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angryschnauzer · 3 years

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Just What I Need

Summary; Working in a coffee shop you meet all sorts of people, but one customer in particular is always friendly, a local Detective from the nearby precinct. When one night he orders through a delivery service rather than in store, you get more than a tip when you make the delivery.

Fandom; Nomis (Night Hunter) Movie, Henry Cavill

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x Female Reader (no race or size specified)

Trope: Coffee Shop Meet Cute

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Flirting, Masturbation (male), Oral Sex (female recieving), unprotected sex, Vaginal Sex, Snowstorms.

I do not operate a tag list but instead please pop over and follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, then you’ll get an alert every time i post a new story. My Masterlist got too long and tumblr ate it, so all my past stories can also be found on my AO3, link HERE

A/N: I am considering expanding this story, depending if people like it and want me to? Let me know! <3

Just What I Need

Running the steam through the coffee machine you wiped the nozzle and smiled, there were just fifteen minutes until closing and the coffee shop you worked at was all but abandoned. Just your manager in the back counting the cash takings, and you were getting ready to box up the remaining muffins and cookies for the homeless shelter volunteer to collect dead on closing time.

You didn’t mind working the late shift, in fact you preferred it over the early shift opening up at 7am. The 7am crowd were grumpy, rude and always in a rush. The 7pm customers were tired, quiet, and always thankful for whatever caffeinated delights you provided them with.

The bell over the door rang as it opened and you looked up over the cups that were stacked on top of the machine, smiling at you saw the weary familiar face coming towards you;

“Good Evening Detective” you smiled as the beast of a man stood at the counter. His face softened as he saw you, his shoulders dropping a little as he relaxed.

“Hey… Sorry I’m in so late… you’re still open, right?”

You glanced at the clock;

“Another ten minutes. What can i get you?”

You watched as he cast his gaze up to the handwritten chalkboard menu’s above the counter;

“You got any Chilli left?”

“Sure, a couple of pots in the fridge. Want me to warm it up?”

He paused for a moment, as if trying to process the most technical question through his tired mind;

“No… yes… urghhh…” he took a deep breath; “Yeah… if you wouldn’t mind. I’m so fuckin’ tired i think I’d burn my apartment down if i tried to use the stove”

“Sure thing” you said with a smile as you got to work.

You made small talk as you prepared his order, pulling out the sides and condiments that came with the Chilli meal;

“Hey, you want a free muffin?”

“I’m not really into sweet things this late at night… what flavours you got?”

“How about an Apple Cinnamon? It’ll last overnight and still be fresh enough for breakfast”

The Detective smiled and nodded, pulling his wallet out as you finished bagging his order and rang it through for him, paying before you handed the bag to him;

“Have a good evening Detective”

As he turned he smiled at you;

“Call me Walter”

Three days later and you were on the late shift again. Again it was quiet, just the soft sound of tyres driving through slushy snow outside the only noise since around 6pm as just a couple of customers nursed steaming mugs of coffee from their window seats. You saw the big silver truck pull up in the space outside the coffeeshop and smiled, there was only one customer that drove a truck that huge and if you were being honest with yourself you were developing quite a crush on the curly haired Detective.

The moment he walked through the door you were smiling at him;

“Detective” you greeted him happily

“Didn’t i say to call me Walter last time i was here?”

“I like Detective, has a nice authority ring to it” you said with a wink; “What can i get you tonight?”

He paused for a moment, and as you reached for a notepad to jot down his order you missed the slight eyebrow raise and smirk at what you’d said before he cleared his throat;

“What have you got that i can eat in my office without facing the wrath of my Lieutenant for making the department stink?” he said with a grin as he leaned on the counter.

“I got Mozzarella and Pesto Subs? Tuna Melt?”

“Tuna is a no. The case isn’t going well, no fish. Gimme two Mozzarella Subs, and the largest black coffee you do”

“Sure thing. I’ll put a fresh pot on and get those sub’s on the press”

As you started to prepare his order his phone rang, and you couldn’t help but to listen in;

“... i’ll be like five minutes, i ain’t eaten all day… yeah ok… i’ll grab a box…”

He hung up and nodded to the cakes;

“Can i get a dozen muffins to go too? Got some grunts that are jealous that i got to escape the paperwork…”

“Sure thing”

Loading a box you picked what you knew were the best flavours and the freshest bakes;

“You know, we’re on Uber Eats. As much as its nice to see a friendly face, we can deliver to the Precinct”

“I… I have no idea what that is…”

“Its a food delivery app. Here, give me your phone…”

He unlocked it and set it down and rested his elbows on the counter as he watched;

“You go to the app store and just download it. Put in your location and it’ll bring up nearby eateries and you can search for us. It has all the standard menu on. Save your card details or link it to paypal, and its super easy, it even keeps you updated when the order is being prepared or its out for delivery”

He smiled as you pushed the phone back to him, locking the screen and pushing it back into his tight jeans;

“That’s all well and good, but then i wouldn’t get a chance to see my favourite coffee shop girl now, would i?”

You leaned forward and grinned, keeping your voice low;

“Order between 6.45 and 7pm and i snag the deliveries and do them on my way home”

Walter pushed the key into the lock, opening the door to his apartment and groaning as his body ached from tiredness. He should be elated, they caught the killer, the evidence was logged and couldn’t be disputed… and yet he was tired to his core. He’d been at his desk for longer than he’d been home, and when the Lieutenant had finally ordered him to go him a little after 5pm, it had still taken him the better part of an hour to finish up and leave the building.

Shutting the door behind him he felt his stomach rumble. He didn’t even need to look in the fridge to know it was completely empty, devoid of anything even vaguely edible. Checking his phone he saw that it was a little after 6.30pm and a thought fired across his mind, a smile forming. Fifteen minutes later he’d added far more to his online basket than he ever would have done in store, but for the first time he was able to see exactly what the creations were whereas in the store it was just a big pile of weird looking cakes and bakes. By 6.50pm he’d entered his card details and completed the order, the little update screen stating delivery would be by 7.30pm, just enough time to grab a shower, after all if it was you that would deliver, he should probably shower for the first time in 72 hours having rushed out of the apartment three mornings in a row due to new leads in the case.

The shower was far too enjoyable to rush, and after he’d washed his hair he started on his body, soaping over his chest and stomach before he paid extra attention to his dick. The anticipation of just the possibility of seeing you had him hard in seconds, and resting his head back against the tiled wall he quickly worked his hand over himself. He got lost in the moment, his mind taking him to places it shouldn’t, imagining his hand was yours, thinking about that time he saw you wearing over the over the knee knit socks and a skirt, how your ass was the perfect roundness, how your lips would look stretched around his dick… he came with a groan, thick white ropes falling to the shower floor as every ounce of stress left his body, his body shuddering when he was finally spent.

He was halfway through drying himself when he heard a knock at the door to his apartment, he eyes going wide when he saw it was 7.20pm;

“Fuck!”

He’d gotten carried away in the shower, and now he had to quickly rush to wrap a towel around his waist as a second knock came just as he reached the door, taking a deep breath before opening it and seeing you standing on the doorstep shivering in your padded coat, holding two takeout bags;

“Hey! Come in, come in, Jeez its freezing out there…”

Stepping into the apartment you couldn’t help but to look him up and down, attempting to hide your reaction as you could clearly see the distinct outline of something rather large bulging against the fabric of the fluffy white towel;

“Hey D-d-detective… Y-y-yeah it’s d-d-dropping fast out t-t-there… radio s-s-said it was g-g-gonna be a wind chill of minus t-t-twenty nine by eight o’clock… what a n-n-night to have my b-b-bike, huh?” You carefully dropped the two bags onto his coffee table as you spoke.

“You cycled here? On that pedal bike that is always chained up outside the coffee shop?” he asked incredulously, immediately forgetting his current state of undress. Shutting the door he immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest; “You’re gonna stay here until you’re warmed up, i’m gonna make you a hot coffee and to warm you up from the inside too...”

“I ain’t gonna complain to that” you mumbled, your face pressed to his chest as you suddenly melted against him, warming your cheek against his firm muscles before turning your head to warm the other one and he let out a little gasp as your cold hands pressed against his sides.

“I also said for you to call me Walter…” he said quietly.

Pulling your head back you smiled at him;

“Thank you, Walter. You’re the best… though you’re the first delivery i’ve made where i’ve been greeted by someone in just a towel”

“Sorry, let me go put some clothes on…”

You tighten your grip around his waist;

“I wasn’t complaining…”

There was no poignant pause, no longing gazes, his lips met with yours and the kiss was fierce and hungry. He was pushing your coat down your arms and you reluctantly released your hold from his waist to let it drop to the floor, your sweater following soon after. Your lips met again and he was lifting you, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hand rested on your ass beneath your skirt as he walked you through the apartment before dropping you on his bed.

He was pulling your boots off your feet as you scrambled up the bed, your hands reaching for your thigh high socks when he suddenly caught your hands in his;

“Leave those on…”

You paused and grinned, before his lips met yours again and he was on top of you, his hands sliding up your skirt and bunching it around your waist as he pressed a trail of open mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts and over your stomach, before briefly lifting his head enough to pull your panties down your legs and toss them aside.

As he lowered his mouth to your core his gaze was intense, vivid blue shining through the dim light of his bedroom, his tongue pushing through your soaked petals and parting them as his beard brushed against your skin, heightening all of the sensations. Wrapping his arms around your thighs he pulled you closer to his mouth, his tongue pushing into you and he started to fuck you with it whilst his bearded face tickled your clit. You were squealing and struggling to stay still, needing to anchor yourself on something as your hips bucked and your orgasm started to rapidly approach, your hands finding their way to his still wet hair and your fingers wrapping around the dark curls as he pressed a hand to your stomach to keep you still, growling at your taste on his tongue as he felt you shake as your orgasm took over.

When your body had finally stopped shaking Walter pressed a chaste kiss to the inside of each of your thighs before he sat back on his haunches, licking his lips where he could still taste you on them. Pushing yourself up onto your elbows you grinned at him, your gaze travelling down his thick chest to his stomach, and the trail of hair that led beneath the towel;

“You gonna show me what you’ve got under that towel, Detective?”

“You ready for what i’ve got under this towel darlin’?”

Pushing yourself up to sitting, your legs spread and bent either side of him, you hooked a finger into the towel and tugged, your eyes going wide when you saw his thick meaty cock standing hard and proud between his muscled thighs. Wrapping your hands around it you relished the feel of his silky skin as it moved over the hardness beneath, your mouth against his;

“I need you inside me”

“I… Fuck… this wasn’t planned… i haven’t got any protection…”

“I’m on birth control, I want to feel you bare…”

With a growl he surged forwards, capturing your lips with his own before he pushed you down onto the bed. Holding himself up on one hand he hooked your leg up over his hip, opening you like a winter blossom as he rubbed his dick through your soaked folds, dousing himself with your slick wetness. You whined at the teasing, the way his tip would brush against your hole only to move up to your clit;

“Walter, please… you promised to warm me up from the inside…”

He paused, a smirk on his face;

“You want me to get you a coffee? ‘Cos i can stop…”

“NO, i need your diiiiiiiiii….FUCK!” He’d pushed into you as you were mid sentence, the feeling of his meaty girth splitting your walls wide open overwhelming you and your eyes rolled back in their sockets; “OH MY GOD!”

“You like that Darlin? You feeling warmer now?”

“Please… please fuck me…”

He grinned and shifted his hips, grinding into you;

“Well, as you said please…”

You had been expecting him to pound you into the mattress, you had not been expecting for his technique to start off with sensual rolls of his hips, filling you tenderly and carefully whilst you got used to his size. It was almost overwhelming, completely surrounded as he caged you in with his massive arms, his chest pressed against your own as his hips worked utter magic. He pulled his legs wide apart, shifting to rest on your open hips and he got even deeper. Pressing kisses to your lips and neck he soon had you moaning and begging for release, every push and pull hitting just the right spots and you were almost embarrassingly wet from the arousal but it only added to the sensations.

You could feel yourself coming, the pleasure too much to hold back, and with a long low moan your body betrayed you and succumbed to the orgasm that had been building in the pit of your belly. Walter kept up the same speed of his thrusts but pushed a little harder, a little deeper with each one;

“Can feel you fluttering around me, you gonna cum for me? You look so fucking beautiful all fucked out and wanting, feel so fucking amazing…”

Just as your orgasm was at its peak he tensed and you could feel his cum flooding into you, the twitching of his dick as he filled you with his seed prolonging your high. When you had both finally finished you could feel his weight start to get heavier on top of you, before with a sudden and surprising act of nimble dexterity he rolled the pair of you over so you were laying atop of him, his softening dick slipping out and you felt the trickle of his seed flow out of you. With one massive hand he pulled the duvet across your bodies, and you snuggled up to his chest;

“That was the best tip ever” you giggled; “In fact definitely more than the tip”

At that moment you not only heard but felt his stomach growl, looking up and seeing him grin sheepishly as he spoke;

“I just want you to know this is not how i usually treat food deliveries… do you want something to eat? Or drink?”

Nodding you smiled;

“That'd be nice”

A while later you were cleaned up, Walter having given you one of his massive t-shirts to wear which came to the tops of your thighs. He’d grazed through half the contents of his order as you nibbled on a muffin, having eaten at the coffee shop during a very quiet last hour of your shift. You’d laughed and chatted as the pair of you had eaten on the comfort of Walters couch, before you’d suddenly stopped mid sentence;

“Shit, i left my bike in the lobby… will it be safe there until i go home?”

Walter smiled at you, his hand curling around your thigh;

“Have you heard that weather out there? I’d be surprised if you could even ride it home through three foot of snow…” he paused for a moment; “Stay the night…”

You went to object, decline politely but you caught yourself, why? Why shouldn’t you spend the night? Taking a deep breath you smiled;

“I’d love to”

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Part 2 >>>

#walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall x you #henry cavill #walter marshall smut #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall fanfic

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the-modernmary · 3 years

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to be enough || aaron hotchner x gn!reader

Summary: During a movie night with your boyfriend Aaron, you accidentally stumbled onto his old wedding video, and it makes you wonder if you could ever compete with his first love?

A/N: This was an anonymous request, thank you SO MUCH for sending this in!! It’s my first request and it was so much fun to write!! I love soft Hotch so, so much. I’m sorry this took so long to get out. I was sick on and off for like two weeks straight, it was a whole thing. I hope you like this!!

masterlist || read on ao3

“I’ll make popcorn and open the wine, you pick the movie. We’ll meet back on the couch in ten minutes,” Aaron said quickly as he pressed a kiss to your cheek before making his way to his kitchen.

You giggled at your boyfriend’s eagerness as soon as he opened the door to his apartment. Truth be told, you couldn’t blame him, though. It was rare that the two of you ever really got the chance to just hang out at his apartment. Whenever Aaron was home, he liked to spend as much free time with his son as possible, which you completely understood. So between spending time with Jack and Aaron being away on cases, you lived for these small moments of alone time and domesticity.

“You might regret letting me pick the movie, my love,” you called to him jokingly as you sat down in front of his TV, looking for where the remote was hiding. “I am very loyal to my early 2000’s chick flicks.”

The sound of Aaron’s laughter floating through his apartment made your heart swell. He had never been the tough, FBI unit chief around you, but he was also rarely so carefree and light. There was always a shield around him, especially with the way he would carefully choose his words so as to not give away too much of himself. He was always so guarded and unwavering.

Aaron poked his head out of the kitchen, hair falling in his eyes. “In the interest of honesty, I’m fully planning on moving this to the bedroom before we even get halfway through the movie,” he admitted, his voice carrying even over the sound of popcorn in the microwave.

You giggled again and shook your head fondly, unable to stop the smile spread across your face at his words. Seeing him be so playful was like a gift — always a surprise, but never unwelcome. You lived for those small glimpses of the man you knew he was.

Aaron went back to choosing the perfect movie night wine and you settled on the couch, turning on the TV and ready to pick out the goofiest, most feel-good movie you could find. Before you could pull Netflix up, however, the DVD that was already in the television began playing.

The film was grainy and the camera work was shaky at best, so you weren’t sure exactly what you were watching at first. There was a church in the background and men dressed in nice suits. Kids dressed in their Sunday best ran around in the grass. The camera panned over to a couple who were clearly getting married, going by the big white dress the woman was wearing.

The camera zoomed in on the couple and your heart dropped to your stomach, because there, right in the center of the screen was Aaron. It was a much younger version of him, of course, probably law school, but it was definitely him.

Oh god, this was his wedding video. Which meant that the beautiful, blushing bride wrapped in his arms and making him throw his head back in laughter was Haley.

Aaron had told you about Haley and everything that had happened between the two of them right up to her murder pretty early on in your relationship with him, but then it was never really mentioned again. But you had heard the whispers on nights out with his team, listened to them all gossip amongst themselves about how “I never thought Hotch was ever going to move on?” .

Despite every logical bone in your body screaming at you to change the film before Aaron came back into the living room, you couldn’t help but watch in morbid fascination. The Aaron on the screen was so different from the man you had come to love.

You watched as the film Aaron spun Haley in circles and peppered her entire face in kisses. The entire time, they never once stopped touching each other, even if it was something as simple as holding each other’s hands. Aaron kept glancing over at Haley with the biggest heart eyes you had ever seen, and it was nothing like the way Aaron had ever looked at you. Even when the couple was supposed to be paying attention to the people giving speeches around them, Haley and Aaron kept sneaking glances at each other, mouthing “I love you” like it was the only thing they could think to say.

Aaron looked so happy and so free and it was so unlike the man in the other room. In the year and a half you had been dating him, you had never seen Aaron with a smile so big. He never gave you PDA so freely, and it wasn’t something you realized you even wanted until you saw him do it with somebody else. Suddenly, you wanted to feel young and reckless and dizzy in love the way he looked back in the film.

It was unfair to ask him to live every day with you feeling like it was his wedding day, and you knew it. Still, something stirred inside of you that made you crave for Aaron to look at you like that, even just once.

What you had with Aaron now was safe and a certifiable “adult” relationship. Not to say it wasn’t nice, and there was plenty of passion and fun in it. All of your friends constantly expressed how envious they were that you had found somebody who was so stable yet still unpredictable and could sweep you off your feet with romantic dates under the stars. Being with Aaron felt like home for you, and you had always thought that he felt the same, although now you weren’t sure. It had never occurred to you that Aaron may not have ever really gotten over his first love.

The microwave beeped, signaling that the popcorn was done and that Aaron would be back in the living room at any second, and you quickly switched the TV to Netflix, clicking whatever movie popped up first, not even bothering to look at the title.

Just in time, too, because not long after, Aaron made his way over to the couch, precariously carrying a bowl of popcorn, two wine glasses, and a bottle of a sweet red wine that had become a go-to for you both. He generally preferred red wine, but you hated the dryness of it and basically only drank sweet, dessert wines, so when the two of you found this one, it had seemed like fate. Most of your relationship with him felt like fate, honestly.

You forced yourself not to think about the fact that Aaron was happily drinking white wine in the wedding video.

“Either the definition of ‘chick flick’ has changed drastically,” Aaron started, plopping down next to you. “Or Mad Max is very different from what I remember.”

“I decided to change it up, put on a movie neither of us will be invested in,” you lied, desperately fighting to keep your voice even. “That way we can move right into the bedroom portion of the night.”

“I like the way you think, sweetheart,” he chuckled, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. His thigh was pressed against yours, but even then, he felt a million miles away from you.

It was unfair to get so worked up over this whole wedding video thing, and you knew that. His time with Haley had ended long before he had even met you, and logically, you knew that people could fall in love multiple times. Still, that didn’t quell the anxiety that was bubbling in your stomach, making you queasy.

Why was he even watching that video, anyway? Did he often sit right there on the very couch you were cuddling with him on and rewatch the happiest day of his life? After a date with you, did he ever come home conflicted about his own emotions and feeling guilty for moving on, and go down memory lane to remind himself who his real true love was?

You kept thinking about how giddy he had looked in that video, and how easy it had seemed for him to be with her. And Haley… God, how could you compete?

She was stunning, no doubt about it, with her blonde hair and bright eyes that shined, even through shitty 90’s video camera quality. The pink on her soft-looking lips only seemed to make Aaron want to kiss them more and more, maybe to see if he could smudge her lipstick. It never once budged, though, because of course it didn’t. She seemed too perfect to have faded lipstick on her wedding day. She had floated across the makeshift dance floor, like a fucking Disney princess leaving a trail of fairy dust and sunshine everywhere she went. Everything about her seemed soft and kind and good, all things you had never once associated with yourself.

It was no surprise that Aaron had decided he was going to marry her from the first time he saw her, as he had said in his vows. She was everything you could have ever wanted to be, and clearly, she was everything Aaron had ever wanted.

Aaron’s voice snapped you out of your rapid descent into crippling insecurity. “I can hear you thinking from here, honey.”

You took a long sip of your wine, avoiding his piercing gaze. “I’m just concentrating on the movie,” you lied.

“The movie you picked specifically so that we didn’t have to pay attention?” he retorted, eyebrows raised. Really, you should have known better than to try and give him such a blatant lie. Aaron reached over you to grab the remote and paused the movie, placing his hand lightly on your knee. “What’s going on?”

How could you even explain what you were feeling? It definitely wasn’t jealousy, although you almost wished it was. At least with jealousy, you could push it to the side as an awful, gross feeling that comes from years of internalized misogyny and being told that other women are inherently competition for the attention of men. You could deal with that feeling.

But it wasn’t that at all. Despite Aaron’s obvious devotion to her, you found it hard (and a little twisted, if you were being completely honest) to be jealous of a woman who was violently murdered in her own home in front of her young child. Besides, jealousy would imply that you and Haley were on somewhat equal ground, which you so clearly weren’t.

Haley was his high school sweetheart, the love of his life, the woman he had chosen to have children with, and you…

Well, at one point you thought you could have been that, too, but now you were faced with the fear that you were nothing more than a person to fill the hole in his heart that Haley had left. Even worse, however, was the sinking feeling that you weren’t sure if you were ever going to be enough to fill it completely.

“It’s stupid,” you stuttered out, avoiding Aaron’s eyes, which were so full of concern. That was the worst part. It would be one thing if Aaron didn’t love you, but he did love you. Just not in the way he loved her. “Don’t worry about me.”

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you.”

“I—” You cut yourself off with a sigh and shifted on the couch so that you were facing him. “Am I enough for you?”

Aaron looked about as taken aback by your question as you felt. You hadn’t meant to burst through the gate with that particular insecurity.

“Are you enough for me?” he repeated slowly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, like the question didn’t make any sense. In all honesty, it probably didn’t. “If you mean ‘am I happy with you’, then yes. Incredibly. Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

That should have made you feel better, but it wasn’t the answer you were looking for. You absentmindedly picked at a loose thread on your sweater. “I saw your wedding video,” you admitted shamefully. It felt like you were a little kid getting caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “And, I don’t know… You looked so happy and so… alive with her. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime love, Aaron. I’m never going to be able to be that for you.”

Aaron’s frown deepened, and for a moment you were worried that he was going to get angry at you for watching the video. Maybe you had tainted that one happy memory for him. But the lines on his face softened just a bit and he covered your hand with both of his.

“Have you always felt like this?” he asked cautiously, attempting to keep all emotion off his face. “Like you’re not… enough?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes. If I think about it too much. Especially when we first started dating. But never this intense. I guess since I had only heard stories of her, it was almost like she didn’t exist? But now that I’ve seen her and how you looked at her… I love you so much and I want you to be happy, but I’m scared I can’t be that for you. I’m sorry if I’ve crossed a line, but this has been eating me up from the inside for a while now and I—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Aaron cut you off mid-ramble, and you took a shuddering breath. Guilt was written all over him, which made you want to crawl into a hole and never be heard from again. “Have I done anything to make you think I’m unhappy?”

“No, of course not! You’ve been nothing but wonderful. But I’m not Haley. I can’t make you as happy as she made you. And maybe this is selfish of me, but it hurts to know that you don’t love me the way you loved her.”

Aaron’s frown deepened, but he still held on tightly to your hand. “I didn’t think you would want me to,” he said, and now it was your turn to be confused.

You could practically see the gears turning in Aaron’s mind as he tried to find the right words to verbalize the floodgate of emotions that had just opened. Being vulnerable and open about his feelings wasn’t something he was very comfortable with, and it definitely didn't come easy for him. The fact that he was trying and willing gave you some comfort.

“What I mean to say is…” he backtracked. “You’re right. You’re not Haley and the way I loved her is different from the way I love you. I love you differently because you’re different. And I’m different now, too. But different doesn’t mean less, and it never has. I would never want you to think that you’re just some consolation prize.”

He was looking at you with such intensity and sincerity that you could have cried. “It’s just that when I realized you had been rewatching your wedding, I kept thinking that maybe she was your one love,” you explained nervously. “I don’t know what that leaves me.”

Aaron took your hand that he was holding and moved it so that it rested on his chest and you could feel his heartbeat. “My love isn’t finite. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

You melted into his touch, and it was like the sun came peeking through the storm clouds. He didn’t have the exact same expression that 25-year-old him did on the wedding video, but it was something close. Maybe even something more. It was warm and inviting and felt like coming home after a long day.

“You’ve been nothing but the picture-perfect boyfriend,” you assured. “This is all me and my own insecurities. I saw that you had been watching the video and I just… spiraled, I guess.”

Aaron mindlessly rubbed his thumb back and forth on your hand. “I should probably explain why I was watching it, then.”

“God, no, you don’t owe me any explanations for what you—”

“I was showing Jack,” Aaron interrupted, his voice soft. “He doesn’t remember her that much, and he definitely doesn’t remember when we were married. Most of his memories are of fighting or divorced parents. I wanted to show him that his parents loved each other.”

Your face went hot as embarrassment spread through you. “Wow, that makes perfect sense and I feel like an idiot,” you breathed. “I’m sorry.”

Aaron pressed a chaste kiss to your lips as he stood up from the couch. “You’re not an idiot, and you have nothing to be sorry for,” he promised. “Come on, let’s get changed into something a little nicer.”

You looked down in confusion as your movie night outfit. “Why?”

A mischievous glint flashed in Aaron’s eyes as he bent down and gave you another kiss, one much less chaste than the one before. “Because,” he mumbled against your lips. “I’m going to take you on a date and show you just how much I love you.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds #my writing

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jimlingss · 3 years

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can i request a yoongi chef au? i feel like yoongi's culinary skills are underrated, and I'm just a slut for chef aus in general

Anonymous said: Hi I saw ur request open posts for the new year!!! Could u write more yoongi stories🥺?!?! Your stories are so fantastic and i’m thirsty for more yoongi lolol🤪(hopefully u get enough votes to do more of him haha)

I feel like Jin’s the one who’s usually written as the chef, prob because he’s the better known chef in BTS, but you’re right! There’s gotta be more chef Yoongi!AUs, so here you go!!!

↳ Buttering Up

2.2k || 100% Fluff & Flirtation || Min Yoongi || Chef!AU

He clearly doesn’t know who you are.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

You hum, arms crossed as you eye him up and down. His black hair is practically a bowl cut, bangs covering his forehead. He’s in casual clothes — a taupe trench and black pants — looking like he’s ready for a trip to the grocery store rather than to cook. You wonder where this child crawled out from.

“You’re Yoongi?”

“That I am.” He approaches the door of the restaurant before plunging his hands inside his trench coat pockets. He fishes out the key and unlocks it, ushering you inside. “Hope you don’t mind that the restaurant’s closed down.”

You mind much more that he left you waiting on the cold city street for over ten minutes. You still can’t believe he was late. The audacity.

“I would’ve liked to see how you and your staff do your dinner service.”

“Unfortunately, we’re booked full for the next two months.”

You scoff — how doesn’t he know who you are? You’re a food critic who’s brought highly regarded restaurants to their knees through a review of five sentences. Your words alone has had rippled effects in the industry. Even the most talented chefs hold their breaths when you taste-test.

You make Gordon Ramsey look like Mother Teresa.

This Yoongi character is much too arrogant to not respect you. His new and upcoming restaurant might have raving reviews, but you’ll see what’s really going on.

“Sit wherever you’d like.”

There are no waiters in fancy garb, no hand sewn tablecloths made of silk. He doesn’t even pull out the chair for you. Instead, he’s off flickering on the lights of the restaurant while you choose a wooden table and chair right in front of his open kitchen — which is a horrible mistake in itself.

Open kitchens have always been a concept that has fallen short in your eyes. It’s much too noisy during dinner service and it gets smelly fast. Who actually wants to leave smelling like butter and oil?

It’s something you note as you get settled.

Your coat drapes at the back of the chair and then you watch him. Yoongi’s taken off his trench as well, revealing a white long sleeve that he’s beginning to roll up to his elbows. He’s lean and his build is small, but somehow, he’s far from being scrawny. You gawk at the veins running up his forearm until he casually asks—

“Do you have a preference for wine?”

“I’m fine with any.”

He hums and comes over from the glass cabinet with a bottle of chardonnay and a wine glass. Yoongi pops the bottle easily and pours into the pristine glass with a mere tilt of his wrist. You watch the stream fill the glass a quarter way full.

“Is there a menu?”

“You don’t need one.”

Your brows raise. “Excuse me?”

“If I were you, I’d put myself in the chef’s hands entirely and go with their recommendation.” He strides away, placing the wine bottle on the other table and then he turns with a glint in his eye and his mouth slightly crooked upwards. “Unless, of course, you don’t trust your chef.”

