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babymetaldoll · 3 years

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DIWK - Chapter ten: "Set me free my honey bee"

Word count: 11,6K

Summary: Let's jump 19 months in time and see how painful it has turned for reader and Spencer to hide their feelings for each other. JJ leaves the team, and a new member joins the BAU.

Warnings: Angst and hurt. Fools being assholes. Cursing, of course. Mention of CM cases and spoilers on S06E11.

A/N: Please don't hate me. Just remember things usually look like the shit before they get worst, and then everything is better. I hope.

Masterlist

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(Y/N)'s point of view

Time is a weird thing. I remember when I was in school and time didn't pass fast enough. Semesters were eternal. It felt it had been years by the time summer vacation arrived. The complete opposite happened to me at the BAU. Suddenly, time passed too quickly. A whole year and a half went by in the blink of an eye.

I told Spencer about it, and he sent me a paper published by Professor Adrian Bejan that presented an argument based on the physics of neural signal processing. He hypothesizes that, over time, the rate at which we process visual information slows down, and this is what makes time 'speed up' as we grow older.

My answer was that I thought it happened 'cos as we grew older, we did things that actually gave us joy, which made us feel the time was passing faster than before. So we argued a whole Saturday afternoon about it and created our own theories for that event.

My theory was my personal favorite, 'cos it was the only one that could easily explain why so much time had passed in the BAU, and it felt like it had been just a few weeks.

It hadn't been easy, though. Those nineteen months had been filled with some of the worst situations we had been through as a team.

After I got shot, JJ finally admitted her relationship with Will and got pregnant. That was shocking, the first BAU baby: Henry.

Sadly, Henry was the only little good thing that happened that year. Because to sum it up, a bunch of awful shit happened to all of us: Hotch was in a car explosion that almost killed him. Spencer and Prentiss got trapped in an undercover mission into an underground cult to investigate child abuse, and Emily was beaten up pretty badly. Also, Spencer got infected with anthrax and nearly died. That was probably the most agonizing moment I had lived since the whole Tobias Hankel situation two years earlier.

Also, that year Prentiss had to investigate the case of the death of one of her best friends, and I was in a pretty nasty fight with an unsub that got me out of the field for three weeks. Not to mention, Spencer was shot in the leg.

Hotch was stabbed by the only unsub that has actually won against the BAU: Foyet. He attacked Aaron and got on the lose for months, but we all knew his next move as torture Hotch's family. That's why his ex-wife Haley and his little son Jack had to go into protective custody, and he couldn't see them for months while we tried to catch Foyet.

Things didn't go as planned. And without a doubt, the worst moment that year was the day Haley died. Foyet killed her, and Aaron lost it. He literally killed him with his bare hands the moment he got him. For a solid week, I was sure Aaron Hotchner wouldn't be the unit chief anymore. Strauss actually opened an investigation related to everything that happened that day. But in the end, somehow, she understood the "bloodbath" that had happened in that house was all in Foyet's hands.

However, there's no way to deny that the whole team had changed in many ways after that year. The concept of being a family was now more present than ever. After chasing Foyet for months, we were all onto him as if he was chasing our own family, because he was.

You don't work this kind of job with a team like mine and don't get attached to them. And this goes beyond how in love I was with Spencer. The (Y/N) who first stepped into the BAU, scared to show her true self, was long gone. And despite my deepest fears, letting them in and showing them who I really was had been one of the smartest decisions I have ever made.

Do you want to know which was my stupidest decision? Falling in love with Spencer Reid. It hadn't actually been my choice. I just didn't fight the feeling either. I don't think I could have even if I tried, though. Those nineteen months brought us so close, my mom thought we were living together, and the teasing from our friends was so common we weren't even affected by it.

For Christ Sakes, even Strauss thought we were dating! She forced us to attend a seminar on fraternization, concerned after she realized we always took our vacation together. We had a lot of fun trips, though. First, we visited his mom and had an amazing weekend in Las Vegas. Then we took a few days off after the anthrax incident and went to Hawaii. Picture Spencer Reid in an "all-inclusive," drinking all the coffee and eating all the pastries possible while reading a million books underneath an extra-large umbrella. We had fun that week, did some local touring, but most of all, sleeping in and relaxing. Spencer hates the beach but got those tickets anyway.

