold them back and he let all his emotions out while he held her against his chest during their first skin-to-skin contact. his tears were dripping down his throat and collarbones and he always made sure to wipe them away before they'd fall onto his daughters face. he swore he would never hurt her. he will love her unconditionally until the end of time. protect her from any harm. accept her always for who she is and who she will become. he'll always, always be there for her and he hopes to be his daughters first love. that he can show her to never settle for the bare minimum because she deserves the entire universe.
it was almost impossible to take his eyes off of her in her first moments and it is still almost impossible now. kento doesn't notice you coming into the room. you're standing next to the rocking chair, gently smiling at the scene next to you. you slowly and softly put your hand on his shoulder, hoping not to startle him. "kento?" he looks up at you with a small smile. "are you okay, love?" he asks. you nod and lean down to kiss his forehead. "i'm okay, are you? you've been gone for a while. thought i'd check on you." you answer him with a yawn. his smile grows as he listens to your tired, quiet voice and he grabs your hand, placing a soft kiss onto your knuckles. "i'm more than okay. she went back to sleep a few minutes after i picked her up but i kinda got lost in thought, i guess." he replies, looking at his baby girl again. she's sleeping with her mouth open, a bit of drool escaping at the side of her mouth. you both chuckle and you take your finger to softly wipe it away. "she's so beautiful." he whispers. "she is." you agree. she has kento's beautiful brown eyes and your nose and the smile is definitely yours as well. she doesn't have much hair yet but the small amount of hair on top of her head is the same color as kento's.
"you know," kento interrupts the silence. "one of the things i love most about her is that she was created purely out of love. all of your and my love for each other mixed together and created this beautiful life. she's living proof of our love and she's the most beautiful soul to ever exist. i love you both immensely." he confesses while still staring at his daughter, his thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. when you don't respond he looks over at you, looking down at your baby as well but tears are running down your soft cheeks. he takes his thumb and wipes them away. "you okay?" he asks a bit concerned. you nod, sniffling and wrap an arm around his shoulder, pulling him as close into your side as the rocking chair lets you. "it's just, what you said was sweet. and, you're right. she is our love and she's the most beautiful angel. i love her so much." you lean down to carefully and gently kiss your babies head. "and i love you too, ken. i love you so much." kento smiles and softly kisses your lips for a few moments.
he pulls away and wipes the last tear from your cheek. "we should go back to sleep, you must be tired." he says. you nod and stand up fully again, stretching your arms. "let's take her with us, i want to cuddle her." you yawn as he stands up slowly. he couldn't say no to that. you both walk back into your bedroom where you get in bed first. kento hands you the baby and gets in next to you leaving a small empty space between you both so your daughter can lay there. you hold her for a few more moments, holding her close against your chest and gently rubbing her back. when you hear kento yawn next to you, you put her down in the space kento left for her and he pulls the blanket over all of you. you both lay on your sides, facing each other and your baby. kento wraps his arm as best as he can around your hip, your legs tangled together and it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep again.
kento smiles, he can't believe this is his life. his happy, peaceful life with his two girls by his side. his entire world right here next to him. he gently kisses the tiny, soft cheek of his baby girl and softly squeezes your hip every once in a while. he continues to look at his daughter for a while and doesn't notice his eyes closing and falling asleep. he dreams about having another baby with you and he'll definitely talk to you about it in the morning.
<3 @ playgrl0
#p!writes!%*#nanami x reader#nanami kento x reader#kento nanami x reader#nanami kento#kento nanami#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jjk nanami
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Will It Patch Your Broken Wings?
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: Azriel is feeling insecure one night and cheats on Reader. She is absolutely devastated and wants nothing to do with him, but he is determined to show her how much he loves her.
Inspired by the love triangle in Taylor Swift’s betty/august/cardigan
Based on this request! 🩷
Warnings: angst, cheating, swearing
Word Count: 6.3k
Betty, I know where it all went wrong
Your favorite song was playing
From the far side of the gym
I was nowhere to be found
I hate the crowds, you know that
Plus, I saw you dance with him
Azriel tucked his wing in tighter as you led him through Rita’s, your hand in his, a bounce in your step. You loved it here: the energy, the dancing, the music.
Azriel, on the other hand, really only went along because he loved you.
The music was pounding in Azriel’s mind, overwhelming his senses. He could normally block it out and will his body to be loose enough to attempt to dance with you, but today had been a particularly long day in which he had to… secure information from some traitors.
He didn’t let his memory go past that, not when he was with you. But it had been a day. A terrible day.
You were dancing now, like you were born to do it, like you didn’t care at all who was watching. You turned to him, a bright smile lighting up your face, and he couldn’t help but soften at the sight, feeling comforted by your effortless radiance.
He would never understand why you had chosen him. He was thankful of course, but he was willing to admit the two of you sometimes seemed like an unlikely pair. You were bright and bubbly, lighting up every room -- a direct juxtaposition to his shadows, his darkness, his tendency to be stoic and silent.
Watching him stay completely still in the middle of the crowd, your face fell, and you sidled up to him, craning your neck to look him in the eyes as you got closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Are you okay? We can go home if you want.”
Azriel smiled faintly at you, dipping his head to give you a quick kiss. “Long day. You can dance. I’m going for a drink.”
You nodded, but still eyed him warily for a moment, gaze lingering on his swirling shadows, before turning back to the dance floor.
By the time Azriel got his drink (the strongest they had), you were fully engrossed in a song that he realized was one of your favorites. He watched as you writhed on the middle of the dance floor, swaying your hips, a bright smile on your face.
A male came up to you then, taking your hand and twirling you under his arm. You laughed brightly before moving away from him, dancing on your own once again.
Azriel couldn’t stop his heart from plummeting. That’s the kind of male she should be with, he thought. The kind that goes to a normal job and comes home without shadows or demons to chase away in his mind. The kind that can dance and twirl and laugh with you without a care in the world.
He watched as you danced and danced, occasionally dancing with a random male for a moment before moving on.
She deserves better than you. She always has.
His breath was coming faster and faster now, the music pounding in his ears, through his skull, all that heat from so many bodies closing in on him. He had to get out, had to stretch his wings, had to get out.
Azriel shoved through the crowd and burst through the doors, out into the cool night, stretching out his wings and breathing deeply. He cursed himself. He was normally better than this, better at maintaining his emotions, his panic. By the Cauldron, he was the Night Court’s spymaster and he couldn’t handle an evening in a nightclub with his lover.
Pathetic. That’s what he was.
“Are you okay?” a light, sing-songy voice broke through his rumbling thoughts.
He turned to see a very pretty High Fae woman. She was dressed a bit like Mor, he couldn’t help thinking, wearing a thin red dress that showed off all her assets, her light brown hair cascading down past her shoulders.
She gave him a look that he hadn’t seen, or at least paid attention to, from a stranger in a very long time.
He blinked. “Honestly? I don’t think so.”
Her lips slowly curved up into a sultry smile. “Anything I would be able to help you with?”
No. No, you cannot help me. I don't think anybody can.
She watched him, her eyes sparkling with mischief, before she tilted her head for him to follow.
And Mother save him, he did.
---
And I can see us twisted in bedsheets
August sipped away like a bottle of wine
'Cause you were never mine.
Your heart had been pounding, your body trembling, ever since you realized that Azriel was nowhere to be found.
Something must have happened to him. It was the only explanation. He wouldn’t just leave you without a word.
But, what could have possibly happened to the shadowsinger, in Velaris, of all places?
Your hand shook as you raised it to pound on the door of the river house.
Rhysand was the one who answered, shirtless, hair a mess. He looked very unhappy to see you.
“I need you to find Azriel,” you nearly shouted before he could scold you.
He sobered immediately, noticing your distress. “What do you mean?”
You explained to him what had happened, that he had seemed off at Rita's, that he told you he was going to get a drink, then vanished. You had assumed that he had been lingering on the outskirts of the dance floor, and didn't notice for quite some time that he had left completely.
“I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation,” he said soothingly. “Did you check your apartment?”
You nodded. He wasn't there, at the home he shared with you. “And the townhouse.”
Rhysand's violet eyes were contemplative. Hesitating.
“Can't you just…feel for him or whatever?”
He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah. I can.”
“Then do it!”
Rhysand's eyes went unfocused after a beat, and when they widened again in surprise, you knew he had found him.
“What is it? Is he okay?”
“He's… at a random apartment. At least it's not one that I recognize.”
