#but I can’t because I’m at work and I have to keep it together
Note
How would gojo propose? Would he be serious or would he lock in and ask 👁️👁️
there is not one single proposal. oh no.
it’s starts off fairly simple—
“you have to fold it at an angle so that it doesn’t bunch up when you—“ you glance at satoru out of the side of your eye, sighing. “are you even listening to me, satoru?”
“marry me.”
and you drop the sheet in your hands. you turn to him, eyes as wide as can be. “excuse me?”
“marry me?” he’s smiling at you, leaning down so that you’re eye to eye. “please?”
you blink at him. staring for just a moment. the laugh that falls out of your mouth next is nothing short of bewildered, disbelieving. “i can’t—“ you scoff, returning to your sheet which satoru is supposed to be learning how to fold. “no, thank you.”
he pouts. “no? why not?”
you laugh again, kissing his cheek. “nice try, baby.”
and then he stands there with his arms crossed, just staring at you for almost an hour.
or maybe it’s date night and you’re just walking down the street, and satoru points out a lantern that’s bouncing colors off of the wall, a rainbow of light on both of your faces.
and you’re walking arm in arm, just looking at each other.
“marry me,” satoru whispers, his voice lithe and warm, something tangible.
you’re already smiling at him, so you don’t stop. “are you flirting with me?”
“c’mon, just one little marriage. i’ll even buy you a cake. and a ring.”
“wow. that’s a temping offer.”
“marry me?” he repeats, stopping you so that you’re just looking at him.
looking at the light in his eyes, and the colors on his face, turning his skin all sorts of magic.
“i’m think i’m going to pass.”
he groans, almost falling into you. “why not?”
“that’s just too easy, satoru,” you say, kissing his cheek, and then you drag him along as you resume your walk.
the colors fade, and so does satoru’s dejection. your smile is too contagious for him to keep up the act for long.
but then it molds into something else—far more desperate.
you’ll just be opening the fridge, looking inside.
“did tsumiki already pack her lunch?” you’ll ask him.
and satoru will nod. “yes. marry me.”
you just roll your eyes, shutting the door.
or you’ll be in the shower and satoru knocks on the door, peeking a head in. “what time will you be ready?” he asks.
“half an hour?”
“okay…” there’s a pause.
“satoru?” you ask, when you don’t hear the door shut.
“marry me?”
you scoff. “go check on megumi.”
or you’ll be in the store and satoru will put another carton of ice cream in the cart, which you scold him for.
“put it back.”
“only if you marry me.”
“i want you to redact that sentence in the next three seconds—“
or you’ll be exorcising a curse, just finishing up, still panting when you get a phone call. “satoru?”
“marry me.”
“do you actually need something? i’m kind of busy.”
“yes. marry me.”
“i’m hanging up.”
and this goes on for months. it will spread into a year, and at some point you stop feeling guilty for rejecting him every time, and satoru stops looking sad each time you do.
it’s like a habit, some weird tradition the two of you have. you come to anticipate it. appreciate it for what it is—easy, something ridiculous.
megumi personally hates it. “she already said no,” he’ll grunt at satoru, passing him through the door. “just get over it.”
tsumiki just sits there, waiting expectantly every time like the answer will be different. but it never is.
and then there’s one day. you’re both at jujutsu high, both working, and satoru just happens to be sitting on the steps of the entrance.
it’s been a long day for him. maybe something happened with one of his students, or maybe yaga said something just to get under his skin.
or maybe it’s just one of those days—the ones where memories cling to his skin like dirt.
it’s hard being here, sometimes.
and you’ve been looking for him for twenty minutes (because you always have lunch together) when you finally find him.
“hey,” you say, hand going to his shoulder as you approach. satoru doesn’t flinch because he heard you coming. “not hungry?”
he just shakes his head.
and there’s something about him, sitting there with his legs spread out, chin resting on a hand, staring off into the distance like he’ll never be able to see far enough.
he looks like a boy, for just a moment. a boy you used to know well—a boy you fell in love with, almost a decade ago, now.
and you smile, but only a little. because it’s always been easy to be here with him, even when he’s this quiet, and even when his eyes are this haunted shade.
so you’ll sit there, sipping on some tea you brought out—a soda you brought satoru sitting between the two of you.
your thighs are just barely touching, hands inches away from each other. you could cozy up to him, remind him that everything is okay—somehow. but you won’t.
sometimes you just have to sit with it.
but eventually, you’ll start to get goosebumps for sitting outside for too long, and you can hear satoru sniffing as his nose runs.
so you sigh, looking to him. “satoru,” you whisper, voice lilted like you have a secret to share.
he looks over, face mercifully blank. “hmm?”
“will you marry me?”
and then satoru’s face stills. the air is calm, the wind shifting, and he turns right towards you.
it takes a couple of seconds, but his face is like the flash of a camera, sullen one moment, and lively the next.
his incoming smile is almost intoxicating.
“really?” he asks, almost breathless.
you laugh, moving over to him, finally wrapping your arms around his torso, burying your cold face into his neck. “next time you ask,” you tell him, “you better make it count.”
and satoru only smiles, wrapping an arm around you.
“okay,” he says.
#they really are just… so#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#a typical family#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#jjk gojo#gojo x y/n#satoru x reader#satoru x you#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader
546 notes
·
View notes
Text
3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes
When Spencer doesn’t call at midnight on your birthday like he usually does, you believe he truly wants nothing to do with you because of your fight a few days prior. Until there are two FBI agents knocking on your door, neither of which are your apparently missing boyfriend.
DISCLAIMER
This story is SFW but mentions strong themes. It is intended for mature audiences only.
You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read.
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of kidnapping, injuries & vague description of panic attack. Proceed at your own risk.
Word count: 8.6K | See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.
11:57 PM
Eyes trained on the long red hand, you watch as the minutes spin around the clock hanging on the otherwise-empty wall. A century could’ve passed between the last minute and now. It sure as hell feels like it.
11:58 PM
The movie meant to keep your mind from replaying the events from a few days ago failed its purpose before you even turned on the T.V. If the time between every minute was a century, then the last time you heard from him must have been an eternity ago. When was the last time you heard from him anyway?
“I don’t want to see you anymore. I can’t even bear to look at your face right now.”
In all your time together, Spencer had never once raised his voice at you. The fact remained even during your worst fight yet. God, how you wished he had yelled at you. Maybe then he would’ve needed less time away from you.
“Yeah? I don’t want to be near you anyway. Not when you’re being like this!”
He was unfair. So were you. Surely neither of you truly meant what was said. You wanted to be near him so, so badly. Did he really not want to see you anymore? He must not, or Spencer would have returned at least one of the twenty four calls he ignored.
11:59 PM
It was well-intentioned on your part. The migraines were most likely psychosomatic. Otherwise the MRI scans would’ve picked up on the issue.
“You think I’m crazy? I am not crazy!”
“Spencer, I’m not implying that you are! I’m saying that it’s probably stress induced-”
“No! No. That’s not what you really think, is it? Go on, say what you really mean.”
“GOD SPENCER! You think that just because your mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, I think you must be one too? You’re completely reaching! You just don’t want to deal with the reality that maybe it is all just in your head!”
12:00 AM
Perhaps he did mean what he said. He’d still call though, right? If not to return one of your voicemails then to wish you a happy birthday? After everything the two of you shared together he should at least call today.
“Leave. Please.”
“Spencer..”
“Stop. Please. Leave.”
“Wait Spence-”
Unsure of how much longer you could hold out, you uncurl from your fetal position on the sofa and reach over for your phone. Vision peeling from the wall-clock and redirecting to the photo on your lockscreen. How beautiful he looked adorned on your screen. Then again, he always looked beautiful.
12:31 AM
‘Twelve thirty one’ read the time on your screen. The first thirty one minutes of your birthday were spent replaying exactly what you wanted to avoid. He must’ve fallen asleep. He would never intentionally miss his tradition of wishing you a happy birthday, 12AM, on the dot. “That was before you ruined everything”, your mind began. “You ruined everything”, it repeats over and over in a mantra.
“He hates me. He would’ve called if he didn’t.” a whisper only for yourself to hear. Minutes passing you by once more as you begin your spiral into doubt and self-hatred. Tears completely stain your skin, clothes, the blanket hugging your legs. Your vision is too blurred to notice it. What you do notice is that you can not breathe. Shit. You can not breathe.
“Five things” You can almost hear his voice whisper into your mind. “Five things”, you repeat aloud.
“Five things you can see.” As his voice begins to guide, your eyes frantically wander. “The blanket on my lap. My hands curled on top of it. The coffee table in front of me. The T.V playing across from me. The wall-clock hanging just above on the wall behind.”
“Four things you can touch” Not waiting a second before answering to the thought of his voice: “The cushion next to me. The couch beneath me. The sweatshirt I’m wearing. The rings on my fingers.”
“Three things you can hear” Tuning your focus on the sounds around you continue, “The T.V playing. The cars passing by outside. That stupid wall-clock ticking.”
“Two things you can smell” This one was always your least favourite because you had to think the hardest. You could hardly breathe a minute ago and your nose is clogged. How can you smell anything? “I can’t smell anything. I can never smell anything.”
“That’s okay. It’s okay. Just tell me one thing you can taste” . His voice was engraved in your brain. You probably couldn’t forget it if you tried. “Salt.”
Shoulders slumping into your body, you wipe the tears clouding your line of sight and dare to look up at the clock once again. If it could speak it would probably taunt you for your pathetic state.
12:56 AM
You barely make out the time as your eyes begin to cloud again. At least you can breathe normally now. Except your head is throbbing, your eyes are sore and you’re so tired. Sinking back into your previous fetal position, you feel your body give out. As you drift off, you make one final plea for your sanity: “He probably just fell asleep. He’ll call when he wakes up.”
The pounding headache was bad enough, but the rapid pounding against your door made you want to shout violently. As if your body was now on auto-pilot, you attempt to jump up from your position on the sofa - only to not so gracefully trip over your blanket and almost face plant into the coffee table. “Fuck-AH-bitch”, you grumble just as you manage to catch yourself. “I’m coming in just a minute!” Yelling for the very impatient recipient at the other side of your door. You quickly give the clock a glance before making your way to the hallway mirror.
2:07 PM
You aren’t vain, you’re just a decent enough human to save the person outside your apartment a jumpscare from your post-ugly-crying state. When you stood in front of the mirror and actually saw yourself for the first time today, you didn’t believe there was anything you could do to save that person. That person could be Spencer. So you gave it an attempt, regardless, quickly brushing your hair out with your fingers and wiping the dried tears from your face. Finally shuffling to the door, you take a deep breath as you unlock it. He probably just showed up instead of calling. At least that’s what you wanted to believe.
“Oh. Derek? JJ?”, instead you find two of his friends and FBI profilers, who definitely caught the disappointment in your voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey Pretty Girl. Any chance Pretty Boy is somewhere behind you?” Morgan asks, slightly concerned by your poorly concealed state.
“Hi, sorry, no, he’s not here.” You blurt out as you make eye contact with your nosy neighbour passing by. You consider inviting the agents inside for privacy, but remember that your living room shares the same messy look as you and abort that thought.
“Can we come inside?” JJ asks for you, also noticing the unwanted eavesdropper.
“Um, sure”, you hesitate, clearly embarrassed. “Excuse the mess, I wasn’t expecting company.” The agents share a look that you miss and follow behind as you quickly begin to tidy up a little.
“Hey, are you okay?” JJ follows up.
“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Why are you looking for Spencer here?” You were deflecting. She definitely knew that you were deflecting, but didn’t push further and for that you were grateful.
“He’s not at work and he’s not picking up his cell. So we thought he might be with you.” Morgan answers you, taking a quick glance around.
“When did you last talk to him?” JJ cuts in.
“Uh, two days ago I think?” Your breath hitches at your first reminder of the fight you had.
“Two days?” JJ’s brows furrow in a questioning manner towards Morgan, who looks just as confused. “Are you sure?” He chimes in, not waiting for your reply before he dials a number on his phone and rushes off towards your kitchen.
“Yes, I’m sure…” your eyes follow him as he disappears and quickly snap your attention back towards the blonde woman in front of you. “JJ what’s going on?”
“Exactly what time did you last see him?” She ignores your question. The slight panic in her voice is contagious and begins to shift into you. “Well I don’t know the exact time, but I’d guess some time just before midnight? When did you last see him?”
Before she can answer, Morgan calls your name as he walks back in. “Get dressed. You’re gonna need to come back to The Bureau with us.”
“The Bureau? Okay, seriously guys, what’s going on?”
“I’ll explain later. JJ and I are gonna wait here while you get dressed okay?” His tone was assertive.
“No, you’re going to explain right now actually, what the fuck is going on?” But you were too worried to care about his tone.
He took a deep breath, clearly frustrated. “Spencer’s been missing for two days. ” Realisation spreads across JJ’s face as she puts the pieces together, “ And I think you might’ve been the last person to see him.”
3:42 PM.
You were currently sitting alone in one of the interview rooms at the FBI Headquarters, phone in hand, repeatedly checking the time. Morgan and JJ gave you time to clean up and get dressed before leaving your apartment. None of you uttered a single word on your way here and JJ led you into this room, telling you to get comfortable and to let her know if you needed anything.
Somebody was supposed to come in and interview you, but you had been waiting for at least twenty minutes now. The room itself was mostly empty, except for two muted couches in the middle facing each other, separated by a small table. An old rug laid under the setting and a couple of stock pictures were hung on the walls. You had taken JJ’s invitation and claimed a spot in the corner seat of one of the couches, facing the door, but sitting as far away from it as you could.
The air conditioner was set at room temperature but everything felt cold. Spencer was missing and you were definitely the last person to see him. You felt like the worst person in the world right now. The man that you loved more than anything in the world was missing and the last thing you ever said to him was that you didn’t want to be around him.
What did missing even mean in this situation? Did he just decide to up and disappear? That would be believable if he was anybody else, but this was Spencer. He would still say goodbye to his friends before leaving. Friends who were also his coworkers. Coworkers at his extremely dangerous job. If Spencer was missing then it wasn’t because he chose to be. Which means that there’s a strong possibility that he’s really hurt, or dead.
Your mind was filled with so many concerns and had you not heard the door handle click, you probably would’ve driven yourself into another panic attack. A raven-haired woman walks into the room and takes a seat opposite to you on the couch across yours.
“Emily!”
“Hey, how are you holding up?”
“Have you found Spencer? Is he okay-” The questions begin piling out of you.
“Woah, take a deep breath okay.” She cuts off your worrisome ramble before it begins.
“Don’t tell me to calm down!” You cry out in frustration before catching your tone. You take a short, deep breath and continue, “I’m sorry. I’m just really worried okay. I’ve been here for god knows how long and nobody will tell me anything and I just really need to know if Spencer’s okay.”
Emily slightly tilts her head as she looks at you, slightly narrowing her eyes in sympathy. “It’s okay, I understand. You feel really isolated right now because you don’t know what’s going on,” she leans in a little “but the truth is, we don’t entirely know what’s going on either. All we know is that Spencer hasn’t been to work in two days and you were the last person to see him.”
You stare back at her with an apologetic look and the two of you share a brief silence of understanding. As worried as you were right now, you had to remember that Emily and everybody else in the BAU were also extremely worried. You nodded, not saying anything.
“I need you to tell me about the last time you saw him." She’s the first to break the silence.
Instead of simply responding, you stare at her blankly. You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound would come out. It was like you physically couldn’t respond. You couldn’t even let yourself think about the last time you saw him. The guilt was overbearing, it was pushing tears to well in your eyes. Sighing, you take a gulp and try to get yourself together. Eyes wandering everywhere except towards Emily.
“You okay?” She questions for the second time, giving you the same narrow-eyed look as before, but this time there’s concern behind her eyes.
You try to respond but all you can do is bite the inside of your cheek. Emily’s presence was a welcome distraction from the current situation, until it wasn’t a distraction anymore. She’d unknowingly pushed you back into the headspace you desperately needed to stay out of to keep composed. It wasn’t her fault, you knew she was just doing her job. However, right now you desperately needed her to go away or you were going to completely break down.
Then for the first time in days the universe took pity on you. It leaned into the room in the form of one colourful Penelope Garica, giving you a rushed greeting and ushering Emily out of the room.
“Hey Em, sorry to interrupt, but we need you in the conference room. By that I mean like yesterday.” Garcia turned towards you and squeaked a sad “Good to see you again, I wish it was under different circumstances.” before disappearing. Emily drops a quick “Excuse me” as she gets up and disappears after her.
You knew she would be back. For now, you had time to calm down and you were extremely grateful for that. Taking deep breaths, you check your phone again. There on your screen was Spencer, smiling back at you brightly. You glance at the time again.
4:03 PM
Your eyes instantly land back on his face. They must have stayed staring for a while; before you knew it Emily had re-entered the room. “What’re you doing there?” The sudden interruption from her voice pulled you out of your trance. “Huh? Oh-Sorry, I was just checking the time.” A half-lie. “It’s 4:17.”