Did everybody think we were a couple? Yes

Did it help that we shared rooms, 'cos we were already used to it? No

Did it feel like a honeymoon without sex? Yes

Could I stop thinking about sex with Spencer? No.

And all that led us to the nightmare our relationship was going to become.

Penelope Garcia was drunk. She kept pouring shots and pushing them to us. Emily was wasted as well. But she kept acting like the classy lady she is. Not like JJ. My poor baby had mascara smeared under her eyes after crying for like an hour.

We found out she was leaving the team, and it was a hard blow on us. And by hard, I mean the worst thing that had ever happened to us. We had suffered without JJ when she was on maternity leave. And we struggled without her. Now knowing the Pentagon had taken her away from the BAU was torture.

We had a goodbye party for her at Rossi's, but this was our goodbye girl's night, and neither of us was holding anything back.

We had cried, we had sung sad songs. We drank all the champagne, wine, and vodka we could find. And now, holding our tequila shots, we knew it was time to call it a night.

- "I just love you girls so much,"- JJ whispered, crying- I don't wanna work without you.

- "Boo, come here!!"- I opened my arms and wrapped them around my friend, kissing the top of her hair a few times- "I love you too, and you are going to come back so soon you won't have time to miss us. You'll see. Papa Rossi and Dada Hotch are gonna fix everything."

I was drunk. Seriously drunk. But that wasn't the reason why I was so sweet with JJ. The truth is, I was broken-hearted. Like Penelope and Reid, I didn't manage change very well, and the fact that JJ was forced to leave made me feel frustrated and mad. But most of all, it made me think of every time I had been a little bitch with her during the years. And I regretted each one of them.

- "And we won't be far!"- Emily added and caressed JJ's arm, smiling kindly- "You will still be in town, and we will not leave you alone"- JJ chuckled and nodded.

- "I know, girls. Shit, I love you all so much!"

- "We love you too!"- Penelope sobbed and moved closer, wrapping the three of us in her arms.

- "Please, take care!"- JJ wiped off the tears from her eyes and looked at us- "Emily, don't do anything stupid! Don't rush in the field, and please don't take your fucking vest off!!"

- "I won't! I promise!"

- "You have to live to be Unit chief one day!"- JJ added, and Prentiss widened her eyes, shocked.

- "That's not really my gold."

- "But you'd be queen, baby!!"- Jareau added and turned to Penelope- "And you, please make sure Hotch eats. I kept a stack of granola bars on my desk to keep him fueled during the day. He usually forgets lunchtime and skips dinner, so..."

- "Don't worry, JJ,"- Penelope nodded, and we all felt our heartbreak a little thinking about all the things JJ did in her daily basics to take care of the team, and we didn't even know.

- "How are we going to survive without you?"- I mumbled, pouting. JJ chuckled and held my hand.

- "You are a rock, and you will do a fantastic job keeping this team together. Just, please, can you and Spencer start dating now?"

I wide opened my eyes and stared at JJ. The comment surprised me. I shouldn't, 'cos the whole "you and Spencer should start dating" joke was getting old. Only this time, JJ wasn't joking. She held both my hands and looked right into my eyes.

- "(Y/N), he loves you"- I was about to argue with her, but she covered my mouth with her Cheetos smelling hand.

- "Don't say a word! Spencer loves you so much you really must be blind not to see it. And I know you love him too. It's implied in all the little things you do for him every day. So don't take it for granted. Don't think this will last forever 'cos look at me! A week ago, I was happily working at the BAU, and now I'm drinking at my goodbye party! So don't waste any more time! You are in love with Spencer, and he loves you! It doesn't take a profiler to see it. So please! Act on it!"

There was a dramatic silence after. I didn't know how to break it. I could just joke around, but somehow, it didn't feel right. It had been too quiet for too long, and that made everything harder to deny. Finally, Emily put her hand on mine, just like JJ was still doing, and smiled at me.

- "There's nothing to be ashamed of, (Y/N). You are not the first person to fall for her best friend."

- "And the Junior G Man loves you so much,"- Penelope added, landing her hand on our hands too.

- "As his friend"- I corrected and sighed. I guess that was it. After three years, I could probably start facing my feelings in front of my friends.

- "No, (Y/N)"- Garcia tried to argue, but I shook my head and stood up, 'cos all that sudden attention and affection was bothering me.

- "PG, I was in Hawaii with the man, sharing a room, walking around in a bikini, and he didn't do anything."