Your heart lurched. “What? Why?”
Rhys shrugged, his expression darkening. “Okay. Shit. Wait here, I'll go tell Feyre what's going on and take you to him.”
Rhysand came back a moment later, now in his normal black attire, and winnowed you in front of an apartment complex not far from Rita's. You had certainly never been here before. The silence was agony as you followed Rhys up the stairs, to the door.
He glanced back at you, a question in his eyes. You shook your head and he knocked, the sound rattling around in your skull.
You heard shuffling, giggling, and then.
Then.
A woman answered the door. A beautiful woman who was wearing Azriel's shirt.
A woman who was wearing your lover’s shirt and nothing else.
Your knees nearly buckled. You tasted bile in your mouth. You were going to be sick.
She cocked her head to the side. “Yes?”
Rhysand was deathly still, his power rippling from him, darkening the doorway. You remained behind him, but you had to know. Had to know for sure.
So you peeked around Rhysand's shoulder, further into the woman's apartment.
And saw Azriel, bare chested, lying in her bed, the sheets bunched up at his waist, his wings drooping on the ground, his hand tucked under his head, staring at the ceiling, like it was the most normal thing in the world.
You barely had time to spin around before you emptied your stomach in the hallway.
---
The worst thing that I ever did
was what I did to you.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Az?” Rhysand's voice boomed from the door the woman had just answered.
Hearing such a familiar voice in such an unfamiliar setting was initially what shocked Azriel enough that he nearly fell out of bed.
Then it hit him.
Rhysand was here.
No no no no no no--
Azriel scrambled up out of the woman's bed, frantically searching for his pants and tugging them on.
“I-”
“Don't answer that.” Rhysand spat, and it was then that Azriel realized Rhys was holding you upright as both of you lingered in the doorway.
His heart stopped working. His mind stopped working.
He said your name, but it came out more like a croak.
You were trembling in Rhysand's arms, tears sliding down your cheeks.
What had he done what had he done what had he done--
Azriel took a step forward, but you recoiled, and he knew you would've fallen to the ground if Rhysand hadn't been holding you.
You looked… afraid of him. Not just hurt, not just disgusted, but actually afraid.
He said your name again, his voice and his heart breaking, but you turned to Rhysand and said in the smallest voice he'd ever heard, “Get me away from him.”
Rhysand shot you one last withering glance before he winnowed out of sight, taking you with him.
It was silent for a moment, until the woman said, “If I'd known you were such an asshole, I never would have done this.”
Azriel sank to his knees and wept.
---
You drew stars around my scars
But now I'm bleeding.
Back at the river house, Feyre was holding you as your body continued to shake, silent tears continued to fall, while Rhysand paced back and forth, rage radiating off of him.
“Azriel?” Feyre asked, wide eyed. “Our Azriel?”
“He's certainly not mine anymore,” you sniffed, and Feyre winced, shooting you an apologetic glance, holding you a little tighter.
“I can't believe it,” Rhys said, still pacing in the spare room where they had set you up for the night. “I cannot believe him.”
There was a knock on the door of the house and you froze. You all knew who it was.
You looked at Rhys, your eyes pleading.
“I won't let him in,” he said, his expression softening as he turned to you. “I'll ward the fucking house against him if I have to,” he growled, mostly to himself, as he retreated to send him away.
You leaned further into Feyre, grateful for your friends.
For his friends, you realized. His family.
They were on your side now, but you knew where their allegiance would ultimately lie.
In losing Azriel, you would lose your family, too.
Sobs racked your body then, and Feyre held on tight, settling her cheek on the top of your head.
You thought of all the walls Azriel had broken down around your heart, all the promises he had made about love and forever. All the broken pieces of you that you had let him see, that he had helped you heal.
But it was all a lie.
You couldn't stop seeing it -- the woman, naked except for his shirt; Azriel, naked in her bed.
You wept and wept until there was absolutely nothing left of you.
---
A friend to all is a friend to none
Chase two girls, lose the one.
Azriel had come to the river house twice a day for the past three days.
Each time, Rhysand opened the door, molten hot rage in his eyes, and told him to leave, that you weren’t ready yet. Azriel couldn’t blame him.
He knew there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to make it better. To make you better. He could try to explain what he had been feeling that night, but it wouldn’t matter, not really. It was all excuses, and he knew it.
Azriel had destroyed everything. And now he just had to watch as his world burned down.
Letting out a shuddering sigh, he knocked on Rhysand’s door, expecting to see his pissed off brother again, but it was Feyre who appeared.
He had never seen his High Lady look so disappointed. He hated that it was directed at him.
“How could you do it?” she said, crossing her arms, leaning against the doorway.
Azriel felt tears prickling his eyes, and willed them not to fall. “I never felt like I deserved her,” he said quietly.
“Well you definitely don’t now.”
He winced. “I know. I just -- I want to see her. How is she?”
Feyre furrowed her brow, furious. “How is she? She hasn’t left her room since she got here. Elain’s been forcing water down her throat so she doesn’t shrivel up and die, that’s how she is.”
Azriel swallowed, trying to steady his shaking hands. He felt like he was drowning. He wished he would, if it meant that it would make you stop feeling like that. “Do you think she’ll talk to me?”
She studied him, her mouth a hard, thin line. Finally, she turned, heading inside and he followed her, his knees wobbling.
When they made it to your door, she knocked softly, saying through the door, “He’s here.”
Azriel held his breath until the door opened, slowly.
And when he saw you, he couldn’t breathe. You looked… devastating. Your eyes were red and swollen, you were pale, your hair was a mess.
It was his fault. He had done this to you. He felt sick.
Your eyes were hollow when you looked at him, like you didn’t feel anything at all.
“Do you want me to stay?” Feyre asked you quietly.
You shook your head, your eyes darting away from Azriel. Feyre shot him a warning glare before she reluctantly went down the hallway.
You turned, moving to sit on the bed that looked like it hadn’t been made in days, every movement you made looking wary, exhausted. Destroyed. Your eyes were fixed on your hands in your lap, unwilling to look at him.
Azriel lingered just inside the room, feeling uncomfortable in his skin. He longed to hold you in his arms, to kiss your pain away.
He said your name, willing you to look at him. You flinched.
It felt like a punch to the gut. Azriel wanted the earth to swallow him whole.
“I am so, so sorry,” he rasped.
You shook your head, not looking up. “How could you do this, Az? How could you do this to me?” Your voice cracked when you said his name.
Tears started to fall down his own cheeks as he said, “I… don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I saw you dancing with those males, looking so carefree, and I didn’t feel like I fit into that part of your life. I’ve always felt like you deserved someone better than me, someone… easier.”
Finally, you looked up at him, and he wished you hadn’t. Your eyes were full of fury. And hurt. He had never seen you like that before. “You cheated on me because I danced with some guys for two seconds?”
“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Azriel tried.
“You think I wanted somebody like them? Somebody easier?”
Azriel opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I thought--”
“I wanted you,” you spat, and he recoiled at the hurt in your voice, at the pain in your eyes that he had put there. “All I ever wanted was you.”
He couldn't breathe. His voice came out weaker than he had ever heard it, “I'm sorry. It was a mistake, I'm a miserable, miserable fool. I want you. You're all I want.”
You laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. “How can you even say that after what you did?”
“I know, you’re right,” he sighed, raking a scarred hand through his hair, his shadows dancing around his arms. “It doesn’t make sense, what I did. It was stupid and awful, and the worst thing that I’ve ever done, and I am so so sorry,” he said, taking a step forward, reaching his hand out to take yours.
“Don’t touch me,” you spat, wrenching your hand away.
He blinked, taking a step back, his heart in his throat.
“You said you loved me,” you said, your voice now barely a whisper, as if all your energy had been completely drained. “You said you wanted to be with me forever. Did you ever mean any of it?”
“Of course I did,” he said softly. “I still do. I love you. I want you.”
You sniffed, putting your head in your hands. “Well. You should’ve thought of that before you fucked her.”
He blanched at your tone, at your language. He didn’t think you’d ever said that word before, at least not around him.
“Please,” he said, his voice breaking, as he knelt down in front of you, trying to meet your eyes. “Please, what can I do? What can I do to fix this?”
Your eyes rose to meet his. You took in the sight, the shadowsinger kneeling before you, begging for your forgiveness. “You can’t fix it,” you said, seething. “You left me. You abandoned me at Rita’s. Do you have any idea how that felt? I thought something horrible had happened to you!”