Oh. He’s confident.

You can’t wait for his ego to blow up in his face.

“Fine then.” Your head tilts upwards. “What’s your recommendation then?”

He rounds his way to go into the kitchen that’s only a few meters away from where you sit. “Risotto with grilled chicken breast, topped off with caramelized onions, mushroom, grilled zucchini and sautéed tomatoes.”

You roll your eyes. What a basic dish. Isn’t it just rice? And with chicken breast?! Ew. It's guaranteed to be bland.

“Alright then.” You give a smile that might be more mocking than intended. “We’ll see how it tastes.”

Yoongi starts and while sipping the chardonnay, you take a good look at the restaurant from your spot. The place is rustic with a hint of contemporary. There’s exposed brick, wooden tables and chairs, and low, yellow lighting. There’s nothing particularly impressive about the place.

Soon, the sound of rapid, rhythmic chopping fills the space and then sizzling. You watch him intently. And you’re appalled. This Yoongi guy commits the worst cooking sins — his pan is cold when he starts throwing on ingredients. He cooks with olive oil. He overcrowds the pan. And he doesn’t even taste test once as he cooks.

What the actual fuck.

There’s a line between arrogance and insanity, and he was crossing it.

You cringe when he starts using his metallic spatula on the non-stick skillet.

Is he even qualified to run a restaurant?!

Or maybe your assistant sent you information about the wrong restaurant? Or maybe this was not the guy you were supposed to be eating from. What if he poisons you or kills off all of your taste buds?! Your career would be ruined.

“Everything going okay?” you pipe up.

He glances up at you for the first time, eyes peering past his bangs. “Yep. Should be done in five.”

Food is simple. It either tastes good or it doesn’t. But the higher up you go and the fancier it gets, the more convoluted the food tastes with bland flakes of gold and the same old truffle shavings. That or it’s entirely boring and unoriginal.

Or in this case, it might kill you. Which would be the first. And you’re not happy about it.

You feel unsettled when he plops the dish in front of you.

“Chef’s recommendation.”

“Thanks.”

You feel unsettled because it actually smells good. The aroma that fills your senses is flavoursome and buttery, and the thyme on top adds a fresh hint. You’re also unsettled because the plating isn’t actually bad. It’s been presented in a pasta bowl with wavy designs and the chicken breast is thinly and neatly sliced on top. It’s clean. It’s bright. It’s colourful.

But the most lethal poisons are the appetizing ones.

“Are you going to wait until it gets cold?”

You look up, brows raising at how he’s gotten comfortable in the chair across from you. Usually the chefs and waiters or waitresses like to skedaddle off and leave you to your own thoughts, too afraid to stand in your intense scrutiny. But Min Yoongi twists off the cap of his water bottle and casually downs it in front of you.

“I’m just looking at the presentation.”

“Tastes better than it looks,” he exhales after swallowing his water.

Your expression becomes skeptical. But you take the silver spoon beside you anyhow and decide not to waste any more time.

The spoonful goes into your mouth. He watches you. You chew.

Instantly, you halt.

The flavour hits your tongue. Creamy. Thick. But each individual grain of rice still has some firmness with a discernible texture. It’s been done al dente. There’s sweetness from the caramelized onions. An earthy flavour from the mushrooms. A zesty touch from the thyme. The chicken breast is somehow still juicy and the tomatoes burst on your palate.

Suddenly, you’re thrusted back into your childhood. Those summer days spent in the cottage. Sun-kissed cheeks, dirtied knees, cotton dresses. You can hear your late grandmother in the kitchen. The way she calls out that it’s lunchtime. You can feel the comfort of family and love.

It feels like you’ve become the food critic in the ratatouille movie.

You almost cry.

“What do you think?”

You clear your throat. You have to be honest. There’s no way you can lie about something like this. “It’s good. I think...this is the best risotto I’ve ever had. You cooked it perfectly and the toppings you chose were absolutely immaculate with this dish—”

You look up at him. Min Yoongi has an enormous, cocky smirk plastered across his stupid face.

It’s entirely off-putting.

“But of course,” you quickly add, “there are many ways you could improve on it. You could add cilantro—”

“That would unnecessarily drown out the notes of thyme you taste,” he rebukes without a single beat and you scoff.

“I noticed you didn’t add any pepper to it which could deepen the flavour.”

“Except this dish doesn’t need it,” Yoongi deadpans. “You don’t need to help me make any adjustments. I think I know what I’m doing better than you are. Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

You suck in your cheek and narrow your eyes on him before you take another bite of the risotto while it’s still hot. “The food is delicious, but I must say, the company really spoils it.”

Yoongi’s slumped with one cheek resting in his hand, elbow on the table. He lazily stares at you with that smirk of his. “Really? Because if I didn’t know any better, you look nervous rather than annoyed.”

You scoff for the second time. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Maybe you didn’t expect the food to taste as good as it does and that makes me unexpectedly attractive,” he states plainly. You almost choke. You hit your chest as you sputter. “Or maybe you’re intimidated by me. I’ve gotten both before.”

You wipe your mouth with the napkin. “I’m afraid you’re not very perceptive, Min Yoongi.”

“Really? I think I am.” He smiles, the corners of his mouth quirked. “I’ve read your reviews before.”

You’re unamused. “Have you now? So you must know how difficult I am to satisfy.”

His smirk is sly and it’s jarring against his softer, more tender features. He’s smaller than the men you’re used to being around, but somehow it feels like he’s taken up the entire space of the restaurant. His focus on you is sweat-inducing. Even if you don’t want to admit it.

“I don’t think so. You’ve just been eating shit food,” he says bluntly and your brow cocks. “You just need someone good you can trust. Someone who can take care of you properly.”

You’re not sure if the double entendre is purposeful. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“And is this someone you?”

Yoongi shrugs and sits back. “It could be.”

You grab your glass of chardonnay and gulp the rest in an effort to stop the conversation before it completely derails into a different direction. Yet, Yoongi’s half-lidded and darkened eyes stay on yours with each swallow. He’s unfazed. Unbothered. And that bothers you even more — bothered in a way that makes your face hot.

There’s a clack as you put the wine glass down and gasp.

“I’m a professional.” You won’t be swayed so easily. “I can’t be bribed.”

“Of course.” He blinks as if he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. You glare at him and he gestures to the dish. “Please. Keep eating.”

You finish the plate.

“Do you want any seconds?” he asks as he gets up.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi lingers, all too brazen and fearless. “If you don’t get any more now, you might have to come back for more.”

This time, you don’t try to hide the roll of your eyes. “That’s a presumptuous assumption.”

Yoongi smirks and his voice is husky. “After getting a taste from me, everyone comes back for more.

You scoff.

Min’s Restaurant Review

Three nights ago, I ate at Min’s Restaurant and met the main man in the kitchen. Unfortunately, he is a difficult person to interact with. I hope no one has the disservice of having to speak to the chef behind the dishes. Doing so may as well ruin the experience. Furthermore, his cooking methods are unconventional and unorthodox. It was completely shocking to watch.

However, and what I would consider most important, the food at Min’s Restaurant is spectacular. What Min’s Restaurant lacks in likeable personnel, they make up in the served cuisine. The meal that was prepared for me not only subverted my initial expectations, but overcomes, what I consider, what the food industry is lacking in this modern age exactly. Without unnecessary garnishes and ingredients, the flavours of Min’s Restaurant are both light and deep. It was an undeniable delight to consume and for the first time, I licked my plate clean.

It is undoubted that the man behind Min’s Restaurant has the hands of god.

You should have pride.

But you’ve always loved good food. It’s your Achilles heel. It’s the one thing you’ve been passionate about since you were a kid. The reason why you love your job.

Even after writing such a review, you find yourself booking another reservation. But as a customer instead of a critic.

Of course, they were booked full for the next six months, largely thanks to your review, and they swiftly refused you with numerous apologies. But they called back not ten minutes later. You have a feeling that your name finally sunk into them — that he had something to do with it.

That theory is confirmed when you arrive. The person in question is next to the seemingly nervous hostess as the noisy kitchen echoes throughout the busy restaurant.

In the low lighting, Min Yoongi stands there with a relaxed smirk. As if he was expecting you. As if he knew you’d come crawling back to him to eat out of the palm of his hand, literally and figuratively.

You hate that he’s right.

“Welcome back.”

#bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi scenario #yoongi reader insert #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts reader insert #yoongi x reader #honestly this is one of my favourite drabbles out of the entire collection #I think someone else mentioned there's not enough flirty Yoongi out there #AND I AGREE #this man naturally has big dick energy and I love it lmao #jimlings #Anonymous

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

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Inception: Chapter 4

"Tch!" Your forearm blocked a particularly heavy strike from Childe. It was sure to be bruised tomorrow, but the pain was so freeing. Maybe you should be attacking the Fatui more often if fighting made you feel THIS good.

"Don't tell me you're tired already," Childe smirked. "I haven't even gotten to see you use your vision yet!"

The lanterns lighting the city below vaguely illuminated the mountainside in which the two of you were fighting. It was the perfect view of both city and sea. Childe was interested in seeing the fantastic firework show, but the way things were going right now, he was more interested in testing your limits.

"Enough about that already," you growled and thrust your elbow into his side. The small 'oomph' that he exhaled made you a little too happy. He's wanted a fight with you ever since he came back that day, and even more so since you reunited. Who were you to refuse him now? Sure, you've refused in the past, but the anger and bitterness that came flooding back while you were at the festival needed relief. Ajax needed to know how much he hurt you all those years ago, whether you directly told him or not.

Childe, oblivious to the reason behind your sudden willingness to fight, was more than delighted to fight you. You must've been pretty desperate to change the subject of your phobia if you chose fighting as the alternative! That didn't stop him from feeling a little bad for pushing the subject, but the thrill of battle soon overcame the guilt and a new fascination overwhelmed his senses.

He was right. You are like him, even if it's just when you're angry. He can hone that: train you into becoming a warrior to be reckoned with. Childe held no intentions to convince you to join the Fatui, but instead prevent your potential from being wasted. He'd give you the opportunity to grow from amateur to expert. If you managed to surprise him in this moment, only archons would know exactly what he thought of you.

The harbinger steadied himself and threw his forearm out in time to block your swing, then countered with one of his own to your gut. It wasn't often that he trained in hand-to-hand combat, but that didn't make him any less deadly. He had to pull his punches to prevent from hurting you--though if we're being honest, he completely forgot to do that after the first couple minutes. It's not like you minded anyway. Childe was also slightly impressed at your strength; your looks were definitely deceiving and it worked to your advantage. He had underestimated you.

No wonder his men were complaining about the vigilante so much.

He caught your roundhouse kick aimed for his head and threw you off balance. The grass didn't soften your landing. The sole of his boot sat square in the middle of your chest as he towered over you. "Not bad," he praised with a raising of his lips. "I can see why you chose antagonizing the Fatui as a hobby." Something flashed in your eyes, but Childe wasn't sure what it was.

Your fist slammed into the side of his knee, knocking him off of you. As he fell you grabbed his arm so he'd land on his back. You were the one on top of him now with your knees pinning his shoulders into the grass. "Do you even remember?"

Childe blinked, and the bloodlust and thrill that was in his eyes was gone. Remember? What are-- You were struggling with something dark; your hands pulled the grass out from besides his head, eyes wavering with the slightest bit of hope swirling in the depths of pain. Seeing your expression, Childe parted his lips to speak. "Reed--?"

"Heh, forget it," you sniffed, swiping the bottom of your nose with your thumb and sitting up straighter as you vacantly analyzed the blood that now painted your finger.

BOOM! C-r-a-c-k-l-e....!

The Mingxiao lantern exploded somewhere behind you. The lights from the explosives cast a prolonged glow that illuminated Childe beneath you, but you were still staring at your hand. It was hard not to think about that night with your father. What could you have done to change the outcome? What could have helped you reach Ajax when he returned a different child? Based on your fight just now, he's never stopped looking for something to take his anger out on; a cruel contrast to the friendly toy seller demeanor. Meanwhile, Childe: What would've happened if you had fallen into the Abyss with him?

The lights were beautiful from Childe's point of view, but not for the common reason; they were blocked out save for the ones peeking out from behind your shoulders and head. You were backlit with bright colors--reds, blues, greens, yellows and oranges. Each cast a soft glow to your silhouette. The thoughtful look on your face while you refused to look his way was enticing, what with the sweat that slowly rolled down your temple and the forming bruises splattering across your arms. And the bloody nose he gave you--the blood that slowly trickled its way down to your upper lip--sent a pleasurable chill down his spine. You were a breathtaking mess of art.

He briefly wondered if you thought the same of him, but you never glanced down even after the lights of the lantern had faded.

...................

A few miles westward, at the base of Mount Tianheng. Ten minutes before the release of the Mingxiao lantern.

"Alright boys," a dark figure emerged from the shadows of the mountain and scanned the crowd of twenty-plus men all dressed in black robes. The gruff voice that erupted from the man was enough to silence the hushed whispers between comrades in arms. "Our scouts confirm the whereabouts of the target in the Northland Bank. Security is minimal as expected. Our primary objective is to retrieve those documents. Understood?"

Silent nods all around. Not one uttered a word, their obedience absolute. This was the man that compensated them fairly compared to Her Majesty the Tsaritsa. Injustices laid out against them by their superiors in the Liyue division of the Fatui will be paid in due time. Now that there were enough committed to the cause, the master's plan will be put into action.

"The Fatui will fall," he bellowed.

"The Fatui will fall! The Fatui will fall! The Fatui will fall!" The servicemen dispersed as quickly as they heeded his words, shouts of determination fading into murmurs then silence.

"Charlie," the leader gestured towards his right-hand man. "A word."

"Yes, sir?" The brunette's wolf-like ears perked up at the voice of his master. It wasn't unusual that he was given a separate mission during times like this, so he prepared himself with a jaw clenched in anticipation.

"Though I doubt any of them would be caught in this operation by either party, I am not risking you for...obvious reasons. I have a separate matter to discuss with you." Eyes like a snake's watched Charlie with both thoughtfulness and pride. Charlie was by far the most trustworthy, being one of the few recruits that were in this group the longest. He's succeeded all expectations, to say the least. "You've mentioned before about a rogue citizen attacking the Liyue Fatui?"

"Yes, sir."

"Any new information on them?"

"Well," Charlie shifted his weight to his other foot and pulled at the collar of his jacket. "According to one of the agents, it's a she. The lack of evidence she leaves during expeditions indicate she's had some time to plot her attacks and escape routes...she's more of a threat to them than those who are joining our ranks--at least on the agent-level. Master Childe seems rather unconcerned with her."

"I see. Well, if you're up for a greater challenge, find her. And when you do, recruit her. With her skillset, the destruction of the Liyue Division will happen a lot faster."

"Yes, sir." This challenge wouldn't be easy. It was unusual for there to be someone like him in the ranks of the Fatui, but perhaps this could be an advantage for finding this vigilante that's been the talk of the Fatui for so long.

....................

Childe had parted ways with you a few minutes ago and decided to check in with the bank before bed. The city streets were still bustling with partiers and night owls, so he took the shortcut through neighboring alleyways to avoid the foot traffic.

He still couldn't figure out why you went quiet after sparring. Wasn't sure if he missed something--a cue, a word, a phrase...what was it? And why was it bugging him so much? His chest was tight and palms sweaty, his heart was even racing a bit. It was unusual for him to be so on-edge. His worries were rudely interrupted when he reached the stairs that led up to the bank.

Millelith.

"Why aren't you helping us?! We told you everything we know! We need those documents back!" Nadia was practically screaming at one of the authorities. "I told you, those documents are im--" Spotting Childe, she let out a sigh of relief. "Oh thank Her Majesty--We've been robbed, Master Childe."

"Robbed?"

"Mm, yes. The safe was broken into, but not a single mora was taken. The reception desk is in disarray, as is Andrei's office...papers are strewn about this way and that, and the documents Andrei was holding for you are missing."

"...I see."

"And these...these imbeciles aren't helping! They're saying there's nothing to do but make a report!"

"I understand the situation. I'll be taking it from here. Please return to your post, Nadia."

She turned on her heel. "Yes sir!"

Childe faced the Millelith again now that it was just him and them remaining. "Any leads?"

"N-No, sir." The taller one, who was seemingly the one in charge of the investigation, held a stern expression as he stared eye-to-eye with the harbinger. "No witnesses. Whoever pulled this off did so with help. The theory is at least five people were involved."

"Five?" Childe couldn't help but scoff at such a ridiculous idea. "And there were no witnesses at all? That's not possible."

"Sir--"

"No! You don't understand. That's impossible. Our security is too tight for even one person to slip through. There had to be someone. Are you sure you crosschecked those who are on duty?"

The guard just shrugged. He wasn't even interested in hearing what Childe had to say! Even the other guards that were accompanying him appeared bored and even annoyed that they had to deal with the Fatui.

Seeing this, the harbinger pulled at his hair. Steady now, he reminded himself, Don't lose your temper here. "If I may, I'd like to speak with your leading supervisor."

"You're lookin' at him," the lead guard answered with an arrogant smirk that pissed Childe off even more.

"Tch--Whoever's in charge of you."

"Sorry, but he's off-duty at the moment. You can speak with him at the civil affairs tomorrow evening."

"Right." Childe grit his teeth and took an extra deep breath to calm himself. Of course, it didn't work. Damn them! If I could have it my way, they'd be lying in a pool of their own blood right here and now for their audacity to ignore a crime against us--We fund them, for crying out loud! Perhaps I should send for the Tsaritsa's wisdom-- If it weren't for Lady Signora keeping him in the dark in regards to Morax's gnosis, he wouldn't feel like a dog on a tight leash right now. The great weapon of war forced to heel for the sake of the cryo archon's image. Childe made his way for Andrei's office with clenched fists.

Sure enough, it was trashed. Every document, every book, every folder lay strewn about or trampled on. Nadia and another agent were busy sorting through and placing each in their respective places; Andrei was out near the docks so it would be awhile before anyone managed to get ahold of him...

Childe knelt at the safe under the desk that sat before the set of double-paned windows. It was empty. Every single letter from the Tsaritsa was inside; each detailing next and future steps for the Fatui and Northland Bank; classified documents that updated him of the politics occurring in the Motherland; evidence of...certain matters that would no doubt give the Qixing enough power to ban the presence of Fatui in Liyue. All of it was gone.

Who'd go to such sophisticated lengths to get their hands on these? The Qixing abide by the law, so they wouldn't do something so unorthodox. The Millelith were definitely biased and held grudges against him, so they're not entirely ruled out...What was the suspects' goal? A smear campaign? If it is, they got it.

If he hadn't been away from the office, surely they wouldn't have been so bold as to pull off a bank heist. But one good thing came out of this: You definitely weren't involved since you were with him. Wait...whoever did this must've been watching him. You could be involved if you had help, but you've never mentioned anyone helping you. So you and this situation were completely unrelated. That had to be the case.

Regardless, his every move is being watched. The only question that remains is, by who?

#childe genshin impact #childe tartaglia #tartaglia genshin impact #genshin x reader #tartaglia x reader #fanfiction #inception

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

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Paths, Avenues, and Secret Tunnels // S.B. (celebration fic)

Request: 6 & 13 from the fluff section with sirius black at hogwarts (location). 💛 - anon

Fluff 6: “Are you... Are you flirting with me?”

Fluff 13: “Compared to you: stars pale, and the moon dulls.”

A/N: Here’s your request! I hope you like! This one got away from me if I'm honest but I struggled with it so much in the beginning that I'm happy I found my flow. I don’t think I’ll be posting a fic tomorrow, I’m not sure yet, I have a ridiculously busy day so who knows! However, as always, I hope you all enjoy!

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of an attempted harassment, swearing, self-defence, shitty parents, BUT THIS IS FLUFF, I PROMISE (there’s even a make out scene for you all)

Word count: 3.3k

Most weekends at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry could usually be spent in the neighbouring, picturesque village of Hogsmeade. Students, in their droves, descended upon the wizarding village – all ready to spent their knuts, sickles and galleons on whatever took their fancy in the array of shops that neatly lined the small high street.

For many of the students in Third Year and above, they relished the chance to spend a whole day outside of Hogwarts. You would have liked to have gone with them, but in a fit of anger your mother and father flat out refused to sign the yearly permission slip meaning that your visits to the small, sleepy village had been put to a stop.

You maintained fiercely that their punishment was unjustified. Your use of magic outside of school was perfectly reasonable considering that the man they had tried to set their daughter up with for an arranged marriage was nothing short of a creep that had to be put in his place.

Your reaction to the unsolicited attention of the repulsive man caused nothing smaller than a war between your parents and yourself. They felt humiliated that you should act such a way in front of a respectable, eligible gentleman who had taken the time out of his busy schedule to come to dinner and meet with you. You felt nothing short of fury at your parents for thinking you would ever go along with archaic traditions that should have died long ago.

It led to your parents taking the one thing that you looked forward to every school year away from you. In front of you, they tore apart the permission slip and threw it onto the fire where you watched as it turned to grey ash.

Your weekends were now spent either in the common room or the library; working on your homework, studying for an exam or simply reading to pass the time. By the fourth Hogsmeade weekend of the year, you had explored the castle enough to attract Filch’s unwanted attention, so you decided to reign in your exploits to the parts of the castle you knew were safest.

The common room had quickly become your safe haven after the third time you were questioned by Filch. Both the morning and afternoon of any Hogsmeade weekend spent reading over any work and napping periodically by the fire.

Stretching out on the couch, you finish reading over your notes from Potions, making a mental note to ask Slughorn whether you could borrow his classroom next weekend to test a theory that had come to you only a few moments ago. Another Hogsmeade weekend and you had made doubly sure to keep yourself occupied through it all – happy to see your friends off; already sick of their pitying looks.

“(Y/L/N)!” Sirius shouts; jumping the back of the couch and settling next to you.

“Sirius, how can I help?” You ask with a smile; turning to face the teenager you’ve known since the two of you were in nappies.

“I can’t help but notice that you haven’t been seen in Hogsmeade for a while now. One can’t help but wonder…”

You laugh, “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long to ask me considering our parents are like this,” You cross your fingers together; indicating just how close the two families were – Sirius’ mother visiting yours for tea at least three times a week.

“What happened?”

You sigh, clutching your book to your chest, “My parents cruel and unusual form of punishment.”

“What?”

You smile at the memory, “I jinxed the guy they were trying to marry me off to, so they tore up the permission slip in front of me and threw it onto the fire in a fit of dramatics.”

“Why did you jinx him?”

“I don’t want to say.”

“What did he do?” Sirius asks; voice low and lethal.

You sigh, “His hands tried to wander under the dining table. They didn’t get very bloody far before he was met with the finger removing jinx,” You huff proudly, “See how far he gets without the counter-jinx, the prat.”

“But you’re okay? You weren’t hurt?”

You shake your head; smiling at the care in Sirius’ voice. “I’m fine, I promise,” You reassure, “However, my parents thought it fitting to tear up my permission slip to Hogsmeade hence why I stay in the castle every weekend.”

Something in Sirius’ chest loosens at your words; happy to know that you’re okay and that you gave the creep what he deserved but he frowns at your parents response. “Did you explain to your parents what he tried to do?”

You fix him with a look that tells him of course you did, “They refused to listen; not someone like him,” Your voice takes on a higher pitch as you mimic your mother, “He’s such a responsible man from a wonderful family – I don’t know how you could do this to him.”

Sirius snorts at your impression; noting how accurate it is. “I’m sorry,” He murmurs.

You wave his apology with a swift movement of your hand, “I’ve gotten used to it now. You wouldn’t believe how on top of homework I am.”

He laughs, “Still, all the same.”

“I know,” You whisper.

Sirius pats your knee; he gestures towards the door with his head where his friends had walked through only a moment ago, “I better…”

You nod, “Of course. Go! Go – have a nice time.”

Sirius throws a small smile your way before he leaves the common room.

For the first time in the five weekends you had been unable to visit the humble village; you had never hated your parents more.

-------

Sirius Black continues to play on your mind in a way he hasn’t done since your crush on him in Second Year when you were smaller and more naïve. The friendship between you was a lifelong one; families being so close that there was no other option but to get along as your mothers would drink tea and gossip and your fathers would conduct business in offices away from prying eyes and ears.

Your feelings for the elder Black sibling became news to you when you were turning ten years old. You found yourself wondering what it would be like to hold his hand longer and to hug him whenever instead of in greeting or in farewell – innocent daydreams of a child.

Nothing like the daydreams you now found yourself occupied with whenever you happened to find yourself staring at his mouth that little bit too long or when you zoned in on how his hands would run through his long hair and thought about what it would feel like between your fingers.

Your feelings for Sirius Black came surging back; knocking you breathless and leaving you feeling half way mad. He seemed to take over your mind; thinking of him constantly and not all the thoughts completely innocent. From a simple smile in your direction, he had you feeling like a fool in love. From the smallest piece of attention he could give you, he had your heart in your throat.

Soon enough, you were admitting to yourself that your crush from Second Year had returned stronger than before and that there was no doubt about it. You were arse over tea kettle in love with Sirius Black.

He starts to spend his Hogsmeade weekends with you. Starting slowly; leaving the Marauders every now and then before eventually stopping joining them altogether. They all share a similar look one Saturday when instead of joining them at the door to the common room, Sirius joins you in your familiar spot on the couch.

Sirius waves to James, Remus and Peter as they depart for Hogsmeade; each of them shouting promises of bringing back sweets from Honeyduke’s as well as a surprise from Zonko’s. Sirius shakes his head at his friends before turning his full attention to you.

You smile softly at the disowned heir to the Black family fortune; repressing the growing urge to run your fingers through his hair, to kiss him senseless – to do anything with him really.

“What are the plans for today then?”

You roll your eyes, “You don’t have to do this Sirius, you can go be with your friends.”

Sirius waves his hand in a dismissive fashion, tutting, “I see them all the time. I live with them remember?” He shakes his head, “I like spending time with you.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek to keep your smile at bay, “I was thinking of finishing the book I’ve been reading.”

Sirius throws his head back with an overdramatic groan, “We did that last time!”

“And I’ve started a new book since then!” You sigh, “Like I said, Sirius, you don’t need to stay with me.”

“I want to spend time with you, but we don’t need to spend all our time here,” He says, gesturing to the dark red walls of the common room.

“I’m not bothered here. Every time I left the common room, Filch would always bother me.”

Sirius frowns, “Well we’re going out today,” He pats your leg, standing up, “Come on. Up you get, we’re off on a walk.”

“A walk?”

“A walk. An amble. A dawdle. That thing you do with your legs. Whatever you prefer to call it.”

You snort, “I know what a walk is, Sirius.”

“Then why ask?”

“Don’t make me regret coming with you.”

He grins at you, “Never, my dear.”

Sirius holds an arm out to you which you take; hooking your elbow through his. He sets off at a slow pace; holding the door to the common room open for you like the gentleman he was raised to be before leading you down the corridors.

With most students in Hogsmeade and the First and Second years occupied with a Quidditch training camp being run by the Holyhead Harpies, the corridors of the school are relatively quiet as you and Sirius continue your walk through the school that’s more of a second home rather than a place of education.

“Are your parents still angry?” Sirius asks out of the blue.

“I couldn’t care less though; it was self-defence and I’m happier for it. but you know them; there never was a couple who could hold a grudge like dear old mum and dad.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I reckon I could beat you.”

“How have you been since that night?”

Sirius looks off into the distance; mind immediately returning to the night he had walked out on his family, on Regulus. He had told you about when the school year had restarted after the Easter break.

“Good,” He eventually says, “I’m living with James’ family now. I’ve always been welcome at the Potters.”

You nod; happiness washing over you, “I’m glad you’ve found somewhere, I was worried when you sent me the one letter.”

“I wanted to send more,” He says, voice pained, “But I didn’t know if your parents would be nosy.”

“You were right not to,” You sigh, “Since they heard about our friendship rekindling, they keep looking at me as if I’m going to run any moment.”

“Would you?”

“Would I run away?”

He nods; pausing in his steps. You stop alongside him; thinking over your answer, “It depends. If I have to sit through another arranged dinner and possible marriage, then happily. If my parents suddenly see reason, then perhaps our relationship could improve.”

“How long have they been trying to marry you off?”

“Since I turned seventeen so just over a year since my birthday is one of the first of the year.”

Sirius chuckles humourlessly, “I’m glad I got out when I could.”

You nudge his shoulder, “All it means is that your life has taken a different path, Sirius. But I know whatever you decide to do, it will be the right path. It’s you walking it after all; it can’t be bad if you’re the one walking it.”

Sirius doesn’t reply to your words. He’s too overcome by your words to even think of replying. Out of the fallout from his family, the one thing he was concerned about was how it would affect your relationship with you but when he saw you after Easter and all you did was pull him into a tight hug, he knew that everything would be okay and that you would be going nowhere.

He doesn’t need to say the words out loud to accept them; he knows that he has fallen in love with you. Sirius realises with a jolt that he has most likely always loved you; only coming to the realisation since spending more and more time with you over your parental imposed school grounding.

Sirius doesn’t know what path his life is going to take; he has the Marauders and he knows he has them for life – very little coming between them to split them permanently. But through it all; through all of his late night worrying and upset, Sirius hopes and hopes that your life starts to wander down the same path as his.