- "That's because he is shy!"- Emily excused him right away.

- "My bikini leaves pretty much nothing to the imagination. Do you know what he said when he first saw me on it?"- I looked at my friend and poured us another round of tequila- "And I quote, "I don't think I brought enough books. This one is too interesting."

I air quoted with my fingers as we spoke, and the three of them looked at me, speechless. I made my point and drank my shot, feeling the alcohol burning down my throat. My friends opened their mouths but didn't produce a word. I sighed and looked at them.

- "But he hates the beach, and he took you there anyway,"- Emily pointed out

- "Did he give you his speech about how he hates sandy food?"- JJ asked me, and I chuckled, nodding.

- "And about pink skin, limited and unengaging topography, and of course, the real reason he hates the beach: drug-resistant bacteria spread by seagull feces."

- "And the man took you to the beach!"- Penelope argued.

- "But he didn't do anything! he didn't make his move, didn't even hold my hand!!"- I nearly shouted- "That's why, among a lot of reasons, is how I know Spencer is not interested in me! If only I'd tell you all the shit we've been through!"

- "Please!! Tell us!!"- Garcia begged and grabbed one of my legs- "I won't live another day 'cos I won't be able to deal with the mystery!"

- "No! 'cos you are gonna tell Morgan"- I slurred- "And he is going to embarrass and tease my honey bunny, and my honey bunny is gonna get all nervous and nervous around me, and we are never going to..."- I stopped talking and looked at my friends. I was sharing too much.

- "(Y/N)?"- Prentiss looked at me, but I just shook my head and looked down.

- "I think I better go home."

- "No, you can't drive like this,"- JJ argued immediately and held my hand- "I'm not gonna let you go intoxicated. Will is gonna come pick me up, and we'll drop you in your place."

I nodded at her and stayed still. My friends smiled at me, and slowly very slowly, I leaned on JJ's shoulder and rested my head on it.

- "I love you, boo,"- I whispered, and she giggled- "I don't think I'll stay sane without you there with us anymore."

- "Hotch is gonna manage to get her back,"- Penelope assured me, and I just nodded.

- "Meanwhile, we won't replace you, and if anyone tries to push someone new into the team, we are not gonna take them,"- I added, feeling JJ's hand holding mine.

- "Don't be mean with people just 'cos you miss me. If there's a new teammate, it won't be their fault I was pushed out of the BAU."

- "But, JJ,"- I tried to argue, but she shook her head right away.

- "No, (Y/N). You can't be mean to people just because."

Clearly, my friend hoped I could be the better person. The simple question was: did I want to be the better person? Right there, drunk and sad, the answer was no.

Spencer's point of view

I kept finding myself awake at four in the morning, walking around my apartment, not able to read or to write anything. For the last months, at least twice or three times each week, I would stay awake, no matter how tired I felt, and I would haunt my own apartment, listening to my vinyl records.

The sudden lack of sleep wasn't really something weird in me. I have always been nocturnal. Besides, the news of JJ's departure had hit us all pretty hard. I had already shared my share of tears and tried to manage the fury that caused me to know we were helpless to the government's decisions. There was nothing we could do, neither us, Hotch, or even Strauss. Not that she would if she could.

My family was in crisis, and all we could do was hope for the best and stay together.

It was scary losing JJ. It made me think of all the things that could go wrong every day on the field daily. It was bad that we could get hurt or even die on our work. But that they divided us that way made no sense. Like Rossi said: our loss was someone else's winning, and in the FBI, no one cared if we lost.

I poured myself a cup of herbal tea and inhaled the smell of it. It smelled like home. Like (Y/N). She had some of her favorite teas in my apartment. She had a bunch of all her things there, actually. When mom visited, she thought we were living together. She is still sure we are dating and that I don't wanna tell her. I don't longer argue with her about it. It's useless, and it somehow feels good to imagine in another world. It was actually true.

That year my feelings for my best friend had grown in a way that made it all more difficult to deal with. I didn't just love her. I was in love with her. She was in everything I did, in each and every one of my thoughts. I could hear her laughter in my head, like a record playing my favorite song over and over again.

When she was out there in the field, I couldn't stop running all the probabilities of her getting hurt, and most of the time, I would do my best to keep her safe, knowing it could somehow interfere with the case.