Azriel tightened his jaw. He hadn’t known, hadn’t even thought about--
“And then to see you. With her. In her bed,” you broke off, looking at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears from falling, he knew.
“I’m sorry.” It was all he could say. His tears were flowing down his cheeks now and he hastily wiped them away, not wanting to take his eyes off you for fear that you would vanish.
After a long moment, you leveled your gaze on him again. “Would you have told me? If I wasn’t worried sick, if I had just gone home, and waited for you to stumble on in, would you have told me? Or would you just keep acting like everything was fine, knowing that you had just betrayed me?”
Azriel swallowed hard. He thought about the guilt he had felt immediately, how he was contemplating what the hell he was going to tell you as he was staring at that ceiling before Rhysand had knocked. “I would’ve told you,” he said, his voice husky. “I was going to tell you.”
You scoffed, shaking your head, looking anywhere but him. “I don’t even know why I asked. How can I trust anything you say?”
“I don’t know. But it’s true,” he said, shifting on his knees, wishing he could reach for your hand.
Hiding your face in your hands, you said, barely audibly, “I hate you. I hate you for doing this to me and making me feel like this.”
Azriel’s heart finally shattered completely. He knew he would never be able to put the pieces back together, as long as he lived. He had done this to you, his beautiful, bubbly, happy love. Reduced to this. To hating him. And he couldn’t even blame you.
“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you.”
“Stop saying that,” you cried.
“It’s true. It’s all I’ve got. I won’t try to make excuses, I’m just … I’m sorry. And I love you. I’ll never stop loving you.”
You sniffled, and took your hands away from your face, looking to the ceiling once again, like you were steeling yourself to say what you were about to. “I never want to see you again,” you said, weakly. “You can have the apartment. Elain and Nesta are packing my things right now.”
Azriel shook his head, his panic rising, “No, no, you don’t have to--”
“I do,” you cut him off. “It’s done, Az. We’re done,” you rose off the bed and went to the washroom, looking unsteady on your feet. “You can go now.”
You shut yourself in behind the closed door, and it was five hundred years of will and training that carried his legs out of the river house, and out of your life forever.
Azriel took to the sky, flying and flying, the wind biting at his skin, at his eyes. He kept picturing your heartbroken expression, the words you spoke to him.
He didn't stop flying until he made it to the depths of the Illyrian mountains, where he knew he would be well and truly alone.
Spotting a flat section nestled between several mountains, he landed in the snow, barely stopping long enough to punch the mountainside. It was stupid, he knew, he was more likely to break his hand than blow off any of this steam, but he had to do something to stop this pain, this panic, this despair that he could blame on nobody but himself.
He had lost you. He had lost the love of his life forever because he couldn't overcome his fears. He had been so scared that he wasn't good enough for you that he made sure that it was true.
Grunting, he punched the mountainside over and over again until his knuckles bled, and then he punched it some more. Tears froze on his cheeks, the wind chilling him to the bone.
Az was dimly aware of someone landing behind him, so hard it shook the ground beneath his feet. He kept punching.
“You're not going to solve your problems out here,” Cassian called to him.
Finally, Azriel halted, turning around to face his brother. “You know, we have better things to punch,” Cassian added.
Azriel scowled, sinking into the snow, exhausted.
Cassian strode over to him, plopping down a few feet away, hissing at the cold now sleeping through his pants. He studied Azriel, seemingly waiting for him to speak.
“She hates me,” Azriel whispered finally. “She said she never wants to see me again.”
Cassian sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Fuck.”
Azriel could only nod sadly.
“You know she didn't mean it. At least not the second part. She loves you.”
Sniffing, wiping at his eyes, Azriel groaned. “I don't know if she does anymore.”
“She does,” Cassian said quietly. “I know she does.”
After a beat of silence, Cassian asked, “What are you going to do?”
Azriel shrugged, watching his bloody hands start to heal. “Well. I could either hang around, keep apologizing, and piss her off more, or… leave her alone…”
“And piss her off more,” Cassian added.
A dry laugh escaped Azriel. “Exactly.”
Cassian was quiet for a moment, seemingly pondering how to help him.
“I’m not giving up on her,” Azriel finally said, with more conviction than he felt. “I just… I don't want to make it worse.”
“Az, I hate to tell you this, but I don't think it could get much worse,” Cassian said, grimacing.
Azriel just sighed, stretching out his wings behind him.
---
I knew I'd curse you for the longest time
Chasing shadows in the grocery line.
Seeing Azriel again, seeing him beg on his knees for your forgiveness, seeing how hollow his eyes looked, how his shadows were so unrelenting around him, had absolutely wrecked you.
It was another few days until you had the courage to leave the river house at all.
Azriel had come back to the river house several times, but you had your friends send him away. You couldn’t bear to see him again.
Feyre and Rhysand had checked on you frequently during your stay at their house, consoling you, cursing Azriel’s name right along with you. Rhys had even loaned you what you needed to get your own apartment, on the other side of Velaris from the one that you once shared with Azriel.
That part seemed to make it final, somehow. You could almost convince yourself it had all been a dream until you made your way to your new, empty apartment, without a trace of the love that used to be yours.
That empty apartment wrecked you all over again, and as you looked around it for the first time, your body folded in half, arms wrapping around your stomach as your body racked with sobs.
You had started to regret insisting that you do this part by yourself.
It was really over. Azriel really cheated on you and it was really done.
You knew it was time to start distancing yourself from Azriel’s family. They had undoubtedly been on your side this whole time, but even Rhysand and Feyre were starting to change their tune slightly. You know he loves you still. You know he’s a good male. You know he’s so sorry.
You understood where they were coming from, really, you did.
But that didn’t make it hurt less. What you needed was to hate him. It was the only way you could ever bring yourself to move on, to start living your life again.
You had been solemnly unpacking for a few hours when there was a knock on your door. You stiffened immediately. Rhysand and Feyre had said that they wouldn’t tell Azriel where you lived, but maybe he had figured it out?
“Relax sweetheart, it’s me,” Cassian said on the other side of the door, and you did relax, if only slightly. You hadn’t seen him since before this all started.
Reluctantly you let him in. He was sauntering, wearing that easy smirk he always donned. You couldn’t decide if it was comforting or annoying.
Cassian whistled as he looked around. “Nice place.”
You settled on the couch, tucking your feet underneath you. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes softened as he walked closer to you, then perched next to you on the couch, not quite relaxed. “I wanted to check on you.”
“You can report back to Azriel that I’m just as pissed as ever,” you grumbled.
“He doesn’t know I’m here,” Cassian said quietly.
Skeptically, you turned to face him. You were sure he would be the most likely to take Azriel’s side.
After a moment, Cassian said, “If it’s any consolation, he hates himself probably about as much as you hate him right now.”
“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse,” you admitted.
Cassian sighed, leaning back into the couch. “Did you mean it? That you never wanted to see him again?”
You shifted, hugging your knees to your chest. “In the moment I did. Thinking about seeing him now… it breaks me apart. But, thinking about the rest of my life completely without him…”
“That breaks you apart too?” Cassian offered.
You nodded, tears stinging your eyes.
“Okay, look,” Cassian said, turning so he fully faced you. “I’m going to tell you something. You’re my friend and he’s my brother, and I love you both, so I need you to know I’m not trying to convince you of anything, I am merely giving you information. Okay?”
“O-kay…”
He took a deep breath, seemingly gathering his thoughts, before he continued. “Azriel has always felt like he was inferior. The way he was raised… he carries that around more than a lot of people think. He often thinks that he isn’t good enough for people, but especially you.”
“How do you know?” You knew that Az still dealt with a lot from his childhood, but he wouldn’t often voice those things to you. He had mentioned something about not feeling good enough when you saw him, but you weren’t sure what to make of it.
“He mentioned it to me a few times, that he didn’t feel like he was the kind of person you should be with. You’re so bright and bubbly, he felt like you deserved somebody who was the same.”
You rested your cheek on your knee, trying to digest the information. “But… he must have known I never actually felt like that, right?”
Cassian shrugged. “On a good day, maybe. But deep down I think he always had it in the back of his mind: that fear that he wasn’t right for you.”
“He should’ve told me,” you said quietly.
“I agree. And I’m not saying that it excuses what he did, but that day…it was a hard one for him. What he had to do in the Court of Nightmares.”
Your stomach dropped. You hadn’t even thought about that.
“Well, he should’ve told me that too.”