No verbal response. Her only response was a look you couldn’t entirely make out as she took a seat in her previous place. “Emily, is everything okay? Did something happen?”
“I need to tell you something and you need to listen to the full thing, okay? Spencer’s been kidnapped.” She nervously bit her lip as she broke the news to you. “Garcia pulled a recording from a surveillance camera on the street outside your apartment building.”
“What..” You interrupted, unintentionally. “What do you mean kidnapped? Outside my apartment?”
“Look. I won’t lie to you, this is bad. You were the last person to see Spencer and then he’s taken from outside your apartment-”
“Wait a minute, are you telling me that I’m a suspect?” The second time you cut her off, she leans forward and takes your hand in hers. “Listen to me. The whole thing okay? No interruptions.” Her patient tone gives you some comfort. You nod, giving her the go ahead to continue.
“Now, in normal cases, those closest to the victim would be looked at as initial suspects. But this is not a normal case. You aren’t a suspect but you might be the key in finding him. I’m going to play the recording for you in just a minute and I need you to tell me if you recognise anything. Before I play anything though, we’re going to have to run a cognitive interview and recall your last day with Spencer. I understand that it may be hard, but if you want to help find Spencer, you’re going to have to.”
As your mind processes her words, your hand attempts to close into a fist and squeezes hers. “Emily, I can’t” are the only words you can bring yourself to say.
“Why?” She’s quick to ask in surprise.
“Because it’s horrible, Emily. The last thing we did was fight. The last thing I told him was that I didn’t want to be around him.” You spit out before you can stop yourself.
The woman sighs as she mumbles your name, “You can’t possibly blame yourself for this. All couples fight. You couldn’t have known this would happen. I promise you, no matter how bad you think it is, it really cannot be worse than not finding Spencer.”
Her words are blunt, but her voice is empathetic. It’s just what you needed to hear to break out of your ego. “Okay, what do you need?”
“I need you to close your eyes okay. Just listen to the sound of my voice as I guide you.” The brunette instructs. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath. “Think back to that day. What were you doing when you first saw Spencer?”
“We met at our favourite café after he got home from work. He had missed our date the night before and wanted to make it up to me. I was checking the time when I heard him call out my name from behind me.” You begin to recall.
“Okay, you turn around to see him. What’s happening around you? Is it busy?”
“No, it’s actually really quiet compared to usual. There’s maybe four or five other people here besides us.”
“What was Spencer like? His behaviour, was he acting like he normally does when you’re together?”
“He was pretty normal at first. He just looked tired, more than he usually does. But it wasn’t until we started talking that I noticed that something was off.”
“What was off?”
“He just wasn’t present like he usually was. I could tell that he wasn’t feeling great, so I insisted we go back to his place. It was closer than mine.”
You continued recalling the events of the night. When you turned on the light as you entered his apartment, he hissed slightly. That’s when you realised what was going on. He admitted that his migraines were back after some pushing. You asked him if he’d gone to the doctors and he told you how they’d found nothing again. You sat him down on the couch, got him some painkillers and brewed some tea for him. He began ranting about how there had to be something wrong. That’s when you suggested that the migraines could be stress induced. The two of you began arguing not long after that.
“Spence, have you, maybe, considered that the migraines are psychosomatic? Probably from all the stress you face at work?”
“What does my job have to do with this? What are you saying?”
“I’m just saying that you have a stressful job. It can take a pretty heavy toll. Stress is a common factor for migraines.”
“No, not like this. I just need to find another doctor. One that can actually help.”
“How many doctors will you see before you finally understand that it’s in your head?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry, I should have worded that better.”
“You think I’m crazy? I am not crazy!”
“Spencer, I’m not implying that you are! I’m saying that it’s probably stress induced-”
“No! No. That’s not what you really think, is it? Go on, say what you really mean.”
“What? No. That’s not at all what I’m saying.”
“But it’s what you’re thinking”
“No, it’s what you’re thinking, Spencer.”
“Don’t hold back now, just come out and say it.”
“GOD SPENCER! You think that just because your mother is a paranoid schizophrenic, I think you must be one too? You’re completely reaching! You just don’t want to deal with the reality that maybe it is all just in your head! … I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Leave. Please.”
“Spencer..”
“Stop. Please. Leave.”
“Wait Spence-”
“I don’t want to see you anymore. I can’t even bear to look at your face right now.”
“Yeah? I don’t want to be near you anyway. Not when you’re being like this!”
Emily’s hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your head, “Hey, it’s okay. Take a deep breath for me.” And so you do, in through your nose and out through your mouth. Once she’s sure you're calm, she leans back in her seat and continues, “You’re doing great. I need you to go back to the café. Was there anything or any one out of place?”
You think back. You and Spencer were sitting just by the entrance. There was another couple ordering at the counter. You could smell flowers. Not the nice, light, floral kind of scent. It was the loud, head-ache inducing, overpowering roses kind. It was coming from your left, where there were two old ladies sitting not too far from your table, lost in their own conversation. Behind them, in the far left corner, there was a man sat glaring at Spencer. You couldn’t really see the man that well but, nothing felt out of place.
“No.” You mumble in disappointment, unable to remember anything out of the ordinary. Wait. The man in the corner. “Yes, yes there’s some guy. He’s barely in my vision, but he was glaring at Spencer. I made eye contact with him once as I entered but I didn’t think anything of it.”
“I need you to really think hard,” Emily urges, “What can you remember about this man? Any distinct details?”
“Um, he was dressed in dark clothing and wearing a beanie. There isn’t really anything that stands out. I’m sorry Emily.”
“No, it’s okay you did great. You can open your eyes now.” You do so, greeted by the sight of Emily across from you fidgeting with the tablet in her lap. “I’m going to show you the recording and I need you to tell me if you recognise anything from it.”
She passes the tablet over and you click play. It’s a little blurry but you can see Spencer walking on the street outside your apartment building. It looks like he’s making his way over to your place. A man shows up out of, seemingly, nowhere and bumps into him. Spencer appears to become drowsy, unable to coordinate his movement at all. Thirty seconds later, a black van pulls up and that same man from before yanks your boyfriend into the van before it drives off.
Your stomach drops. “Fuck, Emily! He was right there. He was right outside my apartment. They took him…I should’ve…oh my god..” If you thought you were gonna have a panic attack before, you were in for a heart attack now.
Emily tries to call your attention using your name as she grabs hold of your hands, “You need to take some more deep breaths okay, panicking now is not going to help.” She’s right. Spencer has already been kidnapped, panicking isn’t going to bring him back. The video replays in your head, you recognise something.
“Wait Emily..the man - that man from the café. That’s the same man. The one who bumped into Spencer. He’s wearing the same clothes and everything. Oh my god, was he following us the whole time?” The realisation seeps through your body and shivers run down your spine. Spencer was being watched the entire time you were together. “Why did they wait? Why didn’t they just take me out and then kidnap Spencer?”
“I don’t know the answer to that, but you’ve helped a lot. Now I’m going to go and tell the rest of the team what you’ve told me, okay? But you need to stay here.”
“Why? I can’t just wait here forever, how is that gonna help?” you question. You couldn’t just sit here alone with your thoughts, you needed to get out.
“Those men that took Spencer, they clearly know about you. This puts you in danger and we don’t know what their plan is. Here is the safest place for you to be. I’m going to send an agent to sit outside that door,” She points at the brown door that serves as the only entry and exit to the room you’re currently in, “His name is Agent Anderson. You tell him if you need anything at all, but you need to stay here. Please.”
You watch her stand up hurriedly and head for the door. You know she’s right. They can’t search for Spencer if they also have to worry about your safety. Getting Spencer back was the most important thing. “Okay.” You agree. “But Emily,” she turns back to look at you from the doorway, “Please bring him back, okay?”
“We will.” She Promises. It may be an empty promise. There’s no guarantee that he’s even alive, but it's enough to keep you hoping for now. Spencer has to be okay.
Spencer’s POV
It’s not very often a person finds themselves escaping death’s grasp. The chances of the same person escaping death twice is even less likely. Yet here I am, in the back of an ambulance, on my way to the hospital, having escaped death for the second time in my life. Hopefully, it won't cost me an addiction this time. “Rossi this is ridiculous, I’m fine!” I insisted to the older man next to me, looking over me like a watchdog. I was already aware that my injuries were serious enough to warrant a hospital visit, but I hoped that the EMT’s would ignore that regardless. I need to get back to her, I just want to hold her as soon as possible. “Sir, you need to lie back down” I hear a voice instruct from my right. Then I hear Dave from my left.
“Kid, you are not fine. The sooner we get you to the hospital the sooner you can leave. Now lie back down and let the medics do their job.” How am I supposed to stress the seriousness of the situation in my drugged up state? My girlfriend is in danger! “No Rossi, I need to see that she’s alright, you don’t understand. They got me from right outside her apartment, they know about her!” Why doesn’t he understand? “Reid, relax. She’s been at headquarters since yesterday afternoon. She’s fine. She’ll meet you there, Anderson’s driving her there as we speak.” I have to count on this reassurance for the time being, because I was clearly not getting my way anytime soon.
Wait yesterday? “No Rossi, that's not right. What day is it? What time?” Guilt surged my veins, did I really miss the most important day of the year? “It’s Friday. Wait no, Saturday now, about uhhh,” he paused “1:43 AM.” No, no, no. “Saturday? She spent her birthday at headquarters? That wasn’t the plan!” I desperately needed to explain something to Rossi, but I couldn’t find the right words. I couldn’t even fully remember what I needed to explain. “Okay, Sir, I’m going to have to inject you with a light dose of tranquillisers if you don’t calm you down.” I hear the voice on my right say.
“No, don’t touch me! Get away from me! Rossi-” My objections are interrupted by Rossi on the left again “Kid, you’re heavily drugged right now and you’re not making sense. You need to calm down. Just do as the nice lady says.” I’m entirely perplexed. What lady? And where am I right now? I try to make sense of my situation but my senses are suddenly taken over by a strong sense of drowsiness. I feel at peace, but something has to be wrong because I can hear rapid beeping behind me. “Sir, you need to keep your eyes open, do not fall asleep!”
Your POV
Somebody’s hand hesitantly shaking your shoulder wakes you up. You slowly open your eyes to see Agent Anderson crouching in front of you. Before he can get a word in edgewise, you start throwing out questions at the poor man and rush to sit up-right. “Agent? What happened? Did they find him? Is he okay?” The rapid fire of questions knocks your own breath out of your lungs and forces you to pause for a deep breath, allowing Anderson to cut in. “They found him! I’m not entirely sure of his condition, but he’s on his way to the hospital and so is the team. I can drive you so you can meet them there.” He stands up and walks towards the door, holding it open for you.
“Yes! Please! Let’s go!” You don’t even hesitate as you respond, jumping up from your seat and practically running towards the door. The journey from the building, to the car, then to the hospital is another blur. Spencer fills your mind, as usual, while your eyes are fixated on the time displayed on the dashboard. You watch the minutes pass the whole ride. ‘2:13 AM, 2:14 AM, 2:15 AM, 2:16 AM’ and finally as you arrive at the hospital:
2:17 AM
“You head on in, I’m going to park and follow behind you.” Anderson breaks the streak of silence. The car barely comes to a stop before you jump out and make a bee-line for the doors. You probably look like a maniac running up to the reception desk. “Hi Ma’am, how can I help you?” The receptionist asks unfazed, probably used to seeing maniacs like you. “Spencer Reid. That’s the patient's name. Where is Spencer Reid?” You pester urgently. “Just a moment please.” The receptionist smiles as she begins to type on her keyboard. She turns back to you after a few seconds, instructing you on where to go. “Thank you!” You don’t even blink after she’s done speaking and immediately head towards where you're guided.
As you enter the waiting room, you’re greeted with the faces of his team from the BAU. “Hi! There you are!” Garcia is the first to notice you, coming in for a hug. “Hey, how is he?” you ask hugging back, no time for proper pleasantries. The rest of the team start making their way up to you one by one for a quick greeting too. “We don’t know yet, the doctor should be out soon to let us know.” Derek, the last one to hug you hello, answers. That’s never good to hear, nervousness covering your face. “Don’t lose hope, he’s going to be just fine!” Rossi interjects your train of thought before it can even begin. Damn profilers. Anderson, true to his word, shows up too.
Feeling slightly ashamed for your rushed behaviour you apologise and thank him for his patience. He assures you that there’s no need and he understands, before Hotch sends Anderson home for the weekend. It seems like everybody in that room takes turns sitting and pacing around. Everyone except you. Your eyes are glued to the clock at the entrance, occasionally making small talk with the others. It’s officially been three excruciating days since you’ve last seen Spencer and even now, as he’s just a few metres away, you’re unable to see him. “Happy belated birthday.” Rossi whispers, taking a seat next to you. You turn to face him, slightly stunned. “Sorry?”
“I said happy belated birthday.” He repeats. You can only return a puzzled look, unable to muster the common ‘thank you’. “Spencer. He told me, in the ambulance.” He answers your unasked question. A single tear manages to escape your eye before you sniffle and re-adjust to compose yourself.
“How bad is it?” Your boyfriend's condition is your immediate concern.
“You know it’s funny,” the old man ignores your question, knowing it’s better to not worry you further, “the whole ride here the kid would not stop going on about needing to be there for you. It’s like he was unable to comprehend anything in regards to himself. And now here I am, talking to you, and it’s like you’re unable to comprehend anything that doesn’t concern him.” He takes an almost dramatic pause so he can look you in the eyes, like he’s trying to pass on an unspoken message. Whatever that message was, you didn’t understand it.
He knew you didn’t, because he continued, “even in extreme situations like this one, you think about each other before you think of yourselves. You truly love each other. So, whatever happened before this, let it go. Feeling guilty about it won’t help.” With that he got up from his seat and headed towards the vending machine. Damn profilers. You don’t have a chance to linger on his advice for too long before the doctor shows up. “Spencer Reid?”
Everybody gathers almost immediately around the doctor, waiting to be updated. “He’s got a broken rib, minor concussion, a few deep bruises, specifically around the abdomen, and other minor cuts and bruises. Other than that he’s been heavily sedated, but he’s going to be fine. He’ll be knocked out for a couple of hours, but he’ll be just fine. You’re welcome to see him now, but only two at a time please.” Almost immediately as the doctor leaves, the group turns to look at you and JJ pipes up first. “Would you like to go in first?”
You couldn’t wait to see him before, but now the nerves were getting to you. “No. You guys go in first.”
“Are you sure?” Emily asks.
“We’re allowed two at a time, you know.” Derek reminds you.
“Yeah! The rest of us can take turns while you sit with him!” Garcia pipes up, softly.
“No, come on guys. He’s just as important to you as he is me. Besides I’ll be here for a while, the rest of you need to get home. I can see him after.” You reason.
“Okay. If you insist. But if you change your mind, let us know.” Emily nods, as she begins to head towards Spencer’s room.
You were sitting in the waiting room once more, while the team had taken turns going in and out of Spencer’s room. Eyes trained on the clock, again.
4:31 AM
Most of the team had headed home by now. You were honestly surprised they stayed as long as they did, knowing how late it was and how exhausted most of them were. The only people left besides you were Derek and Hotch. Jack was away at a sleepover so Hotch decided to stay longer, feeling responsible for Spencer. “What’s going on in that mind, Pretty Girl?” Derek now sat across from you.
“Derek!” you jumped slightly, not expecting him. “Nothings going on. Why? Is Spencer okay?”
“You know you keep doing that. Deflecting.” He doesn’t let you get away with it this time.
“I’m not.” You persist.
“You are. Look, Spencer’s one of my closest friends and by extension you’re also my friend. I’m not going to force you to talk about it if you don’t want to, but just know that I am here to listen.” He persists harder.
“Derek, I just…I don’t know what to say. Not just to you, but to him. The last time I saw him, we fought. He said he didn’t want to see me anymore. I know it’s all in my head, but I can’t stop thinking about if he meant it. What if he truly doesn’t want to see me?”
“Woah, woah! Pretty Girl, c’mon. He’s crazy about you, you know that. You’re practically all he ever talks about. I can promise you that no matter how bad you think that fight was, he won’t let it ruin what you have.” The reaffirmations from Emily, Rossi and now Derek were honestly unnecessary. You were a rational person, you already knew everything they’d said to you. The emotions just overpower your rationality at times but hearing those closest to Spencer confirm was how you knew for sure that it’s true. “Thank you, Derek” You responded with a small, but confident smile.
“He’s awake.” Hotch alerts the two of you. FBI training must be heavy on sneak attacks because these fucking profilers had unbelievably light steps. You turn to face the usually monotone man and instead, catch him sporting a relieved smile. He meets your eyes directly as he speaks, “He’s asking for you.” A hopeful huff leaves you as you stand up. “Go get 'em beautiful!” Derek encourages. You thank both him and Hotch, making your way to Spencer's room. You take a deep breath as you approach the door, but before you enter, you make a final note of the time.