Hotch had called me to his office a few times, aware something was going with me. He could read it on my face, I guess. It was scary to know everybody could read my feelings for (Y/N) but her. And it was sad to think of the worst: that she knew how much I loved her, but she didn't feel the same, and she was just being my friend 'cos she was never going to be anything else but my friend.

I drank my tea and hummed the song that sounded in my house at four in the morning: Love is a losing game. Seemed pretty accurate for my mood. I remember the day I got that vinyl. We were out with (Y/N), Frank, and Lu, looking for a present for Mikey's birthday, and we ended up in a record store, getting a million vinyl records for ourselves.

- "Are you getting all those?"- (Y/N) asked me and looked at the seven albums in my hand.

- "Yes, why? I can't?"- I answered and raised an eyebrow.

- "Sassy!"- she giggled and grabbed them- "You can get all the albums you want. But I have to give my approval first. No, you are not getting this!"- she grabbed The Beatles' Revolver and left it aside.

- "What? Why? It's only one I need to complete my collection."

- "I know, but when you get it, you'll force me to listen to it, and I don't like the Beatles,"- she argued, and I just shook my head, taking the album again.

- "Sorry, chipmunk, I'm buying it."

- "Fine. I won't go to your house for the next couple of weeks then."

- "Why don't you tell me which album you wanna listen to when you are in my house then?"- I looked at her, smiling at me and looking for a record on the shelves.

- "This! You need some Amy in your life."

And I did. Now, at four in the morning, all alone walking around, I could see her in my apartment, singing along to her favorite songs while cooking dinner, feeling at home. I wished she was there, with me, doing nothing. Watching tv, or reading. Just hanging out. I knew it wasn't healthy being in love with my friend, seeing her every day, and also hanging out with her every chance I got. But even when I knew she was never going to love me the way I did, I was going to take every chance I had to enjoy her company. If that was all I was going to get.

My phone took me from my thoughts, and I quickly walked to my room to get it. I thought it was Hotch announcing a case, but it was JJ.

- "Hey! JJ, everything ok? Is Henry ok?"

- "Yes, hi Spence. We are all ok."

- "It's four in the morning."

- "Sorry I woke you up... I just..." - she made a pause and sighed at the other side of the line- "Spencer, you know I love you."

- "I love you too. You are one of my best friends. Is everything ok?"

- "Yes, I just wanted to... remember a bunch of years ago, when you asked me to that football game?"

A million years had passed since the one and only time I had asked JJ out. It was the only move I tried to do on her, and I failed incredibly. It was awkward, and she had no idea it was a date, so she invited Garcia to come along. I was so embarrassed I never even mentioned that single event ever again, and our friendship grew after.

- "Yes, I remember, JJ. Why?"

- "When you asked me out, did you have a crush on me?"

- "JJ, are you drunk?"- I had to ask 'cos that conversation was starting to scare me.

- "Yes, but that's not why I'm talking about this. Just answer the questions, Spence. When you asked me out on that date, did you have a crush on me?"

- "Yes, I did."

I closed my eyes, embarrassed to face feelings that were far forgotten.

- "You see, I had a crush on you too back then,"- JJ said and chuckled- "But neither of us acted on it, and life continued, and now I'm in love with Will, and we have a baby, and you are his godfather."

Of all the things I thought I would listen to that day, never in a million years, I imagined I would hear JJ drunk telling me she had a crush on me when we first met.

- "Now, do you want that to happen again?"- she asked, and I didn't get it, 'cos I was still trying to process what I had just heard. So I might have had a relationship with her if only I had said something, act on it. Kiss her, ask her out again?

- "What?"

- "Spence. Do you want to miss the chance to be with the girl you like?"

- "No, but JJ, what are you talking about?"

She sighed, frustrated, and used that tone of voice with me, that very maternal specific tone of voice she used to explain things she knew were hard for me to follow.

- "When you like someone, Spence, you have to tell her. 'Cos sometimes, life gets in the way, and if you don't do what you have to do to be happy, no one will do it for you."

- "Are you ok, JJ?"

- "Yes, Spence, I'm ok. I'm home with Will. We just got here after dropping (Y/N) off her place."

- "How was she?"

- "She might have had a few too many drinks, but she'll be ok in the morning. Maybe she'd appreciate it if you brought her coffee and donuts."

- "She doesn't like donuts,"- I corrected her- "She likes cupcakes and brownies."