Cassian nodded. “Yes. He should have.”
You groaned. “I hate this.”
“I know,” he said quietly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “I’m sorry.”
Cassian let you cry on his chest for a long moment before he said, “hH wants to come see you, you know. He doesn't want to give up on you.”
When you didn't respond, he said softly, “Just think about it.”
Days later, all that Cassian had said was still ringing in your ears, even as you walked through the market when it was the busiest.
Despite everything, it hurt your heart to think that Azriel had ever felt like he wasn't enough for you. And you were still so hurt at what he had done and what you had seen, but it at least made more sense now.
You hated this feeling of loneliness that followed you around wherever you went now, rooted so deeply in you that you were scared it would never go away.
Azriel had been so good to you for so long. Was one mistake really worth throwing everything away?
Every time you had the thought though, you remembered the sight of him in her bed and wanted to scream or cry or kick something.
Suddenly, as you were nearing the edge of the market, you swore you saw the wisp of a curling shadow out of the corner of your eye and stiffened. This hadn't been the first time that you thought you glimpsed Azriel's shadows or wings in public since it happened.
But, no this time it was real. And he saw you too.
You willed your feet to move, but they wouldn't. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, from this man who had loved and hurt you so completely.
Azriel approached you like you were an injured animal he was trying not to scare away. Your heart thundered in your chest.
“Hi,” he said in what you knew was his gentlest voice.
You couldn't bring yourself to speak. Still, after everything, you missed him. And seeing him now… it was too much to bear. Yet, too much to walk away.
“I'm sorry,” he said softly, his eyes swimming with pain and affection. His shadows were on full display, despite the fact that they usually shied away from the sun.
“You've already said that,” you murmured, still rooted to the spot.
“I know. And I'll keep saying it every chance I get. If I knew where you lived, I'd send you flowers or a book or dinner from that restaurant you love every day and I'd tell you I'm sorry and that I love you.” His voice was shaky in a way you had never heard from the shadowsinger.
“You would not,” you said, trying to sound angry but it just came out weak.
“Of course I would,” he said, risking a step closer to you. “I would do anything to take your pain away. You have to believe that.”
You did. You did believe that he meant it. But you didn't know if it would be enough.
For a moment you let yourself gaze at the man you once trusted with your whole heart. He looked thinner, like he hadn't been eating enough. His eyes were still hollow, dark bags beneath them. Even his wings drooped slightly. He might look even worse than you did.
And yet, you could still see the beautiful, sweet shadowsinger you had fallen in love with so long ago.
Finally you said quietly, “I'll tell Rhys he can give you my address.”
Those hazel eyes sparked with hope. And love. Definitely love.
---
The only thing I wanna do
Is make it up to you.
When you went out the next morning, there was a book left at your doorstep with a note attached.
It was the newest from one of your favorite authors. Your lips formed the tiniest smile.
The note read:
I couldn't start my groveling with something too cliche, so I went straight for your romance novels.
I've never told you this, but I always love when you tell me about the books you’re reading. Your entire face lights up when you do. And you know I love a fairytale ending.
I hope you have a good day today.
I'm so sorry for what I did. I'm so sorry for hurting you.
I love you so much. I always will.
-Az
You couldn't help but laugh a little by the time you got to the end. As if anybody else would be writing you this note.
The next morning when you stepped out your door, there was a pastry from your favorite cafe in a to-go bag. On the bag was a note:
I'm really hoping you'll find this in the morning so it's still good.
If not, you just come let me know and I'll drop everything to get you a fresh one.
I miss you.
My life is a nightmare without you.
I'm so sorry.
I love you.
-Az
And so it went. Every morning, rain or shine, Azriel would leave something that he knew you would love, with a note, always ending in some version of I'm sorry. I love you.
It did warm your heart that had turned so cold. The dedication alone was enough to prove to you that he really was sorry for what he did.
Yet, every time a note would make you laugh or cry so much that you wanted to run to his arms, you were always stopped by that image that plagued your mind. By the fact that he did what he did and no amount of little gifts would change it.
Months passed, and to Azriel's credit, the gifts, and more importantly the notes, kept coming. Your bedside drawer was completely full of them. And there may have been a night or two when you missed him so desperately that you would read them over and over again until your eyes burned and you had no choice but to cry yourself to sleep.
You would sometimes lay awake at night, picturing him coming up to your door. Several times you wanted to wait up for him, to listen for his footsteps, to pull him into your apartment, forget everything that happened and just be happy again.
But you never had the nerve. You were terrified of going through it all again.
Until one day, there was no gift at your door. No note. No sign of him anywhere.
Your heart plummeted. Had something happened to him? Was he hurt? Injured on some mission Rhysand sent him on?
Or had he finally given up on you?
It wasn't until that moment that you were willing to admit to yourself how much you had been relying on those notes, those little pieces of him.
You went through your day in a daze, devastated all over again.
It was early in the evening when there was a knock on your door. For a moment, you hoped it would be Azriel. You hadn't actually seen him for months. But you quickly realized it was more likely to be one of your friends, who still came by, despite what you had initially thought.
So, the breath was knocked completely out of you when it was indeed the shadowsinger waiting on the other side of the door.
His handsome face, his soft expression, on his face made you want to weep. You missed him so much.
Azriel smiled somewhat shyly as he gazed down at you, holding a paper bag in his hand. “I'm sorry it's late. Rhys has got me scouting out some things, and I didn't get back here until now. I brought dinner,” he said, holding it out to you.
You recognized it from your favorite restaurant. With shaking hands, you took it from him, spotting the note attached to the outside.
I'm sorry. I love you.
I'm sorry. I love you.
I'm sorry. I love you.
Over and over again it was repeated, taking up the entire paper. You placed it on a table inside before your gaze flicked back to him. He was watching you closely, his wings tucked in tightly behind him.
“I thought you gave up on me,” you whispered.
His timid smile fell. “Never,” he said softly. “I'll never give up on you. I love you so much.”
Tears brimmed your eyes and all of a sudden, you knew you couldn't take it anymore. You didn't want to hate him, you didn't want to dwell on the one awful thing that he had done. You had a drawer full of wonderful things that he had done.
“I love you, too,” you murmured, the tears spilling freely down your cheeks now.
A sound that sounded distinctly like a sob escaped Azriel, and he wrapped his arms around you, crushing you into his chest. “I never thought I'd hear you say that again,” he sniffed, his hand cupping the back of your head, kissing your temple.
After a long moment, he took your face in his hands, gazing at you for a moment before he slowly kissed your tears away. You laughed lightly and he smiled, leaning in to kiss you so softly, like he was afraid you would break.
“I love you,” he murmured against your mouth. “I love you so much.”
You pulled back long enough to gently brush his tears away. “No more secrets. If you're struggling with something, you need to tell me.”
“I know. I'm sorry. No more secrets.”
“And nobody else. Ever.”
He winced. “I'm so sorry, love.”
“I know you are,” you said softly, cupping his cheek in your hand.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
You rose to your tiptoes to kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck.
At last, you had found your way back home.
A/N: Want to see Azriel pay for his crimes instead? Go read the alternate angsty ending here!
#acotar fic#acotar one shot#acotar x reader#azriel x reader#acotar#azriel one shot#azriel#azriel acotar#azriel x you#azriel angst#acotar angst#acotar fanfic#angst#angst with a happy ending#request#azriel fanfic#acotar azriel
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He doesn't deserve you - Mattheo Riddle
Synopsis: Mattheo is your best friend and doesn't like your boyfriend
Warnings: swearing, suggested toxic relationship
Requests are open :)
The Hogwarts corridors buzzed with students rushing to and fro, their chatter and laughter filling the air. Amidst the bustling crowd, you tried your best to navigate your way through the bustling crowd, feeling a weight on your shoulders that wasn't just from your bag full of textbooks.
"Hey, Y/N!" A voice called out, and Mattheo Riddle appeared at her side, a small smile on his face, one that he pretty much reserved for only her. The two of them had been best friends for years now, trusting each other more than anyone else
"Hey, Theo," you replied, trying to match his enthusiasm, though your smile faltered slightly. Thoughts of your boyfriend had been weighing on your mind for the last hour after one of the Slytherin girls had muttered a few words under her breath at the beginning of potions class.
You hadn't heard what she had said word for word, but you did manage to make out the part where she had said 'why is he even with her, he could do so much better?'