4:55 AM
“Hi Angel.” Spencer’s voice weakly acknowledges your arrival in an instant. Your heart feels a mix of hurt and relief at the sight in front of you. His figure’s confined to the gurney and linked with tubes to an IV drip. With every step bringing you closer to him you’re able to make out more of his injuries. Bruises on almost every part of his visible skin, an especially large one covering the surface around his cheekbone, eye and temple. Cuts on his nose, lips, arms - you bite your lip trying to hold back the tears welling you eyes again. “Please say something.” He begs, matching the same pained look as you.
Rossi’s words were starting to make sense. While you looked at your lover in guilt over his marred state, he looked back at you with guilt for worrying you. “You look like hell.” Maybe not the most sensible thing to say right now, but you didn’t want to cry and worry Spencer further. The poor attempt to lighten the mood showed some success because you earned a light chuckle from your boyfriend. The atmosphere didn’t stay light for long though, the two of you almost instantly falling silent as you stared into his beautiful brown eyes. “I’m sorry.”
The words fall out from both of you simultaneously. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Angel. You were right and I was being unfair.” Spencer intertwines his fingers with yours, immediately rejecting your apology. “You were,” you agree “but I was also unfair. I shouldn’t have said what I did.” He tries to sit up, wincing from the unanticipated sharp sting. This earns him a soft reprimand from you, reminding him of his broken rib and you instead use the remote to shift the gurney into a position comfortable for him to lean against. “You need to be more careful!” You whine.
“I know, I know. I just, I want to hold you.” He whines back, staring at you with his dangerously powerful puppy eyes. Those eyes were actually dangerous, you had to internally fight yourself to not give in. You opted to meet him half-way and lightly wrapped your arms around his head for a quick hug. “Don’t look at me like that. There will be no holding unless the doctor clears it.” You whispered against his hair before pulling away, not wanting to accidentally hurt him more. “Technically I’m a doctor-” He tries to protest, but you beat him to it. “A medical doctor, Spencer.”
You pull the chair from behind so you can sit as close to him as possible and take his free hand into yours, holding it tightly. “I’m sorry I missed your birthday.” You look at him in disbelief as the words leave his mouth. “Spencer, forget the stupid birthday please! Actually, can we just stop with the apologies? I’m just glad that you’re okay- sort of.” Your eyes scan over his injuries again as you say the last sentence. “Stop. Don’t do that. I’m okay, I promise.” It’s more of a request than anything else. He doesn’t like being ‘babied’ or pitied. “Angel look here.” his fingers guide your face to meet his eyes.
“I’m okay. These will heal, but please don’t give me that look. I know you want to talk about it and we will, later. Right now I just want to talk to you about anything else.”
“I know you do, it’s just hard Spencer. There’s so much to say and I was so worried. I spent three days thinking you hated me. Well, technically, I actually spent two days thinking you hated me and the third losing my mind about-”
“Hey, hey, hey,” he cups your face gently to cut off your ramble and keeps his same soft, whispery tone, “I know. I too spent the last 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes regretting the last thing I might have ever said to you was something I never should have said because I was being an ass.”
“Don’t say that!” You immediately interject, unable to even think about the meaning behind his words. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, “Shhhh, just listen.”
“There’s just so much more I have to say. So much more we need to talk about. And right now I just want to talk to you about anything else, even the little things that don’t matter. Especially the things that don’t matter. So please, just tell me about all the pointless things.” His voice cracks slightly at his plea, his gaze connecting so deeply with yours, tears glazing his lashes.
Stupid puppy eyes. There was no fighting against them this time, you gave in. The two of you talked until the medication knocked him out. It was easy like that with Spencer, you never ran out of topics. Nurses went in and out of the room, hours passed by, but you stayed right there next to him. The next few days were spent in the hospital, you only left to get refreshed if somebody from the team was there with Spencer while you were gone. Spencer was asleep most of the time due to the medication. Everybody from the BAU took turns visiting, Garcia always bringing fresh food with her.
Before Spencer was discharged, the two of you agreed that it would be best for you to stay with him while he recovered. You wanted to be there for him in case he needed anything and he’d take any excuse to have you near him. It was a smart decision overall, because the broken rib rendered Spencer unable to do almost anything on his own. Which is why you were currently watching him bathe, perched on the edge of his bathroom counter, making sure your boyfriend didn’t accidentally hurt himself further.
“You don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll be fine.” Spencer insists. “He says, after almost breaking another bone trying to undress by himself earlier.” You snark.
“I think you’re enjoying this a bit too much.” Amusement surfaces in his voice and it causes you to blush.
“Careful, handsome, you’re going to work yourself up and end up disappointed.” You successfully fluster him back. The doctor deemed Spencer unfit for any physical activity, much to his dismay.
“Ughhh,” he groans, dramatically, rolling his head back. “This is so unfai-Ah!” His complaint is cut off by his own shriek while trying to reach the loofah around his back.
“Shit Spencer!” You panic, hopping off the counter and rushing to his side, grabbing the loofah out of his grasp. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry. I just can’t reach my back, I guess.”
“That’s literally what I’m here for, dummy. Let me get it.” You shuffle behind him from outside the tub and gently push him forward so you can access his back.
“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have to do this.” There’s a slight hint of embarrassment in his voice.
“Spencer, love, stop. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Plus, I like taking care of you.” It was true. Doing small things to make his life convenient made you happy.
“It’s not just because it’s embarrassing. You shouldn’t have to go out of your way for me like this, you have better things to spend your time on.” The insecurity in his words makes your heart ache. Reaching your hand around his jaw, you turn his head back towards you as you lean in to meet his eyes.
“How can I get it through your thick, beautiful, skull that I want to be here? I want to do this. I want to spend my time with you.” You state matter of factly. He searches your face for any hint of insincerity. Unable to find any, he whispers, “Thank you” and leans in to give you a gentle kiss.
“And plus, you did promise we’d make up for the lost 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes when you got discharged.” You jokingly remind him of his words to you in a conversation you shared at the hospital. He chuckled and kissed you once more.
“I will.” A re-affirmation of his promise. “But this doesn’t count.”
“How so?” You question. “We’re here together aren’t we?”
“Yes, but you deserve more than this.” He declared. “I’m going to make it up to you.”
“Spencer, you don’t have to make anything up to me. We have to make up for lost time.”
“Let me make it up to you anyway?” He flashes those damn eyes at you again.
“Just get better first okay, then we’ll talk. Plus you owe me a conversation before anything else.” Normally Spencer was the one who’d have to remind you of things, but today it was the other way around.
“I guess I do.” He sighs in defeat, “Before we do that I have to tell you something.”
“Yeah?”
“Rossi offered to throw you a party for your birthday and I kind of, maybe, said yes? It was less of an offer and more of a statement if I’m honest, but I thought you’d like it because you’re a huge fan of his books and always wanted to see his mansion. There’s tons of space for your family and friends too and-”
You cut off his speech with a kiss. “That’s wonderful Spencer, thank you. Tell Rossi I said thank you as well.”
“You’re not disappointed? I know you prefer smaller celebrations and originally I had something else planned but given my current state it’s a bit hard to go through with those plans.”
“Of course I’m not disappointed. I’d be happy with anything as long as you’re there.” You flash him a grateful, genuine smile. He kisses you briefly. Then again. And again.
“As much as I love kissing you, we need to get you to bed. Come on.” The two of you share kisses, giggles and loving looks, as you help him out of the tub, dry him off and get him dressed. Making your way over to the bed, you first help him settle in before getting into your side. It’s clear that Spencer doesn’t know where to start.
“Let’s start with that night.” You take the lead. He takes a deep breath as he begins to recount the events.
“I felt terrible after you left. I never meant any of it and I just, I am so sorry.”
“I know. I am too.” You reassured your lover, not wanting him to bear guilt over it any longer.
“I was on your way to your apartment to apologise when I bumped into the unsub. The next thing I knew I couldn’t feel my legs and was being thrown into the back of the van.” He couldn’t offer you more than the basic details, due to the classified nature of his job. The unsub wanted revenge because Spencer was the reason they were caught in the first place. “I’m sorry” is how Spencer finished his re-telling.
“Sorry? Why are you sorry, that’s not your fault.” A light, confused chuckle escapes your throat as you speak.
“Because, I put you in danger. Because this job puts me in danger, which always puts you in danger by extension. You deserv-”
“Stop. Spencer, stop.” You cut him off, afraid of what he was insinuating. “Stop telling me what I deserve. I knew what your job was when I entered this relationship. Don’t.” Tears threatening to spill from you, your fingers digging into your own flesh to try and stop them. Spencer noticed, gently coaxing your fingers away from your palm as he massaged your hand lightly.
“Angel look at me.” He almost commands. You begrudgingly meet his eyes, holding your breath as you mentally prepare for the ‘it’s not you, it’s me speech’ you’d heard before from others. “What’s wrong?” He questions, not entirely sure as to why you were crying. For a genius he could be really unaware of his wording sometimes.
“Why do you keep saying that?” You’re unable to hold your tears.
“Because I want you to know that I’m going to do better from now. To give you the ‘better’ you deserve.” He wipes your tears, still holding on to your hand.
“Then why does it sound like you’re trying to break up with me right now?” You sniffle, squeezing his hand slightly.
“I must really suck at communicating, because that’s the exact opposite of what I’m trying to do.” He uses his hand to gently coax your head towards him so he can kiss you. “I want to move in together. With you.”
“You do?”
“Yes. If there’s anything I’ve realised over the past few days, it’s that I really hate being away from you. I hate not being able to see you, hear your voice, feel your touch.” He gives you another kiss. “I am not going anywhere. And I really hope you don’t either. Move in with me?”
You give him a peck. “Yes.” Another peck. “Yes, Spencer, I’ll move in with you.” A deep, longing kiss. You share a few more kisses and then nestle against him. Both of you laughing.
The next few hours pass with both of you just enjoying being in each other's arms. Gently stroking the others hair, small kisses here and there, ‘I love you’s’ bouncing off from one another. The 3 days, 4 hours and 55 minutes spent worrying you won’t see each other again seem so silly now that you’ve got everyday to look forward to.
“Angel?” Spencer’s voice lulls you out from your semi-conscious state. “Hm?”
“Thank you.” On the surface it was just a simple sentence, but his intention was deeper than that. It was a show of gratitude for you choosing him. For staying with him through the hard times.
“Always.” Your promise that you’d do it again.
“Spencer?” You say after a second.
“Yes my love?” Spencer replies.
“Thank you too.”
“Always.”
Both of you fall asleep cuddling not long after. There were still a few things that needed to be worked out, but one thing was for sure, you were going to wake up next to the love of your life the next morning and then every morning after that. You’d truly found your forever person in each other.
Spoilers: Hurt, Angst, Fluff, Comfort, Established Relationship.
AN - First fic I’ve ever written. It’s been in my drafts for so long, I’ve edited it so many times. I hope you didn’t feel too edged because 80% of this is without Spencer scenes (I did and I wrote it).
Feel free to drop helpful criticism, I’m always looking to improve. Remember to stay real and respectful :)
Thank you for reading!
#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x fem!reader#criminal minds fandom#ssa spencer reid#fem!reader#bau team#spencer reid fic
359 notes
·
View notes
Text
Clandestine || Theodore Nott
Theodore Nott x fem!riddle!reader || 2.2k words
Warnings: fingering, blowjobs, in the room of requirement … The request from anon was y/n riddle x theo so this is what i came up withh !
Summary: Mattheo can not seem to place his finger on what exactly you have been keeping from him. He confides in his best friend, Theo, though he ends up cutting the conversation short due to some urgent matters. (aka, you)
Author's notes: Hi lovelies <33 Requests are open! I'm working already on requests, and so sorry if i don't reply to your requests, i'll reply to them with the actual fic once done. please be patient w me, i'm busy as of late <3
You have always hit it off with your brother’s best friend, Theo. Though at first, you really did not think much of him. It started with small talk whenever you two had ran into each other because of Matt, then it became that you both had found out that you had much more in common than you initially thought. You two often went behind his back, as friends, such as studying in the library together or often just hanging out in general.
You both promised you would keep things secret when you two got together because if Matt would find out Theo ever laid a hand on you, he is definitely throwing his own hands. (okay well, just imagine if your best friend dated your sibling?) The two of you knew how he was protective over you. Though things had quickly escalated between you both from generally acceptable, to ‘Mattheo would probably fucking kill me’ really quick.
Theo is far from a weak man, but he is, he really is and only when it comes to you. How could he not make you his girlfriend?
…
Theo quickly grounds back himself in place, realising he hadn’t been listening to Matt at all. “...I don’t know, man, I just feel like she’s been hiding something from me—” Matt says as he bites his lip in uncertainty, continuing to go on about you. He would actually pay to see the look on Matt’s face when he finds out that he’s the secret you have been hiding. He just nods and occasionally shoots an ‘okay’, pretending as if he’s still following.
Though Theo has better things to worry about, his mind drifted off once more at the thought of you. He looks down at his watch, he realises something. Five more minutes, he mutters under his breath. In just a few minutes’ time, he would be heading out of the common room, making some half-assed excuse just to meet you in the room of requirement. Ever since you both had found out about it, no doubt you abused the privacy it gave.
“–Theo? What’s up? You seem distracted,” Matt asks, his tone tinged with suspicion, as he crosses his arms as he sunk into the couch.
“Yeah, uh, no, I’m fine,” Theo stammers, quickly recollecting himself before speaking again. “Maybe she’s just stressed, Matt, you know that she takes her studies seriously.” He lets the lie roll off his tongue smoothly, as if he weren’t going to rock your shit in a few minutes’ time. “Yeah, you’re right, I guess I’ll just ask her,” Matt sighs as he continues. “I just can’t shake the feeling that something’s off.”
“I’m sure she’s fine, Matt. She can handle herself.” Theo reassures Matt, though a slight pang of guilt hits him. It quickly fades away though as he checks the time. Two minutes. “Sorry to cut this short, Matt. But I just remembered I promised Blaise I’d meet him for something. I’ll be back quick.” He makes an excuse off the top of his head, already standing up and ready to leave.
“Blaise? Since when are you two having meetings?” Matt roused in doubt, as he quirks up an eyebrow. “Nah, you know, things just come up at the last minute.” Theo replies, but Matt is nothing short of sceptical. “Sure thing, Theo.” He says, “I can wait.” Theo does not bother replying anymore, already rushing out the common room and making his way to the seventh floor, left corridor. His thoughts linger on if Matt actually suspected him.
He quickly forgets everything as he spots you, pacing in circles as you wait for him. You do not seem to notice him, as he sneaks up behind you and firmly places his hands on your shoulders as he says a small ‘boo’. You jolt in shock, quickly turning around. “Oh my God, you scared me,” you place a hand on your chest and sigh in relief.
“Sorry, amore, got caught up in things. Your brother’s growing suspicious of you, you know.” He says, slightly gritting his teeth, pausing briefly before he continues speaking. “He doesn’t know exactly what, but he thinks you’re not telling him something. I’m not sure if he suspects me.”
“Nevermind it. He always has his detective hat on when it comes to me.” You sigh and shake your head, saying as you both walk past a certain bit of wall three times. You both watch as the door materialises in front of you, as Theo opens the door for you. “Ladies first,” he says flirtatiously, you smile as you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.
It reveals a smaller room than you’d imagine, since Theo was the one incharge of doing this sort of stuff, also usually taking up the responsibility of planning, which means letting yourself be surprised. Huh, so it’s going to be like that today.
The room was fairly empty, the parchment on the walls a dull brown, a double four-poster bed in the middle and with mahogany nightstands on either side. He wastes no time, pushing you as you fall back onto the plush mattress. “We have to make this fast, Matt thinks I just had to do something real quick with Blaise.” He says with a hint of urgency in his voice as he crawls atop you, leaning in.
His face inches from yours, “is this okay, principessa?” He asks, before doing anything. “Please,” you nod. He spits on his fingers before swiftly connecting your lips together, kissing you passionately. He creeps his hands just underneath your skirt, gliding over the hem of your panties. He does not bother pulling them down, instead just sliding his hands into them as he traces the folds of your pussy.
You moan into the kiss, Theo taking the opportunity to glide his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues intertwine, as he swirls his around yours. He slowly slips two fingers into you as he pulls away from your lips, your breath hitching at the sudden action. His lips brush against your ears letting his breath tickle them, before he gently bites your earlobe. “You like that, cara mia?” He husks sultrily, as he begins to move his fingers.
“Y-yes, mhngg, Theo,” you mewl, letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. He languidly strokes his fingers, thrusting them in and out your pussy. “Pretty girl, taking my fingers so well.” He rasps in your ear. Then curling his fingers, hitting your sweet spot, causing you to let out a particularly loud moan. You were burning up, all hot and heavy as you moved your hips back down onto his fingers.