By this time, you’ve circled the courtyard, ready to make your way to Hagrid’s Hut and beyond. Both happy enough to now spend the rest of your day dawdling around the castle; talking everything and nothing – simply spending the time with each other. The feelings that are harboured by the both of you simmer in the small space between your bodies; spoken yet unspoken.

The conversation from earlier, and the tension, has dissipated leaving behind a light, fun atmosphere that lets you see the best of Sirius. As a result, he has your heart thumping in your throat to the point where your pulse sounds in your ears.

It’s when he makes one comment about your closeness as children that has a particularly flirty tone and meaning that has your back straightening in realisation, “Are you… Are you flirting with me?”

“I might be…” Sirius comments with a smile.

“Not even you could be so cruel, Sirius, to bring up a childhood crush like that and play with my emotions.”

“What childhood crush?”

“Tell me you knew?”

At the blank expression on his face and the curiosity alive in his eyes, you let out a laugh, “I had the biggest crush on you when we were kids… even when we started Hogwarts I had a crush on you! You had to know, surely?”

He shakes his head vigorously, “I had no idea about it.”

“Oh…” You trail off.

“It was reciprocated if you were wondering.”

You sit up straighter, “It was?”

Sirius blushes; pushing his hair back from his face, “It was.”

Silence falls between the two of you. You’ve both stopped walking; steps paused in the middle of the corridor – hardly any sound around you other than the occasional hoot of an owl and a laugh from a young student. For what feels like forever, you simply stare at each other.

Your stomach turns with anticipation; readying yourself for the question you’re about to ask. Taking a deep breath, you break the silence with a single question, “And what about now?”

“Now?”

You nod, “Are those feelings reciprocated now?”

“They might be…”

“They might be, or they are?” You ask breathlessly; his words setting aflame the hope in your heart.

“They are. They really are.”

“Thank Merlin,” you gasp before pulling Sirius into a kiss by the hem of his t-shirt.

He responds immediately; taking control of the kiss as his lips glide against yours seamlessly. There could no arranged marriage, no relationship you could ever have that could compare to this one moment. In this one instant, all is defined, and you know that at almost eighteen, Sirius Black was to be the one for you.

A hand runs through his hair as the other anchors itself in his t-shirt; finally getting to feel his hair after so long craving it. With a slight tug of his dark locks, you smile against his mouth at the groan you elicit from the back of his throat. You file that piece of information away for later when it can be explored thoroughly. Entirely wrapped up in him, you give yourself over to him, letting his familiar scent of cloves and sweet orange wash over you.

Breaking the kiss, Sirius rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath and letting the contentment wash over him. He places kisses over your face – your nose, your cheeks, your forehead before finally pecking your lips in an open mouthed kiss.

You beam up at him; happy to have this moment with him in a quiet school where you won’t be interrupted by students, teachers, or ghosts alike.

With a wide grin, Sirius drops his hold of your waist to take hold of your hand and begins to lead you back through the corridors and to the moving staircases. Laughing, you match his pace as you run up the stairs, taking extra care for those that start to shift.

“Where are you taking me?” You ask with a loud giggle.

“It’s a secret,” Sirius says; turning quickly to face you. He places a finger to his lips in a hush. Then and there, you have to resist pulling him into another kiss from the look on his face; the utter delight spread over it combined with the intense mischief and elation alight in his eyes has your heart beating even faster.

Saying no more, you continue on your journey, letting Sirius guide you every step of the way. Arriving on the Third Floor, Sirius turns left, pulling you towards the statue at the end of the corridor. The statue of the One-Eyed Witch had always left you feeling uneasy; as if she was watching you with her one remaining eye – it seemed to follow you wherever you stepped.

Sirius stops in front of the statue; staring up at her for a moment before fixing his gaze on you. His hand comes up to brush your cheek, “Compared to you: stars pale, and the moon dulls. However, I know that your reaction to what I’m about to show you will even pale the brightest galaxy.”

You duck your head; uncertain of what to reply, feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer emotion in his voice. Sirius tips your chin back up with a single finger, “Fancy going to Hogsmeade?”

You shake your head, “Sirius, I can’t. My parents, remember?”

“I remember just fine. Still, fancy going to Hogsmeade?”

“How?”

Sirius points to the statue of the one-eyed witch, “Through there.”

“Sirius, I love you but that’s a statue.”

He smirks, “It’s good to know you love me, but I need you to say the magic word.”

“And what’s that?”

Leaning close to your ear; so close that his breath is warm across your face, he whispers a single word. You find it hard to concentrate with him so close; his front pressed to your side. His lips brush against your ear and you let yourself arch into his touch as you try to focus on the word being whispered.

“Got it?”

Nodding your head, you step towards the statue. Your hand still wrapped in Sirius’, you whisper, “Dissendium,” Your voice barely louder than a breath.

You take a hasty step back when the hump to the witch opens, revealing a small slide leading into nothing but darkness. You turn to Sirius in awe; a large smile on your face, “How did you?”

Sirius simply shrugs, “I have my way, love. Now, Hogsmeade?”

Tightening your grip on his hand; tugging him into a long kiss, you can barely contain your elation with the teenager now pressing against you. Breaking the kiss but remaining close enough that your lips brush his as you whisper, “I’d go with you anywhere.”

*********

General (HP) taglist: @chaotic-fae-queen @obsessedwithrandomthings @harrypotter289 @kalimagik @heloisedaphnebrightmore @nebulablakemurphy @the-hufflefluffwriter @figlia--della--luna @bforbroadway @idont-knowrn @summer-writes @big-galaxy-chaos @black-lake-confessions @annasofiaearlobe @imboredandneedalife @levylovegood @mytreec @haphazardhufflepuff @teheharrypotter @chaoticgirl04 @accio-rogers @msmimimerton @izzytheninja @slytherinprincess03 @acciotwinz @kashishwrites

Sirius Black taglist: @approved-by-dentists @fific7 @susceptible-but-siriusexual

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terrm9 · 3 years

Text

Fall On Me

Words count: 4 200 Warnings: mentions of fertility issues, other than that just fluff Author’s note: This is the fic I have thought so much about. I have written something, then stopped, then written again, thought about it and considered for so long if I should post it or not. I have never been this nervous posting something, probably because there is a big part of me in it - therefore, any kind of feedback will be greatly appreciated!

After four years of dating and their first year being married, Chiara and Ethan find out that there are still surprises in store for them.

Important notes: My MC (Chiara) has been diagnosed with an immune system disorder that makes it close to impossible for her to become pregnant. It has been stated in Destination fic as well as in Already Gone series, but for those who haven’t read those, it’s important to know that so you understand the context.

There are three more important notes at the end (they would kind of ruin the experience if you read them in the beginning). PLEASE read them, especially the first one, it is really important to me.

*** *** *** ***

As Ethan stepped into his office, the sight of sleeping Chiara on a couch didn’t even surprise him. It was the fifth time in the last ten days. She would throw an apologetic smile at him along with a muttered “I just need to catch a quick break” and half an hour later, he would find her fast asleep in his office.

At this point, surprise has been replaced by worrying. Ethan knew his wife and he knew that she could go weeks without rest. This behavior was strange, to say the least.

He approached the couch and knelt next to it, gently brushing the hair off her forehead. Placing a soft kiss on it instead, he whispered: “Chiara, are you okay?”

She opened her eyes slowly at first, obviously confused about the whole situation. Realizing what was happening – again – she sat up rapidly, trying to come up with a good excuse.

“I am sorry, Ethan, I must have fallen asleep. I just wanted to sit down for a while and-“

“It’s okay,” Ethan cut her off and took a seat next to her, hugging her waist. “I’m just a little worried about your constant tiredness.”

Sighing, Chiara rubbed her eyes and leaned into his chest, shaking her head slowly.

“I am fine. It’s just… ever since we’ve gotten back from the Europe, the work has been crazy. Two weeks and I feel like I need another vacation.”

Visiting Europe has become their habit through the years. It started with a trip to Tuscany on Chiara’s third year of residency, continuing with a quick trip to France after getting engaged, honeymoon in Greece and finally this year, when they decided to spend their first wedding anniversary on a three-weeks long roadtrip through Scandinavia, finished with four days in The Basque Country, so that Chiara could pursue her dream of visiting Guernica, the village on Picasso’s painting.

Chiara was right about the work being absolutely crazy ever since they’ve gotten back and throwing a glance at the paperwork on his desk, Ethan was very well aware of the exhaustion they both felt. Still, he managed to get through his days without needing a nap.

“Let me draw your blood so that I can run some tests. Maybe it’s just iron deficiency, but I want to be sure,” Ethan murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head. “And go home to sleep.”

She turned to him, brows furrowed as she shook her head again.

“Absolutely not. I am fine, just a little weary. Just make me a cup of coffee and I’ll be fresh.”

Ethan stood up to make her the coffee, however he had no intention of letting her stay in work. He would bet that she was just ‘resting her eyes’ while he was turned to the coffee machine. As a doctor, there was one particular idea about what her exhaustion was about. Noticing such symptoms with anybody else, he would be absolutely sure. But this was Chiara he was thinking about and so he didn’t allow his mind wander into the direction it was tempted to.

“I am serious, Rookie. You are no use here, hardly keeping your eyes open. Drink the coffee, let me take your blood and go home to rest. I’ll come as soon as I can.”

She rolled her eyes and took the cup from his hands. Just as she was about to sip the coffee, she scrunched her nose in an utter disgust and looked up at him.

“Did you change the brand? This smells… ugh, I am not as demanding as you when it comes to coffee and even I can tell that this smells worse than the cafeteria coffee.”

Ethan bit his lip to hide the jitteriness overwhelming him at those words.

It was the same coffee brand they’ve been ordering for more than three years.

It was all adding up.

He shrugged as casually as he could and said: “Yeah, I tried a new roastery and it’s disappointing. Lets get you out of here, shall we?”

Chiara wanted to fight him, to stubbornly stay and prove him that she was more than capable of working, but she had to admit that she’s probably never felt as exhausted. And the vision of their king-sized bed was way too tempting.

Relucantly, she nodded and followed Ethan into an empty patient room to get her blood taken.

To say that Ethan was nervous would be an understatement. He could’ve gone home a long time ago and instead he found himself pacing back and forth in his office, waiting for a nurse to page him that Chiara’s results were ready.

Still, when his pager went off, he all but jumped on the spot.

Seven minutes later, Ethan thanked the nurse and clutched the results in his hand, fighting the urge to read them right then and there, not quite believing his own self to be able to not to break down is the results confirmed the diagnosis he suspected.

Breathing heavily as he reached his office, he sat down on the couch – the very same Chiara was sleeping on just hours ago – and with trembling hands opened the file to see the results.

His eyes widened and just then, his vision turned blurry. New lump formed in his throat and his heart kept beating as if his dear life depended on the rate it was beating. His hands trembled so hard now that the file fell on the floor.

He was right.

Ethan could feel the tears damping his cheeks and falling on the fabric of his navy blue pants and he realized that he couldn’t care less about crying while at work.

Throwing his head back, he stared at the ceiling, letting the tears fall down freely, his heartbeat slowly calming back to normal.

He knew he needed to go home and share the results with Chiara. He just didn’t know how he should do such a thing.

Chiara’s peaceful five-hours long nap has been interrupted by the sound of keys clinking in the door.

Stirring lazily in a blanket, she sat up and smiled softly as Ethan walked into the living room.

“You look exhausted. Hard day?” she asked, patting the seat next to her. “Come here.”

Ethan slumped down on the couch next to her and kissed her cheek instead of answering, his mind a battlefield of ideas on how to tell Chiara. As a doctor, he knew that he needed to be honest and straightforward. As a husband, he didn’t feel comfortable throwing such a bomb into her face as if she was simply a patient.

Noticing how lost in his head Ethan was, Chiara grew concerned.

“Did something happen, Ethan?”

He blurted his next words out before he gave any of his battling ideas a chance to win.

“I’ve got your test results.”

“Am I dying?” Chiara laughed, putting her hand on his bouncing knee to calm him down. After Ethan refused to look back at her, she sensed that something was indeed wrong. “Oh, I am dying, aren’t I?”

Chuckling, Ethan finally turned to look at her and kisser her temple. “You are not dying.”

“But?” Chiara raised her eyebrow while Ethan took the hand on his knee into his own, stroking Chiara’s knuckles softly with his thumb.

Taking a deep breath, he stuttered: “I… we… you are pregnant, Chiara.”

Chiara’s face grew paler than he’s ever seen it and there were big drops of cold sweat on her forehead. Ethan squeezed her hand to stop it from shaking, but with no success.

At last, Chiara let out a choked whisper.

“What kind of sick joke is this?”

For a second, Ethan almost felt offended by her accusation, as if she didn’t know him, as if she didn’t know that he would never joke about such a thing. Then, however, he recalled his own reaction when he found out just an hour and half before and could understand the Chiara’s one.

Instead of another word, Ethan reached down to grab his bag from the floor and pulled Chiara’s file out. Handing it to her, he made sure to point his finger at the row that indicated the elevated level of hCG in her blood.

Her eyes widened as she recognized what he was showing her and she gasped audibly, looking up at Ethan and down on her own file, back and forth until she found her lost voice.

“But… how? That’s impossible.”

“Nobody has ever said that it was impossible, only that your chances were extremely low, close to none.”

Chiara started to reminisce the last days, trying to connect the dots now that she knew the result.

The extreme fatigue, waves of nausea here and there, those could easily be read as literally anything else. She missed her period, but her cycle has never been regular, so she hardly considered it anyhow important, especially knowing that travelling has always made things even more irregular for her.

“Did you know?” she whispered as she turned to Ethan, who was staring at her intensively.

“I didn’t know. I became suspicious few days back, when you wouldn’t let me go anywhere near your chest,” he grinned. “Together with the exhaustion, the possibility of pregnancy found its way into my mind, but I didn’t even want to think about it, knowing how very unlikely it was. It was your disgust with the coffee today that made me almost sure that you were, in fact, pregnant.”

Chiara stared at the results again, not quite absorbing what they were saying. For almost six years, she believed she could never be pregnant.

“You need to see your gynecologist tomorrow, of course,” Ethan cut the silence again. “But as Dr. Ramsey, I can say for sure that you are pregnant.”

He scooped her into his arms so that she would sit on his lap and hugged her shocked form tightly. Chiara’s lips were still slightly parted and she was blinking just a little bit faster than usually as his words – and their new reality – sank in.

When it finally did, she wasn’t able to contain the emotions any longer.

First sob escaped her mouth, followed by another and so much more, accompanied by huge tears falling from her eyes.

Ethan gently pulled her head closer so that she was resting it against his chest and peppered her hair with soft kisses. Even though his share of tears has already been shed in a privacy of his office, feeling Chiara’s shaking body as she cried all those happy, surprised tears, he couldn’t help but cry along quietly with her.

“I am going to ruin your shirt,” Chiara mumbled against his white Oxford, noticing how her mascara stained it.

Ethan let out a quick laugh, his voice thick with emotions as he replied: “I couldn’t care less.”

After what could have been minutes or hours, they breaths steadied, however their positions haven’t changed at all.

They were both quiet for a long time and one could say that they were lost in their own thoughts when really, they were both lost in the very same thought.

Parents. They would become parents.

They talked about adoption on a regular basis at this point, both open to the idea that two or three years from now, they would go for it, that they would become parents to a kid that was left alone.

But those were talks about future. Hypothetical.

This was real. In less than a year, they would be parents to their very own newborn.

“Are you happy?” Chiara whispered, looking up at him with a gentle smile on her lips.

Ethan kissed her forehead before responding.

“I can’t imagine being happier.”

Biting her lower lip, Chiara asked again: “Are you also a little bit…scared? Because I am.”

Laughing loudly at the adorable confession, Ethan nodded: “God, I am terrified. Being a father, that brings so many possibilities to screw it up.”

Chiara cupped his cheeks and pulled him down for a kiss, their first real, deep kiss that day and as his tender lips moved over hers, she knew that there would be no better father for her child than Ethan Ramsey.

One of the perks of being in her sixth month of pregnancy was the fact that her belly could easily serve as a tiny tea table. Right now, a large bowl of popcorn was sitting on her rounded torso as she was sitting on Bryce’s couch.

“The poor kid,” Bryce muttered as he noticed.

It was another Bryce & Chiara movies Wednesday, a habit that started even before Chiara and Ethan got together and carried on through the years.

With her third trimester slowly approaching, Chiara has been even more insistent on attending those, knowing that once she would give birth, they wouldn’t be able to watch a whole movie in one sitting.

“How is Ramsey? I haven’t seen him in the hospital this week,” Bryce asked as he put a glass of water in front of Chiara and played with a remote control to find the movie on Netflix.

“He’s busy with paperwork, so he mostly stays in his office these days,” Chiara explained. “Other than that, he has read two books about child’s development this week, so I guess everything’s as usual.”

Bryce laughed loudly and just before he pushed the ‘play’ button, he turned to Chiara: “Do you remember when you told me about not being able to have kids all those years ago?”

Chiara nodded, that day somehow still fresh in her mind.

“I told you back then, that you only had to find someone whose sperms will be stubborn enough to beat your own stubborn immune system, remember? Well, I was damn right,” he grinned smugly, earning a popcorn thrown into his head from Chiara.

On the other side of Boston, Ethan and Naveen just finished their meals and moved into the living room, glasses of scotch in their hands.

A comfortable silence accompanied them, their talks about work already finished.

Taking a few gulps of his drink, Ethan leaned into a couch with a soft smile on his lips.

“It’s going to be a girl,” he let out finally, his soft smile soon turning into a wide, happy one.

They only found out yesterday. Ever since beginning of the pregnancy, they couldn’t decide whether they wanted to know the gender of the baby or not. After long discussions – and Sienna’s suggestion that they should do a blood tests that would reveal the gender, give the results to her without looking at them so that she could organize a baby gender reveal party – they came to the agreement that they would only find out if the ultrasound would show it. And yesterday, in Chiara’s 25th week of pregnancy, the doctor informed them that their ‘princess’ is growing beautifully.

Neither Chiara nor Ethan wanted any kind of baby party organized – much to Sienna’s disappointment. This pregnancy – most likely the only one they would ever get to experience – has been such precious, sacred thing to them that they tried to keep everything as private as possible. They found joy in their bubble of emotions only two people who never believed would be this lucky could feel.

“A girl!” Naveen clasped his hands together and beamed even brighter than Ethan. “A granddaughter!”

Ethan nodded, the warmth in his chest expanding even more at Naveen’s words.

“Have you decided on a name yet?” he asked, his curious nature not letting him keep the question to himself.

Shaking his head this time, Ethan said: “Since the beginning, we’ve known that if it was a boy, he would be named Dorian after Chiara’s father. There have been some ideas about girls name, but nothing seemed right so far.”

The first idea they both had was Dolores. It came naturally to Ethan, knowing that she named her son after him and that his friend’s name deserved to be celebrated. Still, he didn’t want to be reminded of the tragedy every time he would talk to his daughter. Chiara has been very supportive about the name Dolores, knowing better than anyone what it felt like to want to name her child after someone important to her. But she never insisted. She could tell that simply thinking about Dolores Hudson made Ethan’s heart ache and she would never push the name on him.

“You seem lost in your thoughts,” Naveen commented. “Are you worried that your daughter will inherit your insufferable stubbornness?”

Ethan laughed at that, raising an eyebrow at his mentor and his friend.

“As if you didn’t know Chiara. The kid is going to be insufferably stubborn no matter who she takes after.”

The truth was, he did wish their daughter would take after Chiara. The idea of raising his own little self terrified him more than he would ever admit and on the other hand, the idea of having someone else as bright as Chiara in his life made his heart happy.

“Well, no matter who she takes after, it’s safe to say that she will be a strong girl,” Naveen smiled, raising his glass. “Beating all those odds and finding her way into your life, she is already a bigger rebel than any of us. She will be a warrior and a mighty one, I am telling you.”

When Chiara returned home, she found Ethan deep in a research on his laptop.

He registered her presence only when she sat down next to him, taking a glance on the screen only to find yet another study about children.

“Hey,” he kissed her cheek and closed the laptop. “Did you have a good time?”

She laid down, putting her head into his lap. “The movie was terrible. I could feel my braincells leave my body. Other than that, yeah, it’s been great. Bryce is so excited about being an uncle to the ‘little queenie’. He said, to quote him, that he will make sure she sees him as an example of how gentlemen should treat their ladies, so that when she is dating she doesn’t settle for anything less than what she deserves.”

“That’s really… nice of him. Thoughtful,” Ethan nodded; however, his furrowed brows didn’t quite match the words. “I don’t think we need to talk about dating just yet, though.”

Of course he will be that kind of a father, Chiara thought, laughing.

“What were you reading about?” she decided to change the topic.

“Oh, I’ve been looking up baby carriers online and so I decided to read some articles and studies about them.”

“Baby carriers, huh? I never took you for someone who would want that.”

Ethan shrugged, fighting the temptation to read her all those articles. Instead, he went with simply pointing some interesting information.

“It helps to build a healthy attachment between a child and their parent. You know, you are carrying her in your body for nine months, you have a possibility of breastfeeding, you two are naturally connected. As a father, I would like to… increase my chances of bonding with my child properly,” he swallowed harder that he wanted, hoping that Chiara didn’t notice just how nervous about this whole attachment thing he’s become.

He was so excited to meet their daughter, to hold her in his arms, it sometimes surprised even him.

But there was another part of him. The one that constantly doubted his ability to be a good father. For such a long time he didn’t believe that he could ever find himself in the role of a parent and he got used to the idea, no matter how painful. He used to remind himself that it would be for the best if he never had them, that as a man unworthy of his mother’s love, he wouldn’t know how to be the parent his children deserved.

Everything has changed with Chiara in his life and now he was about to become a father. And he was scared that it would be the one task he would fail. He tried his best to be prepared – reading books and studies and articles, watching videos on how to bath a newborn and taking notes about how many layers of clothing was suitable for various temperatures. He made arrangements with Naveen and his team so that everyone knew that he would be stepping down as a head of diagnostics once the baby is born, with Aurora becoming the director of the team.

For more than fifteen years, he’s been building his career and he’s been proud of what he achieved. But there was no feeling connected with his career that would make him as proud as the idea of being a decent father.

“According to these studies, the position they are in while in a carrier helps the newborns with their colics and also there are children that don’t like being in a stroller and the carrier helps them to fall asleep.”

Chiara nodded, noticing absolutely clearly how nervous and overwhelmed Ethan was. She also knew why, even though he would never share his concerns with her.

“I kind of believe that. When I was born, I was the perfect baby. You know, the kid that everyone envied when my parents talked about me. I slept most of the day and then the whole night, I never cried, I smiled at everyone. My parents would joke that sometimes they forgot they had me. And Liam was very similar from what I can remember – and what my mother told me. He was such a cutie and even if he couldn’t fall asleep or calm down, a little bit of bouncing in a stroller and he would be fine,” she laughed softly as she was reaching the end – and the point – of her monologue. “My parents were so proud. They always said that they could only create the good sleepers that never cry. Probably encouraged by the belief, they decided to have a third child and God, Alicia was such a difficult baby. She would always cry and never sleep. The only thing that calmed her down enough to sleep was when someone carried her in their arms and walked around the house – so that’s what my parents did. All the time. Sometimes, when they’ve gotten too tired or needed to do something, they would put her into my arms – let me remind you that I was seven – and I would be in charge of walking around the house. I bet they would appreciate the baby carrier back then.”

Ethan chuckled softly while stroking Chiara’s wild hair and after a while decided to tell her the real reason he even browsed the internet this evening.

“I might have found a name.”

After Naveen left, something he’s said resonated with Ethan.

‘She will be a warrior and a mighty one.’

Ethan never cared about meanings of names, he didn’t even know the meaning of his own name until this evening. And yet, despite his best principles, he decided to search girls names that meant warrior or ‘strong, mighty’.

And he found it.

Mighty in battle.

It clicked.

“What name do you have in mind?” Chiara asked.

“Matilda.”

Chiara didn’t even try to suppress her surprise, expecting anything but Matilda. What surprised her even more, she loved it on the first hearing. It indeed was the one.

“I have also thought about the name a little bit,” she admitted. “I found one that I would love to be a second name for her.”

Nodding, Ethan encouraged her to spill it.

“Nekane.”

“Nekane? I have never heard of it.”

“It would be surprising if you did,” Chiara smirked. “It’s the Basque form for Dolores. And you know, since now we know for sure that our daughter has been conceived in Spain, I think it would be rather fitting. It would still carry the honor of Dolores, just in a different form.”

Matilda Nekane Ramsey.

They both loved the sound of that.

It sounded like their daughter.

After sharing another silent moment full of love, peace and understanding, Chiara decided to go to bed and Ethan promised to follow her as soon as he’d finish the study.

When Ethan stepped into their bedroom, Chiara was already asleep, lying on her right side. Climbing to the bed, he laid down on his left side so that he could face her. Suddenly, not knowing how the idea has gotten into him, he was shifting down slightly until he reached her round stomach.

Moving the fabric of her cotton shirt higher, he put his hand over her belly and did something he had never done before.

“Hello, Matilda,” he whispered nervously. “This is Ethan speaking. Your father. Or your dad, as you will probably call me. We have never really talked before but the annoying knocking you hear sometimes, that’s me stroking your mom’s bump.”

He paused for a while, composing his thoughts.

“I am sincerely scared about how this whole father thing is going to work for me, but I promise you as I am trying and I will by trying for the rest of my life. I have done a lot of bad things in my life, Matilda and I can’t take them back. They are part of who I am. But looking at your mother and thinking about you makes me realize that both of you are part of who I am too. And I don’t know in which point of my life the universe decided that I have shared enough kindness to earn your presence but I must have done something right to deserve you in my life, right?”

Kissing the skin of Chiara’s stomach, he added: “I just really hope you inherit your mother’s patience and kindness so that you will forgive me every time I fuck things up.”

Biting his lip, he grinned to himself before saying one last thing to his Matilda.

“Please don’t tell your mom I said ‘fuck’, she would be furious.”

*** *** ***

1) as someone who is mother herself, I realize that topics of pregnancy, infertility issues, children in general are extremely sensitive - in this particular fanfiction, Chiara has gotten pregnant against the odds while on vacation. PLEASE note that I, by no means, am trying to say that if you are suffering from fertility issues, taking a vacation/reducing stress/changing the environment would definitely help you. There are some cases /that I know of/ in which it did help, however I would never dare to say that it’s the solution. I just need to make sure that I acknowledge how difficult and sensitive the topic is.

2) I really, really wanted to write a pregnancy fic, I had this idea in my head for very, very long time. However, I also absolutely love the idea of Ethan and Chiara adopting a child (I think especially Ethan would be fond of it, since he knows what it feels like to grow up without a parent) and so here is a little HC for after this story - Matilda is indeed the ‘miracle’ and their only biological child and when she is around six years old, Ethan and Chiara decide to adopt ophraned twin girls Luna and Siria. Purposefully girls, because I can see Ethan not trusting women after his mother leaves him and feeling like no woman could ever love him truly and boom suddenly there are four women in his life that love him more than life itself and he is proven wrong every day.

3) the story about the name Matilda is so funny/tragic that I have to write about it - I love the name, always loved and believed that I would name my daughter Matilda one day. My man hates the name so it’s off the table and I always knew that little Ramsey would be named Matilda to pursue my dream at least fictionally. When I was looking for some photos at David Gandy’s IG, I found out that his very own daughter is named Matilda. Whoa. Then, I was on a search for a faceclaim for Chiara and boom - the girl is named Matilda. Ooops. And only when this fic was finished and I googled the name Matilda for some reason, I found out that there is kinda popular person named Matilda Ramsay and I was just like okay screw this. But I couldn’t bring myself to change the name, so here it is. Sorry not sorry.

Taglist: @takemyopenheart @maurine07 @senseofduties @mercury84choices @flightlessbirdiee @udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @ohchoices @adrex04 @queencarb @archxxronrookie @choicesfan10 @whatchique @drariellevalentine @gryffindordaughterofathena @mvalentine @doilooklikeiknow @custaroonie @secretwolfdreamertree @jamespotterthefirst

#also I could've named the fic COUCH #since 90% of the story happens on some #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction

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sigillaria-svt · 3 years

Text

Weekend Drives

Pairing: Idol!Choi Seungcheol/S.Coups x Reader

Word Count: 5,654

Warning: None

Genres: fluff, slice of life, weekend together

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Synopsis: For the past several years, you have been working hard in building your career and working yourself near the point of burnout. One person that has always been your stronghold during these times has been Seungcheol. You’ve known each other since you were in college, but it’s only been a few years since you started dating. Although you were completely happy just the way everything is, Seungcheol has something else in mind.

READER POV You slowly push down on the breaks of your car as the stoplight turns red just as you were about to reach the intersection. It was almost midnight, but you’ve just gotten off from work. Your team was preparing for a big project next week, and everyone had to stay late to finish everything on time. Although these busy seasons happened for only about a week or two, it still drained you to drive several miles home late at night only to get up early the next morning.

Tonight in particular, the tiredness was getting to you. You try to keep yourself awake, but your eyes are on the verge of closing themselves shut. When the stoplight turns green, it takes you a few seconds to notice and push on the gas pedal. Thankfully, there were barely any cars on the small road you were on.