"What's wrong?" Mattheo asked, his voice holding a joking tone "Someone take a shit in your coffee this morning?" but his grin faltered a little as he caught the sad glimpse in her eyes, "hey? What's wrong?"
You hesitated, glancing around to ensure no one was listening before you spoke in a hushed tone, almost like you were embarrassed or ashamed. "It's just… I don't know if I belong where I am."
Mattheo's gaze softened, and he leaned in slightly, an intent yet confused look in his eyes. "What do you mean?" His earthy eyes flickered over her face, switching between her pretty eyes, her slightly chapped lips which he could tell she had been gnawing at (something she did when she was anxious) and her cute freckles.
"It's just… my boyfriend, you know," you began, your voice filled with uncertainty. "He's in the year above us and he's so smart and popular, and… sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough for him. Like he's too good for me, ya know what I mean?."
You forced yourself to look up at your best friend, curious as to what his reaction would be. You felt your cheeks flush red in embarrassment as you noticed the unreadable look on his face. Maybe I'm just over thinking? You opened your mouth to say something, hoping to put it behind you and escape an awkward situation but Mattheo cut you off.
"Too good for you? Don't be ridiculous. They don't deserve you." Mattheo's expression shifted, his eyes reflecting a mixture of empathy and disbelief.
You chuckled weakly, feeling lucky to have someone like Mattheo as your friend, but you know he was only saying it because he felt like he had to. "You're biased, Mattheo. You're my best friend."
"I'm not biased," he insisted, a hint of urgency in his voice. "I know you, love. You're kind, smart, and one of the most genuine people I've ever met. Anyone would be lucky to have you."
You met his gaze, feeling a mix of gratitude and doubt. "I wish I could believe that."
"You should," Mattheo replied firmly. "You're worth more than you give yourself credit for."
As they walked, you couldn't shake off the doubts that lingered in your mind, wondering if you truly belonged with someone like your boyfriend. He was a year older, had beautiful green eyes and nice brown hair too, plus he was one of the smartest Slytherins in his year.
Mattheo, on the other hand, couldn't fathom why she would ever doubt her worth. He hated that she didn't see what he saw.
Days passed, and you found yourself spending more time with Mattheo, seeking solace and comfort in his conversations. He was always there to lift your spirits and now that exams were coming up, the two of you could help each other out with study.
One afternoon, the two of you sat by the lake, the sunlight dancing on the water's surface as you sighed, feeling the weight of your insecurities pressing down on you. You played with the hair tie on your wrist, your head slightly sore from the ponytail that you had your hair in the whole day, happy that you could let your hair down now.
"y/n/n," Mattheo began, his tone gentle but firm, "you need to stop doubting yourself."
"I'm fine Theo," you sighed, letting out a soft sigh as you gazed out at the lake in front of you, your eyes lighting up slightly as you watched some fish jump out then back in, playing around.
"You're not," Mattheo insisted, he bumped your shoulder softly, making you look over at him, his eyes locking with yours. "Your boyfriend is a dick and you're sitting here wondering if you're good enough for him? He stands you up all the time, laughs at you and doesn't stick up for you when his friends say shit about you."
"Theo..."
"I know you wont listen to me cause you're stubborn as shit, but believe me when I tell you, you're better off without him," Mattheo sighs
The conversation lingered in the air, but before they could delve deeper, footsteps interrupted their moment. Your boyfriend approached you both, a smirk on his face as he greeted you.
"Hey, babe," he said casually, barely acknowledging Mattheo's presence.
"Hey," you replied softly, feeling a twinge of discomfort.
"Ready to go?" he asked, already turning to leave.
You glanced at Mattheo, who met your gaze with a subtle look of concern. You winced slightly as you subconsciously bit the inside of your cheek, going to stand up
Mattheo looked up at him, a blank look on his face, "Actually, mate we were kinda in the middle of talking about the potions assignment we're working on together."
Your boyfriend scoffed, "cant you talk about that shit later man? My mates and I were gonna go down and grab some food and shit from the kitchens and the elves always give us more when y/n is there since they like her."
"Well as I said, we're kind of busy," Mattheo snapped, his voice dangerously low.
Your boyfriend rolled his eyes and looked at you, "get up, lets go," he grumbled waiting for you to stand up, but you didn't move.
Her boyfriend raised an eyebrow, a hint of annoyance crossing his features. "Fine. Suit yourself."
As he walked away, you felt a mix of relief and uncertainty wash over you. She turned to Mattheo, a silent question in her eyes.
"You deserve better than that," Mattheo said quietly, his voice tinged with frustration. "You deserve someone who sees your worth and values you for who you are. Plus he's just a dick overall"
You swallowed hard, feeling a knot form in your stomach. "Do you really think so?"
"I know so," Mattheo replied firmly, his gaze unwavering. "You're one of the best people I know, and you deserve someone who sees that."
You nodded, feeling a surge of conflicting emotions as you watched your boyfriend disappear into the castle. Mattheo's words echoed in your mind, a voice of reason amid your doubts.
*
Days turned into weeks, and you found yourself reassessing your relationship. Mattheo had been consistent with his whole 'I hate your stupid ass boyfriend' thing, which didn't really help any of your doubts.
However it had seemed to have opened your eyes a bit. You began to notice how close your boyfriend would get to other girls, picked up on his snarky remarks that he would mutter under his breath when you would say stuff, the way he'd just sit there and even sometimes laugh when his friends would say something about you.
One evening, as you sat in the library, your boyfriend approached you, his expression plain and care free.
"Hey, Y/N," he began, a note of hesitation in his voice. "I've been thinking… I'm not sure this is working out."
You felt your hear skip a few beats, a mix of emotions flooding through you. She looked up to meet his gaze, surprised yet oddly relieved
"Okay," you replied softly, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you. In all honesty, you saw it coming.
"Okay?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked down at you, "that's it?"
"What? Did you expect her to beg you to stay?" a voice spoke up. You felt your eyes widen at the familiar tone
"Theo?" You asked in shock, turning in your seat to see Mattheo standing behind you, glaring at the boy who was standing in front of you
Your boyfriend ex-boyfriend scoffed, rolling his eyes, "fuck off Riddle," he sneered, taking a step forwards. Mattheo took a step closer to him, not cowering in the slightest as he dug his hands into his pockets, a cold look on his face
"You said your point, you can leave now," Mattheo said plainly. Your ex rolled his eyes, huffing a 'whatever' before turning around and leaving.
You sat there, feeling a sense of freedom mingled with uncertainty.
"Are you okay?" Mattheo asked gently, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.
"I think so," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "It's just… unexpected."
Mattheo's hand squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "Sometimes unexpected things are for the best."
They sat in silence, the weight of the moment hanging between them. You found yourself feeling a mix of emotions—relief, sadness, and a tinge of regret. You glanced at Mattheo, feeling grateful for his unwavering support.
"Thank you," you said softly, meeting his gaze. "For everything."
"Always," Mattheo replied with a small smile, his eyes filled with understanding and support. He had been there for a long time, stuck by her side through everything.
And all he could do was hope that one day, she would love him just as much as he loved her.
#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheoxreader#slytherin x yn#slytherin imagines#harrypotter#harry potter imagines#mattheo riddle fluff#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle x hufflepuff#mattheo riddle x Ravenclaw#mattheo riddle x slytherin#mattheo riddle x gryffindor#fluff#fluff imagine#drabble#adiraargent
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could you please write something where maybe bombshell!reader hears one of the team members teasing about how she’s torturing spencer and she kinda backs off with the flirting and maybe it’s his turn to hold her hand and call her cute names because even though he always says he doesn’t mind, maybe he does and he just doesn’t want to tell her
tysm for requesting, 1k
Spencer's hair is brown silk in the sun. You bite your tongue to hold in a compliment rearing to come out, saccharine and completely true. Looking sweet, Spence.
You love to compliment him and especially while Hotch is out of earshot. He and Derek play pairs against two agents from a different unit, their tennis racquets a shiny FBI navy. You start to speak and bite it back —a memory flashes, a shouting stop sign.
You'd been teasing Spencer as he left the room, something about his indecisive hair. He's cut it shorter but left his curls without product, and you love it.
Poor guy, Emily'd murmured, lips set against the rim of her coffee cup.
What's the matter with him? you asked, perplexed.
Nothing, just that he spins into a total meltdown every time you guys are within ten feet of each other. He must be exhausted.
She was joking and you know that, but something deep down worries she's right. It's not fair for you to keep winding him up… Especially when Spencer might be going along with you because he isn't sure how to say no.