- "Sorry. Coffee and cupcakes... just tell her you love her, Spence. She deserves to know."

I held my breath and closed my eyes. I didn't get why JJ was telling me that, but I knew I didn't want to talk about it. So I said good night and hung up.

What was the point of telling me we could have been a couple of years had passed already? Why didn't she say a thing before? Or even better, why didn't she ever say a word about it at all? So I missed the chance to be happy with her. Great. One more regret to add to my list.

I laid on my bed and tried to remember that date. I was so nervous that day, my hands shook inside my pockets as I walked to JJ's door. She looked beautiful that day, especially when she looked at me and announced she had invited Penelope to join us.

That was when I realized she would never see me as a proper date, just like a friend. And I learned to make my peace with that over the years. My crush for JJ lasted a few more months, but it vanished when I fell for (Y/N). What if she had never joined the team? Would I have been in love with JJ forever? Jeniffer always made me feel like her little brother, and I guess that's the mechanic that works for us. We were good friends ever since we met, and yes, I had a crush on her, but we work more like siblings than anything else.

What was the point in telling me I had missed a chance with her now? I just couldn't see it.

(Y/N)'s point of view

The next few weeks were us trying to survive without JJ. The team was making the best it could, but it was hard. Penelope took the lead during the second case without JJ. She turned into our tech analyst and communication liaison, only to collapse under the pressure of having two roles.

No one was going to replace JJ. We all knew it. Literally, no one, 'cos Hotch decided he and Garcia were going to split the job, and we were all going to collaborate as much as we could, 'cos we were a team. A family. And that's what families do.

And families were the target of the unsub we were hunting the day everything changed. Again. I hadn't recovered from the departure of JJ when Rossi and Hotch walked to the bullpen and introduced us to Agent Trainee Ashley Seaver.

My nemesis.

- "Agent trainee Seaver"- Rossi smiled at her like a proud father and looked at us as we stood up, wondering who she was- "Supervisory Special Agent Prentiss, (Y/L/N), and Morgan."

- "I've heard so much about the three of you,"- she said with the sweetest tone of voice I had ever heard. Something about that felt odd.

- "I hope it is all good- Morgan flirted right away, of course."

- "Very, sir."

- "Anything specific? I mean about me in particular?"- I turned to him and failed in holding back my chuckles.

- "Please, don't encourage him, or he will never stop talking,"- I said, and Derek elbowed me playfully. Seaver smiled at us and even blushed a little bit. She was nervous.

- "Agent Seaver is on loan to us from the academy while she is remedial training with an injury."

Hotch announced. And my stomach tightened right away. There was something wrong with that whole scene. I could feel it in my guts. But I didn't know why?

- "Concussion. Hand to hand got a little out of control."- Seaver explained and kept a silly smile on her face.

- "How's the other guy?"- Prentiss asked.

- "Don't ask."

- "I was remediated in the academy also,"- Spencer said, walking over us, and suddenly I understood why I had a bad feeling about everything.

- "Agent Seaver, Dr. Reid."

As soon as I heard Rossi say those words, there was a part of me who just wanted to hold Spencer's hand and push him away from her, even before they could say hi. She looked at him like he was eye candy, and I clenched my knuckles as I stared at the scene.

- "Uhm... What was your issue?"- she asked him, and I could see the pink on her cheek intensifying as he looked at her, confused.

- "What was my issue? Marksmanship, physical training, obstacle course, Hogan's alley. You know, pretty much everything that wasn't technically book related. They ultimately had to make exceptions to allow me into the field."

Seaver stared at him and kept nodding, though I wondered if she was listening to what he had said. Spencer looked exceedingly handsome that day. His hair was very short for the first time in years, and he still had no idea how to comb it, so it was all over the place, making him look as hot as fuck.

I was so in love with him, I didn't know what to do with those feelings at all. It was hard working with Reid at that point. I just wanted to kiss him.

- "Agent Seaver's going to accompany us to New Mexico,"- Aaron announced, and I couldn't help but question him right away.

- "She is?"

- "As a consultant."- he assured me.

- "On?"- Morgan raised an eyebrow and looked at Hotch, wondering what a trainee agent could help us with as a consultant.

- "She has a unique perspective,"- Rossi tried to explain, but it sounded like bullshit.

- "They don't know?"- Seaver turned to the elderly agents, and they shook their heads.