He moves his other hand smoothly up your dress shirt, brazenly skimming under your bra as he cups your breast. He kisses you again, locking your lips together once again. The movement of his finger quickens, as he tugs at your nipples. You continue grinding down even more so on his fingers, chasing release. He goes down to ghost his lips over your neck, sucking at the sensitive flesh as you feel his teeth sink into your skin.
You throw your head back in pleasure, giving him better access to your neck. He leaves red marks, which will definitely not go unnoticed later on. Albeit Theo doing so many things to you at once made your head feel hazy to think any clearly. You feel a warmth coiling in your stomach, as you hold onto his arm, digging your nails into them as you chase your high. “M’gonna cum,” you cried out, as he only made the manoeuvre of his fingers rougher, hitting your sweet spot over and over without fail.
“Cum for me, principessa,” he remarked firmly, which sounded like more of an order than anything else. Lust clouds your head, as you slowly feel yourself slip away. Your body reacts on its own, doing whatever it takes for you to climax. Muttering incoherently, your hearing goes muffled and unable to comprehend the small praises Theo voices. You feel a sense of euphoria wash over you as you tighten around his fingers, cumming all over them.
“Good girl,” he says, pulling his fingers out of you and lapping at your slick on them. “I think I have to go, amore,” he stands up, giving you a peck on the forehead as he heads for the door. “Wait,” you say abruptly. Catching up to him, stopping in his tracks just as he was about to leave. You bit your lip in contemplation, as you were not used to being so bold.
“At least let me suck you off,” you say, puffing it out in one breath, nothing short of awkward as you curl up into a ball internally. Theo is caught off guard by that, but he’s more than happy to comply. He smirks slyly, amused that you were eager to please him, too. “Get on your knees, cara mia,” he commands, and you hastily drop down, kneeling as you look up at him.
Skillfully, you clamp your teeth down on the zip, feeling the cold metal brush against your tongue. Applying gentle pressure, you coax the zipper of his fly down in a slow, rhythmic motion, teasing him. You palm his hard cock through his boxers as he grunts in response. You press your lips on the edge of the soft fabric, guiding the fabric downward. Releasing his dick from its confines, you flinch as it hits your cheek.
Initially, you begin by taking the base in your hand and giving kitten licks on the tip, occasionally kissing it. You look up at him, watching him groan as he shuts his eyes and furrows his eyebrows when you take the tip of his cock into your mouth. “Cazzo, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, as you slowly sink your mouth on his dick, your lips stretch to accommodate him.
“Hurry up,” he huffs, as he grasps your hair firmly with both hands and gives it a good tug, causing you to lurch forward. Your mouth stuffed with his cock, you gag and he watches as tears brim at the corners of your eyes due to sudden action. “That’s it,” he utters, drawing out the syllables as he groans gratifyingly. He loved taking things slow and romantic with you, but this was not the time for it, especially since he had told Matt he would be quick.
All he needed was to cum, and a good quickie was no stranger to the both of you. (You’ll never forget when he fucked you in the broom cupboard in between classes.) He keeps a firm hold on you, his hands tangled in your soft locks as he starts fucking into your mouth. You let out a few muffled words, tears begin streaming down your cheeks and drool down your chin as you choke when you take his dick down your throat.
“You look so pretty when you cry, cara mia.”
He husks, as he trails one of his hands to cup your cheek as he continues thrusting into your mouth. He uses his thumb to wipe away your tears, smirking as he ruins you. You dig your fingers onto his hips, using him as a means for support. “Merda,” he utters out a string of both curses and praises, his thrusts growing more erratic.
He loved watching you come undone, with your tear-stained face, ruffled hair, swollen lips, and your lipstick smearing all over his dick. Feeling his cock twitch in your mouth, Theo’s hips stutter. “I’m gonna cum, principessa,” he groans. His hips jerk up one last time, spilling his seed down your throat as he lets out a guttural moan. Attempting to swallow, his cum overflows out your mouth as it trickles down your chin.
He pulls his dick out of your mouth, humming in satisfaction. He takes care of you and helps you clean up albeit hurriedly before you two part ways. Turns out you promised your friends you would study with them in the library, and you too were sorely running late.
Making his way back into the common room, Mattheo doesn’t fail to notice Theodore. "Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence. How was your urgent ‘meeting’ with Blaise?" He remarked, almost sounding sarcastic. Theo, looking awfully dishevelled, tries to play it cool. "Oh, you know, just some last-minute…business. Nothing too exciting." Theo kept a nonchalant tone, "yeah, you know how it is, Blaise and I are always on the go."
Matt’s eyes narrow in suspicion. "Funny, Blaise mentioned he hadn't seen you all day." He says, and then Theo suddenly hears another voice speak. "On the go, huh? Didn't realise you were such a busy man, Theo." Blaise said smugly, smirking with his arms crossed as he leaned on a wall behind Theo.
He immediately looked behind him, his eyes widening as he hadn’t realised Blaise had been standing there all this time. (Blaise had been concealed by the deceptive alignment of the door and the wall. So when Theo entered, Blaise was standing by the wall adjacent to the end of the hall– if that makes sense.)
"Seems like you're hiding something, Theo. You've been acting a bit off lately." Matt says nearly too confident for it to be sceptical. "Me? Nah, I'm just tired from all the studying. Speaking of which, I should probably get some rest." Theo shrugs, trying to deflect the topic.
"Yeah, rest up for all those secret meetings, right?" Blaise says teasingly.
#slytherin boys#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys smut#thedore nott x reader#theodore nott#theodore nott smut#theodore nott x reader smut#theo nott#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x y/n#harry potter universe#harry potter fanfiction#hp smut#theodore nott x reader#mattheo riddle#matt riddle
207 notes
·
View notes
Text
OH, MY HUSBAND!
feat. fushiguro toji
word count: 502
summary: toji overhears you calling him your husband to your friend.
a/n: shorter post today, sorry! send ask, mayhaps?
You’re on a video call with a friend when Toji arrives home from a job, curled up on the sofa as you scroll on your phone with your laptop set up on the coffee table. From the tiny window of the screen, your friend offers him a wave. Following their gaze, you send him a smile and gesture him over.
“Come here,” you murmur fondly, hand wrapping loosely around his arm to pull him closer and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, lips hovering just over his scar. He lets you move him; it always feels so domestic in a way he still struggles to fathom. “How was work?”
“It's always an easy job.” He replies, leaning ever so slightly into your touch before he pulls away. “I’m gonna shower. Do you want me to pick Megumi up from school?”
“Yes, please,” you sigh. Your head jerks towards your laptop, brow furrowing. “What? No, he can’t hear you.”
Toji heads towards the bathroom, keeping an ear out for you as he opens the door. Your laughter follows him. “That’s my husband you’re talking about,” you scold playfully. “Are you really trying to prey on a married man? I’m right here.”
Your husband? Huh.
He brings it up later that night. Megumi’s tucked into bed, you’ve both been fed, and you’re lying together in bed. He keeps you cradled against his side, one arm wrapped around your waist as you lean your head on his shoulder. “So, I’m your husband now?”
“What?” You squint up at him. “Oh. Does it bother you?”
He thinks about it for a second, leaning his head back against the pillow. “No. I’m just wondering where it came from.”
“They’ve been calling you my deadbeat husband for months now,” you explain, “ is it really that surprising I picked up the habit?”
“Deadbeat, huh?” His lips stretch into a wry grin. “So they don’t know how much your deadbeat husband’s earning?”
You snort. “No, because I don’t brag to my friends about the fact you’re the famed sorcerer killer that killed people for money, belongs to a society they have no idea about, and, oh, now works a job within that society for exorbitant amounts of money.” You flick his shoulder. “And until you’re cooking meals just as often as I am, you’re a deadbeat.”
He groans. “Fuckin’ hate cooking.”
“That’s my condition,” you say sweetly. “Think about it - wouldn’t Megumi love some food his dad made, special for him?”
“That kid would accuse me of poisoning him. Did you see his face the one time I made him lunch?”
“He was flattered!”
“He was not.”
“It’s not his fault he got your personality,” you reply. “Isn’t it cute, that brutish attitude on a six-year-old boy?”
“Shouldn’t my wife be nicer to me?” He complains.
“It’s my unique job to keep that ego of yours in check,” you say, the edge of your smile soft against his skin. “Unlike someone here, I don’t shirk my responsibilities.”
#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x you#fushiguro toji x reader#toji x reader
239 notes
·
View notes
Text
Miscommunication (the fun kind) Part 2
This is part 2, trust when I say it makes very little sense without part 1.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader
Synopsis: You meet him for your date, but it’s cut a little short.
Warnings: None I can think of other than cringe writing.
A/N: This took ages man, I don’t know what happened but I just felt a block so many apologies for taking so long.
As you click the little green button, you feel unnecessarily nervous. “Hello.”
“Hi.” He replies, and the smile that graces your lips can be heard from the other end of the phone.
“Doc. I’m glad you called.” You try to play it cool, but you know he can sense your excitement anyway.
“I’m glad you asked me to. Look, I’m on my way to a case right now, but I was thinking that when I get back we could do something? Go for dinner, maybe?” He sounds as nervous as you feel, and your heart spikes a little.
“Dinner sounds great. Have you thought of a place?” You do a little spin in the living room of your small apartment and you hear chatter in the background of the call.
“There’s this little restaurant that I normally get takeout from. I know them pretty well so they’ll keep me a table on short notice. They’ve got everything so statistically there’s bound to be something you like.” The way he speaks reaches a spot in your brain, fast and passionate, even about the most mundane things.
“I know I’m gonna like it because you do, and I trust your taste.” You bite your lip, wondering if that was too much.
“You should, I’m very particular.” His voice betrays the fact that he’s grinning, and you match his expression.
“I like particular. Particular is good.” Your voice has dropped a little subconsciously, and he’s about to reply when you hear the familiar voice of Agent Hotchner alerting Spencer that they need him.
“I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you when I’m home?” You almost sigh in contentment at just the sound of him, but you snap out of it quickly to reply.
“I’ll be waiting patiently, Doc. I’ll see you.” You hang up, and stand in the middle of your living room for what seems like an hour but truly is only a few minutes. Why are you so attracted to this guy you only met a few nights ago?
But you feel as though you know him, from the way Penelope has talked about him, from the time you spent together. You feel as though you know them all.
—
You just sent in the final draft of your latest article. This one had been an absolute nightmare, being asked to write a piece on climate change. Your editors loved you for your fresh takes, but after so long there was no angle on climate change that hadn’t already been written. They seem fairly happy with it, but you can’t help the nagging feeling of wishing you could have done the proposed piece on how tourism is ruining the economy like you had wanted.
Through the annoyance of knowing you could have done better, you still feel slightly more at ease knowing the article is finished and out of your hands, and that you can relax and drink your fourth mug of coffee for the day. It’s eleven am.
But as you stand to stretch your achy muscles and make some fresh coffee, your phone rings. You know who it is before you even pick up, but make sure to check anyway just in case.
‘Spencer’ flashes on your screen, and you immediately sit down on your sofa, hitting the answer button and taking a readying breath.
“Hey Doc.” Your voice is unintentionally airy, but he doesn’t seem to notice - or he pretends not to - as he replies.
“Hey. I got back from work late last night, but I didn’t wanna call in case you were asleep. I was just wondering what you had planned for tonight?” The grogginess in his voice is evident, and it raises a question before you can even think about answering his.
“Spencer, how long ago did you wake up?” The simple question makes him go quiet for a moment before he speaks.
“I woke up just before I called you.” He sounds nervous to admit it, like he’s embarrassed to be caught thinking of you so soon into his day.
“Must have been thinking about me in your sleep then. And to answer your question, I’m free tonight.” You can’t hide the tinge of satisfaction knowing he thought about you maybe as often as you thought about him.
The small breath he sucks in doesn’t pass by you. You may not be a behavioural analyst but you are a damn good journalist, and you know what that little breath means. It says “you caught me”. Was he really thinking of you in his slumber? You note it down in the back of your head to try and slip out of him later.
“Would you like to go for dinner to that restaurant tonight?” He seems to have composed himself as he asks his question, and you try not to sound too enthusiastic as you eagerly say yes. “Okay, great- that’s great! I’ll pick you up at six… I don’t drive.” The defeat in his voice makes you laugh.
“How about I pick you up?” You suggest, calming his nerves. “You can tell me where to go.” Truthfully, you had already planned to drive him. Penelope told you once how he doesn’t drive, and you called her two days ago to reconfirm. This information, however, is not something you feel the need to tell him, because it seems a little obsessive - but you were just thinking logically of course - and you don’t want to weird him out quite so early.
He seems to be okay with the idea, and you’re thankful that he doesn’t take it as a blow to his ego like most men would. The call ends after a few short pleasantries - that are actually pleasant - and you immediately get to work.
You throw open the doors of your wardrobe and go straight to the dresses, very slowly narrowing it down to two options. A flowy red dress that you almost go with, and a simple black silk dress that ends just below your knees.
This one is for special occasions, and you deemed this a pretty special occasion. As you rummage through your box of shoes and stack of earrings trying desperately to find earrings and heels in the same colour, you come across a pair of purple strapped heels that you know you have drop earrings in a similar shade to. You just can’t find them.
Suddenly you notice that it’s 12:30 and your brain short circuits. Your entire room is thrown upside down and inside out until you find the earrings you’re looking for, and then neatly arranged back to its original state, all within thirty minutes. Now you have your little purple dewdrops and your outfit is complete, but you have four and a half hours until you need to leave and you know you’ll need it, albeit mostly to panic.
Four hours passes and you’ve showered, shaved, styled your hair and put on some light makeup. Your nail polish is just dry and you have your dress on, so you buckle your heels and stand. Twenty five minutes before you can leave. That’s not bad. You just have to wait twenty five minutes… But what if traffic is bad? You should probably leave fifteen minutes early for that, right? And if you think about it, the time between leaving your house and getting to the car wasn’t considered in the time it would take you to get there, and if you drag it out that’s a good five minutes. So really you only need to leave in five minutes. But what’s the point of waiting five minutes really? You should just leave now. Good idea.
As you park at his apartment building you realise you may have been a little over eager. The drive was ten minutes shorter than expected, so you’re around thirty minutes early. Which is embarrassing, so to speak. But you decide to head up early, a gut feeling telling you that it’ll be beneficial.
As you knock, he immediately opens the door and then a sheepish look comes over his face. “I saw you get out of your car.” He nervously rubs his hand on the back of his neck and it makes you smile. Then you take in his attire. He looks similar to when you met him in the bar, although he’s wearing white converse to match a white shirt underneath his brown suit. He’s also sporting a watch, and - most importantly - glasses. Damn those fucking glasses.
You realise you haven’t responded and are now intensely looking at his eyes, and he looks a little uncomfortable.
“Shit- sorry. I was just looking at you- I mean you look good- Great! You look great. You look… pretty. I like your glasses, do you wear them often?” Although you can feel yourself rambling into oblivion, you somehow can’t stop the flood of words that come out of your mouth.
His mouth opens for a moment as though he might speak, and then it shuts again. He stands aside to let you come in. “I never let you in.” He comments, sounding apologetic.
You shake your head in reassurance. “That’s alright, I wasn’t sure if you would even be ready since I’m so early. I never meant to be, I just kind of over thought it and now I’m here.” You wring your fingers together. Spencer noticed that you do it as a nervous habit when you met in the bar.
“I was ready an hour ago, I’ve just been reading while I waited for you. You can sit.” He motions to his sofa, and you sit next to the armrest so that you can turn and lean your back against it to face him sitting a little away from you. “You look beautiful. You remind me of a painting called ‘Madame X’, you probably know it. You could almost be a modernised retelling. Did you know that the painting caused an extreme public discourse as people thought the artist, John Singer Sargent, made the woman look deathly pale and scandalously unclothed.” He says all this with a little grin, and you can’t help but grin along with him.
The decision to tease him comes before you can truly think about it. “You think I look deathly pale and scandalously unclothed, Doc?” As the words come out of your mouth, he pales slightly.
“No, of course not! You remind me more of the principle. The woman was so beautiful she was renowned for her looks. Painters had all but begged her to do a portrait before, but she declined until she found Sargent. But even then, the people of Paris thought the painting didn’t do her beauty justice. Despite this, the painting became famous and beloved for hundreds of years around the world, and to this day is still considered a work of true historical art. A timeless beauty. That’s how I think you look.” His passion for little things shines through again, and your mouth is left slightly agape from his words.
“That was…” You can’t even think.
“A lot, I know. I tend to ramble a lot. I don’t really notice that I’m bothering people until it’s too late.” He rubs the back of his neck again, and the thought of people being bothered by him sends multiple emotions running down your spine.
You reach over and grab his hand with one of yours, the other going to touch his face. “I was going to say, that was awfully considerate of you. Never assume that you’re bothering me. Talk quite literally as much as you please, I want to know what you want to say… If we weren’t on our first date I’d readily teach you exactly how much I enjoy when you talk, but that can be saved for another time, maybe.” Your voice drops nearer the end, and he picks up on it as he sucks in a breath and nods vigorously.