Moments later, your phone rings, jolting you awake as the name of your caller pops out of the small screen just beside the steering wheel. You tap the receive button on the screen, his voice filling your car through the speakers.

“Hey.” Seungcheol says, who also seems tired from the other side of the call. “Are you home?”

“No, not yet. Took us a bit of time to finish editing and reviewing today.” You take a left turn at an intersection, making your way to the bridge that connects you to your home city. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been able to reply to your messages lately. I’ll make it up to you once we’re done with the launching, I promise.”

“No, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry. Keep doing what you’ve always been doing. I’ll be waiting, just tell me if you need anything.” He replies softly. During stressful times in your life, he has always been generous with his time and affection, so much so that you regret not being able to give the same back to him. “Should I hang up? You must still be driving right now.”

“No, you can stay on the line. I need someone to talk to so that I won’t fall asleep on the road.” You say, now near the middle point of the bridge. “How was your day?”

“We just got back to the dorm after practicing for a performance. It would be nice if you could watch us live, but I think it’s going to be on the day of your project’s launching.” You hear a few muffled noises as he shifts in his place over at the other side. “We also got some fruit from our manager today. Do you want me to come over and bring you some?”

“I live an hour away from your place, you should be taking time to rest.” You reply halfheartedly. You really wanted to meet him--it’s been almost a month since the both of you went out together, but you didn’t want him to go out of his way.

After a short pause, Seungcheol continues. “I really wish that we lived closer to each other. I miss you so much.” From his tone, you know that he’s pouting from the other side. “I don’t care how tired I’m going to be, I’m going to come over and visit you once you’re done with your project.”

You finally break out a smile. For such a tall and strong person, Seungcheol had always been soft when it comes to you. Many times have you heard your peers call him intimidating, but you know that he is far from what he shows on the stage.

“I’ll take that as a promise. Let’s eat something nice when you do come over. I heard that Joshua has been teaching you how to cook pasta lately.” You reply, now feeling more awake.

“Sure, sounds like a plan.” He says with a small laugh. “Where are you at right now?”

“At the highway. I’ll probably get home in ten minutes.”

“Alright. Tell your mom that I said hi, and that I’d bring over some oranges when I come over.” He says, remembering your mom’s love for citrus fruits. To be honest, it always made you so happy whenever he’d think about your family. Your family adores him too, so there’s really nothing to complain about.

“I will. See you next week, then. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Over the next few days, Seungcheol starts to call you more frequently. He tries to match the time when you’d be having a break, may it be during lunch or during your ride going home. Usually, those talks would happen for a minute or two, but it was enough to brighten your day--and hopefully, his as well. Although it wasn’t unusual for him to call you, it was a bit odd of him to call you that frequently. Perhaps he’s been getting really stressed out at work. At one particularly stressful period, he stayed over at your house for the whole day just to snuggle and recharge. You knew that if he was particularly close than usual, he was in need of someone to lean on. So, despite your busy schedule, you always made it a point not to miss a single call.

However, one time during a prolonged meeting a night before the launch, you were unable to pick up. You quickly find a quiet spot outside the office and call him back.

“Hey, I’m sorry I couldn’t pick up your call. I was in a meeting.”

“You’re having a meeting this late into the night?”

You check your wristwatch, seeing that it’s already 12:54 AM. “Oh wow, I didn’t know we took that long. We’re just making the final preparations for the launching tomorrow. Thankfully, we got everything settled.” You try to force a smile. “More importantly, how are you doing? You have a performance tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. The kids and I got back to the dorms a few hours ago. The managers told us to have a good meal so we went out for a bit.” He replies. “Get home safely, alright?”

“Yeah, I will. Good luck on the performance tomorrow.” You shift your weight to your other leg. “I’m sorry that we couldn’t talk long.”

“It’s alright, hearing your voice is good enough for me. I love you, good night.”

“Love you too, sleep well.”

Just like that, the call ends. You can’t count the number of times you had to say sorry to him for not being that available. He assures you every time that it’s alright, but you wanted to actually be there for him, and not just be a voice on a phone call.

With your worries in hand, you return back to the office to get your things and head home to get as much sleep as you could before the hectic schedule prepared for you a few hours later.

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Although the launching event finishes at 4 PM, you take a few more hours with the team to help with the clean-up and logistics. By the time you finally finish, Seungcheol’s performance is long done. You quickly make your way back home tired but relieved that it’s all finally over.

Just as he promised, he’s already at your house, talking to your brother in the living room.

“Hey, you’re home.” He says with a smile, although he couldn’t really hide the tiredness in his eyes. “How was the event?”

You nod with a smile, changing into your house slippers as you come in. “It was good. There were more people than we expected, but we managed.” You take a seat across Seungcheol, right next to your brother. “Do you have a recording of your performance earlier? Let’s watch it together.”

Seungcheol takes out his phone and pulls up a video of their performance that was posted on YouTube. You smile the entire time, happy to see him doing what he loves. When the video is over, you give him excited applause.

“We did great right?”

“That’s was really, really good. I mean it.” You put a hand over his knee. “I mean your performances were always good, but you’ve really given it a big twist this time.”

He smiles and puts his phone back in his pocket. “This was the last performance we had for this promotion period, so we all wanted to end it with a blast.” He gets up and gently pulls on your wrist. “More importantly, it’s about time we make dinner.”

“You guys haven’t eaten yet?” You ask as you get up from the couch and move over to the kitchen corner.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about us,” Your brother says, not looking up from his phone. “I’ll be taking mom and dad to our grandparents’ house for dinner, then we’ll be staying over for the weekend.”

“So we’ll just be cooking for two, then?” You ask Seungcheol, who’s already getting the ingredients ready.

“Three, if you’re feeling extra hungry for pasta tonight.” He says, handing you an apron hanging from one of the walls. “And a movie afterward?”

“Sure.” You reply, a bit too enthusiastic than you would want your brother to hear. You slightly lean into him, but quickly pull away to a safer distance.

Although you and Seungcheol have been dating for four years, you’ve never been openly sweet to him when your family was around. Even if they were fine with the relationship, they have always been more on the conservative side.

Seungcheol proceeds to prepare the pot of boiling water, reaching up to open one of the cupboards. While he faces his back to the living room, you take a small peek at your brother. You’re surprised to find him looking back at you.

Even without saying anything, he understood what your gaze meant.

“Go ahead and do what you like, the house is yours for the weekend.” He says quietly with a shrug. “Just you know... don’t go overboard.”

You could feel your face heat up. “What do you mean by that?!”

Just in time, your mom and dad descend from the stairs, bringing with them bags with clothes for the weekend. When they see you, they give you a small greeting. Your mom gives a wide smile, but you could feel your dad linger a bit too long on Seungcheol.

“Ready to go?” Your brother asks, getting up from the sofa. “Did you make sure to bring all your meds?”

Your mom nods and moves over to hand her bags to your brother. Meanwhile, your father stands there near the kitchen, unmoving for a moment. Seungcheol looks up from the kitchen counters and gives him a small smile.

Without saying anything else, your dad nods and looks at the both of you before heading out the front door.

“See you this Sunday, sweetie.” Your mom says, giving you a small peck on the cheek. “Call us if anything comes up, alright?”

“Alright, have a safe trip. Oh, and bring back some strawberries if they have some.” You reply with a hug.

You hear the familiar sound of your dad’s old car, and moments later they’re out of the house and on the road. When he hears the car leaving the garage of the house, Seungcheol puts his hand on your waist and pulls you closer to him. He leans his head on your shoulder and gives a big sigh.

“I miss you so much, you know?” He says softly, almost melting into you.

You put the jar down on the counter and run one of your hands through his hair. “This week was rough, wasn’t it?”

He nods into your shoulder before pulling away. He checks the pot and finds the water boiling. You hand him the salt and the uncooked pasta, and he carefully places them in the pot.

“We had a few fights with the kids this week.” He says, leaning one of his arms on the counter as he stirs the pasta with his other hand. “I don’t know, maybe everyone was getting sensitive because of everything that’s going on.”

“Were you able to talk it out?” You say, putting your hand over his.

“Yeah, it’s all good now. It’s just... you know, that lingering feeling after an argument?” He says. “I feel like it’s my fault for not really going a good job.”

You lean your head on his shoulder, trying to comfort him the best that you can. “But you know you did all that you could, right? I know that you feel disappointed in yourself a lot, but I’ve always been proud of you for everything that you’re doing--perfect or not.”

He gives a nod and turns his head to put a kiss on your forehead. “Thank you.”

You spend the rest of the night cooking dinner and talking about all the things that you couldn’t over your series of phone calls. All the anxieties that have been building up, all the frustrations and disappointments. Time flew by so fast that midnight eventually came without a single movie watched. If not for a random call from your coworker, you would have stayed up until morning without a single dish washed.

“You cooked most of the meal tonight, I’ll wash the dishes this time.” You say as you pick up his plate and walk to the sink. “You still want to watch a movie after this?”

“I want to talk a bit more.” He says as he walks to you and puts his head on yours. “You didn’t finish your story about the broken photocopier.”

You laugh a bit at his pouting. “It’s not much of an exciting story. Just a little inconvenience that made me skip lunch trying to fix it so that I don’t have to pay for it.” You continue to wash the plates even with his weight on you.

“And what about the guy that helped you out?”

“Oh, him? He’s a guy from another branch that was brought over to help with the hectic preparations. And...” You stop in your tracks. “Wait, are you jealous?”

He doesn’t reply, but stands there behind you, shifting his weight from one foot to another. You quickly rinse off the plates and forks and put them over the metal rack next to the sink.

You turn around to see him a bit sad. “You don’t have to be jealous. You’re the one here with me right now, not him. Besides, he already went back to the main office. I’m not going to meet him again.”

You cup his face in your hands and give him a small kiss on his chin. “Are you alright? Do you want to head over to bed?”

“It’s okay, you’re mine for the rest of the weekend.” He intertwines his hands with yours and leans his forehead on yours. “Let’s go.”

The both of you make your way to your bedroom upstairs, but not before making sure that all the lights downstairs are turned off and all the doors locked. You grab your pajamas and head over to the bathroom to change. When you got back to your room, you see Seungcheol snuggled up well under your sheets.

You stroke his hair before getting under the sheets with him. “What do you want to do tomorrow?” You ask him, who seems to already be half asleep.

“Let’s watch a movie for real this time.” He mumbles, pulling you closer to him until you’re completely within his arms. He burrows his nose into your shoulder and breathes in. “Let’s go for a drive tomorrow evening. I want to go to that spot in the mountain with the city view.”

“That sounds great.” You say as you trace circles on his forearm. “Let’s bring my Polaroid camera, it’s been a while since we went out on a drive.”

“Mmmhmmm.” You could feel his breaths become slower and deeper. He must have had a really tiring day to fall asleep right away like this.

To be honest, you’re really proud that both of you held out for this long. Your parents made it clear from the first day of the limitations in place before marriage, and although it frustrated you and Suengcheol, he really tried his best to follow through, out of respect for your parents. Even though there were many times when he disagreed with your parents on the inside, there was not a moment where he didn’t respect them; it made you love him all the more.

“Cheol, are you asleep?”

No reply.

“Well, just in case you are, I want to thank you, really. Thank you for always keeping up with me even when you were busy with all the things going on. I love you so much.”

You feel him pull you even closer to him. “I love you too.”

“So you’re awake after all?” You say with a small laugh.

“I wanted to know what you’d say to me if I were asleep.” He gives you a small kiss on your shoulder. “I’m always more than glad to give what I can to you, don’t think that my sacrifices for you are a burden to me.”

Hearing those words makes your eyes water. Even though you know that he loves you, hearing those words from himself washes you over with a wave of reassurance. Although you’ve never doubted it, during a night like this, you become more certain that you really are safe when you’re with him.

“So stop beating yourself up for all the times when you think that you haven’t repaid my love enough. I do all this for you because I love you, not because I need you to pay me back. Alright?”

At this point, tears flow out no matter how hard you try not to let them. “Yes, I’m sorry.” You couldn’t keep the shakiness out of your voice. “Well... you know, I can’t put it to words. I’m just so sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” He puts a hand over your forehead and you turn to bury your head in his chest. He strokes your hair and continues to speak softly, “I understand that we can’t always be together, but being with you tonight and holding you close is more than enough for me. You don’t know how much comfort I feel just by being by your side.”

“Why do you have to say it like that, you’re making me tear up even more.”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, no, it’s very reassuring. Thank you.” You wipe your tears off, giving him a kiss on his jaw.

“Is that all?” He looks down at you and leans in closer. “Can I get more?”

This time, you let out a bigger laugh. “You’re such a baby for someone your age.” You say lovingly. Despite it, you lean in and meet his lips. He smiles as he kisses you back, all while keeping his hands on your waist.

After a few seconds, he pulls back. “Let’s stop here, we might not end until morning.” He says, planting one last kiss on your cheek. “Let’s rest well, we have the entire weekend, anyway.”

“Alright, alright.” You say softly. “Good night, for real this time.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

With that, the both of you fall into a deep sleep, tangled in each other’s arms.

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When you wake up, you find yourself alone on the bed with Seungcheol’s scent still lingering faintly on the bedsheets. You shuffle in your place, trying to get yourself adjusted as you ready yourself to get up. After a brief stretch, you pull the bedsheets off of you and head over to the bathroom to wash your face.

“You up?” You hear Seungcheol from downstairs.

“Yeah.” You mumble, still half asleep.

You hear heavy footsteps on the stairs, followed by a pair of hands on your shoulders as you rub your face with soap.

“How long have you been up?” You look at him through the reflection in the mirror, hair disheveled and faint stubble apparent on his jaw.

“Probably thirty minutes or so. I went out and got us some coffee and bread from the bakery down the street.” He rubs small circles on your back. “Let’s eat and go out for a walk.”

“Sounds good.” You say as you wipe your face with a towel.

The two of you spend the rest of the day relaxing in different ways possible. After a small stroll in the nearby secluded park, both of you went back home to watch a series of movies. On his days off, you knew that Seungcheol was the type to enjoy lying around rather than going up and about. You didn’t mind either; cuddling up to Seungcheol was like hugging a giant teddy bear. To be honest, it relieved your stress more than the movies you watched.

After a short nap and a few snacks, the both of you get ready to head out for your promised drive. You take with you some extra snacks and your polaroid camera, making sure to bring his favorites along in your small backpack. You return to the living room wearing a comfortable dress and some sandals, earning a dimpled smile from your boyfriend.

“You look nice.” He says, car keys in one of his hands. “Got all you need?”

“Yeah, let’s go. We have to get there before the sun sets so we can take good photos.” You say excitedly. After all the long hours at the office, going outside was literally a breath of fresh air. “Let’s stop by at the noodle shop at the mountain for dinner afterward.”

“Is it really just about food and photos?” He says jokingly. He takes your hand and the both of you walk out together. Seungcheol makes sure that all the doors are locked before both of you get into his car and drive out onto the highway.

You pull up your phone and connect it to the car, choosing the playlist you reserve for going out on long rides.

“Don’t tell me, you actually made a playlist just for this?” He asks, putting one of his hands on your thigh as he makes a turn to the left. “You even have some of our songs on your playlist.”

“A road trip isn’t complete without music. I’ll be in charge of the song, just focus on driving.” You say as you flip through the playlist.

He says nothing and simply smiles, tapping your thigh to the beat of the song. When one of the old ballads comes on, the both of you burst out singing. When one of his rap songs comes up, you try to catch up to the lyrics, only to get a burst of laughter from Seungcheol.

Even without talking much during the drive, these little moments made you happy. You didn’t want to forget it when the both of you would get back to your daily schedules, so you pull out the polaroid camera from your bag and take a photo of him as he drives.

“Hey! I wasn’t ready!” He says, looking to the side as he drives.

“Eyes on the road, Cheol.” You say, satisfied with the picture as you pull it out of the camera. “What are you so worried about, you look good in the photo.”

“You know, I gained a bit of weight during the promotional period.” He said in a soft voice. “I thought that I’d be able to make up for what I eat by practicing hard, but that wasn’t the case.”

You turn to him and put your hand on his stomach, giving it a tiny rub. “I think you look better and healthier nowadays. So long as you’re in a healthy weight, you don’t have to worry about it.”

You smile and run your hand through his hair. Seeing him putting on weight was much better than seeing him sad and deflated. You remember him back in 2019 when he lost so much weight because of his mental health. It was the time the two of you almost broke up; you wouldn’t want to see him being sad like that ever again.

“We’re almost there,” Seungcheol says, slowly hitting the breaks as he approaches a stoplight. “Give me the camera, I want a photo of you in the car too.”

You hand him a camera and give him your widest smile. Just as the photo was taken, the stoplight turns green. He quickly gives you back the camera and focuses back on the road.

“I’m sorry sir, you have failed your driver’s test.” You tell him, giving him an exaggerated look of disappointment.

“Your fault for being distracting.” He replies with a pout.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As you go up the sloped road into the mountain, you’re filled with a sense of glee. You press a button to pull down the windows and feel the fresh air rush into the car. Just in time, one of your favorite acoustic ballad songs comes up.

“Today is such a good day.” You say under your breath.

Eventually, you arrive at your stop. At the end of the mountain road, there’s a small garden cafe that overlooks the whole city. At the back, there’s a small open field where a few families and couples have set up their picnic blankets as they await the sunset.

Cheol turns off the engine after parking underneath one of the trees. You hurriedly open the door, slinging your bag behind your back. You run over to the door of the cafe where they’ve set up a small flower booth. “Cheol, come on! Look, it’s so nice over here!”

“I won’t even be surprised if you trip out of excitement.” He says with a laugh. He locks the car and heads over to you.

You take out the polaroid camera and take picture of the both of you. You wait for the photo to come out, only to see the Seungcheol wasn’t looking at the camera--he was looking at you. It makes you a bit flustered, and you quickly tuck the picture into your backpack.

“What? You didn’t let me see it.” He puts his hands on his hips, but you’re already making your way into the cafe. “Hey!”

You can’t help but have a smile on your face. Even though you’re already moving into your late twenties, you still feel like a teenager when you’re with him. It doesn’t help that he also has a childish side to him that makes you want to tease him even more.

“Look, they’ve got all kinds of cake.” You say as you look through the glass counters. “Oh, and macarons too!”

“Let’s get the macarons, then. It’ll be easier to bring out on the field.” He says as he pulls out his wallet. However, you put your hand over his to stop him.

“I want to pay for this one, at least. You’ve been buying everything since yesterday, I should at least treat you just this once.” You say firmly. He opens his mouth to object, but you quickly cut him off. “If you’re saying no, I’m going to leave you behind in the mountains and you’ll have to sleep in a tree trunk.”

He gives you a look of both confusion and amusement, but ends up laughing it off anyway. “Alright, fine.”

You finish the transaction with a box of macarons, some tea, and a slightly thinner wallet. The both of you settle down at a spot near a tree with a wooden table and two chairs.

You take out your camera and take more photos of him, happy to see his dimpled smile. He does the same for you, smiling as every picture comes out. For a moment, he lingers on the last picture.

“Hey, do you remember when we first met?” He says, putting down the photo on the table as he looks up at you. “We had a very weird way of meeting.”

“You just debuted around that time right?” You say, taking a bite of one macaron. “I was a working student that happened to get lost at the hectic backstage. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably never be able to find my way home that night.”

“I don’t know if I’ve said this before, but it was like meeting a lost cat, for real. I was panicking inside because I thought that I’d end up making you cry.” He says with a small chuckle. “You’re still as clumsy, but at least you’re now responsibly clumsy.”

“I almost made you late for your performance.”

“But it ended up well anyway.” He says with a shrug. “Who knew I’d be meeting you more than once for other promotional activities? It was only when you were transferred to another branch that I didn’t get to meet you as often.”

“We had our first big fight that time. You wanted to live together, or at least closer to each other, but my parents wouldn’t allow it.” You run your finger through the rim of your cup.

He puts his elbows on the table and leans in closer to you. “You’re not going to cry again, are you?”

You wave him off with a laugh. “Of course not. I’m just, you know, happy that we’ve come this far. We’ve had to hide to for quite a while, even going as far as telling people that I’m a staff member.”

“But what if we don’t have to hide it anymore?” His tone suddenly goes serious.

“You know we can’t do that.” You say with a sad smile. You look down at your cup. This time, you really are trying to bite back the tears. You didn’t want to cry, not when the day has been going well so far.

You hear him shuffle in his seat, but you keep your head down. He stays silent for a few moments before sliding something on the table.

“Look at me.” He says gently. You look up and see both of his hands on the table, with a tender look in his eyes. “What if we don’t have to hide it anymore?”

“Then I’ll go to your schedules every day and say cute and embarrassing stuff in front of your members. I’ll post wacky pictures of us without having to worry about all the comments.” You say with a laugh as tears fall down. To be honest, you don’t even know why you’re crying. Perhaps it’s the accumulation of all the times you’ve missed him, or of all the times you wished that he was just a normal person. You’ve always made sure to be careful not to let it show.

He takes your hand and puts it on top of his other hand. After a short pause, he puts both of his hands over yours. That’s when you notice a small box beneath your hands.

Your eyes quickly shoot up to his, and you see a faint hint of tears threatening to fall. “Open it.” He says simply.

You pull out the box, your heartbeat beating faster and louder than it has ever done before. With shaky hands, you open the box to find a silver ring inside with your name on it.

“I’m sorry for making you wait all this time.” He says.

You look up at him, now crying uncontrollably. You love this man so much, you couldn’t explain it. A part of you is in shock at what’s happening, while another part is leaping over in joy.

“I’ve talked about it with the company, had a long talk with the kids.” He says, wiping the tears off your face with his thumb. “I talked with your parents too. It took me a lot to convince them, but they said that they’d allow it.”

You put a hand over your mouth, trying not to let him see the mess that you’re in.

“So what I’m saying is, will you marry me?”

You nod your head, still unable to contain your emotions. “Of course I will.”

Seungcheol tries to contain his smile, but ends up crying along with you. “Ah, come on, we need to stop crying.” He wipes away his own tears and pulls the ring out of the box.

Your vision is blurry, but you manage to give him your hand. He puts it on you and pulls out his own ring afterward. With a shaky hand, you put his ring on him, albeit not without a fit of tears.

Moments later, you hear a loud cheer from behind. When you look back, you see all his members smiling and waving. You quickly wipe away your tears, trying to at least cover up the mess you were in. From now on, these aren’t just going to be Cheol’s kids, but they are also going to be yours.

“Congratulations!” They say, giving Seungcheol punches and slaps on the back.

“Didn’t I tell you guys not to follow us here!?” He says angrily. However, you can’t help but laugh at him being embarrassed. “I made sure to go somewhere far so that you wouldn’t even think of stopping by!”

Nevertheless, he gets showed with calls and cheers.

At that moment, you finally compose yourself. This was going to be the start of the time where you would no longer have to hide. You’re happy. You’re excited.

Seungcheol looks over at you in the midst of the chaos, smiling back.

“Let’s take a photo with both of your rings,” Jeonghan says as he picks up the camera from the table. “It’s a shame to come all the way here just to cry and go home.”

With puffy eyes, both of you stand in front of the camera with your hands up to show the rings. Now, he had more than one ring in his hand--one for his brothers in the group, and one for you.

Here’s to great years ahead.

- END -

#S.coups #Scoups #SVT #Seventeen #SVT Fic #Seventeen Fic #Seventeen Fanfic #SVT Fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #choi seungcheol

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moonflower-31 · 4 years

Text

I Won’t Forget You - Spencer Reid x Reader

Masterlist

Part 6

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of murders, cases, Serial killer facts,