- "Well, we weren't sure how you wanted to,"- David whispered.

- "Uh... Seaver's not my original last name. It's my mother's maiden name. Mine used to be Beauchamp. My father is Charles Beauchamp"- Ashley was supposed to explain the circumstances of her consultancy to the whole team, but she just looked at Spencer as she spoke.

- "As in the Redmond ripper, Charles Beauchamp?"- he asked her, and suddenly, it clicked. It was like my whole body was telling me I couldn't be close to her for a reason.

- "That's him,"- she whispered and kept her eyes on my best friend as he continued talking.

- "He killed 25 women over 10 years in rural North Dakota. I think that you caught him, right, Rossi?"- and David nodded.

- "Hotch was on that team, too."

- "Based on her life experience, we were hoping that agent Seaver might recognize something in the family dynamics inside the community that could be helpful. We have a plane waiting,"- Hotch announced and looked at us, but none of us said a word.

I kept my eyes glued at my feet the whole time Aaron talked. Then, Spencer nodded and walked with Seaver and Rossi out to the hangar. I couldn't even blink. I think I was in shock.

- "Her father was a serial killer?"- Prentiss asked Hotch, not getting what he was thinking.

- "That's definitely a different set of parameters,"- Morgan added. Neither of them was sold on the idea, which made me feel a little bit better.

- "I don't want her presence to get us sidetracked. It's a long shot that she's gonna see anything helpful. We work it like any other case,"- Hotch was clear, and Prentiss and Morgan nodded.

- "You got it."

But I disagreed with that.

- "(Y/N), is everything ok?"- Aaron asked me, and I tried my best to lie and be cool.

- "Yeah, I'm ok."

- "Ok. We work this like any other case. Wheels up in twenty."

But everything was far from being ok.

I sat next to Spencer on the jet, and we reviewed the case files together. Hotch briefed us, and we all pretended it wasn't weird having Seaver there. And I guess we had to pretend it wasn't odd knowing her dad was a serial killer.

- "You are very young, (Y/N),"- she said and smiled at me. She was sitting across from Spencer and me, and you could tell she had been trying to join the conversation for a few minutes now.

-" Twenty eight,"- I answered and looked at the files again.

- "And you, doctor?"

- "You can call me Reid. I'm twenty eight too,"- Spencer cut her a short, awkward, and nervous smile, and I turned to him.

- "Honey, did I leave my Mets jersey at your house?"- it was the only question that came to my mind at that minute. It was completely random, but somehow it showed a part of our dynamic that Ashley didn't know. Our friendship. Our closeness.

- "Yes, I found it last night,"- he answered and sipped his coffee- "I was gonna bring it over, but then I remembered you always borrow all my sweaters when you are home or when you stay over, so I thought maybe it was a good idea to keep it at my place."

- "I don't know, Batsy. It's my favorite sweatshirt- I raised an eyebrow, and I'm pretty sure I even flirted a little bit."

- "So? You need to keep one there."

- "But I like wearing your clothes when we are at your place. It's extra large and extra comfy."

- "Is that why you keep taking my sweaters back to your house?"- he asked and chuckled- "Last Sunday, I found four of my sweaters in your closet."

- "Sorry, I'm not even sorry,"- I said and laughed- "And what were you doing in my closet?"

- "Lucy, Ricky, can we focus on the case?"- Morgan asked and waved at us with one silly grin on his face- "We love hearing your adorable daily adventures, but we've got a psycho killer to catch."

Spencer blushed and flustered right away. I stuck out my tongue at Morgan and just shook my head. The way Seaver looked at Reid was still driving me nuts, but I felt I had shown her he was mine, childishly.

It's embarrassing to think that's not the most childish thing I did around her those days. Or in the weeks to follow. But I didn't like Ashley, and I didn't want her around my team. And it wasn't just her constant flirting with Spencer. It was the fact her father had killed my mother's sister when she was in college, and I was making my best effort to keep that fact aside from work. My personal life had to stay out of the FBI, especially when working a case.

I had to do some serious mental work trying to remember it wasn't Ashley's fault her father was a sick bastard. She hadn't hurt my family, and her father had ruined her life too. It wasn't her fault.

But one thing is knowing. Another thing is being rational about it. Spoiler: I wasn't so rational about it.