“Definitely- I mean yes, sure. I will keep that in mind.” He’s still nodding as you smile at him, a proper smile.
“You’re pretty when you get flustered. You get all red, from the tops of your cheeks all the way down your neck.” You silently wonder if it goes further. You wish you could check. The hand on his face trails down his neck as you speak, emphasising what you mean.
He gets redder. How can he get redder? “Pretty. You’ve used that word on me twice now.” The comment seems to be more of an observation than a question, but you answer it as though it is one.
“I think you’re pretty. Handsome is a word I dislike. It reminds me of Ken, like Barbie and Ken. You’re not a doll, you’re a man, who just so happens to be pretty. I could call you beautiful instead, I’d say that adjective very accurately describes you too. Gorgeous, if that’s something you prefer.” You relent as the redness gets impossibly worse, and it makes you feel a little guilty. “Sorry, Doc, I just like seeing you flustered. I’ll call you handsome or something more masculine if you’re more comfortable with that.” You give him a little smile and pull your hand from his face.
He wouldn’t say it out loud but he wishes you would keep it there. He grasps your other hand tightly in his, and he shakes his head. “I don’t mind. You can call me whatever you feel like… You’re wearing purple. Purple is my favourite colour.” He looks away for a moment, and it warms your heart.
“Purple suits you, as a favourite colour I mean. Mine is green.” Your voice holds a gentleness in it that comes with caring for someone. It’s baffling. You’ve known him days. A week at most. You shouldn’t feel so… warm around him.
“Green makes sense. I think purple looks best on you though, which is definitely coming from a place of bias.” This makes you laugh, small and breathy, but he smiles at the sound.
You don’t realise how much time has passed until you hear a buzzing noise, and you both realise it’s a phone ringing. It’s coming from the other room so you assume it’s Spencer’s and he quickly gets up to answer. You can’t hear much from the wall between you, but when he comes back through looking thoroughly disappointed, you can tell it’s a work call. “Serial killers don’t stop for first dates sadly.” You remark, and he looks a little surprised.
“How did you know?” He questions, coming closer to you and you stand up to face him.
“I may not be a behavioural analyst, but I can tell what that face means. It means ‘I’m so sorry but I have to go stop murders’.” You smile to try and reassure him, but you can see the cogs whirring in his brain.
He seems to be thinking too many thoughts to process, but suddenly he dips down and kisses you. It’s short, but it’s soft, and you have a look of surprise on your face as he pulls away. “I wish we had gotten to go on our date, but I really wish that this doesn’t stop us from going on another one.” He looks at you in anticipation, and you melt.
“I wouldn’t pass it up for the world, Doc. Why don’t you go get ready and I’ll drive you there. We can plan the next one in the car.” You kiss his cheek and go to sit back down, and he shuffles away to his bedroom with a stupid smile tugging at his lips.
A/N: So… thoughts on part 3 with newly established relationship reid x reader ? Equally, thoughts on me adding smut somewhere along the line?
111 notes
·
View notes
Text
Little Menace ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 🧸^᪲᪲᪲
OT5 X Reader Series ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
Pairing: Husband! Beomgyu X PregnantWife Fem!reader
Warning: General Fluff, Tooth-roting fluff, Written au, Pregnancy, Husband x Wife
Genre: When Their Baby kicks for the First time
CHOI BEOMGYU | 범규
Beomgyu gets a little busy at times, but he does do his best to make time for you, especially when your pregnant with his first born.
Whenever He’s at home he brings in your weird cravings and stuffs you need even though he calls out your weird combination of cucumber and mayo, He still is there for you whenever you have a hormonal breakdown you keep having throughout the whole pregnancy.
While you blame on your husband that it’s his fault that your body is changing and getting fat, to which he clearly he refers,
“ Yes baby it's my fault that your body is transforming into a healthy safe place for our little buddy and turning you into a goddess but don’t you dare call yourself fat!! You look absolutely breathtaking as everyday passby and look I also have a baby belly”
in addition to that, He loves hanging out with you together with his group of friends as it kind of puts him at ease, knowing that you're accompanied by those people you’re comfortable to be with.
Today, He was doing some of his usual works in the studio while working on some guitar strings? Chords ? Anyways.
While you sat at lounge chatting and laughing with the other guys right outside of studio when suddenly you felt a kick at your lower abdomen causing you to gasp and telling huening kai to call Beomgyu right now.
No fiber of his being expected his youngest friend to burst into the room, grin filling his face, as he urgently call him, "Beomgyu hurry !! you have to see what just happened!"
with no hesitation, he abandons the followers and quickly follows the boy. he asks him, voice laced with concern, "is y/n okay? did something happen?"
His ‘ stupid friend ’ just giggle as they finally near your room. Kai speak up, "she is okay! but something important really did happen!"
somehow, it sends Beomgyu more into panic, because just what happened and why is it so important to the point they had to call him?
As soon as , they are finally there, and Beomgyu wastes no time in sitting by your side, hands and eyes inspecting your body for an injury.
you giggle, "calm down, Gyu," you take his hand and guide it to your stomach, "can you feel it?"
"feel it? what do you mean-" he pauses upon the little kick against his palm. he smiles, actually grins, quietly before looking you in the eyes.
you nod with a smile of your own, while he leans down to kiss your stomach then your hand.
he rests his head against your stomach, "how are you, little buddy?"
You husband chuckles softly, "better not cause trouble for your pretty mom," his eyes lock with yours, "I hate to see her in pain or discomfort."
you roll your eyes before patting your husband's head, "you're quite the charmer, aren't you?"
"I would rather only charm you, y'know," he chuckles.
the both of you completely interrupted from your talk from the noise of gagging coming from the oldest friend of Beomgyu, Yeonjun, as He dramatically continue to gag at both of you as well as the pair of guys standing at the door way shook Their head at the oldest acting this way,
Only for Kai to pull out a camera and starts snapping a bunch of photos of the moment in front you saying he'd show this to your baby when he grows up.
Beomgyu snickers a little before teasing, “ Yeonjun Hyung, I’m starting to worry about your age these days, like seriously by the time I officially become a Dad you’d reach the age of a Grandpa, right ?"
As the oldest quirks an eyebrow at Gyu and turns towards you before saying
“ Y/n I Pray to God these days that the your child wouldn’t inherit his father traits, like I swear I can’t handle one Beomgyu already, I’m sure second one would be the death of me .”
with a soft sigh and a giggle, Beomgyu goes back to admiring you, hand rubbing circles on your stomach.
“ He’ll be just like his parents, The second Handsomest Little guy in the World, ofcourse after me !!” Beomgyu replies before receiving a smack from you and his friends.
#kpop#tomorrow x together#txt#txt smut#beomgyu#txt soobin#choi soobin x reader#soobin x reader#hueningkai#choi soobin#choi beomgyu#txt yeonjun#txt beomgyu#txt taehyun#taehyun x reader#taehyun smut#kang taehyun#beomgyu smut#txt soft thoughts#txt scenarios#txt soft hours#tomorrow by together#txt moa#choi yeonjun#choi yeonjun x reader#yeonjun#yeonjun x reader#yeonbin#yeonjun smut#txt huening kai
79 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ight so somehow people wanted more of these? Y’all asked and tbh I’m still obsessed so here we gooooooooooooooooo. Sidenote mostly just fluff, but def some angst on the third one. Read at your own risk pls and thx. Hope you enjoy!
Paige Bueckers x Softball player reader hcs! (Part 2)
Consistently takes advantage of whenever you get dressed.
Luckily for Paige softball players needed to layer a lot, meaning it took a very long time to get dressed. Tall socks first, then sliding shorts, then undershirt or jersey depending on weather, then pants, and finally a belt. Needless to say, it took a good few minutes and your clingy blonde girlfriend positively loved it.
Today started like most game days, waking up with all four of Paige’s limbs wrapped around you, her whining at you for trying to get up without waking her (something about needing her morning kisses), and then eating breakfast together at the table.
Now you were sitting on the edge of your bed, clad in just a sports bra and sliding shorts, pulling on your socks, thankful you were about to be done with the long process. Until Paige decided to interfere.
“Babbbbbe,” she called as she walked in, blue eyes lighting up immediately when she spotted you half undressed.
“Don’t give me that look. You know I’ll be late.”
Blatantly ignoring you she all but leapt on top of you, crushing your figure down in the most gently powerful way someone who was 6’ could’ve. You groan and immediately go flat on your back. Your girlfriend seemed to forget she was basically six feet of muscle and seven inches taller than you.
“Paige!” You yelp irritated, looking down at your girlfriend. Who was now cuddled up against your bare skin, pressing into you as tight as humanely possible. “I’ve got to get dressed, coach will kill me if I’m late! You know I have to warm up the pitchers!”
“Well first warm me up! I’ve been freezing all morning and instead of cuddling with me, my girlfriend has been neglecting me!” she whines, burying her face into your boobs, tightening her hold.
You roll your eyes, “you sure we’re not just in a relationship because you love my boobs?”
“That’s part of the reason…but back to the point! I’ve been neglected so let me snuggle you!” she demands, pressing you back down as you try to pry her off.
You scoff lightly, “yeah right because us showering together last night, spooning all night after that, and then eating breakfast together this morning is real neglectful, isn’t it?” You question sarcastically, biting back the urge to smile as she looks up at you with puppy dog eyes for a moment, then nuzzling back into your boobs in an effort to make you forget about it. “No Paigey, its time for me to get ready.”
“But I never got my good morning kisses. Just some stupid alarm.”
You blink slowly. Shit, you had forgotten her morning kisses. Each morning you woke her up with a flurry of soft kisses on her cheeks, nose, and forehead. Anywhere but her lips, that was only for when she was fully awake. “I’m sorry love,” you murmur, pressing kisses around her forehead, seeing a smile flutter on her lips, as she closes her eyes, falling into ‘sleep’. You moved onto her cheeks, this time fully feeling the smile on her face. finally her nose, which scrunched up slightly and she finally opened her ice blue eyes, pressing her lips to yours which you eagerly accepted.
“Good mornin,” she mumbles, suddenly much peppier. “How’d you sleep?”
You smack her lightly on the back of the head. “Oh, shut it Bueckers.” Fully nudging her off you pull your jersey over your head, not missing her pout once your boobs went away. “Simmer down woman, you can cuddle them later,” you roll your eyes.
“You know if doing this every time you have a game works, I’m going to keep doing it. rig up that alarm to go off a few minutes before you wake up, so that way you have to rush and can’t give me kisses till now, definitely worth being a few minutes late.”
“Paige!”
She’ll pretend like she knows what she’s doing- she doesn’t and your coach forces you to educate her.
Paige growls slightly under her breath seeing you come up to bat again. It was a game against Florida State University. Not that the other team was the problem- no it was the umpire. In her eyes he was giving you a hard time, you and your teammates. Quite honestly he wasn’t just had a larger strike zone than usual. There had been a few calls that had been at your knees and should’ve been balls that weren’t. Not the worst call you’d seen made but definitely not an amazing one.
It was the bottom of the forth inning and your third time at the plate. Uconn was up by two runs and you’d been up twice, only go out on a dicy, but definitely a strike pitch that you’d had no choice but to swing at. Now you went up again and did the same thing, going out swinging on a 1-2 count.
And that had been enough to set off your girlfriend. She tried to keep her cool, she really had. Tried listening to the massive group of softball dads who’d somehow befriended her after two games into the season, tried the deep breathing exercises, tried to reassure herself you wouldn’t be upset. But nope.
“That was a bullshit call blue!” you almost do a double take at hearing the voice that no doubt belonged to your overprotective girlfriend. What in the hell was she doing?! The ump had made the right call, it just wasn’t apparent to someone who hadn’t played.
“Jesus Christ, has your girlfriend never watched softball?” questions one of your teammates as you head back into the dugout, popping off your batters helmet, and exchanging it for your catchers.
“Look she’s good at basketball I’m good at softball,” you mutter, feeling your cheeks tinge pink as you buckle the straps on your white shin guards.
“Excuses, excuses,” she teases lightly, before going off to talk with someone else in the dugout.
As you pull your chest piece over your head a sudden shadow overtakes you. Looking up you see your coach looking down at you, facial expression mixed with annoyance and amusement. “Uh hey coach, can I help you?” you ask cautiously, not knowing if he was upset with your last at bat or something, and feeling nervousness grow as you tested the waters.
“look I aint mad at you. What I am mad at is how your girlfriend talks about all this shit she thinks she knows. She doesn’t play softball and quite honestly it makes some of us look bad. Get it under control.” He finishes.
“yes coach,” you mumble, knowing paige would insist she didn’t need help and make this whole thing ten times more difficult.
He smiles and slaps you on the back, “that’s a girl! Now, go out there and make sure nothing gets by you.”
“So why are we driving to some random park?” paige questions, for what feels like the hundredth time in the past ten minutes, not taking her eyes off the road.
You sigh, “I told you before, we’re going to watch some softball and teach you some of the basics.”
“But I know the basics! And I know that ump wasn’t calling strikes well!” she pouts slightly.
Rolling your eye at her delusion you pat her thigh lightly. “no baby, no you don’t. Now come on!” you state hopping out of the car once she’d pulled into a spot. You’d been lucky to know about the local youth ballpark. They hosted plenty of rec league tournaments for baseball and softball alike, perfect for when you had to teach your girlfriend.
“A youth park?” she questions, slightly mystified.
“Yup. You want to learn softball? You start from the littlest level. Which in this case is our ten U team!”
You gesture at all of the girls, each one dressed in black pants a bright pink jersey sporting a panthers logo on it. they were quite cute to watch, all of them throwing grounders and pop-flys to their partners, then giglging madly when it went between their legs.
Paige felt herself smile as well, “well at least their kind of cute…” she mumbles, letting you lead her over to a set of metal bleachers, where you watch the girls warmup and explain some basics to her.
“So first, strike range, where is that to you?”
“Erm I don’t know, maybe here?” she makes a vague gesture at her torso and puts out her arms to show home base borders.
“Not quite,” you tighten her square up, narrowing down the plate significantly, then pushing her zone from her shoulders to her knees.
Her jaw drops. “How the hell can you hit it there?!” she demands.
You shrug, “just the way games work baby, the umpire says the strike zone and we adjust to it. course it varies slightly to each ump, but this is the general zone.”
As you explain realization slowly dawns on her face, eyes widening, “so when I yelled at that ump for his calls…”
You nod sympathetically, “you were yelling at him for something that was my fault.”
“Ah.”
“And now, your going to see it in action. Because these ten year olds somehow know the basics better than my twenty-one year old girlfriend,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.
“Is this really necessary? I mean it wasn’t that bad…”
“Yes Paigey, it was that bad. Now let the little ones show you how to do it.”
She grumbles softly but watches none the less. Thankfully, she seemed to learn rather quickly. Not that it was hard, in tenU most pitches either went right down the middle, straight in the dirt, or right over the catchers head. “Well obviously its easier to tell now when the pitchings this bad.” She huffs grumpily, failing to realize the pitcher was walking directly in front of her, and heard the comment.
“My pitchings bad?” whimpered the little girl, seeming close to tears.
Paige’s eyes widened and she shakes her head rapidly. “What! No no! your doing great im just used to seeing it at a higher level and I just I-“ she goes on rambling, as the girl tears up even harder before bolting away from the crowd. “Wait hold on- hold this for me!” she shoves something into your arms then proceeds to take off across the ball ground at full pelt after the little girl.
As you sit, you see the parents giving you a dirty look, and slowly want to crawl inside your skin and never see the light of day again. It felt like hours you’d been sitting there when Paige finally returned, surprisingly with the pitcher, who was holding a bomb pop and chatting it up with your girlfriend. Happily, she scrambled back to her mom, as your frazzled girlfriend returned to your side, burying her face into your shoulder.
You giggle, “what happened to my big tough girlfriend?”
“She made a kid feel bad and didn’t know what else to do besides buy her the biggest popsicle at the concession stand and swear up and down she didn’t mean what she meant,” she mumbled into your shoulder, looking red as a beet, as the little girl talked to her mom and sucked at her slightly dripping bomb pop. “And offering to get her lots of autographs, hope your teammates don’t mind signing a ball.”
You roll your eyes, as idiotic as she was your girlfriend was quite sweet.
“If we ever have kids, please help me not be an idiot.”
“You got it Paigey, you got it.”
Post game routine after a loss.
You walk into the apartment all but chucking your coat down onto the floor and forcefully ripping your keys of your neck. Uconn had been defeated in a 9-7 loss against North Carolina State. You hadn’t played bad either; hell you’d an amazing game. Only one ball managed to get through you and you’d been quick enough to nab it before the runner of third seized her chance to advance. You hadn’t had a bad day at the plate either going 3-1, you’d gotten a dead ball to the back the first time, which now hurt like a motherfucker and didn’t let you lean against anything without hissing. Second time around you’d buried a base hit into right field, making it to first without problem. Easily after you’d stolen second and then third, where your teammate managed to snag a double and bring you in for the third run of the game. The last at bat had been similar, except instead of a grounder it was a line drive that smashed into the pitcher so hard she dropped it, giving you just enough time to bolt into first base, nearly taking out the baseman as you did so.