Tags: @dra-reid, @eevee0722, @ceeellewrites, @anotherr-fine-mess, @ssahoodrathotchner

~~~~~~~~~~

○●♡●○

It had been about two months or so since your little impromptu sleepover at the resident genius's place. Things had gotten a little better, at least on your part.

"Hey!"

You jumped from your make-do desk in your room, snapping your head towards the doorway where a friendly face awaited you. Gabriel had a bag of sweets in one hand and a malt in the other. "Jesus, Gabe you scared me." You cursed, holding a hand to your chest.

"At least we're even." He points out, putting the malt on the table in front of you. Also inconveniently on top of your written notes for the paper you had to write. You growled and moved the drink, glaring at your best friend.

"You've gotten even with me plenty of times since then! How many times do I have to say I'm sorry?" You ask in exasperation. Gabriel pretends to ponder your question as he pops a caramel apple sucker into his mouth.

"Says the girl who didn't call me to tell me she was home and instead decided to stay with the coworker she has a crush on. You didn't even bribe me with details!" He complained, dumping a few sweets in front of you.

You grumpily grab one of the sweets he had graciously offered and tossed it into your mouth. "It was one time! And I hadn't slept for like, four days! Besides, it wasn't my fault my mother decided to drop by and visit!" You huff.

"Yeah yeah. You know how much I hate that hag. Nothing against you, sugar tits." Gabriel comments, pulling the pop from his mouth. "But still, no excuse not to call me. Send me a text even. Some proof of life." He grumbled. "That malt is yours by the way. Iris insisted I get one for you while we were out. Couldn't say no."

You look over at the bright pink striped cup dripping with condensation that created a wet circle on the desk. For being pissed at you for over two months, Gabriel was a good friend.

You took the malt and started sipping generously. "I'm sorry, okay? What do I have to do to prove it to you?" You ask.

Gabriel smirked. You hated when he got ideas.

"Tell me about your night with Mister teacher's pet. Then I'll consider it." He teased, quickly bopping your nose.

"I already told you. After my bitch mother confronted me, he convinced me to head to his place. I couldn't say no. He eventually read me a poem and I fell asleep. And… he knows my real name now. Happy?" You asked with a groan.

"Oh come on, that can't be all of it!" He whined, almost like a child about to throw a tantrum for being forced to eat his vegetables. Not that Gabriel was any different. He would fight you tooth and nail if you tried.

"It is! Nothing else happened! No kiss, no dramatic display of feelings, no nothing. Just a really awkward drive to work." You huffed.

The thought of the drive was a little hurtful. After the night you both had, well more like morning and you slept through the rest of the day, Spencer had been distant. It didn't last long as a couple days later they all had to get on the jet for another case. Spencer then began to re-warm up to you and now you knew nothing different. Though he didn't try to flirt with you anymore. Not like Morgan. But the previous moments where he had you backed up against the map, or had called you a good girl. He never did it again. And to be honest, you missed it despite how embarrassed you were afterwards.

"Boo! And I thought you liked the guy!" Gabriel exclaimed, acting baffled at the chain of events in your life. He then shrugged. "More fish in the sea I guess." He teased, obviously gaging you for a response.

"I do! Just… I'm not as obscenely obvious about it as you want me to be!" You hissed, sucking up more chocolate malt into your mouth with a little bit of a pissy attitude.

"Well if you were, I'm sure he'd be your teacher's aide boyfriend by now. Now, who's right and wrong in this situation? Hm? Yeah, me. No debate." He insists, putting the sucker back into his mouth.

"Shut up. I have to write this paper. For my doctorate in social science." You explain. "Just because you stopped going to school doesn't mean I can't go ahead and add another doctorate to my belt." You try to change the subject, hoping Gabriel would ease up on you.

"You and those doctorates. Are you seriously trying to build a filing cabinet up there or are you just bored with working for the FBI already?" Gabriel asks, flopping down onto your bed.

"Neither. I just want to know as much as I can in all of my areas of schooling. Be taken seriously." You insist.

"Boring. Why don't you take classes on making candy or something? That would be seriously cool. And then you can open up your own business just to spite those parents of yours!

I can see it now!" He rants, hanging his head over the edge of your mattress as he spreads his hands as if displaying the business name.

You roll your eyes. "No thanks. That sounds like something you should do though. You'd fit right into that role, you know. Candyman." You tease. "Now I really gotta finish this paper." You insist.

"Fine fine. Just be sure to come down from your academic heaven long enough to eat dinner once Iris is finished." He insists, winking at you before he leaves your room.

Finally, you had your peace and quiet. But it was weird. The peace and quiet was very quickly becoming deafening by the influx of thoughts. Not the helpful kind either.

You began to come up blank on ideas for your paper and had more ideas on how you could have maybe done something different to prevent that awkward drive to work all those weeks ago. Where did this uncertainty come from?

You grumble and close your laptop after ten minutes of no progress. Maybe you just needed a break. Then again, it was your day off. And you didn't feel like wishing bad things on someone just so you'd be able to go into work.

Almost as if the universe had been listening and decided to throw you a sickened bone, you heard your phone begin to ring. You eagerly pick it up, knowing it would be something to keep you busy.

"Hello, Agent (L/N)." You answer without checking the caller ID.

"Yes, (L/N) I need you to come in. We have another case." Hotch answers the phone. You feel a slight feeling of excitement strike at your core. Sure, you'd been on 6 cases so far, but you enjoyed being around your fellow agents and putting another unsub away.

"Do I get any insight, Hotch?" You ask.

"It's a case in Lebanon Kansas. We have a large group of bodies piling up. We have two suspects we believe are working with each other. We just need to profile them and catch them before they kill again. I'll inform everyone once you've arrived." As soon as he finished, he hung up. He didn't give you any chance to reply. Typical Hotch fashion.

You stand up immediately, grabbing your bag and your go-bag you had packed at all times just in case this happened. You grabbed the malt you still had and drank the rest of it, grabbing a couple of the caramel apple pops Gabriel had left and shoving them into your pocket.

You wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a plastic container and putting some of dinner into it.

"Woah, woah, where the hell are you going so late?" Gabriel asked in a fatherly tone. You rolled your eyes and glared at him for a moment.

"I have work. Duh."

"Work? I thought you were off?" Iris asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I am. But unfortunately serial killers don't care that I'm off. Sorry guys. I promise I'll call you guys once I get back, okay?" You promise, finding a lid and putting it on the tubberware.

"You better. Or else I'll stick gum in your hair. And not the easy to get out stuff." Gabriel threatened teasingly, taking a quick bite of his food. "Have fun arresting some muttonheads!" He called.

You chuckle and sling your bag over your shoulder. "Will do!" You reply before you turn around and head out of your shared apartment.

○●♡●○

"Hey! (L/N)!"

You turn your head as you arrive to the bullpen. You smile as the eccentric Penelope Garcia raced up to you to give you a hug once you were down the stairs.

You graciously accepted the hug and turned to everyone else. "What did I miss?" You ask.

"Nothing much. Only Reid finally showing us another magic trick!" Penelope answered for everyone. Morgan chuckled and Reid blushed slightly. Emily was leaned slightly against Reid's desk, looking at you warmly.

"Seriously, he's really good." Emily affirmed. You chuckled and walked over in interest.

"Really now? Show me." You insist, standing in front of Spencer. He looked up at you and did a nervous chuckle.

"W-well your gonna have to turn around." He says, giving you an adorable michevious smirk.

"Oh come on-" you begin.

"He does this everytime, you'll get used to it." Emily adds, laughing slightly as she begins to turn around.

"Spencerrr… please? For me?" You asked, batting your eyes pitifully. You knew it would probably get you nowhere, but you could at lease try.

"No." He insisted.

"Pleaseeee!" You beg again, putting your hands in a clasped position. You even bended your knees slightly to add to the effect.

Instead of the immediate rejection, he pondered for a moment and stared at you.

"Come on kid, one person knows a magician's tricks. Let her be your protégé." Morgan suggests. You giggle and shook your head.

"No really, it's fine. You don't have to show me-" you begin to backtrack, not wanting to force Spencer into showing you.

"I'll do it. I-I mean… I have to find someone to pass my gifts onto." He chuckles, rubbing his neck a little nervously.

"Really?"

"Yeah!" He expressed.

Morgan raised an eyebrow and stifled a chuckle as he watched you two. He leaned over to Emily who had made her way over to where he stood and whispered into her ear.

Spencer then told everyone to turn their heads away except for you. Then he began to show you the way he made the mini bottle rocket. He wrapped his hands around yours and helped you with each step. The warmth of his hands spread to your cheeks, and the touch of them sent shivers down your spine.

"Then turn it upside down and…" Spencer instructed in a whisper, helping you to turn the cap upside down. You watched the foaming top for a few seconds, moving closer towards the unknowing danger of the cap. As soon as it began to jump up, Spencer pushed you back with an inaudible warning. You watched as the bottle skyrocketed and flew fast Hotch's ear. Through this, his hand clutched as your shoulder and refused to leave it.

"Reid, I thought I told you not to do that." Hotch warned.

Reid's face grew a little brighter with embarrassment. You didn't know what came upon you then, but you stood up and gulped. "It-it was me. He taught me and I shot it. Sorry sir." You insisted.

Hotch's lips pulled into a slight smile as he looked back towards you. He didn't say anything afterwards, but you knew he was just teasing you both. "Meet up in the confrence room in five minutes, we have another case." He says after he cleared his throat. You nodded with a cheerful smile and put your bag in your chair. You glanced to Spencer, flashing him a gentle smile before you turned to enter the conference room.

You entered the room and took your seat, taking the tablet out that Garcia had given you before. "So what do we have?" You asked.

"We have what is assumed to be over a dozen bodies killed with different MO's and different stages of aggression. The only thing that links them are the DNA from one or both of these suspects; Jensen and Sam Westchester. And boy do they have long records. That's why we were able to find their DNA matches so quick." Penelope answered.

Spencer took a seat beside you, causing your heart to skip just slightly. "How come we don't have these men yet? Why do they need our help?" You ask.

"We need to apprehend them. And get a confession. The Kansas state court system has been known to be unpredictable. Sometimes evidence is enough, other times they get off with a warning and community service." Hotch answers.

"At least they do that." Morgan grumbled. "How come we don't have these guys yet? Are they that slick?"

"Unfortunately yes. They are like Houdini when it comes to busting out of prisons and facilities. The last prison they were held in, one up in Ohio, said they were able to escape through knocking out a guard and switching clothes with him. They were in for a robbery charge." Penelope continued.

"So why escalate to murder? Unless these murders were scattered." You ask.

"They are. Over 15 years worth. It looks like they could maybe have more." Spencer spoke up, looking over the picture of one of the more recent bodies.

"It's quite possible. After all, Harold Shipman managed to get away with 218 proven murders. But they think he could've done as many as 250." You answer, sharing a serial killer fact you found interesting.

"So we just need to profile these boys and figure out the motive. And if we apprehend them, keep them apart." Emily points out.

"Why do you say that?" Rossi asks.

"If you notice the trend in each of these escapes, they only manage to escape when in contact with the other. In the prison they had time to be able to see one another and formulate a plan. Even when in questioning they were able to get notes to each other."

"Then we'll have to split up and get seperate confessions. These two are brothers, and neither seem to fit the submissive type.' Hotch explains.

"Two alpha males killing for seemingly no reason for half their lives. This'll be easy to get them to confess and rat out their partner." You say sarcastically.

"We have to try. Wheels up in thirty." Hotch announces, standing up and leaving the room.

You sigh and pick up the tablet. "Garcia, can you go ahead and check more than just their juvie records? I wanna have a list of information I can pick from for the profile. Possibly pinpoint some areas of their lives that lead to this behavior." You ask.

"Oh, but of course Queen! I'll get straight on that. But most of it will probably be sealed." She warned.

"Unseal those records Garcia. Anything that can help us." Morgan interjects as he grabs his bag and he too leaves the conference room. Garcia nods to him and quickly clicks her heels as she leaves the room. You sigh and pick up your things as you prepare to get onto the jet.

"You didn't have to defend me."

"Hm?" You ask, turning to look at Spencer. "Oh, you mean the rocket-thingy?" You clarify. "I was the one to beg you to teach me. Let's just be happy it didn't hit him in the head." You giggle. Spencer looked at you intently for a few moments before he nodded and turned his head away silently. Although it caused you to be uncertain, you brushed it off and walked out to your desk to grab your things.

As you grab your bags, you feel the small raised bulge in your pocket. You remember the caramel apple pops and smile. At least you could enjoy one of these on the way to deal with a pair of serial killers. Fun.

You pulled the sucker from the wrapper and popped it into your mouth, beginning your trek out to the jet. As you begin to walk towards the elevator, you notice a pair of hazel eyes following you. You feel a slight burning sensation on the back of your neck and your cheeks as you realized. He looked away once he noticed you were staring back.

Was he really staring, or was he just spacing out? You hoped it was the former. You were practically begging and praying for it to be. But you knew you'd never be that lucky.

As you began walking, you heard a jumble of feet behind you and the jingle of things inside a bag getting tossed around. "(Y/N!)" You heard. You widened your eyes and turned around, glad no one besides Spencer had been behind you.

"Spencer! You can't just call me by my first name right now!" You hissed.

"S-sorry, I just wanted to apologize if I sounded upset with you. I… I find it honorable that you tried to defend me. No one really does." He explained. You felt your heart melt a little.

"Spencer… I didn't think that in the slightest." You knew you were lying, but it was going to make him feel better. Besides, it wasn't that big of a deal. "And if that last part is true then I'll be your legendary defender. Like Voltron!" You insist, already beginning to geek out in front of your workplace crush. Way to go, (Y/N).

"Voltron? What is that? Is it like Star Trek?" He asked, beginning to walk towards the jet with you. You widen your eyes at him and gasp playfully.

"You, haven't seen Voltron Legendary Defender? Okay, when we get back you HAVE to come over and watch it with me. Afterwards we can watch some documentaries." You insist, practically bouncing on your toes. Spencer looked over you and smiled, unable to tell you no.

"Sounds like a plan."

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader fic #spencer reid x you #spencer #spencer reid x reader fanfiction #spencer x y/n #spencer reid x y/n #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction #criminal minds fandom

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albino-whumpee · 3 years

Text

Unrequited Love

CW// Pet whump, dehumanization, human trafficking, amnesia, hot water burns, exhausted whumpee. Pretty mild one honestly. ^^

Ok i didn´t notice it before, but THIS is the corrected version. Idk what happened. Also taglist? I didn´t tag y´all???

Taglist: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @giggly-evil-puppy @cowboysrappin @haro-whumps @burtlederp @neuro-whump @comfortforthepain @whumps-the-word @whole-and-apart-and-between @broken-horn @ashintheairlikesnow @rosesareviolentlyread @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @as-a-matter-of-whump @whumpasaurus101 @grizzlie70 @twistedcaretaker

During the party, Zarai had gotten the contact she needed to talk to Dune’s Ceo. Or at least the first of three people she needed to stablish contact to get to Gil Jefferson.

So while she was hopping around searching for the phone number of her client, asking for extensions and generally being absent, the whole team needed her approval to finish their jobs. So Albus was the one in charge now.

“Albus, can you check this out and tell me if its ok, please? Was a question he heard at least ten times a day now.

“Serra, talk to management on the next floor and tell them we need the results now” he would nod and fly downstairs.

“Serra I need your sign for this budget…” Zarai had given her authority to do that after Robert’s visit.

Any problem the marketing and development team had was managed by the albino with a few wretched nerves and increasing eye bags. Then he would inform an overly tired Zarai that everything was in order. But there was always a small mistake she would notice and make him fix in shouting everyone on the office was too surprised to never have seen Albus cry from.

Despite the shouting making it all the way to other side of the office, he simply remained calm, waited for her to finish and then apologized before going to fix it. He just continued to work efficiently. Until there were no mistakes to get yelled at.

Sometimes, one of the new trainees would ask him if he was alright, but he would look at them with a funny look and change the subject. If he was to be honest, he had fully expected to be properly punished when they were alone, at home. He was so grateful he could hang his role as Albus Serra for a moment and allow himself to be only Al, the pet who didn’t hide his collar.

He was bent over some newbie’s desk when he straigthened up with a smile “Now, you just need to click this button, and you will have the whole system on your drive in a few minutes”

The newbie looked at him with adoration “Thank you so much, mister Serra!” He had said with a gleam on his eyes that made him blush.

“Mister Serra, I’ve a few questions about the report I sent you” Albus trotted to the woman.

“Ah, yes. I checked and it’s looking fine. I already sent it so, dont worry about it and give a hand to Ryan, please” the woman blinked “I know it’s not part of your job but look at them…” he cocked his head to the glass covered office of five people laying over their desks, one fully crying and the other lost in infinity. “You’ve got a degree on computer engineering right? The development needs to find the exact problem today. Please lend them a hand”

“Yes, sir” she had answered before walking away. Albus froze for a moment. An strange feeling sitting on his stomach.

He didn’t have time to wonder what it was when he was called again.

—

Albus was staring at the ceiling, serving himself some coffee from the machine at Tony´s office when he blanked out for a second and heard the man yelp.

“Albus it´s spilling!” he shouted loud enough to make the boy react. His half open eyelids fixed on the cup and then on the floor before taking lots of paper and wiping the floor with it “I´m sorry! Imsorry,Imsorry,Imsorry” he muttered before the man grabbed his right wrist and pulled down his soaked sleeve to reveal a growing red spot “Dude you burnt yourself! Are you ok? Does it hurt?” he said lifting him up.

Albus head spinned wildly enough to make him stumble against a wall. The man passed an arm around his waist “Jesus, Albus, what´s wrong?” Albus groaned while rubbing his eyes with his other hand.

“I´m sorry, I´m just… I´m… I´m ok, it doesn´t hurt. I promise I´m sorry” he told the man as he put him down on his chair.

“Hey, hey, it´s ok, it´s just some bean water. Look at me” the boy pulled his red eyes to look at his friend “I´ll go get some ice to put on that, yeah? Sit here for a second” he waited until the boy nodded to walk out of the office. Albus stared at the disaster on the floor and felt horrible. He looked around and found some kleenex on the desk. He hoped he wouldn´t mind and started wiping the floor again.

“Mister Serra?” The trainee asked him outside the office. Albus looked up at him and then at the floor. “Mister Serra you´re green! Please lay down, I´ll call someone to clean that up” the boy trotted to help him sit on the chair again.

“i-it´s fine. I´m ok, Jeremy” he said feeling his head puffy. The boy left him there for a second and then leaned on the frame of the door.

“Lee, can you get me some chocolate from my backpack? Mister Serra isn´t feeling well!” he shouted as the boy shrank on his seat.

“Mister Serra? Does he need some water?” a feminine voice asked with a worried tone. Possibly the intern from last week he had to sign her papers for.

“Yeah! and get someone from cleaning!” Albus heard a reply and felt his cheeks burning as Jeremy knelt next to him.

“Thank you” he whispered to the blonde. He directed a genuine smile at the albino. “Mister Serra has helped me a lot since I got here. Please don´t thank me. It´s the least I can do for you, mister!” Albus felt himself sink into the chair further as Lee handed him Jeremy´s candy bar.

“You´re looking a little pale, mister” She said when he was about to take a bite. Jeremy was about to say something when he heard himself laugh. Lee smiled triumphantly.

“Still, mister, have you slept enough? I saw you doze off during the report meeting with the interns yesterday…” Jeremy continued, his cheeks burning red. Albus swallowed feeling guilty someone had seen him fighting to keep himself awake.

“Don´t fall off yet, soldier, we still got work to do” Sasha came inside the office with Tony behind her. He put the ice on his burnt hand and he didn´t even twitch. The four stared at him with worry. “Does it hurt?” Sasha asked him. Albus didn´t look up, only shrugged.

“Thanks Tony…Sorry for the mess” he apologized putting his hand away. He tried to stand up, but his legs refused to do so.

“Don´t mind it. But maybe you should stay here for a moment” He bit his lip.

“I still have work to do…” he tried to stand up, but Sasha pushed him back to the chair.

“Well, then it´s a good moment to just rely on us for help. You have that meeting with the trainees again don´t you?” he nodded slowly. “You two” she directed the trainees, who squared up instantly “Make a summary and send it to me before clocking out. I´ll make the paperwork and Tony will help with the mails” The boys both responded with “yes, ma´am” Albus jumped trying to stop her, but Sasha gave him a freezing look. “You rest here, workaholic. You trying to imitate Zarai with her unhealthy habits? Just eat your candy bar, boy”

“But we´ve got that meeting with…” she put Tony´s coat on his shoulders.

“You´re in no conditions to listen to old men talking about how far to the right a letter should be to increase sales a 10%” she rubbed his back before pulling away “Just sleep a bit yeah?” she silenced him.

He tugged the cozy coat over his shoulders close to him. Hiding his face with it. “Thank you…”

Sasha smiled and pulled everyone out of Tony´s office as the cleaning lady took care of the mess. Jeremy and Lee walked out the office wishing him to get better soon after leaving some more candy. He thanked them and saw them snickering to each other as they went out.

Albus pulled his knees close to his chest and the coat covered his back when he fell asleep against the desk.

Tony´s coat was warm.

—

He never mentioned it to Zarai, but when he was working at home that night, or well, the early morning of the next day, he received a photo from Tony.

It was him curled up into a ball in the chair with only his white hair sticking out of the brown coat.

“A wild tired cinnamon roll has appeared!” Tony wrote below it.

Sasha keysmashed and put lots of faces laughing.

Albus just shook his head and grinned before he continued working.

Didn´t stop until dawn when Zarai came in to tell him they were leaving in a few minutes.

He arrived to the office with the same exhausted face from yesterday but when he came out, Lee was there with a coffee on her hands.

“Jeremy sends you this sir” she said to the mute boy.

“I…uh…thank you, Lee” he said as he shifted the coffee cup and saw it had a number and a smiley face. He looked up at her with his cheeks fired up. “Uh…”

Lee simply walked away before he could say anything.

He showed it to Tony and Sasha at lunch and snickered to the other “Aren´t you popular, boy! I´ve also had girls ask me for your number!” Tony howlered

“What?” Sasha grinned as he blushed

“But you´re taken already aren´t you? With that freckled boy you always talking about”

“Sann?” Albus widened his eyes. “Oh, I…no, no. It´s not…” he remembered his smile at the party, the tuxedo and the rose on his chest, his dimples, his hair looking like fire in the sunset and immediately went silent. “I wish but It´s more complicated than that”

Both leaned on him. He let out a heavy sigh before staring at the city from their table on the roof top.

“I met him two years ago, but I don´t remember anything from that period. I know I learnt what I know back then…but it´s blank. I feel like something important happened…but everytime I try to remember it´s like…it just hurts and it´s uncomfortable” he said rounding one thumb with the other “I want to remember that meeting, but I can´t. I just recently remembered some… things” he continued to explain, the images of handlers touching him all over came to his head. The shocks. “And then there´s…” the problem that´s he´s someone else´s pet and I´m not supposed to get close to him. “Anyways, it´s messy” he smiled at his quiet friends “It´s dumb to say that I would be completely fine just by seeing him being happy even if I´m far?”

Both stared at him for an uncomfortably long time.

“Does Zarai know of your amnesia?” Sasha asked bluntly, playing with the bracelet in her left wrist. Albus had to shrug.

“Did you have an accident or…?”

Albus had to think hard about it. “…maybe I had someone hit my head repeatedly…” Sasha opened her mouth outraged “No, no it´s ok. I don´t know for sure. I just remember feeling numb after a hit” he hurried to explain. “Can we change the subject?” he asked closing his eyes, feeling ill suddenly.

“…ok” both laid back on their chairs as Albus sighed relieved “You should get that head checked up tho´. Two years is a long time, Albus” Tony told him.

Albus bit his tongue to not spit he didn´t remember most of his life anyways. Or his parent´s faces, or his own name.

He instead tried to put a smile. A mask that pleased everyone was easier to pull than try to uncover the truth.

“So, please help with Jeremy? I don´t wanna break the poor boy´s heart”

It took a while for them to talk normally to him again, but in the end, Jeremy was understanding when he explained he was not available. In fact, he had smiled and thanked him for being honest and Albus could pull an all nighter in peace because of that.

He cried on Lee´s shoulder later at the bus station, but that was something Albus didn´t need to know.

#you came back a stranger #writing #my writing #whump #pet whump #tw human trafficking #tw dehumanization #collars #tw burning #hurt comfort #tw implied abuse #amnesia #albus #zarai #caretaker #whumpee

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kjack89 · 3 years

Text

closure

Sequel to ‘tis the damn season (Tumblr | AO3) and gold rush (Tumblr | AO3).

ExR, modern AU, former relationship. What are happy endings?

Enjolras couldn’t sleep.

He lay in his childhood bed, staring up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom, surrounded by the graveyard of his childhood accomplishments. Why his parents had insisted on holding onto every trophy, medal and certificate he’d ever received, he’d never understand. His first grade perfect attendance certificate just seemed like some kind of cruel mockery in light of more recent failures thrown into sharp relief over this holiday weekend.

He sighed and shifted in bed, knowing damn well that the reason he couldn’t sleep had precious little to do with the participation medal he’d gotten for park district soccer in the third grade, and far more to do with the discussion he’d had with Grantaire.

With the reality that nothing in Enjolras’s life was what he had envisioned a decade past, when he and Grantaire had lain in this very same bed, dreaming of a future that had never come to pass.

And with the knowledge that the only reason it hadn’t was because of him.

Groaning, Enjolras flopped over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow, as if the down filling could drown out the echoes of his conversation with Grantaire earlier that evening, or else the awful realization that he’d completely failed at being a remotely good boyfriend to the only man he’d ever really loved. But the pillow held no such relief, just dampening the ambient noise and leaving Enjolras more alone with his thoughts than ever.

He was tempted to stay that way, as it seemed a fitting punishment to lie there and obsess over everything that had gone wrong over the past decade.

Still, while brooding was good for keeping him up all hours of the night, Enjolras had never really been one for moping, always preferring action to the alternative, and even though it would be hours yet before the sun crept over the horizon, he couldn’t help but feel like he needed to get up and do something.

He rolled over and grabbed his phone, figuring he might as well doomscroll through Twitter just to give his fingers something to do. But then he paused, and almost without knowing what he was doing, he clicked on Google instead of Twitter, and a moment later, he had the Amtrak website pulled up.

Grantaire had said that he had an early train to catch. A quick scan through the departures listed on the Amtrak website told Enjolras that the earliest train was set to depart at 4:30am, which was… Even though the time was listed on the phone screen he had been squinting at, Enjolras still rolled over in bed to check the clock on his nightstand, just to be sure.

Its glowing orange numbers told him that it was 4:03am, and Enjolras managed a small, sharp smile.

Just enough time to get to the train station.

----------

Enjolras didn’t exactly have a plan in mind for what he was going to say to Grantaire when he found him at the train station, but thankfully, he was saved by the fact that Grantaire did not show up for the 4:30 train. Or the 5:05, the 5:26 express, the 5:50 flyer, or the 6:30 train.

But five trains and three cups of coffee were still not enough, since the moment Enjolras saw Grantaire in the train station, a few minutes after 7, any words he might’ve half-strewn together in his mind fled, leaving him tongue-tied as Grantaire spotted him, one dark eyebrow arching. “Please tell me I don’t need to get a restraining order,” Grantaire said as he approached, but with enough of a teasing edge to his voice that Enjolras relaxed, just slightly.

“I promise this is the end of any incidental stalking,” Enjolras told him, and Grantaire laughed.

“Well, that is somewhat reassuring,” he said, setting his duffel bag down on a nearby bench and stretching. “But I still have a bad feeling about why you’re here at ass o’clock in the morning.”

Enjolras snorted. “Ass o’clock in the morning was when the first train left at 4:30,” he said before yawning so widely that his jaw audibly cracked, and Grantaire raised both eyebrows.

“Judging by the fact that you look like you haven’t slept, I’ll assume that means you were here at 4:30?”

Enjolras shrugged, suddenly feeling acutely embarrassed by that decision. “I, uh, I didn’t know which train you were taking,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

A smile twitched at the corners of Grantaire’s mouth. “I suppose it’s my fault for not specifying how early my early train was,” he mused, sitting down on the bench next to his bag.

Frowning slightly, Enjolras sat as well. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not entirely surprised to see you here,” Grantaire said. “And, since I figured you were going to show up, I probably should have been a little more specific about when my train was leaving.”

Enjolras opened his mouth and promptly closed it again. “You figured I was going to show up?” he asked, slightly higher-pitched than he intended, and Grantaire had the audacity to not look even remotely abashed. “How? I didn’t even decide to come until this morning.”

Grantaire shrugged. “You never did like to let arguments go without finishing them,” he said simply.

Enjolras shook his head but didn’t bother trying to deny it. Instead, he changed tacks. “I wasn’t aware that we were having an argument.”

“Hasn’t it always been an argument between us?” Grantaire asked, a little wistfully. Enjolras didn’t have a response to that, but thankfully, the question seemed more rhetorical than anything, and after a moment, Grantaire shook his head as if clearing his thoughts before glancing back at Enjolras. “So,” he said, looking at Enjolras expectantly.

Enjolras frowned. “So what?”

“So, since you’ve been here for a few hours now, how about you get to whatever point you’re so desperate to make?”

Enjolras took a deep breath. “I just…” he started, feeling tongue-tied again, in the way that only Grantaire had ever been able to make him. “Well, like you said, I don’t think we really finished things yesterday, argument or otherwise.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “So you have more you want to say?” he asked mildly, picking at invisible lint on his jeans.

“No.”

Grantaire looked up, startled. “No?” he repeated.

Enjolras shook his head. “No,” he said again. “I don’t think it’s me who has more that I need to say. I think you do.”

Grantaire started to speak but stopped, looking away, his expression unreadable. “Don’t you think if I had more to say, I would’ve taken the time to say it last night?” he asked finally.

“No,” Enjolras said. “Because I think that you thought I wasn’t ready to hear what you had to say. But I am.”

He said it as defiantly as he was able, but Grantaire just laughed, a dry, humorless laugh. “Sure, you’re ready to hear it,” Grantaire scoffed. “And I’m ready to be king of France, but alas—”

“I’m serious,” Enjolras insisted.

Grantaire met his eyes and Enjolras was surprised to see something dark in his expression. “So am I,” Grantaire said, his voice low. “I don’t know what you think this is about—”

“It’s about the fact that when I miss who I was when I was with you.”

Grantaire stared at him. “What?”

Enjolras could feel himself flush, and ducked his head before barrelling forward. “When you and I were together were...I don’t want to say they were the best years of my life, because it was high school, and I never wanted to be that person. But you always made me better, made me strive to be better. And I just thought…” He trailed off. “I don’t know. But us meeting like this...I don’t think this is a coincidence.”

“Since when have you believed in fate?” Grantaire asked softly.

Enjolras made a face. “I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call it fate, but seeing you again – I want to try to be that again. And then maybe…” He trailed off and took a deep breath before telling Grantaire, as honest as he had ever been, “Then maybe we could try again. But better this time.”

Grantaire barked what could charitably called a laugh, scrubbing a hand across his mouth. “Are you serious?” he asked, incredulous. “You want to get back to the person who you were when we were together?”

“Well, maybe not quite like that—”

“Enjolras, I hated who I was when we were dating.” Enjolras froze, staring at him. “The thought of going back to that…”

“Not exactly back to it,” Enjolras said quickly. “Better than what we were—”

“No.”

“No what?” Enjolras asked, feeling like his stomach had dropped to somewhere around his knees.

“No, we can’t go back to that,” Grantaire said loudly, and Enjolras glanced over his shoulder, afraid that someone would overhear. But it was still just the two of them alone in the train station. “I don’t want that. I’m not that person anymore, and whatever you want to call how you used to feel about the person I used to be, you sure as shit wouldn’t feel it for the person I am now.”