What if you're forcing yourself on him?
You're sitting together on a small blanket in the grass with Anderson and a few of the other less competitive BAU agents. You bring your bottled iced tea to your forehead to cool down, condensation wetting your hot skin. The top of your head feels as though it has the full concentration of the sun beating against it.
Spencer looks up at your movement. He's been reading a book for pleasure, or so he says, so he isn't going a mile a minute but he's still way faster than the average Joe. "Do you want to go find some shade?" he asks.
"You look comfortable," you say, putting your iced tea aside.
Which is to say, I don't want you to come with me, it would disrupt you. Spencer nods and turns to the brown leather of his familiar satchel, popping the buckle open to dig around inside.
"Do you think this would be okay?" he asks, bringing out his baseball cap.
The fabric is starchy and the brim stiff as you accept it and wedge it over your head. You don't immediately cool, but your heart spins strange loops. "Thank you," you say. Thank you, handsome, gorgeous, baby, all beg to be said.
Spencer stays looking at you for longer than normal.
"Do I have something on my face?" you ask, swatting self consciously at your cheeks.
"Nothing. You look really pretty," he says.
"Thank you." Another loop. You point at his book, fingertip hitting a creamy page with a small thud. "Is this any good?"
"I think you'd really like it, it feels like that last book I borrowed from you, and you loved that. They're very similar. I can lend it to you when I'm done."
"Don't rush it for my sake."
Spencer gives you a private smile. "I won't. Just because you could watch a movie at two times speed doesn't mean you should."
Your returning smile isn't half as nice. No shared lightness, no bright eyes. You're feeling awkward and unhappy —you really like Spencer. Like, you think you could be happy together for a long long time sort of like. He's charming and sweet and no one is ever as kind to him as he deserves, which is why you're trying to be kind now by putting distance between you.
You'll be brash forever. You can't change that, and Spencer doesn't need the stress of dealing with you, not on top of everything else.
His smile fades as yours does. Quiet, without fuss, he scoots back on the picnic blanket, putting you knee to knee. The subtle muscle of his arm presses to yours and his hand wraps gently around your wrist as he dips his head down, his cheek touching briefly to your shoulder.
"I know it's nice, but if the heat is getting to you we should go inside," he says, his fingers sliding across your palm to slot between your own. He squeezes your hand. "Heat stroke isn't obvious at first. Do you feel woozy?"
You stare at your twined fingers. He surprises you again, being this soft with you, and being uncharacteristically forward. Or maybe not uncharacteristic at all; Spencer won't let something like timidity stop him from comforting someone that needs it.
"Spence," you murmur, closing your eyes, face angled down.
"What?"
"I'm sorry if I… If I've been messing you around. But I don't think this is a good idea."
"What's not a good idea?"
You can't make yourself say it. Instead, you rub the back of his hand, more for your own comfort than his, your tongue like a useless lump in your mouth.
"You're sorry? Are you sure you're okay?" Spencer asks, no heed to the people sitting with you as he lets go of your hand to put his arm behind your shoulder like a shield.
"I don't want to torture you," you say.
Your friends love that word. You torture Spencer with your flirting and your easy affection.
Spencer makes a face, eyes squinting and nose wrinkled. "They're just kidding when they say that. Emily, Morgan, they like making fun of me, it's like, sibling bonding or something. They don't say it because there's actually something to feel sorry about." He lowers his voice, bashful but sincere at once, "If you're torturing me, I guess I'm a masochist."
You laugh without thinking, a breathless, girlish sound you'd regret if you had the wherewithal. "You're a masochist?" you ask.
He takes the brim of your borrowed hat and pushes it up to unobstruct the view of your eyes.
"If that's what it takes," he says. A hint of wryness creeps into his otherwise smooth tone.
Despite his brave talk and his steady eye contact, his face has started to blush. A rosy hue kisses the tops of his cheeks and his nose, a dusting of pink splodges stark against his paleness. The curve of his lips seems extra tantalising now. He's very, very pretty.
And he doesn't mind stepping in to take the reins when you're unsure of things.
"We really should sit in the shade for a bit," he says. "Let's get drinks from the gazebo. Yeah?"
You're halfway through a nod when he kisses your cheek too quickly for you to respond. You follow him to the gazebo without any more reluctance, weaselling your hand back into his, and attempt to pull another kiss from him.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader
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Hi, how are you?
What about something with Joel being reunited with reader, they find out they're alive those 20 years after (they had been hanging out for a while and were so in love with each other, but then the outbreak happened)
Thank you so much ❤️ your writing is amazing!!
AN | You ordered some fluffy fluff? Well, here it is! Enjoy ❤️
Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
Warnings | Language, Mild spoilers for TLOU 2 (if you squint)
Word Count | 3.7k
Masterlist | Joel, Main
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“Do you ever wonder if we’ll find love again?”
“What?” you snorted in amusement as you lifted your head to look at the girl lying next to you. She turned to you with a sheepish girl, biting her lip as she shrugged at you, “I guess I’ve never really thought about it.”
“You’ve never thought about falling in love again?” a dreamy sigh escaped her lips, but she kept her gaze turned up towards the night sky. The two of you were lying on the roof of her building, studying the stars.
“I don’t know,” you admitted in earnest, reaching for her arm and giving it a gentle squeeze, “for a long time we weren’t really at liberty to think about that kind of stuff. And I guess I got so used to not having…someone that I never really thought about it anymore.”
“So you haven’t had-”
“I didn’t say that,” you rolled onto your stomach and perched your chin in your hand as you studied her, “there’s a difference between sex and love, and sometimes we all need some release.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she giggled, covering her warm face as you shrugged, “I don’t know…I just think I like the idea that someday I could fall in love again.”
“And you will,” you promised sweetly, brushing a few locks of hair out of her face, “you’re amazing, Allie. Someone is going to be very lucky to love you and be loved by you.”
“You’re right,” she grinned coquettishly, “I am pretty fucking amazing.”
“Duh.”
“You’ll find someone too,” she insisted and you tried to play her off, “if you want to.”
“I don’t know if I’d even want to,” you confessed softly, turning your face away so she couldn’t see the tears welling up in your eyes. You’d thought you’d had it all, and that you’d met the one. Once upon a time, you’d thought he was going to be your future - now you didn’t even know if he was alive, “I don’t…I’ll be okay if it never happens.”
“Everyone deserves love,” she insisted and while you weren’t so sure, you couldn’t deny that her enthusiasm was infectious, “what was his name?”
“Joel,” you whispered softly, the name feeling almost off and foreign on your lips, “his name was Joel.”
“What was he like?” Allie was under the firm belief that talking about things, even if they were painful, was the best therapy of all. You inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling, overwhelmed by a mixture of emotions all at once.
“He was….he was a lot of things,” you closed your eyes as you tried to keep the pain at bay and turn it into happy memories, “he was a stubborn man, but he was also so wonderful. He was so kind, smart, and resourceful. He was so deadpan and his humor was dry but he was just so funny. He’d do anything for the people he loved. He…was a carpenter, and worked with his brother. He had a daughter named Sarah - I loved her so much. All of them. Things were so easy with them, with him, I…it seems silly in hindsight, but I really thought I’d spend the rest of my life with Joel.”
“You really loved him, huh?” she reached over and brushed away the tears that had rolled down your cheek. You sniffled before nodding, “what did he look like?”
“He was handsome,” your face flushed with warmth as you remembered the first time you’d seen him. You’d fallen for him then and there, and things had never really changed, “he had dark brown hair, it would always get all curly when he let it get a little longer. He had brown eyes, but they were so pretty, all different shades and kinda like warm honey in the light. He had a beard but there were two little patches that never seemed to grow hair. I used to joke that they were perfect spots for leaving kisses. He had lots of freckles, and he was just…lovely. Maybe I’m just biased but he was really my favorite person ever.”
“I can tell you really loved him,” you closed your eyes and let out a long sigh as you nodded, “I’m sure he loved you just as much.”
“I thought that we might even get married one day,” you admitted, something you’d never even said out loud, “but obviously…life had a different plan.”
“I don’t mean to pry and you can stop me at any time,” she leaned in, her voice sweet and gentle. You knew she meant well and that she cared; she’d already shared her entire story with you, but you’d been more reserved, “what happened?”