So you had done well. Why were you so pissy about the game? Probably because your teammates just gave up. You didn’t know what the hell had gotten into them in the dugout, you got down by one run and all of a sudden it was like a giant raincloud was over the dugout. They didn’t get back up either, they lost the battle the second NC State was. It had been horrendous, and when you went out to take the field you knew everyone could tell. Obviously, you couldn’t carry the entire team on your shoulders (although you certainly had tried). And so you lost.
“Babe?” Paige called cautiously. She hadn’t been able to go the game, NC was a long driver and she’d had exams that week. She’d watched the entire game on tv and knew that after a game like that and more than twelve hours on a bus, you’d either be sobbing or ready to kill anything that moved or both when you walked in the door.
Paige appeared around the corner, blonde hair pulled into a loose pony tail, clad in Uconn sweats and her matching sweatshirt.
When you saw her you felt all of your anger start melting off, slowly turning into a giant pool of stress and sadness that seemed to weigh down your entire body. “Hey,” you rasped, exhaustion hitting like a brick.
Crossing the room in a few short strides, her arms were around you, pulling you against her chest and nose nuzzling against my hair. “You did so good baby, even if you lost. You were so amazing, I mean those blocks and the base running,” she mumbles softly.
You don’t reply for a moment, just grip her sweatshirt and sniffle into it.
“I know baby, I know it hurts, let it out.”
Finally your walls crash down on top of you, and Paige feels the first tears wetting the fabric. “I don’t understand it. I don’t know why they all just stopped caring,” you whimper confusedly. “We came to play at Uconn because we loved softball and wanted to win. But then they all just give up and look at me like I’m supposed to be some superhero who can save them all! And I can’t!” you fully break into sobs at this point, feeling every ounce of pent of feelings come crashing straight into the hoodie.
“I know sweet girl, I know,” Paige mumbles, pressing kisses to the top of your head, swaying slightly back in forth in a soothing rhythm. “You do so much for all of them.” truthfully she knew exactly where you were coming from, it was a feeling any sports team would meet regardless of how good or bad they were. “I’ve got you baby, I’ve got you,” she murmurs soothingly, not letting go of you as you clutch her sweatshirt like it’s a damn lifeline.
By the time your done crying, your eyes have puffed out and Paiges are reddened from crying right along with you. She hated seeing you like this, and honestly it reminded her of herself during basketball, on how badly she would take the fault for the error of the team. Your eye black had been ruined, tear tracks dripping through the cross shaped marks on each cheek. And your game hair was mess. Instead of two neat Dutch braids it had turned into a tangled rats nest both from playing softball and then tugging at it out of stresson the bus ride home, an old habit from when you were a child that you were certain you’d never break. “How about a shower yeah?” Paige suggests gently, “get cleaned up and get some food before bed, yeah?” she questions soflty. You had all the control in the situation right now, she would do anything to ease your feelings.
“Y-yeah a shower sounds good.” You agree, inwardly cringing at the way you stutter. You were a captain, you were supposed to be the strong and brave one of the team, the catcher everyone could always count on, not some cowardly girl who stuttered and balwed her eyes out after a loss.
Paige helped you get undressed and into the shower, turning it on to almost scalding hot, the way you liked it. Gently she began working the shampoo into your hair.
“Sorry about that…” you mumble under your breath. “Its been a long day I guess,” a lame excuse but whatever.
“Hey, no, no, no, no, no, no.” she states, putting more emphasis on each no as she goes. Lightly she grabs your chin tilting it up to look at her. “Baby, I know you hold yourself to a high standard but you are a human being, not a superhero. Quite frankly, your teammates are dicks if they can’t recognize the problem.”
You open your mouth to say something but she doesn’t let you get a word out.
“And before you start some big speech about how its not my problem and how I don’t need to do this I want to. So shush up and let me take care of you.”
You smile, a good real smile for the first time in the last two hours. “I love you Paigey, so much.”
“I love you too.”
The water sprays down your back, Paige’s hand blocking whatever shampoo suds threatened to get into your eyes. She grabs you both a towel, stepping out first and quickly wrapping you up. Then, not giving you a chance to protest, your scooped up bridal style and carried to your bed. She flops down next to you, smiling as you nuzzle into her.
“So, my girl feeling a little bit better?” Paige asks, pressing a kiss against your damp collar bone. She’d helped you change into pajamas, just one of her old hoodies then carefully detangled your hair, which had been a little messed up from its braids. Needless to say, a bit of one on one time and pampering had definitely helped.
You pressed closer to her, burying her face into her chest before mumbling a reply. “I’m always ok with you by my side.”
-This is sea otter anon, i just can't get to my emoji cause I'm on a laptop, but i swear im still sea otter (pls don't take me emoji i love it)
WOWWW you just get it every time babeee
this is beautiful i need more if you got it in you 🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻
#🦦 anon#i love my anons#ask#paige bueckers#paige bueckers x reader#paige bueckers hc#paige bueckers fluff
145 notes
·
View notes
Text
A New Kind Of Normal (Part 7)
Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader
Warnings: Mentions of Sexual Content
Pronouns: She/Her
Word Count: 2.2K
Summary: Rafe finally gets another chance and he is going to do everything to hold on to them.
Masterlist
His sobriety is still continuing strong near the end of June and he has been sending Y/N updates every week. She would respond to each update but would leave general questions about how she was doing unanswered. He loves that even with her anger towards him, she still takes the time out of her day to help support his relapse recovery. It shows him she was encouraging his recovery not only for Stella but for him. By some miracle, at the beginning of July, Rafe convinced Y/N to meet him without Stella. He knew he shouldn’t push it on that point. He offered to make her dinner at his house and it hurt him that she wanted to meet him at a coffee shop because it is a public place.
The watch on his wrist keeps getting readjusted from too tight to too loose as he waits for her to make her appearance at the cafe. He bought her a lemon buttercup and a lemonade refresher. His focus is on her food, so he doesn’t notice her sliding into the booth across from him. He looks up at her with the desire to fix everything between them. “Hi,” he breathes out, being welcomed by her vanilla perfume. She gives him a tight-lipped smile, “Hey. What did you want to talk about?” Her eyes find the stuff he bought for her and bring it towards her with a quiet thanks. He smiles when she takes a bite of it, not knowing exactly where to start, so he cuts to the chase. His hand searches for the small disc in his pocket and he brings it back out with something in it. He places it on the table, sliding it toward her. She picks it up and examines the engraved poker-like chip in her hand. Her face shows her confusion, “What is this?”
“It’s my one-month sobriety chip. Well, from before I relapsed.”
“Okay, and what am I doing with it?”
“I want you to keep it to prove how serious I am about getting sober again. I want to earn it back from you. When I’m one month sober from this day on, you can give it back to me.”
“Rafe, are you sure you want me to keep this? You may have relapsed, but you worked really hard for the chip. Plus, from what you’ve been telling me, you’ve already been sober for almost two weeks. That should count toward something.”
“I know I have been, but I think it will mean more to me if I count my month's sobriety from the moment you take the chip.”
She nods her head, piecing together what he means. “Okay, I’ll take it. But you can’t see Stella until you are two months sober, you can talk to her on the phone. And then you can’t be alone with her until you are six months sober,” she dictates. Her hand wraps around the chip and puts it in her pocket. She makes a mental note to put it in her special box on her bedside table. Gratefulness flashes on his face, “Thank you so much. You don’t know how much this means to me that you are giving me another chance. You won’t regret it. Stella and yo- Stella is your daughter and she means everything to me.”
——
Every single day for two weeks Rafe has been calling Stella at six. It didn’t matter if he was in a meeting or eating dinner with his family, he called without a fail. Stella was more than happy every time they called. She would give him a detailed account of her day and then demand he do the same. It was so cute every time she would give him words of encouragement when he told her he had a hard day. However, with each call, she craves to see him in person and always begs for him to come over. He wants to say yes, but he knows what Y/N will say and he knows that he is still working toward gaining her trust.
“Daddy, I want to see you,” she begs, her voice verging a whine. Rafe’s heart wretches at her words, “I know, little witch. But Daddy is still a little sick. I don’t want to get you sick. How about you tell me about Sabrina? Are you still married?” The girl shakes her head, not understanding that her father can’t see her. Y/N whispers to her daughter she needs to say it out loud for Rafe to hear. “No, Sabrina and I got a divorce. I don’t want to be married anymore. It’s hard work, but everyone wants to be mine,” she informs her dad. He gives a little chuckle, “Being married is hard. And of course, everyone wants you, you are a Cameron. Everyone wants a piece of us.” “My last name isn’t Cameron?” she puzzles with a tilt of the head. “No, but you are my daughter and I am a Cameron. So you are one too,” he explains. She looks at he mother for confirmation, beaming at Y/N’s nod, “I’m a Cameron and a Y/L/N. That’s cool.”
Rafe notices the time and hates to have to end the call, but he has to head to his therapy appointment. “I’m sorry, Stella. Daddy has to go,” he apologizes, cringing at the tiny protest she lets out. “No, Daddy. You can’t. I didn’t tell you about my drawing and lunchtime yet. Why can’t you come to play with me?” she cries. It is obvious to her parents that the weeks away from her father are catching up on her. He shakes his head, “I know, little witch. I’m sorry. Forever and always?” “Forever and always, but don’t go Daddy,” she implores, gripping the phone like it’s her lifeline.
Hanging up on his daughter’s sadness is hard for Rafe, yet he needs to so he can get to his appointment on time. Even though she knows the call ended, Stella keeps holding it to her ear in hopes that her dad will come back. Her tears have not stopped. Y/N’s gut twists at her daughter’s despair and brings Stella into her lap. She pets the little girl’s muddy blonde hair, giving kisses to the temple as comfort. Y/N knows she said Rafe had to wait two months to see Stella in person, but she knows what she needs to do for their daughter.
——
He isn’t expecting the call from Y/N after his therapy. Normally, he is the one to call her when he needs her support. She never really calls him unless Stella asks, so he isn’t sure why she called. Worry runs through him as he thinks of everything that could be wrong with Stella. She has a terminal illness. She was kidnapped. Or worse of all, she died. The calm in Y/N’s voice as Rafe answers the phone calms his mind. “Hey, can we talk?” she asks, playing with the paper on her bed. Rafe hums, “Yeah, I have all the time in the world.”
“I’ve been thinking and I think you should come over for dinner tomorrow.”
“Are you sure? It hasn’t been two months yet. I haven’t gained your trust yet.”
“Have you been sober since you promised me you would be? Have you been going to all of your meetings and appointments?”
“Yes and yes.”
“Then I trust that you are doing everything in your power to get sober. Right now, Stella needs her Daddy. So come over tomorrow for dinner.”
His smile can rival the Jokers, “I’ll be there, but let me make dinner. I don’t want to put you on the spot with cooking. I know how much it stresses you out when it comes to figuring out what to eat for dinner.”
——
Y/N has kept Rafe’s visit for dinner from Stella and she can’t wait to see her little girl’s reaction. At the knock, Y/N suggests the child answer the door, which confuses Stella because Y/N hates it when she answers the door. Stella’s tiny body struggles to open the door, but eventually gets it. The gasps she lets out could break the sound barrier and she throws herself into her father’s arms. Rafe tips back a little bit, having a hard time adjusting his daughter in his arms and the bag of groceries in his hand. “You are no longer sick, Daddy?” she questions, taking his cheeks in her hands. His head moves up and down, “Daddy is still sick, little witch. But I’m not so sick that you will get hurt. I thought we could make cream of mushroom soup for dinner. Do you like that idea?” Stella cheers in excitement and takes her father to the kitchen.
Rafe orders Y/N to sit on the island stool and rest while he and Stella get dinner ready. “You are doing such a good job cutting the mushrooms,” Rafe presses, watching his daughter cut the mushrooms into uneven slices with a plastic knife. He is so patient and guiding when he cooks with Stella, it makes Y/N wonder what it would be like to have Rafe be there for Stella’s first. Would he be the type of dad to hold her by her arms to help her take her first steps or would he kneel opposite her, beckoning her to come closer? Would he spend every single second trying to get her to say Dada as her first word? She knows he would go all out with the first birthday. She would probably have to talk him down from trying to rent out Buckingham Palace for the party.
As they mix the soup on the stove, a little bit of the hot liquid splashes on Stella and she weeps at the contact. Rafe is quick to wrap around the girl, carrying her toward the sink to run room-temperature water on it. “It’s okay, little witch. Daddy is here. He will make it better. We are going to get some water to make it feel better than put a bandaid on it,” he enlightens to her, getting a bandaid out from the cabinet. He doesn’t bother to ask which bandaid Stella wants because he knows she will want the black cat one. He puts on the bandaid, giving it a kiss. Stella’s tears quieten, “Thank you, Daddy. Forever and always.” Excitement quickly replaces the hurt she was displaying, “Look, Daddy, look! I’m wearing the necklace you gave me.” She proudly holds out the diamond necklace so it catches the light. Rafe grins, taking the pendant in his hand. “I see. It still looks amazing on you. And what did you think about when you looked at it?” “I thought about how much you love me, which is this big,” she holds her hands wide apart. “And that when you look up at the stars, you think of me. Did you think about me, Daddy, when you saw the stars?” His lips touch the crown of her head, “Every night, little witch. Every night.”
Y/N couldn’t help but be entranced by the scene in front of her. He is so caring and attentive to the girl. He may not have been her father for very long, but he knows her like the back of his hand. Y/N’s mouth starts to feel a little parched; her lips slapping against each other. Rafe notices her thirst and he heads to the bag he brought to pull out the passion fruit Jarritos he bought for her. He uses the edge of the counter to pop the top off and it causes wetness to pool in between her thighs. He brings it over to her, letting her grab it from his hand. She is surprised he knows Jarritos is one of her favourite drinks. She must have mentioned it once when she was thinking over what drinks to stock at the diner while he was over. She thanks him with warm cheeks, hiding her eyes from him.
Over the weeks of listening to Rafe and Stella talk, Y/N couldn’t help but slowly fall for him. She didn’t miss the subtle ways he would ask about her to Stella. He would always find a way to involve Y/N in at least one question during each call. When he would call her for support, he would always apologize for interrupting whatever activity she normally had scheduled at the time and she was shocked he remembered her schedule.
Dinner is quickly finished and the table is set. The conversation flows smoothly. Y/N finds herself giggling at Rafe’s stupid dad jokes. She doesn’t know why; she doesn’t even think they are funny. She loves how he can see Stella’s enjoyment and keeps going with the jokes. For most dinners, Y/N’s focus is on whether Stella is eating or not; however, today, she finds her eyes glancing between Rafe and her bowl of soup. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Stella, who is absolutely in love with the view. She can see her mother slowly falling for her father and thinks about how she can get her plan back on track.
Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @drewstarkeyswifehoe @kisstaya @magicalyoura @mp-littlebit @loverfu55ii @dark1paradise @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @alyisdead @emeloyy @js-a-writer @kisstaya @optimisticsandwichgladiator @justdamnpeachy
#a new kind of normal#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x y/n#outer banks#rafe cameron series#rafe cameron x you#obx x reader#rafe#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe outer banks#rafe obx#outer banks rafe#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks imagine#outer banks x reader#outerbanks#obx#obx fic#obx fanfiction#obx fanfic#obx imagine
65 notes
·
View notes
Note
I NEED MORE QUINN CONTENT
Hurts | Quinn Hughes x Reader🫶
NOT PROOD READ
🚨‼️none of my blurbs are ever proof read‼️🚨
Summary: Quinn gets defensive in his take of having kids, in order to be happy in a successful relationship, you feel that you need to have a partner that values having their own family. Quinn disagrees and decides to focus on his career, which you agreee and support, but you bring up having to split. Quinn makes a decision…
Warnings: physical contact, no abuse, argument if kids?
A:N- Ik you prob meant some smut, but I’m in a mood and I decided to write something else🫶 Quinn smut coming next after a Jack smut!
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
I told myself that I would stand up for myself, I would never let a man tell me what to do. I’m an independent woman, who occasionally lets herself have fun with her boyfriend. It’s difficult trying to fulfill your childhood dreams, but this isn’t a dream. This is a full on goal, I know I can keep up to it, it’s just Quinn makes me want to disrespect myself.
He literally screams out my name, he listens, he helps me understand things that I don’t get, he supports me, and most importantly, he gives me respect, and true loyalty and honesty, he fully trusts me. He would give me anything I want.
“Lovie?” Quinn breaks the silence from our previous argument. He places his hand on my inner thigh. I feel a pulse in my pelvis.
“Hm.” I responded, just letting him know I’m listening, but still upset about our disagreement. Early on in the morning, Wuinn and I disagreed about the love for our jobs and our future together. I wnat kids, he doesn’t. I know, I said he would give me anything that makes me happy. This is one thing he doesn’t agree upon.