Enjolras shook his head, feeling like Grantaire was missing his point. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“Let me rephrase what I was trying to say earlier,” he said, his tone clipped. “I don’t know what you think this is about for me. I get what this is about for you. But just like our entire relationship, if you even want to call it that, that has nothing to do with me.”

“Grantaire—”

“I can’t give you closure, Enjolras, if that’s what you’re looking for, or forgiveness, or whatever. Mainly because you’ve never needed it, but also because you’ve never asked. Not really, and certainly not now.” Grantaire shook his head. “I can’t fix this. I can’t fix you.”

Enjolras swallowed. “I’m not asking you to,” he said, his voice low.

“Aren’t you?”

Grantaire didn’t wait for an answer, standing up and grabbing his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he told Enjolras, “I spent the last ten years of my life figuring out who I was without you and building a life for myself that didn’t involve you, and I’m not going to throw it all away just because you’re not happy with the life you’ve built for yourself.”

Enjolras hurried to stand as well. “That’s not—”

“Yeah, it is.” Grantaire glanced over his shoulder at the train station clock before looking back at Enjolras, something so sad in his expression that Enjolras felt the breath catch in his throat. “I love you, Enjolras – or at least, there’s a part of me that will always love a part of you. But I’m not who I was ten years ago, and you’re not who I fell in love with either. And I’m not saying that I’m disappointed in who you’ve become, or telling you that you need to change, or whatever, because I know better than anyone that that’s not how this works.” He paused, searching Enjolras’s expression for a long moment before continuing, “I am in love with a version of you that has lived in my head for ten years, and I don’t want closure on that. But you’re not him. And I don’t think you’re the version of you that’s been living in your head for the last ten years, either. But it’s up to you to figure out who that is and if that’s who you actually want to be.”

“Then give me a chance to do so,” Enjolras said, the words coming out as more of a plea than he intended.

“I am,” Grantaire said, taking a step backwards. “I just can’t be a part of it.” He glanced over his shoulder again, and when he looked back at Enjolras, his expression was resigned. “And now I have to go.”

“Wait,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire paused, halfway through turning around to walk away. “Where does that leave us?”

Grantaire didn’t turn back. “There is no us, Enjolras. I don’t know that there ever was.” He squared his shoulders and Enjolras was certain that he was going to walk away and leave it at that, but after a moment that felt more like a century, Grantaire looked back at him. “Take care of yourself, Enjolras,” he said quietly. “And, again...you know how to get in touch. If you want to.”

With that, he headed toward the waiting train, and Enjolras watched Grantaire walk away for the third time in as many days.

He stayed that way for a long time, long after the train had pulled out of the station, carrying Grantaire and the few other sleepy passengers off to their destinations. Eventually, the chill roused him when nothing else would, and Enjolras reached out automatically to wipe his cheeks roughly with the heel of his palm.

Then it was his turn to walk away, trudging out of the train station and back to the car he had borrowed from his parents, his mind full of arguments he had wanted to make but now never could, his heart as numb as his fingers.

It was by sheer happenstance alone that on his way, he happened to glance at the departures board, looking automatically at the train that Grantaire had taken. 7:26 EXPRESS, the board told him, along with a note that it was still boarding, which clearly was an error.

But what made him stop in his tracks was when he saw the destination station listed.

It was his city.

Which meant...there was really only one explanation, and Enjolras reached out automatically to steady himself.

Grantaire lived in the same city as him.

All this time, he had just assumed that Grantaire lived hours away, and for all Enjolras knew, he lived only a few miles away, or less.

For what felt like the first time in days, Enjolras felt just a little bit like his old self as he stared at the departures board, determination overpowering everything else he had been feeling.

Maybe this wasn’t an ending, after all.

Maybe this was just the beginning.

#exr #enjolras x grantaire #enjoltaire #enjolras #grantaire #les miserables #fanfiction #modern au #former relationship #light angst #i don't want your closure

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shhhlikeme · 4 years

Note

Hi! Can I request headcannons of Kageyama with a Hinata-sized S/O? Thanks❤️

Kageyama Tobio x “Hinata-Sized” S/O 🧡🧡

———————————

A/N: Oui!! I love how I wrote a tall reader head cannon and now the short readers need their own!!!

🎶 Go shordyyyyyy it’s your birthday! 🎶

You guys are so cute 😂💜💜💜💜

———————————

Tobio always liked tall girls tbh

They were just his type, because short girls reminded him of children or.......Hinata (which was even worse)

So when he first saw you reading a book on a bench that he thought to tie his shoe on, he never thought you’d become his Hinata-sized gf one day

When he ran up in the middle of the jog, he couldnt help but regard you as one of the most attractive people he’d ever seen

You looked beautiful with your legs hugging against your chest as you rested your cheek on your knee and had a book close to your face

You looked tall even sitting, which made him happy because you were just his type

He really wanted to take you out on a date so he could get your attention away from that book

“You don’t mind if I tie my shoe here, do you?” He asked.

Without even so much as a glance away from your book, you shook your head. “Nope.”

Kageyama immediately tied his shoe, and then the other, looking at you.

“What book is that?”

“You don’t care.”

Kageyama’s head snapped back, obviously taken by surprise by your off-handed comment. “Uh, excuse me?”

Flipping the page, you sighed at the end of a chapter and finally looked over at the guy talking to you. “Oh, I said: ‘you don’t care.’”

Kageyamas eyes widened. “A-and what exactly is that supposed to mean?” He asked with venom in his voice. He was easily insulted.

“It means: three men have chosen to tie their shoe here while on their jog. All three, four including you, have asked me about my book—even though none of you are readers at all, or else you’d know the book—just wanting to start a conversation. Why can’t men just ask for the number so we women can say no, and then we can skip all the silly small talk in the middle, ultimately saving both parties time?”

Stunned into silence, Kageyama opened his mouth to say something, closed it, tried again, closed it again, and repeated that about five times. He resembled a fish under water.

You looked at him expectantly, blinking like you hadn’t just insulted him.

“I—“ Tobio finally managed to say, but the problem was he just didn’t know what to say.

Most men didn’t when it came to you.

“Should I go back to my book now?” You questioned. “Or are you going to ask me out?”

Kageyama scoffed. “But you just said you’d say no if I did.”

“I didn’t say that. I said ‘men.’ It was a general statement. I believe I’d say yes if you were to ask me.”

Tobio felt like he was on a rollercoaster. He didn’t know what to say to you, it was like you were always ten steps ahead.

“Well, I—“ His speech faltered once again.

“What’s the matter?” You tapped the wooden bench space beside you, signalling for him to sit down.

Tobio does, and you turn to him with your legs folded behind you. You face him. “Do you not want to ask me out anymore?”

Kageyama shook his head. At least if he couldn’t speak he could communicate with his body.

“It’s totally fine if you don’t. I was just identifying a pattern of male behaviour and I acted on that.”

“No, no! I d-do....” He aforementioned hurriedly, not wanting you to think he wasn’t interested. “It’s just that, well, y-you-you kind of..........s-scare me.” Tobio chanced a look at you and he knew then that if this was a Bugs Bunny cartoon his eyes would turn into two heart-shaped balloons.

“I get that a lot actually.” You state, unfazed. Kageyama figured that you got that a lot. You continued, “I don’t mean to scare anyone, I’m just really candid. Books are fluffy enough and I’m always reading them, so I try to skip that filler part in real life. I’m Y/N.”

“Kageyama Tobio.”

“So, when are you going to ask?”

Tobio blushed, rubbing the back of his head. “Uh, S-sorry. I guess n-now?”

“Hop to it then. I have to be home soon.”

Tripping over his speech, it took him three painfully awkward tries to finally ask you on a date.

“That was quite possibly the worst date invitation I’ve ever heard.”

Kageyama’s heart dropped and his flight instincts kicked it. He almost fled before you said,

“Sorry! I didn’t mean that to be rude. It just was. I’m candid, remember? Anyway, The answer is no.”

Kageyama sunk in his seat because now his heart was beating too fast and he was flushed and heartbroken.

You placed your hand on his knee. “Kageyama. That was humour. I’m not very good at it, am I? I thought you’d figure that it was a joke because I already alluded to you that I was interested. Sorry. Yes, I would love to go on a date with you and hopefully we even start going out!”

You kissed Kags on the cheek to bring him back to life and it worked. He was overjoyed that you were just kidding. Although, he hadn’t gotten off that rollercoaster that is your personality, it just sped up. Deep down Kags liked it though, because it challenged him. And also because he was extremely attracted to you.

“Am I still scaring you?” You ask him curiously.

Kageyama shakes his head, and then stops himself. He switches to a nod. “To be honest, yeah. But I like it. I hope we continue dating too.”

You smiled and gave him a hug, telling him to put your number in his phone.

He does and you prepare to leave.

Kageyama rushes to stand up before you like a gentleman, offering you his hand to aid your standing up.

You take his warm hand and stand up, craning your neck a bit to look at his face since he was now so close.

When you stood to your full height, Kageyama’s eyes popped out of his head and he choked on his laughter. At least he tried. He bursted out laughing next.

“Y/N, how tall are you??” He asks between laughs.

You shrug. “Around 5’3.” Why do you ask? What’s so funny?”

Kageyama stopped laughing and smiled at you. “N-nothing! Uh-it’s just that.... I’m happy..... I’m glad that........I definitely can’t find you scary anymore.” He chuckled. “You’re just too small!”

When he became your boyfriend though, he wasn’t able to live up to that statement

You were a little firecracker and force to be reckoned with

Even though Kags had over 20cm on you, you still scared him when he happened to piss you off enough for you to get mad at him

He actively hid from you if you were on your angry-phase of your ‘time of the month’ lmaooo

But when you were normal, which was 99% of the time:

Kageyama was your personal ladder whenever you went to the library. You’d make him lift you up so you could see the top bookshelf, not even wanting him to grab it for you

He made you wear platform shoes when you two went to the amusement park, because there was no way in hell he wouldn’t be riding everything with you

He said you were his own rollercoaster therefore ‘the rollercoaster had to ride the rollercoaster’

Your favourite place was in his lap when you two were home because your small body fit so well in his

and Kags loved when you wore his clothes since they would practically engulf you and it made him want to pinch your cheeks

When Tobio grew even taller in 3rd year, he took the liberty of calling you short nicknames that you pretended to hate but secretly loved

His favourite nickname for you, however, was “baby girl.”

Because compared to him you were small like a baby and you were his girl.

When you wanted a kiss, Kags would often make you beg for it until he granted you your wish of leaning down

But your man’s favourite part about you being so small was the fact that he could take you against the shower wall or the front door while holding you up. He could do it for hours without getting tired because you were so light and it was sooo hot

Truth be told That was your favourite part too *wink wink*

At the end of the day, Kageyama surprised himself that day when he saw you reading in the park because he always thought he only liked tall girls. But it was after that first terrifying meeting— that he found that height aside there was no one, absolutely no one, he could care about more than you.

He loved you

Every tiny, scary, Hinata-sized inch of you.

#kageyama fluff #kageyama x y/n #kageyama x you #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #haikyu requests #haikyuu!!#haikyuu boys #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu sfw

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

Text

“Forget what I said,

It’s not what I meant

And I can’t take it back

I can’t unpack the baggage you left.”

- Falling, Harry Styles

A/N: the long anticipated third installment of “that angsty threesome story.” this shit hurted y’all. that’s all i’m gonna say. hope you enjoy :)

Sharing Isn’t Always Caring masterlist

word count: 13k

content: A N G S T, drunk sad!harry, melancholic relationship flashbacks, and Niall being an amazing friend. oh and lots of pining pain

preview:

“Y/N, I am so sorry.”

He really didn’t know what to expect on her part but he was willing to take anything she deemed fit. Screaming, yelling, cursing— anything. Anything was better than the suffocating silence that had been hanging over his head for what had felt like eons.

What he didn’t expect was the energy he received in response. It wasn’t brutal or enraged or bitter, it was just…hollow. It was tired and defeated, as if she’d spent hours combing through her feelings to the point of surrendered exhaustion. She held no spite or resentment, just a tone of flatlined renunciation and honest common sense.

“I know.”

The answer was curt and calm and for some reason, it packed a harder punch than anything he could’ve imagined. He would have rathered she tell him off and shout in his face and even slam things; at least then he would know she was still sorting through the ordeal and trying to come up with a resolution.

But this was way more difficult to stomach. If she had no screaming or crying left in her, it meant she had already come to her senses on the matter. It meant he had no wiggle room, no chance to change her mind, no way to win her back. It was cold and condemning; it felt like a death sentence.

or Harry and Y/N breakup after the incident and the next two months are the worst either of them have ever known

///

Two months and thirteen days.

That’s how long Harry and Y/N have been broken up.

It’s poetically ironic, if you ask him, and he felt like the universe was playing a cruel game at his expense. Though it’s not like he didn’t deserve it.

The length of time that had passed was coincidentally parallel to how much time he had spent sitting on his couch that dreaded Saturday morning— which had been two hours and thirteen minutes— wringing his hands, boiling in his regret, and waiting for her to come out of their bedroom with a verdict on their relationship.

When Y/N had finally surfaced from her hiding spot, she had barely acknowledged him other than a few one-worded, snipped answers to his questions. She was headed out, she’d said, and that she would return later. Her path had been straight for the front door and the body language and aura she had displayed from the frame of their room door to the frame of the front door had been enough to clearly communicate a simple message: Don’t come after me.

He had followed her to the edge of the corridor that led to the exit, but he knew better than to chase her once she was out of the door. He remained put and watched her walk out without so much as a glance back.

She needed time, he had assured himself. Y/N needed a chance to cool off on her own and smothering her would do nothing but dig him further into the hole he was already neck-deep in.

In hindsight, Harry should have gone after her. Maybe it would’ve made a difference, or maybe it wouldn’t have at all, but all he’s aware of now is that he’d never know.

The minute she got back, a few hours later when the sun had just finished dipping over the stretch of forest that extended beyond the balcony of their apartment, he could immediately tell he had to prepare for the worst.

From the second Harry had met Y/N, he had always been able to read her. It’s something he prided himself in and something he always admired about the connection they shared— that it had been instant. It had been one of those rare pockets in life when he met someone and clicked with them automatically, so effortlessly that it was almost fictional. He’d always been a hopeless romantic and he had his mother and sister to thank for that; growing up with two women who constantly fed him stories about true love and the importance of emotions had molded his relationships down to the very core. And through that characteristic, which had been engraved within the man he had grown into, was how he and Y/N so easily came to be.

Harry had been able to read the nervous excitement she was wading through on their first date, watching her with fond amusement as she had contemplated the menu, trying to pass as nonchalant but being betrayed by the obvious cinch in her brows.

He had been able to read the first time she had wanted him to kiss her, eyes absorbing her features like the pages of a novel. He had picked up on the metaphors she depicted in the form of wine-swollen lips twitching with longing anticipation. He had picked up on the similes that translated into her slowly dilating pupils, the glittering specks of color that shimmered in the depths of her irises dancing with anxious enthusiasm as his face drew closer to her’s. He had picked up on the analogies that painted themselves onto the warm, supple skin of her cheeks as he cupped the side of her face with the palm of his large hand, fingers tucking lose strands of hair behind her ear as he thumbed over the faint smile lines chesiling themselves into existence along the edges of her mouth, her action thick with enamored awe.

He had been able to read just how taken Y/N was with him the first time they had slept together. It was certain in how she had clung to the bare, sweaty muscles of his shoulders as her nails clawed memories along the soft sides of his torso, her head dangling over the edge of the kitchen island to allow him the intimate comfort of pressing hot, wet moans to the searing skin of her throat. He had whined and shuddered as he’d spread her open over the cold marble surface, fogging it with the heat of their conjoined bodies, the air tinged with the scent of desperate sex and blurbs of orgasm-drunken praises that to this day he can feel burn his lungs. Barely coherent mumbles of “God, been needing you for the longest time now.” and “Fuck, you’re an absolute dream.” and he had even made himself susceptible to some of his deepest vulnerabilities, confessing how quickly and dangerously he was falling for her in a breathless little whimper of, “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Tiny zaps of invisible electricity had passed through her fingertips and into the flexing tendons of his back, revealing that she was just as scared and jittery and needy and absolutely whipped for him as he was for her. He had never been able to read her better than at that intense, emotion-packed moment, and he knows he’ll cherish that wordless instance of assurance for as long as he lives.

The only other occasion that competes is the first time Harry had known Y/N loved him. They had planned to go bar-hopping with their friends but, in a spur of laziness and utter disinterest, had decided to stay back. The night had been filled with board games and hot chocolate and half-burnt quesadillas because Harry had bought a new panini press that he didn’t quite yet know how to work. He knew she loved him when he beat her at CandyLand for the third time in a row and in a whirlwind of victory dancing, he had knocked the coffee table with his knee and ended up with cooled cocoa all over his striped pajama pants rather than in his belly.

He knew she loved him because she wasn’t upset that she’d have to help get the stain out and she wasn’t mad that he’d gotten marshmallow goo on the carpet and she wasn’t angry that his silliness had ended with her favorite vase rolling across the ground. All Y/N had been focused on was Harry and that ridiculous wide-toothed grin of his, her own lips nestling into an endeared smile as he giggled out of sheer shock at his ruined pants, clutching his stomach and throwing his head back against the couch cushions. Through teary, delight-blurred vision he saw her staring at him with this doe-like gaze, her eyes soft and glossier than he’d ever seen them, a tender laugh evident on her cheeks. Her eyebrows had been slightly furrowed with a type of disbelieving wonder at the utter moron she had chosen to share her heart with, but specifically at how she loved him all the more for it.

That’s when Harry had read that she loved him and she had confirmed it with words about ten minutes later as they both sat on their knees against the ground, scrubbing at the mess he’d made and sharing soft little snickers under their breath.

In the end, all of these milestone moments in their relationship had all funneled through his mind the minute Y/N had walked back into the living room on that forsaken day, hours later. They all sped past the inside of his eyelids every time he blinked, each one dissipating with each step she drew closer. She had stood before him as he sat forward tensely on the couch, forearms propped on his knees as he grasped his knuckles nervously, though they had stopped cracking ages ago.

It all flashed back to him like a film on fast-forward and it was because for the first time ever, he wasn’t able to read her face and it fucking terrified him.

Y/N’s eyes were the first factor that had given away the impending end. Even at the darkest of times, Harry could always count on Y/N’s eyes for support. They had always held a permanent admiring warmth towards him, even beneath clouds of rage or annoyance or worry. They had been empty that day.

Her lips had been etched into a emotionally-detached straight line, though the corners dipped down ever so slightly. Her eyebrows were void of any wrinkle, groove, or lifting that would suggest even a smidge of sensitivity and somehow her cheeks seemed more sunken in, as if the last couple of hours had aged her years.

Y/N had approached him with her hands cradling each other before her stomach, footsteps heavy against the carpeted ground, muffled yet somehow loud. She’d taken a seat before him on the glass coffee table, knees pressed together tightly and unintentionally brushing his as she settled her hands into the crease between her inner thighs, nails digging into her palms. Her shoulders hunched forward as if the weight of the world was using her back as shelf, the flyaway hairs that had fallen from her ponytail kissing along her jaw and caressing her temples almost apologetically, as if trying to comfort her for what was next.

Y/N hadn’t spoken a single word before Harry was already breaking down.

It wasn’t dramatic or spontaneous like the break-up scenes in the rom coms he often fancied; it was quiet and concise. The hot tears streamed down his cheekbones and followed the slope of his sharp jaw, squeezing out of his tear ducts and rolling along the bridge of his nose, itching the very tip, to which his instincts responded by spurring him into wiping away the water with the front of his shoulder.

Harry couldn’t bring himself to look up at her out of self-hatred and shame— how could he be as selfish as to cry when everything that was about to unfold had been solely of his doing. He knew he didn’t deserve the best outcome, but he had hoped for it. Prayed that she could find it in her tattered heart to grace him with the option to rebuild what he had so recklessly torn down. He didn’t deserve it and he’d felt like he never would, but he had promised himself he would try and earn it if she gave him the chance.

But that was just the hopeless romantic in him flaring up again. Reality was sharper and much icier.

Harry had taken in a deep, trembling inhale, feeling it cut his lungs and tug at the pit of his stomach. He’d released it in stuttery spurts through his nose, back muscles contracting with dread. He found it in himself to uncoil one of his index fingers, gently grazing the curve of Y/N’s right knee with the bed of his nail.

She’d tensed up momentarily, toes curling into the rug below her feet, but didn’t shed him away. It was the first time he’d touched her since last night and though it made her feel sick to her stomach, she figured she’d allow it as a parting gift.

The air stood still for a few elongated seconds that seemed to drag out for an eternity. Finally, one of them spoke up.

“Y/N...” Harry had choked on the singular word, swallowing thickly in an attempt to recuperate.

The syllables seemed to lodge in his throat, outright refusing to emerge, likely due to the fact that he spent the day soundlessly moping to himself. He forced them out anyways in a low croak.

“Y/N, I am so sorry.”

“I know.”

Harry had cleared his throat softly, mind treading through his jumbled thoughts to try and sew together a worthy sentence, the pad of his forefinger tracing down the visible threads of Y/N’s worn jeans.

“I didn’t mean any of it.”

Though it’s the truth, it sounds feeble and pathetic. His words had then started tumbling out of his mouth with no rhyme or rhythm but simply in an attempt to communicate his rawest emotions.

“That’s not an excuse or anything, but I just want to make sure that you know. And if I knew all of this was going to happen, I would’ve never brought it up in the first place. You’re important to me— I hope that all the time we’ve spent together shows that— and to lose you over something like this…” Harry pauses, choking up at the sheer notion of having to let her go. He continues his speech slowly to avoid another mishap, though it quivers nonetheless. “To lose you over something that was so stupid on my part would tear me to shreds, Y/N. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. There’s nothing I can do now except apologize until my voice gives out and pray that you give me the chance to make it up to you. I know I don’t deserve it and I know that the damage I’ve done could be beyond repair, but I also know that I will spend every second trying to mend it if you allow me to. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you and I know we’re young and that it sounds dramatic and I’ve been told a billion times over that I love too deeply for my own good but I don’t care because I know it’s the truth. Without even the slightest bit of doubt.”

His words had echoed across the walls of the flat, the dim buttery light of the single lamp in the living room casting their seated shadows over the creme surfaces. The dark silhouettes of their bodies seemed to absorb his message, picking it right out of the air and engulfing it into the ominous shade.

All that could be heard was Y/N’s faint breathing as she processed his confession and the occasional sniffle on his part. The silence stretched for exactly two minutes and fourteen seconds— Harry had counted. A frail distraction, but a distraction either way.

A deep inhale had cut off his mental stopwatch and he could tell Y/N had cried recently before arriving because the air had to force itself through her stuffy nose. His index finger had twitched anxiously against her knee. He found himself counting again, this time the target had been the thin lines of the rug beneath the reinforced glass of the coffee table. He hadn't known it then, but his urge to count whatever he could to pass the time had been the start of what would later develop into a coping mechanism.

“I don’t know what to say.”

It had only been a day but Harry had missed the sound of her voice more than he’d ever care to admit. She was talking to him rather than at him and it was enough to halt the fresh flood of tears that had been gathering across the glossy sheen of his irises. It was a victory, no matter how small.

The sentence she spoke, however, was a whole new battle he had to face within itself.

The words hurt, but luckily, they didn’t cut. There were dozens of harsher possibilities of what could’ve come out of her mouth and that makes him thankful for what he’d received.

Harry had shifted in his seat, pulling the sleeve of his old Greenbay Packers sweatshirt over his free hand and tucking his arm across his stomach. His other hand remained on Y/N’s leg as non-intrusively as possible. “Is there anything you want to get out? Anything at all? I want to hear it no matter how bad you think it is. I deserve it as much as you deserve to express your feelings.”

He hadn’t noticed when, but at some point he had absentmindedly tilted his head up to look at her. What brought it into clear attention was when she did the same and their eyes met.

Y/N’s expression had crushed the oxygen from Harry’s lungs.

He had hoped it would be different after everything he had said. That her eyes would hold some form of love within them, even if it was shrouded with sadness and disappointment. He had aimed to draw an ounce of forgiveness from her that he could cling onto and expand; he had aimed for redemption.

Instead, her eyes held the same barren gaze that she had doted when she had walked in— vacant acceptance.

Her own speech had confirmed his worst fears.

“I don’t know if we have a future together. All I know is that right now, I feel like I could never forgive you for what you did. Watching you treat someone you barely knew the way you treat me made me feel like what we have isn’t real. Sex can be something both meaningless and meaningful and the lines between those two is finer than most people think. And even though I know in my heart that you’re telling the truth about not feeling anything towards her, I just can’t let it go. I can’t. I can’t get over the fact that you called her what you call me. That you kissed, touched, and held her the same way you do me. You made her feel the same way you make me feel. And the whole time, I was sitting there watching you do it, begging you not to and trying to communicate to you that you were crossing the line and you didn’t even notice.”

Y/N had lifted her hand from her lap, running the back of her wrist across her cheeks messily. Harry could see the tears sparkling on her lashes and he felt like his chest cavity was going to collapse in on itself.

When she had spoken again, her voice was tight and packed with all of the pain she’d been holding onto since the incident happened.

“You took all of the private little things that had built our relationship and shared them with someone else just to get your dick wet.” She releases a short spurt of a laugh, miserable and humorless, her palms smacking down against her thighs as she shrugs her shoulders for emphasis. “Intimacy is the most important factor of genuine love and you went and tossed it around like it was nothing. We’ll never be able to regain that; not in the way we had it before. I don’t know if I could ever trust you with it again. I shared myself with you because I love you— we opened up to each other in that way because we worked up to it. And now that you so carelessly let yourself have it with someone else, I’m too disappointed and hurt and fucking terrified to let you see me vulnerable like that again.”

Y/N had locked her eyes with Harry’s and his heart had shattered into a million shards.

They had been swollen and bloodshot, tiny red veins webbing across the dull white, scraping at her irises and relentlessly chipping the color from them. There was no twinkle left whatsoever; the specks that normally decorated around her pupils had completely defused, disappearing into the murky sea of the muted shade behind them.

“You broke my fucking heart, Harry, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let you pick up the pieces.”

He had never heard her say his name like that, so dismal and void of emotion. He’d never felt more unworthy of love than at that moment and he knew there was nothing he could do to change her mind. He’d fucked up and now he had no choice but to marinate in it for the rest of his days.

The process of separating was painfully fast.

As it turns out, when she had left the morning after everything had happened, she had gone to visit Niall.

Niall had been the mutual friend that had introduced Harry and Y/N in the first place so, naturally, Y/N’s first instinct had been to seek his counsel. She had kept the details of the breakup to herself but from how distraught she had seemed when Niall had opened the door to his flat, his hair sticking up at weird angles and his eyes crusted over with sleep, he had known it was not on good terms. She had stood there with dried trails of tears staining her cheeks as her entire body shook like a leaf and the second he had opened his arms caringly, she immediately collapsed into them, violent sobs wracking her body unapologetically.

The Irish lad was as big-hearted and supportive as friends came and it was seen in how he offered her the spare room in his apartment that was normally occupied as a home gym.

“I haven’t had a roomie since I was twenty but as long as y’don’t leave your dirty underwear in the living room, I think we’ll get along just swell.”

With Niall’s help, Y/N had finished moving out by the end of that same week.

They did the brunt of the job while Harry was busy at work, though there was an awkward instance when he unexpectedly came home early on the last day of moving.

Luckily enough, Niall had been the one retrieving the last couple of items so Y/N was saved from the ordeal.

The two men had contemplated each other, Niall standing with the cardboard box tucked beneath his arm while Harry stood parallel to him stiffly, keys grasped tightly in his fist. Harry didn’t know how much Niall knew of what had happened, and he didn’t want to stick his foot in his mouth, so he had remained silent until the blue-eyed boy finally spoke up first.

“Mate, I don’t know what happened between you two or why, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this torn up before.”

Harry had sighed, partially in relief, but mostly in forlorn agreement at Niall’s comment. This was Y/N’s indirect way of telling him that the reason behind their breakup was meant to be kept a secret amongst their friend group. It was one last act of kindness towards him on her part because both of them knew that if word got out on what had happened, everyone would likely turn on Harry and shun him out. Y/N didn’t want that for him— despite everything, she found herself genuinely wishing him the best because she still loved him. A part of her always would, no matter how deeply she tried to bury it.

The last thing she needed was to cling onto bitterness and make him suffer; it would be counterproductive considering her end goal was to move on. The whole situation would stay hidden and hopefully everything would eventually blow over.

Avoiding each other proved trickier than expected in the beginning, but it gradually became routine amidst their everyday lives.

Y/N avoided grocery shopping at Harry’s favorite market and he proceeded to change the coffee shop he went to every morning before work, well aware that it was the one she fancied the most due to the specific brand of creamer they carried. Y/N insisted on the second closest movie theatre whenever she went out with her friends for a film, knowing that Harry liked the one closest to Niall’s apartment because it was smaller, more homey, and did free refills on popcorn and drinks. Harry started frequenting the gas station near the twenty-four hour gym instead of the one near Y/N’s place of work and started doing his early morning jogs at the park on the opposite side of town, which wasn’t too bad considering it was only about a ten minute drive. Y/N stopped going to art museums all together— they were mainly Harry’s thing, either way.

When it came down to their friends, they did the best they could. Whenever there would be a plan to go out for lunch, dinner, drinking, or any other event, they made sure to invite one and not the other, alternating turns. It kept the situation fair, though birthday parties were much more complicated. Staying on opposite ends of the club or flat would have to do.

No one ever questioned the breakup too thoroughly, thankfully. All Y/N told them was that it ended really badly and that what was best was that they stayed clear of each other. Harry stuck to whatever he learned Y/N had said, brushing off the occasional curiosity thrown his way with a tired, “I’d rather not talk about it, yeah?”