“The day everything went to hell,” you finished for her and she nodded gravely, “I had been out of town, visiting a friend. Can you believe it? It might have been the worst timing in the world. We lived in Austin but I was a few hours away. After I saw everything on the news, I tried calling and calling but I couldn’t get through - cell towers were jammed. I thought about driving home that night but it wasn’t safe. The highways were all packed and people were already going crazy. My idea at the time had been to wait until things calmed down and I’d drive home and be with my family. I never got the chance. Life completely fell apart.”
“Oh honey…”
“I blamed myself for a long time,” you whispered, “because of….of all the times I could have chosen to go, and I picked that week. It could have been any other week. I don’t know if they tried to find me or just find safety. I hope it was the latter. I hope they got out safely. That was the last day I ever saw them. That morning before we all left for the day work and school. It was Joel’s birthday too.”
“Oh my god.”
“Worst day of my life,” you rolled onto your back and looked at the stars again, finding some comfort in the fact that if they were still alive they were looking at the very same stars, “I just hope they’re okay. Wherever they are.”
“I’m sure they still love you too,” Allie hugged onto you and you held her back as best as you could, “you don’t ever lose that kind of love.”
“Maybe,” you were willing to dream, even if you had your doubts, “but hey, I love you too, kid.”
“Love you more.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
You’d been unable to sleep that night, finding yourself tossing and turning, memories of what had been plaguing your mind. At some point, when the sun was already peeking over the horizon again, you crawled out of bed and pulled on a pair of boots, deciding to go for a walk. It was still quiet and peaceful, and it would give you the chance to avoid crowds of people. Not that you minded people, but right now you really were just in the mood to be alone.
You stepped in the early morning sun and stretched, relief in the popping of your joints as you started your little walk. It was quiet out here and safe - safer than anywhere else you’d been. The sounds of the early morning birds and creatures accompanied you, helping to alleviate your thoughts. You concentrated on your breathing and listening to each footfall and tuning into the world around you.
It worked to an extent and you found yourself feeling better once you decided to go back to town. The place was slowly coming to life and a smile worked its way onto your face. Maybe today you’d clean your place and do all the laundry; a fresh start and hopefully a positive mindset.
As you made your way back to your place, you found that people seemed to be twittering around excitedly. You didn’t know what was going on, but it made you happy nonetheless. Better to be happy than miserable, right?
“Hey, Bee,” Allie ran up behind you, looping her arm through yours and almost knocking you over excitedly. You laughed at her use of your nickname, which coincidentally had come from her because you were always buzzing around like a honey bee, “have you heard the news?”
“It’s barely daybreak and I’ve just come back from a walk,” you laughed and shook your head, “needless to say, no I haven’t heard the news. What could possibly be so exciting?”
“Newcomers,” she clutched onto your arm, “fresh blood.”
“Ahh, yes,” you nudged her in the side, “how could I forget that you’re the one woman welcoming committee? Or is it just the fact that you’re nosey?”
“I am not n-”
“It’s a sin to lie,” you tutted playfully, “we’re all nosey, in our own way. Are these people vetted?”
“Tommy says he knows ‘em,” she shrugged. You like Tommy…he reminded you so much of Joel and his brother, “says they’re good people. Not just some random outsiders.”
“Well,” you offered a small smile. You’d already long given up on the hope that you’d run into them again. But still, after all this time, your heart always skipped a little at the possibility, however slim, “it’s all good to have new people around. Maybe they can even help keep us all safe.”
“Maybe,” her eyes lit up with excitement, “I’m gonna go and meet them - do you want to come?”
“I’m okay,” your smile was meek as you shook your head, “I’m just gonna do some cleaning today. Maybe plant some fresh veggies since spring is coming up fast.”
“Alright,” she skipped ahead, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “I’ll see you later, Bee!”
“See you,” there was an affectionate smile on your face as you watched her run off. She was so kind and cheerful that you couldn’t imagine anyone not loving her. You spotted one of the local stray cats walking around and purring softly, “you want to come and help me?”
The cat paused for a moment, tail twitching before it took off.
“Me too buddy,” you walked back to your small house, unaware and unassuming of just exactly the turn your day was about to take.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
It was the late afternoon by the time you emerged from your house again, deciding to go off in search of some seeds to plant. Carol had some at some point, so you figured it was best to start with her. You grabbed a bag and headed off towards her house, distracted by the fat, fluffy clouds in the sky.
You definitely weren’t paying much attention as you looked up, instead of straight ahead…and promptly proceeded to walk into something. Or someone, rather. You groaned, at yourself rather than anything else as you offered your victim a sheepish expression, “oh no! I am so sorry! Totally not paying attention at all.”
“It’s okay,” that was a voice you didn’t recognize. You turned your gaze to the young woman in front of you and offered her a small smile. She was no doubt one of the newcomers, pretty and athletic looking with a kind smile, “I should have been watching where I was going too. There’s just so much to look at here.”
“You must be new,” she smiled sweetly and nodded. You held out your hand and offered her your name, “but everyone calls me Bee! If you ever need anything or have any questions, or anything at all let me know. It’s hard moving someplace new, but we’re all friendly here…except maybe Andy. He’s still friendly, just kind of old and crotchety. But we’re happy to have you here!”
“Thank you,” she seemed shy but like she’d open up and get more comfortable soon, “I’m Ellie. Crotchety and old sounds kinda like my old man.”
“You came with your dad?” you asked, just as nosey as you’d called Allie.
“It’s…complicated,” she shrugged, but her expression didn’t waiver, “he’s not my dad, but he’s my family.”
“I understand,” you promised softly, “it’s like that for a lot of us these days. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ellie. Hope you see you around!”
“You too,” she watched you go, instantly deciding that she liked you. If everyone in Jackson was like you, they would have no time fitting in and making friends.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
You were stopped a few more times on your way to Carol’s, everyone abuzz and happy today. And all it took was a couple of new faces.
“Hey Carol-”
“Have you heard the good news?” you crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow at her. The older woman offered up a shrug as if to say what can you do? You motioned for her to go on, “the two new folks we’ve got joining.”
“So I’ve heard,” you made yourself at home, as you often did, and went to help yourself to a cup of coffee, “it seems like that’s all anyone is talking about today. I met one of them - a young woman, Ellie. She seemed nice.”
“It’s not just that,” she almost dropped her voice to a whisper and you looked around as if there was someone that she was trying to avoid, “the man with her!”
“And just what about the man with her is the big deal?” Maybe there was something in the water today. You grimaced at your cup before setting it back on the counter. Just in case.
“It’s Tommy’s brother!”
“I didn’t know Tommy had a brother,” you still weren’t following, “is he like a long lost brother?”
“They haven’t seen each other in a few years,” she explained, “but apparently he used to be in good with the Fireflys. Just like Tommy before he and Maria left. Anyway, they’ve always been close, but it’s…it’s nice to see him so happy.”
Your heart skipped a few beats as it seemed to rattle around your chest. Surely, this was all some sort of weird coincidence or something. Similar situations….that was all. Besides, Tommy was a common name and lots of people had brothers. But you just…couldn’t hold back your curiosity, “what’s his name? Tommy’s brother?”
“I’m afraid I don’t sweetheart know,” she gave your shoulder a squeeze as you tried to hide the disappointed look on your face, “I’m sure you can catch the two of them. They’re going around so Tommy can show him everything.”
“Thanks,” you were heading towards the door without a second thought.
“Wait - what did you need?” she pointed to your bag as you shook your head.
“It’s nothing that can’t wait,” you grinned, “I’ll be back later. But right now I-I have to go.”
You almost ran out of her house, leaving her staring after you with a confused expression. You looked around for the man in question, but didn’t see him anywhere nearby. You huffed lightly and went up to the first person you saw, a young man who you were pretty sure was named Ryan, “hey - have you seen Tommy?”
“Somewhere along the outskirts near the west perimeter,” he pointed over his shoulder, and you were already pushing past him with so much as a glance back. You walked as quickly as you could towards the edge of town, eventually resorting to a slow run when you grew impatient.
Luckily, you quickly spotted two figures at the edge and your heart almost burst out of your chest with nervous anticipation and excitement, “Tommy!”
He turned around at the sound of your approaching footsteps, an easy smile on his face when he realized it was you, “Bee!”
“I heard,” you took a moment to catch your breath, clutching at the stitch in your side as your eyes were practically glue to the other man’s frame, “I heard-”
“I’m sure you did,” he laughed, an easy sound that you liked, “word travels fast around here. Bee, this is brother - Joel.”