Quinn had previously mentioned that kids isn’t in his future, just because he’s so focused on his career. Do I agree with his story? Yes. I understand where he’s coming from, but I’m truly curious when we can have babies.
“I know some people break up from not agreeing in a future family. But that’s not us.” Quinn stated.
I’m disappointed. I really am, I thought he would understand where I’m coming at.
“Well, just saying… when you get the handle of being Captain, maybe we could fit in having a child, or more.” I insist. I know it’s hard, you know being Captain, but after a few years of Captain.
I mean we’re at the perfect age to start considering kids. Mid-20s, that way when our kids are about 10, we’ll be 30, and when they’re 18… well we would be about early late 40s. I think it’s perfectly reasonable to wait a few years to have kids, especially Quinn story.
I’m staring out the window, I know it’s hard for Quinn to feel so left out of my thinking, but I’m truly horrified. I’m scared that this will split us apart. Maybe this is a sign from God. Maybe I’m getting signals by the universe, “this is what’s best for us.” Quinn says as he looks over at me.
Suddenly the trees look so beautiful. Maybe I should just jump out of this car, the ride home is taking to long.
We’re driving home from a party at Peteys house to kick off the season. Our first game is next week and the roster is finalized, the letters are printed on the jerseys. Everything is ready.
“We have to finish this.” Quinn says, not letting this go.
“fine.” I say making it clear I don’t want to finish this “debate” and this so called “problem” of mine. I pull out my phone and call Ellen.
“Hey Mama Bear!” I say, Ellen can’t know that Quinn and I are going through something. This “debate” isn’t just happening, it’s been brought up about four times.
“What’s up Y/n? Something wrong?” Ellen askes, she gets up from her kitchen table and walks into her bedroom, where Jim lays on his computer finishing some work.
She points the camera at them both and Quinn speaks up, “no mom. Nothings wrong, I’m not sure why Y/n keeps calling.” Quinn motions to put the phone down. I obviously don’t do as he says.
“Yes, actually. I’m just wondering-“ I imply, but Quinn cuts me off.
“No. Nothing is wrong.” And he takes my phone and turns off the video call. He chucks the phone in the back. He pulls into the driveway of our home.
“We can fix this ourselves.” Quin eyes my belly. He climbs over the panel that separates my seat and Quinn’s.
“no, I don’t think we can.” I say as I pull away from Quinn’s request to kiss me. I see the look in Quinn’s eyes as he sees my pain.
My voice cracks, I sure I can’t be with someone that doesn’t wnat the life Ive fancied since I was a girl.
“Lovie. Come back.” Quinn slams his car door, and he locks the vehicle. He storms behind me as I run into our bathroom.
“Unlock the door.” Quinn pounds not once but twice and his feet trail off to our garage.
“Unlock it before I wreck it.” Quinn says as he grunts as if he picked something heavy off the ground.
“I don’t want to have makeup sex, or talk about it. Just let me live, or let me think this through. Because Quinn, right now it sounds like you want me to give up my dreams of being a mom.” I know hate is a sin. I just- I’m not sure if I can even think about leaving my childhood goal behind.
“Okay. If that’s what you need, I’ll leave.” And I hear a crack and a boom from above me.
I look up from the ground and I see Quinn has stabbed the door with a hatchet. I didn’t even know we had that in our home.
I stand up from the ground and back up towards our shower. I hit our wall that’s parallel to our wood door.
“I love you.” Quinn says as I see the door bang. The door is about to give up. Quinn runs into the door once more and I see him fall to the ground with our door. I’m stuck inside our shower. Quinn is on the door that had fallen. The wind was knocked iut if him.
“Baby?” I say as I step carefully out of the bathroom and into our room. I grab a first aid kit.
Quinn is bleeding from his head.
“Why did you do it?” I say in a frantic tone. I pick Quinn’s head up and I clean his wound.
“I’m fine. And I want kids.” Quinn says as he smiles.
Quinn gets up and sticks a bandaid on his cut. He takes his pants off and followed by his boxers. He throws his shirt off. He’s bare skinned and he jumps into bed.
I do the same. I throw my shirt off, leaving my bra on, and I slide my jeans off. Taking my thong off and sliding it onto if Quinn’s pile of clothing, I snap my bralette off and I throw it elsewhere. I jump into bed as Quinn hold me. The lights are off, doors are locked. We’re exhausted.
Quinn holds me in his arms, legs wrapped over me. Dick pricked up looking at me. My boobs hang to the side as I’m laying on my side as well. Quinn pulls me in, kisses my shoulder, and he whispers a name.
“Vada.” Quinn kissed my forehead and sets his head in my breasts. He falls asleep, not a care in the world about our broken door that he had slammed down.
This argument is settled, we’re having kids.
#jocelynscrazyideas#hockey#nhl#umich hockey#quinn hughes#captain huggy#captain quinn#🍇🍇🍇#nhl fic#hockey blurb#quinn hughes x reader#emotional angst
51 notes
·
View notes
Text
part two to this angsty beauty - enjoy 🖤
Your head pounded when you woke up, sunlight filtering through the curtains in your shared bedroom. Well, in your bedroom now. Who knows if you’d even be able to keep the apartment – would he want to stay here or would you? He said he’d be here today to pick up his things, so maybe he was letting you keep it. Maybe you’d surprise him with an empty apartment when he came to collect his things, and you’d be long gone.
Gone, that’s where you wished you could go. What did that even mean..?
It didn’t matter.
You got up and cleaned your face, throwing on some workout clothes and stepping out into the cold air. It was winter in New York City, and everyone else was bundled up with long coats and scarves, boots and their fuzzy socks peeking up at the top. You walked the five miles to the Avengers tower in some leggings, running shoes, and a light hoodie, not even bothering to put the hood on.
You slipped into the meeting just as it was starting, taking a spot next to Natasha this time instead of your usual one. There was an empty chair next to your ex-fiancé, everyone taking notice of it but not mentioning it more than a quiet glance amongst each other. Bucky listened with intent as if nothing had happened – you stared at the small scratch in the glass table until your eyes went fuzzy.
“I know we just finished one mission up – seriously, great job, you two-” he gestured to you and Bucky. Clearly not reading the room, he continued. “Truly a dream team, you two work great together.”
You could hear Bucky huff out a sarcastic laugh and you just rolled your eyes. How he had the audacity to sit there and act like he hadn’t just shattered your entire world last night, you would never know. It’s always been fucking hard to be with you. His harsh voice rang in your ears, flashbacks from last night hitting you like a train.
“Tony, could you..?” Natasha motioned for Tony to continue with his agenda and stop lingering.
“Right.” His voice was drowned out by the blood rushing through your ears, and you could barely hear what he was saying anymore, starting to zone out again.
Natasha nudged you, and everything came back into focus.
“Solo mission, Canada. Rumlow’s back.” She whispered it over to you as indiscreetly as possible, the details that Tony had just gone over, but without all of his theatrics.
You looked over at her. Rumlow? You mouthed. She nodded her head grimly.
“I can do it. I have the most experience dealing with him-” Bucky piped up finally, acting as some sort of martyr.
“I’ll go.”
All heads turn to you, finally having spoken up and looked up from the scratch on the table.
“Are you out of your mind?” Bucky’s words sliced through the silence. You locked eyes with him and there was nothing but fury and heartbreak in yours. You could see where his hands were in fists below the table, balled up and trying to keep his composure.
You looked at Tony. “I’ll go. Rumlow doesn’t know me. Even if he had files on each of us, you know mine is sealed. I’ve only been on covert missions that didn’t deal with the public-”
“Tony, you can’t let her go on this mission!” Bucky tried to speak over you. You could tell he was getting mad.
“-and because of that, my identity has never been known. To him, I’m just a random girl. Send me. I’ll get it done.”
It was silent in the room, and you could cut the tension with a knife. But Tony had made up his mind.
“Those are all…excellent points. Meet me in 20 in my office and we’ll go over it. You leave tomorrow.”
You closed your eyes, a feeling of relief washing over you. The meeting ended and you got up to leave, managing to round the corner before you felt a grip on your arm, stopping you dead in your tracks.
“You can’t go on that mission alone, he will kill you,” Bucky said through his gritted teeth. You tried to keep walking but his grasp on your arm was too strong. You knew you could never overpower him. “I’m going instead.”
“You know what you can fucking do-” you turned around in his arms and managed to shake out of his hold. By this time, the people who were left after the meeting were all silent and watching. You barely took note of them as you felt your vision cloud with rage.
“Hey, guys-” Steve tried to step in, tapping Bucky on the shoulder. It was no use. Your eyes brimmed with tears of rage.
“No, you go back to wherever the fuck you went last night and leave me ALONE!” you yelled at him, whipping around and starting to storm off. Before you got too far though, you turned back around and threw your engagement ring at his feet and let it clatter around the tile floors for everyone to see. “Sorry if I’m too hard for you to deal with right now, but I’m going on that mission alone and I hope that when I’m done, I can fucking stay up there away from you.”
He watched as you walked down the hallway and turned into Tony’s office, the door shutting behind you. He stood there in silence, the audience behind him in utter shock. They all began to dissipate, going in their own directions, until it was just him left.
I'll probably turn this into a multi-part fic, what do y'all think?
41 notes
·
View notes
Text
Constant Change
A/N: Reader is AFAB. No other descriptors used.
Warnings: Pregnancy, Smut. Please let me know if I missed any!
You’re finally home for the day and you’re still in daze after the phone call from the doctor. Everything feels surreal as you unlock the door. The surrealness isn’t helped by seeing Nick on one knee in the living room, holding a ring box.
You freeze at the sight and he shyly rubs the back of his neck, “I know it’s kinda quick but I also know you’re the one. If you’ll have me.” He looks back at you with those puppy dog eyes you can never say no to.
All you can say is, “I’m pregnant.” Nick’s eyes go wide and he’s immediately on his feet and moving to hold you. You practically collapse into his arms and he sits you down on the couch with him.
“The doctor appointment,” he asks. “To see why you’ve been sick?”
“Yup,” you quietly reply.
“I, uh, I guess we weren’t being as safe as we thought.”
“I’m so sorry,” you whisper.
Nick kisses you, “it’s not your fault. It takes two to make this kind of thing happen.”
“You’re a lot more calm about this than I expected,” you admit. “I…part of me was scared you’d be angry and want to leave me.”
“Not a chance,” he affirms. “I can understand why it didn’t register but I was just down on one knee asking you to marry me. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“You were proposing on the idea that we weren’t having a kid, Nick.”
“So you want to keep it?”
“I’m…” you hesitate. It’s something you long ago gave up any hope on. Another way you disappointed your parents. You’ve been so mentally ready to never have a child that this has entirely shaken your worldview. “I don’t know,” you confess.
“You don’t have to decide today,” Nick reassures. He gently moves your chin, making you look into his eyes. “Whatever you choose, I’m with you.”
“Do you want a kid?”
“I’ll admit, it’s something I thought was never going to happen for me,” he says. “But it’s not me who’s going to have to carry the baby. I’m not the one whose body is going to have to take everything.”
“Yeah, pregnancy ain’t a fairytale like they portray in the stories.”
“Which is why it’s your decision, that I will fully support, when you make it.”
“I have to ask, are you still interested in getting married?”
“Of course.”
You scan Nick’s face, looking for any of the telltale signs of hesitancy but you don’t find them.
“Then let me make sure that ring fits,” you ask with a smile.
“Nick,” you moan as his fingers expertly play with your nipples and his lips leave marks along your neck. “Nick, we should get some breakfast.”
“Can’t let you go this morning,” Nick states. “I’ll just have to have you for breakfast.”
While you haven’t been together long you’ve learned that when he gets in a mood he needs to follow through. The few times you’ve turned down his advances he acquiesced but it made him all the more needy when he did get you in bed. Those were the times you couldn’t walk the next day because of how thoroughly he’d fucked you silly.
“You didn’t get enough last night?”
“Can never get enough of you,” he growls. He almost seemed insulted at the very idea. “You look so good with that ring on. How could I possibly get enough?”
“Lucky you I don’t have to go into work today,” you smile. He gently pinches your nipples, making you moan. “Lucky me, as well.”
He chuckles at that as he kisses his way down your front, leaving marks where no one else will be able to see them. You try to use your hands to move him where you need him but he stops and glares at you. “Hands on the headboard,” he orders.
“Or else what,” you snicker.
“Or else I show you some of the immobilization techniques I learned in the CIA.”
You raise an eyebrow but decide not to test him. Not this early in the morning anyways. You put your hands above you, leaning your arms against the headboard and he smirks. You really enjoy giving him control in the bedroom and he loves that you trust him enough to do so. He’s very open to rewarding you for obeying his request and he shows it by finally kissing his way to your needy pussy.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who didn’t get enough last night,” he gently snarks as he sticks a finger into your already wet core. Without thinking you spread your legs wider, a silent plea for more.
Nick spends the next hour hitting all of your favorite spots, his eyes dark as he watches you fall apart, first on his fingers, then his cock.
Early on you told him your concerns about him not getting as much out of sex as you. He assured you that “your pleasure is mine, Lady. Every time I can make you come, make you call out my name, or whimper for me, it’s better than any orgasm for me.”
By the time he's done you're barely able to remember your own name. He's gently kissing you, massaging your legs, praising you.
“I should be thanking you,” you murmur, gently kissing back. “Best sex I've ever had. Most attentive partner I've ever been with. Makes me happy to give you everything I've got and then some.”
Nick's expression changes from happy to loving. Those puppy dog eyes that own your heart. “You're so good to me,” he says softly before pulling you in for cuddles.
As you start eating breakfast, you remind Nick that the two of you still need to talk about the pregnancy. While Nick has given you full control over the decision, you still want to talk things out with him, regarding his wants and concerns.
“My biggest fear is bringing work home with me,” Nick confesses. “But I'm already afraid of that with you. I don't know if a baby would add to that fear.”
“It's not like you're the bigger target here. I'm the one he came after. I'm the one who had to move in with you because my place wasn't safe.”
“So we agree, we live pretty dangerous lives,” Nick nods. “Definitely a factor.”
“At least money isn't so much of a factor,” you comment. We're not ‘higher echelon’ rich but we're pretty secure. Even if I quit my job.”
“Is that something you want?”
You sigh, “if we keep the baby I'll want to give them all the care and attention they need. That means no more job. I enjoy my work and my coworkers but there's been a lot of…tension ever since the incident with Clark.”
“Everyone wants the juicy details?”
“That and the fact that, as a city employee, a lot of my higher ups rely on campaign support from rich people like him. They're not happy with a potential threat to their funds.”
“I could always convince them to change their minds,” Nick offers, eyebrow raised.
You chuckle, “I'm not asking that of you. But I do love your willingness to hurt others for my sake. It really helps with my fear about us accidentally bringing danger home.” Sighing, you rub your belly, “then there are the health dangers. It's definitely a high risk pregnancy.”
Nick nods, his eyes never leaving your stomach. “But we can afford to get you all the medical care you might need. Might have to call in a few favors with the Boss’s doctors but it's doable.”
“And that's without my income, right?”
“Right,” he nods.
“I think I want to try to keep it,” you whisper.
Nick kneels in front of you, gently gripping your chin to make you look him in the eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
He searches for signs of second guessing, signs you might be doing this for anything other than you. Seeing your eyes filled with worry but hopeful determination he smiles, “then let's have a baby.”
Tag List: @alicedopey ; @icefrozendeadlyqueen ; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory ; @rebekahdawkins ; @terry2227 ; @texmexdarling
I've tagged everyone who had asked to be tagged in Changing Minds. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the list!
24 notes
·
View notes
Note
I know we still early in this au but dear god I need to know the DM crews reaction to showing up at Duel Academy only to find the school and the students GONE in season 3
Okay so I’m currently half way through season 1 of my Gx rewatch. (I’m at the school duel so “Chazz it up!” Is finally a thing) until I rewatch season 3 all of these ideas are fluid. I don’t know if they will stay or change into something new as I rewatch it and get inspired.
Now on to the question
When the DM crew shows up the school (or what’s left of it) is in pandemonium. The DM crew know the school is gone as soon as they get close to the island. It’s kind of hard to miss that the whole school building is gone.
Yugi is hard core freaking out. His son, his baby boy, was in that school. And the schools gone. They should have acted sooner.
Atem is trying to comfort Yugi but he’s just in shock as well. He had promised himself he wouldn’t allow harm to come to Yugi or Jaden. The past two years have been hard. He’s wanted to step in so many times but Yugi had always trusted Jaden. Even when he was scared out of his mind for him, he’d insist that if Jaden believed he could handle it they wouldn’t step in until necessary. Sure the monitored the situations and were ready to step in at any time, but it was never enough for Atem. He wasn’t used to standing back while other fought. It was something he distinctly hated about the memory world and his memories of Egypt. And now his nephew was missing and all of his fears were coming to pass.
Joey is staring at the crater in dumbfounded shock. What happened that could take out a whole school? Sure there was a creepy professor that was stealing people’s energy? But that can’t possibly lead to a school blowing up. Could it?