They were grateful to all of their friends for not pushing for details too much and respecting their privacy. Family members were harder to shake off, but both managed to keep things under wraps with the right amount of sternness.

///

Three weeks and four days had gone by, according to Harry’s calendar, and things were remaining seemingly civil. That is, until Harry had a bit too much to drink on the fifth day and ended up drunk calling Y/N as he sat on the floor of his kitchen, eating from what he was sure was an expired box of Cheerios while counting floor tiles and wondering why the fuck he even liked tequila in the first place.

The phone had rung three times and then the line abruptly cut off, sending Harry right to voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N! Sorry I couldn’t come to the phone right now, just leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!”

His eyes had immediately begun to water as her voice crackled through the speaker of his phone. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since he’d heard it and he hates that he had almost forgotten its gentle trill. The bright chime of her words were so different than the last time he’d heard her speak— her tone was easy and good-natured rather than dismal and hurt and he missed when she would regard him that way. Now, it was directed at a random person on the other end of her phone line who she might not even know and for some reason, that made his stomach twist.

The Cheerios had started to taste funny so he opened the cabinet across from his spot on the ground and chucked them in the bin. He had then leaned back against the wall of the kitchen island, head repeatedly thunking against the polished hardwood as he redialed her number and waited, tiny hiccups plucking at his vocal chords and shuddering his shoulders without consent.

This time, it had rang only once before cutting off, meaning that she knew it was him and that she was actively delicining.

But Harry’s stubborn and insistent— which admittedly are some of his worst traits— and the fact that he had been shit-faced had fueled these characteristics. He’d continued to call her another four times before the line was finally picked up.

His voice had filled with enamored relief as he quickly sat up, a weak smile starting to spread his cracked lips. “Y/N, hi, I—”

“Harry, you gotta cut this shit out, man.”

It wasn’t Y/N. The person speaking had a much deeper voice with a smooth, raspy undercurrent covered in a heavy Irish accent. Their tone held a stern yet concerned edge.

“This isn’t good for either of you. You’ve got to try and move on, H.”

It was Niall and he was on Y/N’s phone and Harry could feel himself about to vomit.

He had forced himself to speak, clutching his stomach with one hand as if it would keep the bile from rising. His words came out slurred and numb, tongue feeling heavy and unbelievably large in his mouth. “Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s asleep and you should be, too. It’s three in the morning.”

Harry’s brows had cinched down angrily over his lashes. Somehow, in his muddled brain, he was able to form a coherent train of thought about the current situation. If Y/N was asleep, that meant her phone had probably been on a nightstand beside her bed or splayed across her duvet or even on the floor considering she had a habit of twisting and turning too much. If Niall had picked it up, it meant he had to be in close proximity to her. It meant he had been in her room, possibly in her bed...

Harry’s throat burned as acid rose from his stomach.

“I wanna talk to—”

He was cut off by the alcohol he’d had earlier resurfacing and splattering across the off-white kitchen tiles he’d been counting.

The spluttering noises filtered through the phone crystal clear, much to his friend’s disgust.

“Jesus, Harry, just get yourself together, will you?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line and then Niall’s voice had come through again, gentler and less annoyed. “Do you need me to come over and help?”

“No.” Harry had blurted out with panic evident in his demeanor. He’d wiped at his soiled mouth with the sleeve of his black Nike jumper, staring hollowly as the mess before him traveled across the cracks of his floor. An all too familiar swelling had started to fill his tear ducts. “No, I’m fine. Goodnight.”

Apparently, it had been the third time he’d drunk-called in the span of two weeks, though he didn’t remember the first two times. He did remember this third time though— the stench stuck to his sweatshirt for a while.

///

The next month that followed that cursed Friday night had been significantly better for Harry.

He went out with friends and actually had fun more times than not, as long as he didn’t let his mind wander to what Y/N could be doing since she wasn’t with the group. Slowly but surely, he began to mend.

The movies had always been his and Y/N’s favorite date idea so the first couple of times he’d gone out to see a film after the breakup had been tough, but he’d powered through the rough patches. Their favored seats at the very back of the cinema had gradually just become exactly that— seats. He was eventually able to enter a theatre without even as much as a glance to the last row. When Harry would go out to eat, he relearned not to order in excess anymore since he wouldn’t be needing those extra fries or two extra beef tacos or those couple buffalo wings she used to pick at religiously. Going out for drinks was easier on his wallet now that he could drink both of the two-for-one Happy Hour shots, the only issue being that sometimes he’d forget and order the next round while he had a perfectly untouched whiskey shot right there. He had sworn off tequila— he could still feel the way it had seared his throat, somehow manifesting an aftertaste of honeyed cereal.

Niall usually went out with the rest of the gang, but not as much as he used to and that bothered Harry extremely— bothered him to the point where he’d get the overwhelming urge to tear his hair out if he allowed himself to amble in his head too much. He hated being the jealous type, especially when he was no longer entitled to it. Especially not when Niall was such a nice best friend, willingly present for him on the nights where things went downhill and he needed someone to pick him off the ground— literally— and tell him that he would be alright.

The days Niall missed out were spent with Y/N and it wasn’t a secret. Harry had heard about how much closer they’d gotten recently through conversations that would happen across the other side of the booth, when his friends thought he wasn’t paying attention or that he was too sloshed to be properly present. He wasn’t, though. He was hyper-aware of every anecdote and syllable exchanged and it would make his mouth go sour.

One night, he had drummed up enough courage to ask Niall outright about Y/N. They’d been out bowling and the Irish brunette had been standing off to the side waiting his turn, sipping on a pint and cackling his ass off every time Adam rolled the ball into the sideline gutters.

Harry had been standing next to him for a while, leaning back against the machine that redispensed the bowling balls, taking tiny gulps of his third white rum margarita. The liquor filled his tummy with a certain type of empty warmth that numbed his better judgement and before he could talk himself out of it, the words were escaping his lips in a low, sheepish tone.

“How’s Y/N?”

Niall had paused mid-sip, his entire body going rigid for a second as he kept the rim of his large glass perched at his lips. He had then pulled back from his beer, licking the froth off his Cupid’s Bow and craning his neck to acknowledge the green-eyed boy directly.

“She’s doin’ good. Treading through the bills and tryin’ t’fill the rest with thrills, like we all do.”

Despite the light nature of his response, Niall’s accent had been heavier and Harry’s not sure if it was due to the alcohol or the tension-packed subject of conversation. Probably both.

Harry had nodded his head slowly— casually— and taken an ice cube into his mouth, cracking it with his teeth in the way Y/N used to scold him for. He had stared intently at the condensation gathering around the tips of his warm fingers for a few heartbeats before looking back up at Niall with aching curiosity.

“Is she happy?”

The Irish bloke had opened his mouth to answer, and then hesitated, thinking over what he had been about to say. That teeny fraction of time filled Harry with enough nerve-grating suspense to that he was sure he’d pop a blood vessel.

Niall had cleared his throat softly, sighing tiredly through his nose. “She’s better than she was right after the split.”

Harry hates that Y/N’s doing better. He knows how petty and selfish it comes off, but he can’t help it. If she’s doing better without him, it means she might never need him again— it means he’s replaceable to her. He can hardly fathom that thought without the backs of his eyes prickling.

Harry had swallowed thickly, nose stinging and jaw clenching. “Is she seeing anyone?”

Niall tilted his cup against his mouth, savoring the tanginess of the beer, grateful for its help in making this talk way easier. He’d given Harry a sympathetic slink of his head. “I don’t think that’s the type of question you should be asking, Har. One day, you might not like the answer you get.”

Harry’s fingers had tightened around the stout cylindrical glass in his grasp, rings biting into his skin. His voice came out strained but unwavering. “Is she?”

His friend’s blue eyes had flitted across different points of his face, sussing out Harry’s attitude and whether he could be convinced to back down on this specific topic.

When it was obvious he wouldn’t budge, Niall sighed heavily once again, this time through his lips. “She’s not, no.”

Harry can’t quite place a name to the flood of emotions that had crashed into him like a tidal wave. The closest he can relate the experience to is breaking the surface of an ocean of suffocating uninformed doubt, instead filling his lungs with illogical optimism and stunned relief.

There was hope for them, even if the sliver was fine as a hair.

Harry had found himself drawing closer to Niall, eyes doe-like and pleading, the neon lights of the bowling alley washing his face out with bright purples and drunken blues. “I wanna see her.”

“You can’t.” The objection had been quick and authoritative, causing Harry to blink as if he’d just been smacked between the eyes.

“Why?” It was a stupid question— he knew why. It wouldn’t be healthy for either of them.

“Because you’re only going to set yourself back. And even though you might not be thinking of the consequences it could have, I am, and I’m not going to let you hurt her or yourself more than you already have.”

And that’s when Harry realized that Niall knew. He’d heard the whole story.

The guilt-ridden young man had broken eye contact, looking down at his scuffed heeled boots. “You know.”

“She told me a while back.” Niall’s confirmation had hung across Harry’s shoulders like a lead jacket. “You fucked up, mate. Bad.”

A weak, remorseful, “I know.” was all he could muster.

“She knows you didn’t mean it, but I don’t know if you can come back from this, H.”

Harry repeated his previous phrase, but this time, it had been heavy with a form of undignified recognition. He was slowly coming to terms with the crushing possibility that he might never get her back.

He’d downed the last of his drink, feeling it reluctantly settle into his stomach. He had then locked gazes with Niall once again, his own conflicted and needy, which in turn caused his friend’s to mold into one of deep worry and pity.

“Will you just...Will you tell her that I love her so much. That I love her to the point where it’s pathetic. And that I’m so fucking sorry. That a day doesn’t go by when I don’t think of her and that I’d give fucking anything to earn her trust again...And that I found her Sherpa jumper under the bed and washed it in case she wants it back.”

Niall had snorted lightly, shaking his head in amusement at Harry’s ability to be so unintentionally pure even under the most stressful circumstances. He’d tossed an arm across the jade-eyed boy’s loaded shoulders, pulling him into a hug that was very obviously needed.

The reluctance had melted out of Harry in less than a breath, his arms wrapping around Niall’s torso, face pressing into the shorter man’s broad left shoulder. The tears he was holding back were evident in his quaking voice. “I miss her.”

Niall had remained silent for a while, not wanting to push any more boundaries.

He had made due with running his palm across the expanse of Harry’s back in soothing circles, only speaking up when he felt his mate’s tears seeping into his knitted sweater.

“You’re gonna be okay, yeah? You’re gonna get through this.”

Niall wasn’t entirely sure if his words were the truth. All he knew was that he wanted to be there for his best friend, so he comforted him to the best of his ability and prayed that whatever happened in the couple’s future would bring them closure.

Harry had gotten home that night feeling deflated and more regretful than ever. The emotional exhaustion had fused into his muscles and joints and he’d ended up collapsing on the couch, too depleted to take the walk down the corridor that led to his bedroom.

His sleep was restless and worthless, as it tended to be of late, but it beat having to sulk consciously. The pain was less sharp and his sorrows were covered in a hazy fog that somehow made everything bearable. He slept well into the afternoon and awoke with a mean kink in his neck and a dull thumping in the back of his skull— karma, obviously, for his lack of self-care and shitty drinking habits. Nothing coffee couldn’t fix.

///

As it turns out, Niall had struggled some to pass on Harry’s message to the intended party.

Y/N had been sitting on the couch when he’d gotten home from the bowling alley, snuggled cozily in a Friends blanket Niall had gotten last Christmas in a game of White Elephant. She had been so focused on an episode of Master Chef that she hadn’t even heard him unlock the door.

Y/N had momentarily glanced away from her show when she saw Niall enter the living room through her peripheral vision, watching as he toed off his rusty brown Clarks boots, kicking them into the corner beside the television stand. “How was bowling?”

“It was good! Mitch beat me by two points but, frankly, I think he cheated while I went to refill my pint.”

Y/N had scoffed in amusement, taking a sip of the chamomile tea in her Mickey Mouse mug, shaking her head distractedly. “Can you even cheat in bowling?”

Niall had shrugged his navy blue peacoat of his shoulders, draping it over the backrest of the worn recliner that was perpendicular to the couch she was currently inhabiting. He’d arched his eyebrows challengingly. “Obviously there has to be a way ‘cause I never lose. And especially never to Mitch and his shitty hand-eye coordination.”

Y/N had set down her mug in the small hole created by her crossed legs, the warmth of the drink radiating through the ceramic cup and seeping through her cloud-patterned pajama pants, heating her inner thighs soothingly. Her expression had then matched up to his, brows raised tauntingly. “Or maybe you were just off your game.”

Niall had slumped into the old recliner, sighing heavily as it creaked and extended. The Irish bloke had snuggled deeper into the cushioning of the seat, absentmindedly wiggling his toes in their rainbow polka-dotted socks before giving his housemate a pointed look. “Maybe you should shut up and go back to watching random people make squash noodles.”

“Actually, it’s eggplant ravioli.”

“Actually, that sounds like arse.”

A round of bubbly laughter had belted out of Y/N and it had been contagious, the same type of giggling escaping from Niall’s lips. Then, comfortable silence had fallen over the two as they centered their attention back onto the cooking show.

Niall hadn’t been sure how to approach the topic. There was no real proper segway into conversations about exes— he didn’t want to upset Y/N with the sudden intrusion on her healing process. But he had made a promise to Harry.

Aside from the obvious negative factors, mentioning him would also give Niall insight into how she was currently feeling about the entire situation. He’d be able to accurately gauge what her emotions had resolved on the matter and therefore be able to give Harry a solid response on whether he had any chance left for reconciliation. He’d be able to confidently tell him whether hanging on was worth it or if letting go was the best choice.

Though Niall and Y/N had been living together for almost two months, she hadn’t started opening up to him fully about the breakup until three weeks in. And even with the whole story laid out bare for him to examine, Y/N shared very little of her mending path with him until they were five weeks in. For a while, her version of “opening up” was simply telling him what had occurred and he’d had to fill in the rest of the mental and emotional blanks himself.

It had not been hard to come to the conclusion that she had been feeling like utter shit right after it happened— insecurity was awfully present as well as the haunting weight of thinking she wasn’t enough. Though Harry had put those worries to rest the day they had separated, they still lingered in her subconscious, constantly poking and prodding and picking at the membrane of recovery she had developed around her heart.

Y/N had felt numb for days after she had ended things. Boiling anger had created a buffer for the pain that was dwelling just under the surface and it had powered her for about three weeks. Then, at four in the morning on a random Thursday, her real emotions had burst through the fine cracks that had been webbing themselves into that unstable wall of rage.

She’d had a dream about him that was actually a memory. There wasn’t anything particularly special about the scene as it had been one of many alike— they had been cuddling on the couch. But for some reason, it cracked something inside her.

It had been scarily vivid to the point where she could feel the ridges of Harry’s finger pads tenderly passing over the skin of her exposed arm as she had laid between his legs, her head nestled into his strong chest, ear drums thumping with the sound of his relaxed heartbeat. She could feel his breathing, pectoral muscles rising and falling with penetrating inhales that had fallen into rhythm with her own. There had been faint movement above her and a sudden warmth had erupted across her forehead, his lips flushing caringly between her brows. The heated glow had washed down her temples and nose like syrup, vignetting her mind with a feathery, sleepy haze. It dripped over her tingling cheeks and buzzing ears, running down her neck and infusing into her chest, calming her from the inside out. He had whispered something unintelligible against her skin, his deep voice warbled as if he was talking underwater. Though she couldn’t make out what he was saying, the mellow, pleasant tone of his voice was enough to lull her. She had never felt happier, more fulfilled, and more at peace than at that moment.

Harry had always been the one factor that could drown out the static of her troubles with the simplest caress of his touch. He could make any problem sink away just by cupping her jaw and thumbing over her cheekbones. Could make the end of the world creak to a stop just by knitting his mouth to her’s. Could melt away any obstacle by brushing his palm over the dip of her spine. He had always been there, and at the time, it had felt like he always would be. Through that assured remedy of relief, she had been able to live her life one step at a time, bracing even the worst moments with a clear mind and strengthened energy, all because he stood behind her— with his warm hands and consoling aura— every inch of the way.

Y/N didn’t have that anymore and though she pushed it down and claimed it didn’t phase her, she was falling apart inside.

It was only a matter of time before it came rushing out all at once.

She had jerked awake from the dream as if she’d been stabbed, face wet with tears, her pillowcase dampened to the point where she would have to replace it. The breakdown that followed hadn’t included any screaming or slamming or stomping; it had been quiet and concise, much like Harry’s on the day she had left.

She’d laid on her side, wrapping her arms around herself and tucking her knees to her chest, drawing into her body as if it could keep all of her feelings from spilling out. Heavy tears had swelled her already bloodshot eyes, her entire face stinging as fresh sheens of water washed down the dried saltiness of the ones prior. Her nose had run so badly she’d had to resort to using an old t-shirt as a tissue. The sounds that had escaped her were low and broken— cracked, stuttery whimpers with no real words behind them. The noises were just another outlet for the aching to seep out; her eyes just weren’t enough.

Her back had hunched over as she constricted into herself even further, burying her face into her sopping pillow, feeling hot tears soak into the saturated fabric. She could barely breathe that way and it helped calm her down some— no air meant no sobbing. No sobbing meant she was on the way to picking the pieces back up to put herself together again.

It took her awhile to come to her bearings. Her body had stopped shaking but the tears didn’t seem to want to go away. It irritated her that she couldn’t control this— she hated not being able to do anything other than just drown in it.

Without meaning to, she had released a gut-wrenching growl of frustration that tapered off into another round of heart-breaking sobbing. Her stomach throbbed, the pain so deep it was almost palpable.

Y/N had hoped the pillow would muffle it enough not to wake Niall, unaware that he was already up. He’d awoken on his own, making a trip to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. He’d been sipping at it slowly, mind still stuck in a meaningless dream, when the sudden noise had echoed down the hall that led to Y/N’s room.

Niall rubbed at his tired eyes with the palms of his hands, irises grey with sleep. He had blinked a few times, downing the rest of his water and setting the glass down carefully onto the marble counter, trying to limit any sound interference as his ears strained to listen for any more crying. He had wanted to make sure he wasn’t imagining it in a half-unconscious stupor.

But no, it was very much real. If he focused enough, he could just barely hear the soft sobbing coming from his friend’s bedroom. He had a good guess on what it was about.

He’d stood still for a moment, mulling over what he should do. His first instinct had been to go in and comfort her, but with more thought, he wondered if it would be better not to meddle in her grieving out of respect for her privacy. He knows that if he were crying over a bad breakup, he’d want to be left alone. But he also knows that shouldering a burden like the one she’d faced could put anyone in a really dark place; he wasn’t just going to stand around and let her crash and burn.

Niall had wandered down the corridor attentively, footsteps light as to not startle Y/N. He’d turned to knob to the door with immense care, pushing it open with his shoulder and peeking in.

The crying had stopped abruptly, which gave away that she knew he was there. He couldn’t see much in the dark room— the moonlight filtering in through the cracks in the curtains didn’t do much for the fact that he was lacking his glasses— but he could see the silhouette of Y/N’s body curled up under the duvet, trembling ever so slightly with the effort of keeping in her sobbing.

Her housemate had cleared his throat to get rid of the gravel in his dormant voice, as well as to fully alert her of his presence. His words had still come out in a raspy croak, but at least they were understandable. “You alright in here?”

Y/N had sniffled feverishly, desperate to put out a collected facade. She hated when people saw her so vulnerable without her anticipating it.

“Y-Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for checking in.”

Her voice had cracked near the end of her response, giving away that she wasn’t good at all. The air had been silent for a moment, then Niall’s muddled footsteps thudded against the thick carpet.

Y/N could feel him standing behind her, his body heat radiating off him like a furnace, the soft scent of his ocean-scented deodorant tickling her itching nose. “Are you sure?”

There had been no response other than the comforter tightening around her frame. Her hair was splayed across her face in a wild, matted mess, keeping him from being able to read her features.

Niall had sighed heavily and then the bed had dipped with his weight, sheets shifting and springs squeaking as he settled into place beside her, swinging his legs up onto the mattress.

More silence followed, Y/N refusing to budge. She hadn’t wanted to drag him into this considering he was still friends with Harry; she didn’t want to split him down the middle or force him to take care of her alongside her ex. She knew Niall too well, certain that he had been offering help to Harry, too. She’d heard him answer the array of drunken phone calls on her behalf so she wouldn’t have to deal with more trauma. She’d heard him leaving the house at unintelligible hours only to return smelling like Harry’s favorite vanilla cinnamon candle. She’d even found one of Harry’s t-shirts (which she had gotten him herself) in the laundry basket, which had probably been lent to Niall after an alcohol-related accident.

Niall was too kind for his own good— too caring. Y/N had learned a lot about him in the time they had lived together and the one characteristic that stood out more than anything was his savior complex— his default setting to provide love and assurance to anyone that needed it, no matter the stress it put on himself. She didn’t want to take unfair advantage of that.

Her friend’s voice had torn her out of her guilt trip, loaded with adamant concern. “Y/N, I’m not leaving this room until I know you’re genuinely better so stop being stubborn and let me help.”

She’d jerked suddenly when she felt his large hand coast up her back. His touch was gentle and nurturing, squeezing her shoulder expectantly. It wasn’t hard for her to let go into him.

Y/N had turned towards Niall, hand ducking out from beneath the duvet cocoon she’d swaddled herself in, moving her hair out of her splotchy face. Their eyes had locked and she’d immediately felt the remaining anguish flush out of her system.

The look on his face was so kind and protective and it made her feel safer than she had in the last couple of weeks. Even in the limited lighting, she could see his eyes were glossy with the genuine desire to help her heal, inviting her to share her problems with him, silently promising that they could shoulder the weight of it together. She didn’t have to fight this on her own.

Y/N had spent the rest of the night in Niall’s arms, crying into his chest and utterly drenching his Eagles t-shirt, though he didn’t complain once. He had kept his lips pressed to the top of her head, running his warm palm up and down her shuddering back and telling her that she shouldn’t bottle up her feelings— that it didn’t make her weak to show them, that openly sorting through them with someone else would make it less scary, and most importantly, that it was “okay not to be okay all the time.”

For the next month or so, Y/N and Niall’s heart-to-hearts had been a real breakthrough for her. All of her undealt fear and self-doubt no longer badgered her anymore— it was almost all gone. She hadn’t felt this emotionally liberated since before the split and she could feel the shards of her heart welding themselves back together, ushering her into a more healthy, serene state of mind. She was on the road to her old self again and the relief it brought was otherworldly.

It could be seen physically, too. The bags under her eyes had faded and her face carried a certain rejuvenated glow that it had lacked for weeks. Her smile and laughter were buoyant and loud again, not hindered by any inner conflict anymore whatsoever. When she went out with her friends, she didn’t find herself mentally checking out in the middle of conversations or movies or drinks like she had plenty of times before. She actively participated and engaged in events instead of just going through the motions and it felt so fucking good to get a taste of actual joy for the first time in so long. Things were looking up, and though she still had that hole in her chest that only Harry could fill, she was learning to deal with it in a beneficial and independent manner. It was okay not to be okay all the time.

///

All of these instances had scattered across Niall’s eyes, whirling around in his skull as he sat back in the old recliner, trying to decide if he should pass on Harry’s bowling alley message onto Y/N. He knew she was doing way better, but he didn’t know if hearing from Harry would break her all over again. He didn’t want that, but he also didn’t want the sheer sound of his name to send her into a self-destructive spiral for the rest of her life— she had to learn to cope with him being mentioned regularly because it was bound to start happening again. People couldn’t walk on eggshells around both of them forever.

And Niall also needed to know where she stood on her relationship to the British boy— whether she was willing to give it another shot or whether it was best to tell Harry to move on completely. They were adults, after all, so questions needed to be answered and ties needed to be either tightened or severed for good.

“Harry was there.”

“I know, Niall. That’s the reason I wasn’t.”

Her tone had taken him by surprise. It had been jokeful and amused, holding no obvious resentment he could detect. It’d been a good start to the Ex Talk, if Niall had ever seen one, as long as it didn’t turn into her using humor as a deflecting mechanism.

“He asked about you.”

Y/N’s hands had tightened around her mug, crossed legs shifting her weight. She had broken away from the television screen, meeting Niall’s cautiously hesitant gaze. Her eyes had held an emotion that he couldn’t quite place— it was mostly blank, but it held a smidge of something he could only think to refer to as pained curiosity.

When she’d spoken again, it had been soft and fragile. “What’d he say?”

Niall had leaned forward in his seat, elbows propping onto his parted knees as his fingers sifted together, chin resting on his knuckles. His voice had been as cautious and hesitant as the look in his sky blue irises. “He said to tell you that he misses you and that he’s terribly sorry. That he’d do anything to earn your trust again, that a day doesn’t go by that he doesn’t think about you, and that he loves you so much ‘to the point where it’s pathetic.’ His exact words.”

Y/N had been quiet for a while afterward, the TV droning on in the background with chefs running around kitchens, cursing about food burning and incorrect ingredients. Niall hadn’t pushed her on an answer; he’d simply sat back with his hands flat across his belly, allowing her all the time she needed to process the speech.

When she finally spoke up again, her voice had been taut, strained by the heaviness of the message she’d received. “Anything else?”

Niall had intentionally left the lightest part of the conversation for the end, hoping it would provide her with some form of ease, as minimal as it would be. “Yeah, he said you left your Sherpa jumper at his place and was wondering if you wanted it back. If I were you, I’d say yes. Fleece sweaters are fuck-you-in-the-arse expensive.”

His comment had the intended affect, his heart fluttering with relief as he watched Y/N’s face break into a huge grin, eyes crinkling as airy laughter bounced all around her. Some of the tension in her body remained, but most of it had dissipated out. A fraction is better than none.

Y/N had managed to talk through her giggles. “Yeah, I think I would like my sweater back, actually.”

“Great!” Niall had clapped his hands together once, head wobbling in a jerky shake for silly emphasis. He’d pushed his palms against the armrests of the recliner, catapulting himself onto his feet and pointing at Y/N playfully. “I’ll get that sorted for you, then. Now, if you need me, I’m gonna be in my room, passed out on my bed for the next twelve hours, neck-deep in a beer coma. Feel free to check if I’m breathing every now and then, yeah? Got a dentist appointment next week that I’d hate to be dead for.”

Y/N had sat on Harry’s words for the next week or so. They hadn’t spurred her into a meltdown (as she’s sure Niall had worried they would), but they did loiter in the back of her mind, keeping her awake past appropriate hours by playing her heart strings like a violin.

There was one part of the message specifically that took up a chunk of her sleep more than the others, scattering inside her head and running along the crevices of her brain, the meaning behind it stirring the pit of her stomach into a hollowed frenzy: I love you so much to the point where it’s pathetic.

That one measly sentence carried so much baggage to unpack.

Harry’s choice of words were transparent on how he was dealing in the aftermath of the split.

Y/N knew how much of a hopeless romantic he was— it had been obvious in the way he had put her on a pedestal for the entirety of their relationship, constantly showering her with all different types of affection to let her know how much he cherished her. It ranged from the simplest gestures— like keeping her favorite chocolates stocked inside the pantry at all times— to extravagant actions— like randomly buying her an expensive necklace she’d stared at for a bit too long at the mall. He was always aware of her, always going out of his way to show her how much he loved her, and she had never felt more appreciated than when she was with him.

When it came to expressing that love verbally, Harry only ever connected it to words that carried positive connotations. Words like, “truly,” “madly,” “deeply,” “immensely,” “entirely,” and “wholeheartedly.” He wanted her to know that when he thought of her, any negativity was immediately expelled from his mind; she could always make him happy, no matter what.

This being taken into consideration, one can understand why Y/N had been utterly baffled when Niall had told her that he’d referred to his love for her as “pathetic.” It gave her insight into just how hard he was taking the breakup— hard enough to the point where he was so desperate to get her back that he felt pathetic. This told her that he loved her so much he was willing to admit that it was sad and pitiful, especially since he was a grown man, and especially because they’d been split for just over two months. That span of time is long enough for a person to at least start moving on; long enough for someone to sever themselves from that stage of hopelessly clinging to what once was and to look forward to what the future could bring.

But instead, Harry had allowed himself to regress back into a lapse of needy pining, pleading with Niall— and in public, no less— to tell her that he missed her so much it was embarrassing; that he cared for her to the extent that it was humiliating; that he loved her to the point where it was miserable. He wanted her to know that what he had done had been tearing at him nonstop since it happened, that it would likely haunt him for years to come, and that he would never forgive himself for it.

All of these confessions weren’t any different than what he had told her the day they had broken up— they were the same bullets he’d hit when he was sitting before her, teary-eyed and distressed, begging her to give him another chance. However, for a reason unbeknownst to her, they penetrated deeper this time, slamming her square in the chest like someone had punched through her ribs, squeezing her heart with their fist.

Maybe it was the fact that she had finally let go of the splintering anger she’d been clutching onto from that day, which had likely blinded her from absorbing the rawness behind Harry’s apology. Maybe it was that she’d had weeks to work through all of her jumbled emotions, finally untangling herself from the bitterness that had been clouding her mind for what felt like ages. Maybe it was just the simple notion that she fucking missed him— missed him more than her pride would ever let her admit.

Missed the way his nose would scrunch up in distaste when he didn’t agree with something, the way the edges of his eyes would wrinkle when he smiled, missed his boyish giggling and how it would go up in pitch when he laughed too hard. She missed the way his dimples would carve into his cheeks when he smirked, the way the little mole under the left corner of his lips would jolt with the slightest motion of his mouth, and the way his large, warm hands would feel as he would knot their fingers together, his thumb caressing over the tops of her knuckles.

Y/N missed the way her head would sink into his chest when she would hug him, his arms cradling her against his body while he played with the ends of her hair. She missed the small group of freckles at the base of his neck— missed tracing them with her lips while he chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep from bursting into spontaneous giggles at the feathery sensation. She missed the way he smelled, like mandarin shampoo and musky, spiced deodorant and his ocean salt cologne and that stupid fucking candle.