No, no, no. Even now you were convinced that it was all some sort of cosmic coincidence. The man in question slowly turned around to take a look at you. As soon as you were able to get a good look at him, your heart felt like it was about to burst out of your chest. There was no way, right? Right?
The man in front of you was older, with peppered gray hair, more line in his face, and a hardened look about him. But there was no mistaking it - him. This was him…after all these years he was standing right in front of you. His expression shifted through a slew of different emotions as he studied you, trying to process the same thing you were internally freaking out about.
“Joel?” his name fell from your lips so softly that it almost wasn’t audible. When he didn’t say anything at first, you wondered if he didn’t remember you for some reason or something.
But then you heard it - the soft whisper of your name. You were somewhere between tears and shock and laughter and all you managed to do was give him a teary nod. And then it happened so fast - you’d both stepped forward and he quickly wrapped you in his arms, crushing you to his chest, as he held onto you tightly.
You were definitely crying by this moment, burying your face into his chest, afraid that if you loosened your grip you’d lose him all over again. You heard him sniffle as well, and he pressed soft kisses to the side of your head, his heart beating wildly.
It seemed like the two of you head onto each for an eternity before slowly pulling apart, studying each other in awe. You cradled his face gently in your hands as you looked him over, admiring how he’d aged over the years despite the world weary look on his face. You brushed your thumb over the apple of his cheek, wiping away the tears that had pearled up and ran down his cheeks. You really hoped this wasn’t some sort of dream because waking up from it would be a nightmare.
“You look - “
“Old,” he finished for you in true Joel fashion. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips; the sound had become a memory over the years but it all came flooding back to him and went straight to his heart. The corners of his mouth twitched up slightly at your response.
“I wasn’t going to say that,” you insisted softly, “I was going to say you look good. You know, despite everything,”
“You look as beautiful as I remember,” he put his hand under your chin and turned your face up to his. This time it was tears running down your cheeks, “are you actually real or have I died and gone to heaven?”
“I’m here,” you promised, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and giving it a gentle squeeze, “I just can’t believe you are. After all this time…”
“I never thought I’d see you again,” he confessed, harsh and broken. He paused for a moment before turning to his brother, “how come you never told me she was here?”
“I didn’t realize…it was her,” he admitted sheepishly. You hadn’t realized it was him either. Back before the world fell apart you’d only met Tommy a few times and he had changed a lot, “I feel so stupid now. And everyone just called you Bee, and I never thought…”
“I didn’t realize either,” you choked out a laugh in between your tears, “but it doesn’t matter - you’re here now. And I….fuck. I’ve missed you so much…every day. I had no clue if you were alright, but there was always a small bit of me that never gave up hope.”
“If it’s any consolation, I’m glad you found each other,” Tommy offered the two of you a small wave before turning to go back and give you some privacy.
“We looked for you,” he promised as if you needed some sort of reassurance, “for so long. But-”
“Hey,” you gently trailed your fingers along his jaw, “the world was falling apart. We were all lost. None of that matters anymore. This is all that matters.”
The two of you studied each other, long and hard, before he held your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours, capturing them in a soft, but fervent kiss. It had been a long time since you’d been kissed and they’d been nothing compared to this. Once you were reacquainted with the touch and taste of him, you let him kiss you until you were breathless and dizzy. It felt like no time at all had passed.
When he pulled back, a look of concern crossed his features, “I-I’m sorry. I should have asked. I don’t even know if…there’s someone else.”
“There’s no one else,” you were quick to reassure him and he visibly relaxed, “there’s never been anyone else. Only a few…well you know.”
“I know,” he nodded in agreement, his hand gently tasting against your neck, “I imagined this moment so many times. But it still didn't live up to the real thing.”
“Me too,” you hummed in agreement before pulling him in for another hug, “I can’t believe you’re here. There’s just…so much to talk about.”
“Yes,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “but right now, I just want to enjoy this moment - enjoy you.”
“I agree,” you leaned in and stole a few more kisses, “you’re about to be bombarded by the entire town so we’d better make the most of it. Luckily, I know a quiet spot.”
“If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like you’re trying to seduce me,” there was that humor you loved so much. You playfully rolled your eyes at him.
“What if I am?” you teased, “is it working?”
“Always,” he promised softly, causing you to beam at him, “promise me one thing?”
“Anything, Joel.”
“We’ll stay together this time, no matter what.”
“I promise,” you took his hand in yours, threading your fingers together, “I promise.”
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller imagine#joel miller one shot#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#tlou#tlou hbo
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Yo what about just sittin on Rodrick’s lap as he discusses stuff with the band
Thanks for the request
Rodrick munched on the snacks that he stole borrowed from Greg's secret stash that he shared with his friends as they lounged on the living room couch, Evanescence playing on his tv.
His friend Adam mumbled. "Rodrick, will we get famous like that?" Rodrick looked up at the tv as he finally got time free from munching snacks.
"Adam, I can see it. In 10 years, people will fly from all over the world just to see us perform. We will do actual world tours." His friends looked at him, smiling as he continued.
Rodrick stood on his couch. "We will tour South America, Europe, and Asia." His friends cheered, but a particular cheer caught his attention. He turned around to see his girl Y/n clapping for him. He leapt over the couch, picked her up without effort, and twirled her around. "And you, my sweet girl, will manage our band."
Y/n put her hand on her chest. "It will be an honour, rockstar."
Rodrick couldn't help but blush. He loved it when Y/n would take pride in his music and would talk about it with her friends. He thanked his lucky stars that he found her.
"You got real quiet there. What are you thinking?" Y/n whispered as she fixed his hair.
"I am so lucky that you love me. You have always supported me, always been so kind to me. Although you can get annoying when I don't shower." He cupped her face, dodging her fingers as she tried to tickle him.
"Come on, sit with me, doll. Watch as history happens." Rodrick tugged her to where he was sitting with his friends. They all greeted her with a smile and went back to suggesting titles for their songs. He smirked when she sat on his lap, pecking her cheek as he started discussing song titles with his friends.
................................................................................
Y/n suddenly woke up and realised it had got dark outside. She looked around and realised she was still sitting on Rodrick's lap. She looked up and smiled as her heart was filled with love as she saw him sleeping peacefully.
She started to get up, but Rodrick's grip on her waist tightened. Y/n pinched his nose as a smirk spread on his lips. Why didn't you wake me up?"
"Greg is at Rowley's home, and Mom and Dad have taken Manny to Grandma's home. It's just you and me at home right now," he smirked as he wrapped her arms around her waist.
"What are you planning?" Y/n asked as the back of her finger brushed his cheek.
"Just stay with me. We don't have to do anything. I just want to hold you." His chocolate-brown eyes looked at her, pleading for her to stay.
Y/n nodded. "Ok. I'll stay, and you can rant about Greg all you want."
She felt like she fell more in love with him as his face lightened up and he held her closer to him. Y/n heard him taking a deep breath as she laid her head on his chest.
She looked up at him. "Is something bothering you?"
Rodrick's eyes widened. It always took him by surprise how she always took him by surprise how she would know how he really felt. He sighed, trying to find the correct words to say.
"I made pretty big promises in front of my friends. But what if we don't fulfil those promises."
Y/n realised he was getting insecure. "Now, it's not just your dream to do a world tour, Rodrick. It's your goal. It's one of your biggest goals. Take one step at a time. Do your shows locally, get a professional manager, and keep working on your music...there are so many things to do, Rodrick, and you have just started. So please don't give up." she kissed him as she held his hand, letting him know she was there for him.
Rodrick broke the kiss. He needed to see her, to take her beauty in. "I don't deserve you." He breathlessly mumbled against her lips before kissing her again. "I love you so much." he peppered kisses all over her face. He had to let her know how much he loved her.
"And I love you too, rockstar." Y/n kissed him back as a promise to be with him through thick and thin.
A/N: I know I am late sorry. I got busy anyways I hope you like it. REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED.
#rodrick heffley x reader#rodrick heffley x y/n#rodrick heffley x fem!reader#rodrick x reader#rodrick x y/n#rodrick heffley#rodrick rules#diary of a wimpy kid imagines#diary of a wimpy kid rodrick#diary of a wimpy kid rodrick rules#diary of a wimpy kid#greg heffley#rodrick heffley fanfic#rodrick heffley fluff#rodrick heffley fanfiction#rodrick fanfic#devon bostick x reader#devon bostick#ask turvi#turvi writes
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