Tristian is the one to voice the question “what happened? It looks like the whole place was blown sky high!” Thank you Tristian. A great observation but not very helpful. Considering the observation sent Yugi down a new spiral.
Téa is trying to stay positive “we don’t know that yet. Maybe Jaden wasn’t in the school when it disappeared. He does like to cut class.” It’s wishful thinking and they all know it. (Jaden is to much like Yugi, to much like Atem. He’s always going to be at the center of the action) She’s trying to keep them and herself calm but it’s not truly working. But she does have a point, they need to find out what happened before they freak out.
Seto can’t take his eyes off of the crater that was once his school. He’s running through so many options of what could cause that. Some far more grim than the others. He almost pivoted to punch Tristian in the month when he says that the school was blown sky high. Because that couldn’t be what happened. Seto would know if one of his properties blew up. There was no way he lost his son, their son (he thinks as he finally looks over at his husband) to an explosion. He can see Yugi finally breaking.
His husband always keeps them grounded when it comes to Jaden and his adventures. Everyone else is always ready to fly to Duel Academy and fight Jaden’s enemies for him. And Yugi understands because he wants to too, but he always calms them. Gets them to watch from a far until Jaden truly needs them. His husband has been a pillar of strength for a long time but specifically these past two years. To see him finally break is heart wrenching. Part of him wants to go to his hisband but Atem is always there and Seto can’t help Yugi if he doesn’t know what happened to Jaden.
He lands the plane and looks at their cobbled together family. “I’m going to find out what happened. The rest of you stay here.” He want to find out if their son is safe, if he wasn’t anywhere near the disaster (not likely) or if their son was in the disaster was there a way to get him back (there had to be he wouldn’t accept another option) or was he dead (if so he didn’t want Yugi or the others to be told that news in front of a crowd. They deserve privacy to respond however they wanted. He could handle it. He’d go, get the world shattering news, come share it with the family, comfort his husband as he breaks down, and start planning his next trip to the afterlife)
His statement is not met well. “There is no way we’re staying here rich boy!” Joey is irate, the rest of the group is to. Loudly protesting Seto’s statement. Seto is more than prepared to argue back. But there is one voice that easily cuts through the noise.
Yugi stands on shaky legs , Atem moving with him arms ready to catch his Aibou if he falls. But Yugi has always been a pillar of strength. He looks at his husband with wet eyes. “There is no way I’m waiting.” And with that it’s settled, they’re all going together.
——————————————————————————
Now Chancellor Shepherd didn’t think this day could get any worse. His school was missing along with several hundred students. There was no way this could get worse
Until Seto Kaiba, the man who owns the school, walks up with some of the most famous people in dueling and demands to know what happened. How did they even find out about this? It only happened last night!
The man quickly stumbles through and explanation of what he believes happened and that their scientists are already looking into it.
It basically comes down to the school was transported to a different dimension.
Seto’s brain is already firing on all cylinders. He has the tech to travel between dimensions. But it was one person travel, not school building travel. How long would it take to get the tech here? How long will it take to change it to be school size. He’s got plans and Mokuba’s right next to him as the two start firing off advance math and science of what has to be adapted on the machine to make this work.
Yugi is both relieved (Jaden’s alive) and also terrified (how do they get to him? Seto might be able to bring the school home but Yugi wants to go after Jaden now.)
They are all working together to try and figure out a way to either A) get in contact with the school. B) get the school back. Or C) send at least one of the DM cast to go help the kids (most likely Yugi, Atem, and Joey in that order)
They are hoping that if they can get in contact with the kids maybe they will have a plan. After all they have more information then the adults do at this time. Plus actually hearing from Jaden will calm a lot of their nerves.
Everyone is very productive. The goal is getting the kids (Jaden) back. The DM crew isn’t going to waste time. Seto has taken over the whole operation bring in equipment and directing staff and scientist. He’s getting things set up to communicate with the kids when who should show up but Pegasus.
Why is Pegasus here? Seto didn’t call him. No one on the DM cast would call him.
Seto goes over to tell the man off. He’s under a lot of stress and he’s trying very hard to not take it out on any of the remaining students (they are trying to help) the staff (they are incompetent but they are also worried for the children and they are helping) and he is not going to take it out on Yugi or his friends (the DM crew have grown on him. Sure he and Joey will have petty fights but that’s more for entertainment than actual animosity) so when Pegasus shows up he is the perfect target for all of Seto’s built up aggression.
Or he was until Shepherd comes over and tells them that he asked for Pegasus to come. And excuse me Chancellor Sheppard but can you tell me why you called Pegasus, a competitor of Kaiba Corp to help with a problem when you won’t call the actual CEO who owns your school? Kaiba is not happy and Sheppard is sweating bullets.
Pegasus reveals that he is there because of Jesse Anderson and the rainbow dragon. He needs to find the tablet and create the rainbow dragon card. Then he can send it to Jesse who can use it to bring everyone home. Finally they have a plan!
Seto would be releaved. Except that Pegasus’s looks between him and Yugi and says “Honestly you two think I’m so heartless that I could hear that your little duel prince is trapped in another dimension and I wouldn’t come to help? You wound me.” He’s being dramatic and he’s trying to lighten the mood and reassure the parents that he is there to help.
What he accidentally does is reveal to Sheppard that not only is the Prince of Duels currently at his school! But he was currently lost to a different dimension! Under Sheppard’s watch! This is so bad. He’s running through the missing students in his head as fast as possible trying to figure out who the Prince of Duels is.
It can’t be Jaden. He loves the boy but he’s a bit of an airhead and he doesn’t think there is a thought that has crossed the boys mind that hasn’t left his mouth. (Oh you fool)
It can’t be Chazz he’s met the boy’s brothers
Can’t be Syrus. Zane is his older brother and as far as anyone knows there is only one Prince of Duels.
He doubts it’s Hassleberry. Not with the boys military lingo. But that might just be used to throw him off.
It’s not Atticus. Again he has a sibling and he was missing for two years. If this is Yugi and Seto’s response to their son being missing for a few days he couldn’t imagine them sitting idle for two years
But who?
Bastian? No the boy left the school last year.
Maybe a student who flies under the radar
Or maybe…. It’s one of the transfer students. All the duel academies knew the son of Seto Kaiba and Yugi Muto would attend one of their schools. He and the other head masters had been trying to figure out who the kid was for years. He wouldn’t put it past the two fathers, who were religious about their son’s privacy to send him to a far away school.
Axel is a bad choice his aditude and loyalty to Professor Kobra didn’t fit with what he had picked up from watching the DM crew.
Jim is a good candidate.
And then there is Jesse. The boy with an ultra rare deck. Pegasus’s whole plan to save the school revolved around the boy. And he did say he came specifically to “help the Prince of Duels” could it be Jesse? He was the one Pegasus was helping. If it was Jesse that was even worse the boy had been at his school for barely two months before the Chancellor lost him!
Needless to say the man is hard panicking.
On the other side Seto is furious. How DARE Pegasus reveal anything about Jaden to these people. He’s about to tear into Pegasus. This won’t stand. This won’t happen again. He’ll buy Pegasus’s whole company and ruin this man’s life if he says one more thing about his son.
But before he can Yugi speaks. “Pegasus. While I appreciate your help in this matter. I’ll remind you that there is nothing more important to us than our son’s safety. And a major part of that is his privacy. I will not have that compromised.” His voice is firm and unquestionable. He is a king after all and he will not bend on this matter. His eyes leave Pegasus and land directly on Sheppard. “By anyone here.”
Seto watches the man visible gulps and knows his husband’s message was received load and clear. ‘Tell anyone about this and you’ll pay.’ Yugi doesnt often behave this way outside of duels but Seto never tired of how HOT it was.
The two lead the way back to the rest of the crew and allow Pegasus to explain his plan. Yugi and Atem decide to go with Pegasus to find the Rainbow Dragon tablet. Hopefully between the three of them they will hear the beast’s voice calling out.
The next big problem is deciding who will duel Jesse when the time comes. Seto wants to and does Joey but they are both told that if they would have to go all out to generate enough duel energy. But if they do and they beat Jesse to early then they might lose their chance to get Rainbow Dragon through. Jesse’s a great duelist but the DM crew are in a league of their own.
Chancellor suggests Zane.
After the duel and rainbow dragon goes through all there is to do is wait. A few hours later the school is back.
And Jaden is screaming.
#yugi moto#yugi mutou#jaden yuki#judai yuki#yugioh gx#seto kaiba#dad yugi#atem#yami yugi#pharaoh atem#joey wheeler#tristan taylor#tea gardner#rivalshipping#spiritshipping#johan andersen#jesse anderson
18 notes
·
View notes
Text
Here I Lay (Still and Breathless)
AN: Follow-up to ‘Can You Sew Them Shut?’ You will be lost and confused without that, so. Y’know. Definitely go check it out. Title from Deftones’ ‘Passenger’.
* * *
Jason shudders in the restraints, the cold blooming inside him like he’s swallowed an ice cube whole. He can’t focus on anything apart from thread thread thread; even trying his usual techniques, like the Fives rule, only ever gets him stuck in a loop of thread. It feels like he’s suffocating, struggling to get enough air through his nose, and God, God help him, he has to get out of here, he can’t…
The cart is just visible out of the corner of his eye and he’s trying, desperately, not to look at it. Trying just makes his eyes go over there all the more.
The doors swing open. Crane steps in first, briefcase in hand, looking like he’s on his way to work. Which, Jason guesses, he is.
“Perfect stitches, Kitty.” He nudges the cart over, out of Jason’s view, and leans closer. “Let me just…”
He frowns, jabs Jason’s top lip, and nods at the involuntary flinch.
“Local’s worn off. Wonderful.”
Richardson hums. She’s fiddling with a camcorder and all Jason can hear, suddenly, is his voice.
“Did ya get that, Bats? Kid’s not yours anymore.”
There’s a sharp, sudden pain, a quick pinch against his wrist, and Joker shuts up.
“I need you present, Hood,” Crane warns. Jason would love to tell him to fuck off, but he can’t he can’t he can’t. “Don’t wander off, now.”
They both laugh. Richardson snags her stool, sets the camcorder on it, and comes over to check the restraints again. Crane pulls a vital monitor over and Jason wonders, through the haze of panic, where they even are. They have a lot of equipment they usually don’t a-a-and–
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“All right…restraints secure…are we loosening the vise before or after?”
“After. This one’s spiteful.”
“Whatever you say, Doctor Crane.” There’s the sound of buttons. “Camera is…on. Ready when you are.”
“Thank you, Nurse.” Tip-tap. “Patient will be receiving three milliliters of formula nine-z-s-eight-two-zero. He will be the fourth such subject to do so. Patient has experienced prior exposure on…” Crane pauses, counting under his breath. “Nine known occasions to date, though six of those were in conjunction with other drugs and cannot be counted as inoculations.” Crane smiles down at him. “Deep breaths, child. Only a little pinch.”
Please–
Fear toxin hurts going in. It’s thick and it burns, sluicing through the vein like toxic sludge. Jason breathes through his nose and tries, desperately, to focus. He can’t scream. No matter what he sees, or hears, or anything, he can’t scream.
Dimly, he’s aware of the vise being taken off. The sudden release of the pressure on his teeth is a fleeting moment of relief, but the sudden slackness pulls warningly at his lips and he tightens back up as much as he can.
Keep it together, Jay.
Breathe in, breathe out. Eyes closed–eyes lie. Focus on what he knows is real; the sound of his pained breaths, the sticky, slightly sweaty vinyl seating under him, the. The thread in his lips. Maybe especially that last one, for motivation. He can do this. Just got to ride it out. He’s made it through fear toxin before and sure, it’s nasty, but he can do this.
“Jason?”
Oh, God, no, please.
“Jay-baby?”
He squeezes his eyes shut until weird spots dance behind his eyelids. He doesn’t want to see this, see whatever monstrosity Mom’s become because she’s dead he knows that he knows he should’ve stayed with her that night but he didn’t and–
“I’m sorry Jay, please don’t be upset.” A frigid hand rests on his shoulder, thumb moving in little circles. “Please talk to me, kiddo.”
He bites back a frantic, Mom please don’t be sorry it’s all my fault only because it pulls. That’s right. She’s not here. She can’t be here.
Pained breaths. The thread in his lips. The hard, chipped tiles under his body, leaching the heat from him. Those are real. Mom’s not. The damp, medicinal reek is not.
“Jason.” Her voice is thick, like she’s going to start to cry. “At least look at me, baby. Please?”
He can’t. He can’t face her.
There’s a soft sniffling and he clings to the feeling of thread, even though he’s wondering if I just try not to move my lips, I could maybe still–
Her face presses into his hair, warm tears seeping through it, and he chokes, throat swelling up and threatening to force out something. If he could just pick his hand up, at least, that would be enough to show her he’s not mad, if anything, she should be mad at him–
He tries. He does. But it won’t move. He settles for trying to lean his head towards her instead, hoping it’ll be enough.
There’s a sudden shriek and he feels her being pulled away, hears the clang! of her skull striking the cart followed by crack! of it hitting the tiles.
“Whoops!” Joker cackles. “Don’t know my own strength sometimes!”
No–
His eyes fly open without his consent. Mom’s lying facedown on the tiles, blood slowly pooling under her head, but she’s still breathing, he can see that. Joker stands over her, twirling a crowbar, but when he makes eye contact with Jason, his smile manages to grow even wider.
“There you are, Todders! I keep telling your mother, spare the rod and spoil the child.” He shakes his head. “You should have done what you were told. Now look at what I have to do!” He gestures vaguely with the crowbar. “You’ll be the one cleaning this mess. It’s the only way you’ll learn anything.”
He raises the crowbar. Brings it down.
Raises it up.
Brings it down.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
“Stop it!” There’s a terrible tearing and pain and he spits blood, has no idea where it came from. “Stop it, please!”
Joker does stop. He looks up, flicks bits of blood and bone and brain matter from the end of the crowbar. Jason’s shaking, hot blood streaming down his chin and onto his neck and dripping towards his chest.
“Please,” he whispers. “Please don’t.”
For a second, that’s not Joker. That’s Scarecrow’s mask, gazing passively at him as worms wriggle through the burlap. Then the stitches curve into a smile and Joker’s back where he was.
“Nah.”
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
Regardless of Jason’s desperate screams, he doesn’t stop.
Up.
Down.
Up.
Down.
THE END
#fic#jason todd#arkhamverse#scaryverse#jonathan crane#kitty richardson#catherine todd#joker#it actually does suck to be jason todd#oh well
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Anyone else have near-perfect executive function at work; but at home, have literally no energy or motivation to do anything except lie in a dark room, with something in or on your ears for several hours?
#It’s got to be the schedule keeping me on task at work#I love microdosing strict routines (not having an actual routine for the day; but having routines for small tasks#which piss me off if I can’t carry them out precisely the way I planned)#For instance: If I’m asked to paperclip a bunch of stuff together with multicolored paperclips of various sizes#I cannot just indiscriminately pick paperclips from the container because that is WRONG and ILLEGAL#The colors must fit the theme of the assignments; and the colors must alternate in a specific order#and the paperclips must all be the same size#If I’m asked to dump out and clean containers of writing utensils I am going to sort them by type and color#whether you like it or not#Black permanent markers have their own container in a different section from the blue permanent markers#Dry-erase markers are not to be mixed with permanent markers because they are easily confused and it is WRONG and ILLEGAL#Do not fuck with the system. It’s the only organizational skill I have and by fucking GOD I’m going to use it in EXCESS#I stuff and fill out envelopes the exact same way every time because if I do it any other way it is WRONG and ILLEGAL#The stamp always goes on last to minimize monetary waste if there is a mistake#Now you’d think my room is squeaky clean and organized because of how particular I am about these small tasks#Right? Right?#NO IT IS NOT. It looks like a bomb went off. Cleaning the room is a big task which cannot be accomplished within two hours#therefore I have discarded it as anything I need a routine for because it would take too long to come up with#and it is very hard for me to do things like that without instructions or a sense of consistency#So I simply don’t#“After five years the dust doesn’t get any worse” correct; but the mold certainly does#I am convinced half my problems with organization as a kid would have been solved if I just had a hamper#“We have a clothes chute; you don’t need a hamper” Maybe you don’t but I DO#I want one now; but I’m going to use it as incentive to get an apartment#because that’s another thing I need to smuggle and I have too much already
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
closed some ao3 tabs and started crying. again
#i don’t think i’ve ever cried this much in years#i just hope i don’t break down at work tomorrow#i need some closure i can’t move on from this#it’s so hard i can’t distract myself i can’t do anything i can’t stop checking my phone for updates it’s really fucking bad#i can’t even shower cause i’m scared i’ll miss something and come back to something horrible#i know it will be there either way but i just have so much anxiety i can’t function#i need to get my shit together because i don’t know how i’ll be able to go to work tomorrow if i keep acting this way#can he please just stream?#*
4 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