Y/N had remained on the fence for a few days about what to do, mentally jotting down the pros and cons of reaching out to Harry to make amends. The defining moment had been the day she’d gotten her sweater back.

///

Niall had gone out with Harry to see a movie, returning home with the Sherpa jumper hung across one of his forearms, tucked into his elbow. He’d held it out for her between his thumbs and index fingers, flapping it back and forth triumphantly, eyebrows arched with dramatic glee as a huge goofy grin buckled his cheeks. “Look at what we have here, then!”

He’d tossed it towards her on his way to the kitchen, belting out a cocky, “You’re welcome!” over his shoulder before disappearing behind the archway.

The minute Y/N had caught the hoodie in her arms, the scent hit her like a bus. It invaded her nostrils without permission, sending a sharp ache through her chest.

It was perfectly faint since Harry’s smell never tended to be overpowering— he had a very light hand when it came to cologne, well aware that too much could be agitating. That being said, the brand he used was potent even when dispensed in small amounts, so it’s salty sea aroma usually lasted through a couple of washes. He had probably nonchalantly chucked the jumper into the laundry with his clothes, which had resulted in the smell being strung through every single thread of the fabric.

Beneath the initial layer of his cologne laid the softer scent of the vanilla cinnamon candle that she knew too well. It was tender and homey, just the right ratio of sugar and spice, its cozy undercurrent enveloping her in familiarity.

It launched her into a round of fleeting flashbacks.

The fractions in time consisted of a winter day spent snuggled on the sofa under thick blankets, half-empty mugs of hot cocoa discarded on the coffee table and a Netflix show drawling on aimlessly in the background. Not a single soul had paid attention to the screen; Y/N was too busy straddling Harry’s lap, planting wet, sloppy kisses down his throat as he dangled his head over the side of the armrest, hands gripping her hips needily as she rocked against the bulge in his sweatpants, a dreamy, pleasure-drunken smile adorning his swollen lips. Low hisses and weak whimpers had resonated from deep in his chest, rolling off his tongue as his mouth had absentmindedly fallen open at the warmth growing between her thighs. Her fingers had twisted into the loose curls along the back of his skull while she’d gasped his name all breathy and whiney along the underside of his jaw, working herself against him at a desperate pace, his palms trailing underneath her pajama bottoms to grope at her ass.

Harry’s voice had been distant and echoey in the memory, but it made her cheeks sizzle nonetheless. “God, I love you so fucking much. Could spend the rest of my life between your thighs...Could spend the rest of it anywhere as long as it’s with you.”

Another flashback had shuffled forward like a deck of cards. This one was of a foggy, rainy evening spent napping soundly in their bed, limbs tangled messily with their bodies half-naked, her heated lips pressed to the lulled pulse that throbbed beneath Harry’s flushed neck. His hand had been petting over her mussed up hair, mouth pressed lovingly to the ridges between her brows, smoothing them out in order to defuse whatever was troubling her in her dreams.

She’d awoken, her eyelids heavy with the remnants of sleep, her mind partially conscious as she had taken in a long inhale, blowing it out through her nose. Harry had run the pad of his thumb over her lashes gently, helping her get rid of the blurriness that had taken her under. She had blinked up at him drowsily, a watery smile spreading her buzzing lips. Harry hadn’t said a single word and he didn’t have to— he’d just stared down at her over the tops of his lightly colored cheeks, the right edge of his mouth flicking upwards in endearment, his bright jade irises glossy with fondness. He didn’t have to say a single word because his expression silently told her everything she needed to know.

Y/N had snapped out of the memories in the blink of an eye, a sudden tickling sensation bristling down her cheeks. She’d reached up to touch her face in confusion, the tips of her fingers coming back wet, the water glinting cruelly under the dim lighting of the living room. Her brows had furrowed in objection, both at her tears and at being so abruptly yanked out of moments in her life when she had been the happiest. Her body reacted out of instinct, desperately searching for a trace of him to clasp onto, her hands fumbling to bring the flouncy material of the sweater to her nose.

She’d taken a saturated breath in, the pleasant odor hugging her trembling frame and kissing her heart. The tears had then started flowing freely across her waterline and down the bridge of her nose. They had seeped into the fleece hoodie and she’d immediately jerked back from it, not wanting the treasured item to suffer the same fate as most of her pillowcases. She didn’t want to do anything that would make her have to wash it— she refused to let the comforting aroma leave her.

Y/N spent the next three days in that jumper, only taking it off to shower. She wore it religiously, taking it to work, to the superstore when she went grocery shopping with Niall, to lunch with a friend, to a doctor's appointment she barely paid attention to, and even to bed. In the span of seventy-two hours, she had developed an addiction to the scent that was woven into the fluffy article of clothing, needing to have it around her at all times in order to function properly.

It was sad, really. It was just a smell and she knew it would eventually fade away, but she just couldn’t help herself from wanting to be wrapped in it every second of the day. It reminded her of a time in her life when everything seemed flawless— where there wasn’t a gaping hole in the center of her chest that could only be filled by the one person who had accidentally hurt her beyond compare.

Y/N couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the flood of memories that the stupid hoodie had fished out from the corner of her subconscious, where she had shoved them with the intent of never looking back. They loitered her dreams, broadcasting over the inside of her eyelids for hours on end, dissolving away when her alarm blared beside her ear, leaving her with a hollow feeling toiling at the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know how long she could deal with it, but her sanity was starting to wear thin, cautioning her that she had to do something or else she’d go absolutely mad.

On the night of the fourth day, Y/N finally cracked.

///

Two months and thirteen days.

That’s how long Harry and Y/N have been broken up.

It is currently 11:43 PM, meaning that in a meer seventeen minutes, it would be two months and fourteen days since the split.

Harry is laying in bed, as far away from his digital clock as possible, watching a random Christmas movie that Netflix had recommended, one hand buried in a bowl of kettle corn that he’d already refilled twice as the other holds his phone an acceptable distance above his face.

The movie is cliche, if he’s being honest; something about Santa Claus dying and passing on the torch to his dead-beat son that didn’t want it, so it ended up going to his overly-perky younger sister instead. The twist was supposed to be that a woman had never been Santa Claus, but he could see that ending coming from a mile away, what with her natural ability to get along with kids and the fact that she dressed like a literal Elf on the Shelf. It’s heart-warming in the way that all Christmas films are and it had the witty humor one would expect it to, alongside a cute furry animal sidekick that people couldn’t help falling in love with.

But it just didn’t really impress him. The message is sweet, the execution could’ve been better.

Yet, he only deemed it fair that he finish the movie. He’s already three-fourths of the way done and though the intended surprise was obvious, he might as well see it through.

In the middle of the climax scene where the young woman was putting on the Santa suit for the first time, his phone dings with a chime he hadn’t heard in too long— two months, thirteen days, twenty-three hours, and forty-four minutes, to be exact.

Harry had been so startled he’d dropped his phone on his face.

“Ow! Fucking hell!”

He sits up in one quick, stiff motion, the hand knuckle-deep in the popcorn bowl flying up and knocking the dish upside down, the sticky kernels rolling across his disheveled duvet. The sleek black device falls into his lap, nose pulsing in pain as it had taken most of the heat, his caramel-coated hand rubbing messily along his flannel pajama pants to try and get rid of the stickiness. He then pinches the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger to stifle some of the stinging, bumbling to get his smartphone into the palm of his clean hand.

The screen lights up with a text message and Harry blinks a few times to make sure he’s not imagining it in some type of pain-induced hallucination.

But no, the message is very much real and it’s authenticity sends him into a dull stupor for a minute. He comes back to when the phone vibrates with another ring, alerting him for the second and last time that the person he wanted to talk to the most had actually reached out to him; it was in his best interest not to keep her waiting.

Y/N: Hey, are you free to talk tomorrow?

#siac #Sharing Isn’t Always Caring #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagines #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry x reader #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry styles angst #angst #harry styles fic #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb

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drprettyboyspence · 4 years

Text

You’re a Hero, Spencer Reid

Dr. Spencer Reid/reader

Summary: Late one night Spencer comes home from an especially difficult case. His girlfriend Y/n persuades him to talk about it. Inspired by the JJ/Will episode “Sick Day” (Season 12 Episode 2) This takes place during Season 15.

words: 4.9k

warnings: mentions of violence, mental illness (basically the amount of violence in a regular cm episode), angst, very very light swearing, nothing else to my knowledge!

a/n: I honestly love that JJ and Will scene so I decided to right one about Spencer. This made up case took we way too long to come up with and honestly I know way too much about lobotomies now lol, but I hope you enjoy!! :)

It’s 12:30 am, Spencer Reid trudges up the stairs to his second floor apartment which he shares with his girlfriend of 5 years, Y/n Y/l/n. His body on the verge of collapsing but his mind hyped up on adrenaline, Spencer pulls his key out of his pocket before unlocking the door, excited to finally be home after an energy-draining case. He knows he should sleep, the team very rarely gets much sleep during a case and the last one had been short but intense, so it’s been about 48 hours since Spencer has slept if he’s being truly honest. Spencer feels as if he’s in a trance, he’s exhausted but he just knows he won’t be able to sleep if he tries. His exhaustion leads him to crash into a chair near the table, causing it to scrape against the floor loudly. Damn it Spencer thinks, hoping he didn’t wake up his girlfriend but knowing he probably isn’t that lucky.

“Baby, you’re finally home! I missed you so much!” Y/n says, appearing out of the shadowy hallway, obviously having just woken up. She gives Spencer a hug and notices the way he holds on to her extra tightly, like he does when he’s feeling stressed or overwhelmed.

“I missed you too Y/n, so much.” Spencer whispers, still enveloping her in a tight hug. The last case had been harder on him than he’s willing to admit, but holding Y/n close to him makes him feel safe, he can’t lose her if he just never lets go, right?

“Are you okay Spence?” Y/n asks after Spencer finally lets her go. She knows the tells, she may not be an FBI profiler but she can tell when Spencer isn’t okay, and right now is unfortunately one of those times. She can see the way he holds her just the smallest bit too tight, she can see his eyes, droopy from exhaustion but darting around the room at the same time, still hyped up on the adrenaline from the case, and the eye circles that have become a signature look for her boyfriend are even darker than usual, showing he’s been without sleep for likely more than a day.

“I’m fine Y/n, really, you know how the job is, it's never easy.” Spencer replies, in a manner that shows Y/n he wants to talk about it, but he doesn’t know how to ask and doesn’t want to be a bother.

“Are you sure Spence? We can talk about it if you want to-“

“I said I’m fine Y/n! Please drop it!” Spencer snaps back at Y/n, regret immediately flushing over his face. He doesn’t yell at her often, and they hardly ever fight, he says he’s seen too many couples separated by tragedy to waste time on silly arguments and quarrels. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to snap at you, I think I’m just high-strung and exhausted.”

“You can’t keep it in Spencer, it will all build up inside and stay with you, you know that. We need to talk about it if it's weighing down on you this heavily, I’ll put the coffee on, it looks like we won’t be sleeping for a while.” Y/n says warmly, walking across the kitchen to switch on the coffee machine. “Okay Spence, start at the beginning…”

40 hours earlier

“All I’m saying JJ is that you aren’t even giving science-fiction a chance, its not all-”

“Spence I honestly don’t care, I refused to go to comic-con with you back in the day and I still refuse now, but you can take the boys, they’d love to go.” JJ and Spencer abruptly finish their conversation as they walk into the round table room and see the rest of the team staring back at them with solemn looks on their faces.

“Let’s get started please.” Emily says promptly as JJ and Spencer take their respective seats at the table, everyone focusing their attention on Garcia.

“Alright my crime-solving friends today’s devilishness comes to us from the one, the only, sin city itself, Las Vegas, Nevada.” Long-time members of the team glance sympathetically at Reid, knowing how difficult it can be for him to go home, especially now that his mother has been moved closer to Virginia. “Those pictures on your tablet now, they are of Dolores Smith, the fifth victim in a series of what appears to be lobotomies gone wrong.” The team winces, remembering the last time lobotomies had come up in a BAU case.

“The fifth victim? Why weren’t we called in earlier, lobotomies aren’t exactly a common occurrence, even in Las Vegas.” Rossi asks.

“This unsub has been driving his victims out into the desert, even crossing state lines, victim number two, Susan Atkins, she was found in Utah, almost 400 miles away. They simply didn’t put it together until the last two victims were found in Las Vegas.”

“Garcia, anything connecting the victims, they seem to be of different sexes and ages.” JJ asks.

“Yes, this is where it gets tricky, all five victims were schizophrenic patients at Bennington Sanitarium.” It was like a chill went through the room.

“So they were all patients at a mental hospital?” Luke says, clearly confused about the strange energy currently in the room.

“Tell them Spence” Emily urges.

“Bennington Sanitarium isn’t just any mental hospital, it's the mental hospital my mom was in.”

The coffee machine beeps, interrupting Spencer’s telling of the story, he moves to pour the cups. Y/n places her hand on his knee before he can move out of the chair.

“Sweetheart, let me do it, you just sit here and try to relax, you’ve been through enough, the least I can do is a pour a damn cup of coffee for you.” Y/n picks out Spencer’s favorite mug, a Doctor Who one she had bought him for the first Christmas they spent together. They both inhale deeply over the cups of steaming liquid, as good as gold on a late night like this, the 1:20 am flashing over the stove only showing as a reminder that this night won’t be ending any time soon. “Alright, continue.”

36 hours earlier

“So here’s what we know. All five victims had recently been released from Bennington Sanitarium, they were schizophrenic, having been residents of the hospital for ten to twelve years.” Luke starts the discussion as the jet begins its descent into Las Vegas.

“Why were they released?” Spencer responds.

“Garcia, any information you can give us?” Tara asks the computer screen where Garcia’s face pops up.

“My friends, unluckily because of the discreet nature of mental health records, the mistress of all things technological is having a little bit of trouble narrowing in on the information you search for, but from what I can see, all five victims were taken out of the hospital after responding well to medication, I haven’t gotten to those records yet but I will hit you back as soon as I hear anything, peace out.”

“You okay Reid?” Emily asks Spencer as quietly as she can, knowing that this case is surely striking a nerve with him, all these victims sharing a very big part of their life with his mother, she probably knew some of them personally.

“I just have a bad feeling about this, and I tend to listen to those feelings very carefully. Let’s finish this one quick and get back to Quantico.”

“You heard the kid, let’s make quick work of this case and put this bastard away before he can even think about taking another victim.” Rossi states, earning nods from the rest of the time.

“I hate to burst your bubbles my friends, but a sixth victim has just been found in Las Vegas once again, 63 year old Barbara Sullivan.” Garcia popped in.

“Alright change of plans everyone, Matt go to the 5th dump site, Tara and JJ, you girls will go to the most recent dump site, Luke and Rossi will go the morgue, try to get any information you can about the lobotomies, Reid and I, we’ll go to Bennington and get insight into why each of these victims were released and what medicines they were on at the time.

“Sorry to interrupt, but why was Garcia having such a hard time finding the medical records, isn’t that type of thing usually a breeze for her?” Y/n asks. She’d become quite close to Garcia in the years she and Spencer had been together and there was nothing that girl couldn’t do.

“We were having trouble with that too to be honest, mental health records are usually rather secretive, but nothing a hacker like Garcia wouldn’t be able to crack in an instant. Can I have another cup of coffee baby?”

“Of course Spence, anything you need.” Y/n say before filling up another coffee, glad he’s finally relaxed enough to talk freely about whatever happened on this case that was so clearly affecting him.

34 hours earlier

“Dr. Reid, good to see you again, I wish we didn’t have to meet under these circumstances though.” The main doctor at Bennington says, having known Spencer over the years Diana had spent at the hospital.

“Dr., hello. This is BAU Unit Chief Emily Prentiss, we want to ask you some questions about the victims if that would be possible. I know it’s-”

“Excuse me Dr.! Oh I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt! Wait, are you Dr. Spencer Reid of the Behavioral Analysis Unit? I’m a huge fan of your work. Work, oh god you must be here about the recent murders, tragic aren’t they?” A rather hyper man interrupts Spencer. Spencer awkwardly and reluctantly shakes the hand of the stranger, both him and Emily puzzled about this strange interruption.

“Mr. Robbins, if you would, please leave us alone as the federal agents and I have some important details to discuss. Actually, you may go home for the day, your services are no longer needed, see you tomorrow.” The high-strung man nods eagerly before waving once more and leaving. “I’m so sorry about that Dr. Reid, that would be the new data collector and organizer, Mr. Robbins, a bit hyper for my taste, but that man is a wizard with anything technological.” Just as Emily is about to resume questions about the victims, Garcia calls.

“What’s up Garcia? Anything you can tell us?”

“Emily, my sweet, sadly I come once again bearing bad news. A woman has just been reported missing, 54 year old Dana Reeley, schizophrenic, reported missing by her son 20 minutes ago, says he left the house for no longer than 20 minutes, came back to an empty house no signs of struggle.”

“Is it possible his mother is confused, left the house on her own?” Spencer asks, remembering times his mother had been so confused that she went off on her own.

“Definitely not, the doors had protective covers, the mother couldn’t get out by herself, it had happened before. By the way, I’m still having an extreme amount of trouble trying to figure out why the victims were taken out of the hospital.”

“Oh I can help you with that, each of the victims were taken out of this establishment due to the opinions of each of their respective children that they would be better taken care of under their own roofs.”

“Well, uh- thank you unknown male voice that I’m assuming is the Dr. running Bennington Sanitarium, that’s helpful information.”

“Dr. thank you for your time, but it seems we should we getting to the police station.” Emily says, realizing that this probably isn’t a good place for Spencer to be, and seeing his face becoming increasingly distressed due to the implications of the information the Dr. had just given them, if they’re going to need him to use his brain to solve this case they need to get out of here.

“Woah wait one second Spencer, all of the victims were patients at the same hospital that your mom spent years at, they were all schizophrenic, and they were all taken out of the hospital by their children shortly before their murder, that’s a-“

“Hell of a coincidence, I know, and you know me, there’s no such thing as coincidences. This was weird though, like a very small chance that this could be about me, but it was seeming more and more like I was to be more involved with this case than I had thought.”

24 hours earlier

The rest of the team had gone to bed hours ago, but Spencer is still awake, lying in the hotel bed staring at the ceiling. He debates calling Y/n, he tries not to bring his work home, he tries his hardest to keep the purest thing in his life away from the horrors and despair he sees everyday. He doesn’t want to put two and two together on this case, he doesn’t want to believe that this could all be because of him, all these victims, their lives ended early, simply because he decided to join the FBI those many years ago. It had happened before, Professor Rothschild back in 2009 and he doesn’t like to think about it, but Maeve was in the center of a case inspired by him as well. Spencer knows he’s overreacting, he knows he can’t blame himself, he didn’t kill those victims, and he didn’t force the hand of the unsubs, all he can do now is get some sleep so he can use his IQ of 187 to stop this son of a bitch, stop him from killing anyone else, ever.

The sound of a stomach rumbling interrupts Spencer this time.

“Spencer, when was the last time you ate? God knows how long its been since you slept and its probably been even longer since you ate. Tell me how long Spence, please.” Spencer looks down guiltily, knowing that Y/n is going to be mad when he utters his next words.

“I don’t know um I’m having trouble remembering-“ Y/n’s face tells it all, the man with the eidetic memory can’t remember when the last time he ate was. “It was yesterday afternoon, there were bagels at the Las Vegas police station, terrible ones but I ate one of those, figured I shouldn’t be drinking five cups of coffee a day on an empty stomach.”

“Yesterday afternoon? Spencer it’s 2:30 am!”

“Okay so the day before yesterday afternoon I guess, sue me Y/n!”

“Spencer Reid I know you aren’t trying to tell me you haven’t eaten in over 36 hours! You wouldn’t do that to me right? Sweetheart, you need food! What would you like?” Y/n notices that it’s strange, right now in this moment Spencer looks like a small child, shy and embarrassed.

“Um, could you…make pancakes?” Spencer quietly asks. Y/n could laugh, Dr. Spencer Reid, renowned FBI agent who will walk into an interrogation room no problem, is scared to ask his significant other to make pancakes.

“Pancakes is it? Sure thing sweetheart I’ll make pancakes.”

“With chocolate chips?” Spencer adds.

“Now you’re pushing it.” Y/n retorts back with a giggle, beginning to make the batter, if Spencer hasn’t eaten in 36 hours he deserves better than some nasty boxed pancakes, that’s for sure. “So what happened next Spence?”

17 hours earlier

“Good morning Garcia, any information for us?” Luke asks in the morning.

“Oh newbie how I wish it was a good morning, another victim has been taken, 43 year old Richard Saxons, his daughter reported him missing when she woke up to an empty house, hasn’t seen him since last night.” The team looks at each other with confused glances.

“Another victim? But he hasn’t dumped the last victim yet, this is a major change in M.O., do we think the last victim is still alive, we need to rethink this.” Emily explains.

“Okay why a lobotomy? That can’t be the easiest way of killing the victims.” Matt asks.

“Here’s the thing, this unsub isn’t necessarily meaning to kill the victims. Lobotomies began in the 1880s when Swiss physician Gottlieb Burkhardt removed parts of the cortex of the brains of patients with auditory hallucinations and other symptoms of schizophrenia. Later in 1935 Portuguese neurologist Antonio Egas Moniz is credited with inventing the lobotomy. There are numerous negative effects and since the procedure literally involves drilling into the brain to slice up pieces of the frontal lobes, if it isn’t performed by a doctor there’s a very high mortality rate.” Spencer of course rattles off.

“That makes sense with what the medical examiner told us, the lobotomies were crudely done but there was no reason to believe the unsub is a sadist, no signs of torture, the bodies were often dumped with what could be taken as remorse.” Rossi adds.

“Okay so we’re looking at an unsub who’s trying to cure these victims of their schizophrenia.” Tara states.

“We need to deliver the profile.”

“We believe our unsub is a white male of medium build, we believe this because all victims have been caucasian and although there have been cases of serial killers crossing racial lines, overwhelming statistics show he’s most likely white.” Luke begins,

“He has come into contact with all eight victims including the two currently missing, he knew all of them suffered from schizophrenia and were recently released, he waited until they were no longer patients at the hospital , meaning he most likely has a close connection to Bennington Sanitarium and could be tied back to the crimes, if he works at the hospital it puts him between the ages of 25 and 50, he could be the janitor, a cook, any job like that.”

“We don’t believe he has official medical training because the manner by which the lobotomies were performed lacks the professionalism a doctor could use, but he also demonstrates knowledge of schizophrenia and lobotomies in general, which shows he isn’t dumb, most likely can hold down a job.”

“Important as well, we don’t believe this unsub necessarily means to kill the victims, he is attempting to help cure these victims of their schizophrenic symptoms, he may have experienced a loss caused by mental health issues or believes the treatment each of the victims received was inadequate.” Tara finishes the profile, all of the team stepping back into the other room.

“Hey Garcia you’re on speaker with the whole team here” Rossi answers his phone,

“Hey guys, this is just getting more and more strange, I finally got into the hospital records, it really seemed as though someone was hacking me from the inside, but I finally got in and here’s the kicker, all of the records of the victims have been deleted, who would even have access for that.” Garcia says.

“Okay we’ll looks into that Garcia, can you start looking at anyone who fits our profile, has access to the records at Bennington, and has purchased items needed to perform an at-home lobotomy in bulk over the last few months, if the missing woman has somehow survived, this unsub needs at least elementary medical equipment in order to keep her alive, hopefully we’ll see it in his credit history.” Spencer instructs to Garcia before Rossi hangs up the phone.

“You know who might have some knowledge about all of this, that guy from the hospital, I know the Dr. osaid he’s only worked there a few months but maybe he’s seen something, or maybe he’s noticed someone snooping around the online files, we need to go back to the hospital, Spence lets go.” Emily says.

“So Dr., you’re saying Mr. Robbins hasn’t been to work since you sent him home when we were here last? That’s odd. What did you say his name was again?”

“Anthony Robbins, like I said before, he’s an odd guy but does good work, no one around here knows him that well though.” Spencer and Emily nod their heads to each other before Emily calls Garcia,

“Garcia I need a background check on an Anthony Robbins, stat, and send Rossi and Luke to his house, we need to talk to this guy fast, he knows something.”

“Agents, are you thinking he could have anything to do with this? I can’t imagine Mr. Robbins doing any harm to any one, especially not the patients at this hospital, he is always the kindest to them, the schizophrenia patients in particular.” Another call from Garcia interrupts Emily and Spencer before they can answer.

“Things are starting to look a little weird, Anthony Robbins, 37 years old, native of Las Vegas, was born to Linda and Christian Robbins, he had a happy childhood, no signs of trauma or abuse that I can see. He doesn’t have a record, juvie or adult, but his life did change when he was 10.”

“What happened then Garcia.”

“Reid stop interrupting me, you know how I like to tell my dramatic story. When Robbins was 10 his 7 year old brother Charlie was diagnosed with schizophrenia, when he was 18 he was put into care at a mental hospital, not Bennington but a close by hospital.”

“Any interest in alternative schizophrenia treatments?”

“As a matter of fact my dear genius yes, Robbins has been publishing articles for years, and I’m looking at his recent purchases right now, Robbins has been purchasing health care equipment as well as tools needed for an at-home lobotomy, Anthony Robbins is your unsub.”

“Hey Rossi, change of plans, the guy’s our unsub. You sure? Alright you guys stay there in case he comes back, the guy must have a secondary location.” Emily says before hanging up her phone. “Alright Reid that was Rossi and Luke, Robbins isn’t at home and it looks like he left in a hurry, there’s gotta be somewhere else he’s working, Rossi also said he wouldn’t be able to hold anybody in that tiny apartment, there’s no room and neighbors would hear.”

“Okay let’s think, we profiled he may have suffered some sort of loss. Garcia do you see any type of loss in this guy’s recent history.”

“Charlie Robbins, his schizophrenic brother, died two months ago.”

“That’s right before the murders started, that’s gotta be the stressor.”

“Garcia what hospital was the brother treated at?”

“Uh, it looks like a place called Smith Sanitarium, he was there was there for almost 20 years.”

“Smith! I know where that is, it’s scheduled for demolition actually, closed down about a month ago and has been abandoned since, it’s only about a 15 minute drive.”

“That’s the secondary location, let’s go Reid.” Emily says, the two agents rushing out of the room.

“Spence, the pancakes are ready.” Y/n says, pouring syrup over the stack, just the way Spencer always likes them.

“Thank you so much Y/n, I don’t deserve you. I know talking about the case is supposed to make me feel better but I just feel like an idiot. I mean, he was right there the first day we were at the hospital, it was so obvious, why didn’t I see it?”

“Spencer stop that right now, you can’t blame yourself for any of it, you met that man for less than a minute when your mind was focused on researching the victims, there was nothing about him that should have screamed 'mad scientist performing lobotomies to mourn the loss of his recently deceased schizophrenic brother’, you can’t blame yourself.” Y/n reassures her boyfriend while reaching up to rub his shoulder. He begins eating the pancakes in front of him, groaning slightly at the taste of food after going so long without eating.

“I love you Y/n, not just because you’re amazing at making pancakes, seriously these are so good, but because you somehow always know how to make me feel better.”

“That’s my job babe, personal pancake chef and make-Spencer-Reid-feel-better specialist, now tell me what happened next, it seems like you’re almost at the end.”

10 hours earlier

“Alright Reid, the rest of the team and Las Vegas police are on their way and will meet us as soon as they can, but you and I are going to be on the scene first, they’re significantly further away than we are, we’ll have to wait for them of course, this man may not be meaning to kill his victims, but he’s killed at least 6 people nevertheless.” Emily says, driving as fast as she can through Las Vegas towards the abandoned mental hospital, Reid quietly looking out the window. Emily is strapping her vest on when she sees Reid walking towards the hospital alone.

“Reid, no! I told you, we need to wait for backup, it’s too dangerous!”

“Emily you know how much I respect you, but there’s two victims in there and if they’re on the brink of death, an extra 10 minutes is not something we have, I’m going in.”

“Damnit Reid” Emily whispers before running after him.

“Anthony Robbins, FBI put your hands up”, Reid loudly speaks as he walks into the hospital with his gun in the air, immediately seeing two victims in chains.

“Dr. Reid, I’m so happy you’re here! Let’s put the gun down so I can show you the medical masterpiece I have accomplished.” Mr. Robbins says while holding what looks like a grenade in his hand.

“Mr. Robbins I know you think you’re doing what’s right, but this isn’t what your brother would have wanted, these people did not ask for this, they were doing well with the medication, now I need you to put down the grenade and let these people go.” Sirens can be heard from outside and Emily appears behind Reid as well, noticing the grenade in the unsub’s hand, but Reid’s eyes are completely focused on the female victim, a woman with extreme similarity to his own mother.

“It’s such a shame Dr. Reid, I thought you of all people would understand, seeing as you went to Mexico to research alternative medication for your own schizophrenic mother.”

“That was different Mr. Robbins, I was attempting to research homeopathic remedies for dementia, not performing life-threatening surgeries on mentally ill adults.” Emily can tell that Spencer is getting angry, this case being too close to his personal life, they should be stroking this guy’s ego, not angering him.

“Mr. Robbins, Emily Prentiss here, I think what you have done is magnificent! I actually want you to come with us, the rest of the world needs to see this!”

“No, too late, Dr. Reid doesn’t appreciate my genius, so no one will be allowed to. Sorry, agents.” The man says before dropping the grenade. Emily grabs Reid, pulling him out of the hospital while he’s screaming, still not taking his eyes off the female victim. They make it out of the hospital just as it explodes, Reid staring back into the burning building in disbelief while Emily looks at the rest of the team, shaking her head.

At this point in the story Spencer’s voice cracks, tears start welling in his eyes. “I should’ve saved them, it was completely my fault. He was a classic unsub with a god complex and I did exactly what they teach you NOT to do. I let my emotions get in the way and three people died because of it.” Spencer gets out before he starts crying completely. Y/n enveloping him in a hug and allowing him to cry into her shoulder.

“Oh Spence, shh, it’s okay, that was not your fault. That man was holding a grenade, did you force his hand? Tell him to kill those victims, no.”

“But we should’ve been able to save them, we profiled him exactly right, and I ruined it all by raising my voice at him, plus I didn’t wait for the backup we needed, I was too focused on saving a woman who reminded me of my mom.”

“Spencer Reid, I need you to listen to me right now, look at me, okay, you can do that right? Look at me sweetheart.” Spencer lifts his head to look at Y/n, his teary eyes matching her sympathetic ones filled with love. “You, Spencer Reid, are a hero. You’re my hero, you’re a hero for your team, and you’re the hero of all the people you save every single day. Today was not a good day, but how many victims would that man have killed if your team hadn’t intervened. Today you didn’t save everyone, but if you stop now, you’ll never save anyone ever again.” Spencer and Y/n sit at the table holding hands in silence for longer than either of them care to count, before Y/n hears soft snores, realizing Spencer has fallen asleep in her arms, exhausted from the past days and the emotional release of reliving it all in their kitchen. “Come on Spence, let’s go to bed” Y/n gently shakes him awake and helps him to their bed, knowing that what Spencer needs is a good night’s sleep and a lot of love, which she is more than happy to give him, for the rest of her life even.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds season 15 #criminal minds #reader insert #y/n #criminal minds imagine

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