- "So, (Y/N). Do you like working at the BAU?"- Ashley asked me and looked at me through the rearview mirror. We were in the SUV, and Prentiss was driving. I was in the back seat, trying to ignore her, but she made it impossible.

- "Yes, very much,"- I answered and nodded, not taking my eyes from the window.

- "Everybody is very friendly,"- Seaver added and made a pause. I don't know if she wanted me to say something or if she was trying to find a way to say what she wanted to say.

- "Yes, they are,"- I humored her, and she quickly responded.

- "Are you and Spencer dating?"- I could feel the blood raising my cheeks as she spoke. And Prentiss flashed me a look through the mirror as Ashley continued talking.

- "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. I just wondered because of the fraternization policy."

- "Right. Sure. Of course."

Those three words were meant to let Ashley know I wasn't buying her bullshit, So I literally spit them.

- "Spencer is my best friend. We are not dating."

Facing that simple truth had never been harder before, especially after how I saw Ashley's face light up.

- "You just seem to be so close."

- "Oh, they are close,"- Emily smiled at me and winked- "They are so close, they sometimes freak us out."

- "We freak you out?"- I raised an eyebrow and carefully hit her arm, pretending to be upset. But honestly, I was glad she was teasing me.

- "I am just saying, we are all pretty suspicious about you two. I am actually surprised you didn't share rooms tonight. They usually share rooms."- Emily explained to Seaver.

- "He was paired with Morgan,"- I pouted and looked at my phone. I thought maybe I could send him a funny text. I actually wanted to hang out with him.

- "He is very nice,"- Ashley added- "I mean, everybody is nice."

- "Yes, you mentioned it"

I was clearly not being nice. Seaver nodded and looked at the files again. I assumed she was trying to find a way to keep asking about Spencer, and I was making my best not to kill her.

- "Working with a genius must be somehow intimidating,"- she said after a few minutes. Damn it, she wasn't going to let that subject go.

- "It's fun working with Spencer,"- Prentiss said, trying to humor Seaver. And mostly, I guess trying to ease my mood and keep me from killing the trainee agent.

- "I'm sure it is,"- Seaver added. I hated her.

- "He is more than just a genius, he is a nerd."- Emily pointed out and chuckled at her words, making Seaver giggle too. I looked at my book again, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to concentrate on it at all. He was my nerd. Mine.

- "Well, it's very refreshing to be with a group who trusts and works so well together,"- she added- "I had never felt less judged and more welcome in my entire life."

I know I should have felt sorry for her. But I honestly couldn't. That was the day I realized I wasn't the good person I thought I was. There was a part of me that was a scumbag. I'm guessing knowing that is pretty helpful and positive 'cos you can work on your flaws. But I wasn't planning on working on anything at that minute, though. I just wanted to break Seaver's face.

Spencer's point of view

I didn't like working without JJ. I've never been good with change, and that was a massive alteration of our routine. I missed her, and adding Ashley to the team made things even weirder for me, even for a case. I didn't want to be judgemental, but her father was a serial killer. Of course, that would make things weird.

Besides, everybody kept bugging me, teasing me, trying to see if I liked Seaver. Penelope called while we were on the case and started taunting me, saying she knew I thought Ashley was cute. I could see she was beautiful, but I couldn't see her that way. And I didn't want anyone to say those kinds of things around (Y/N).

Why did I care so much?

I didn't want to face it 'cos I knew it was completely platonic, but I didn't want (Y/N) to think I had a crush on Seaver. I knew my best friend didn't have romantic feelings for me, and I also knew I wasn't going to make a move on her or anything. But I didn't want things to change more than they already had. And most of all, I didn't want anything to alter my dynamic with (Y/N).

But at the same time, somehow, it felt everything was already different between us.

- "Hey, honey bunny,"- (Y/N) walked to me and handed me a cup of coffee- "I thought you might need one of these."

- "You are a lifesaver,"- I whispered and sipped the cup. It was perfect.

We were on the jet on our way back home. The whole team was mostly quiet. The mood was weird. Ashley had done something quite reckless earlier and nearly got herself killed. She walked to the unsub's house all alone, not knowing he was our guy. She almost died, and none of us can even imagine what went through her head to do such a thing.

Rossi and Hotch walked to her. (Y/N) looked at me, and I could read on her face that both of us knew what was going to happen.

Ashley was alone when David sat in front of her, and Hotch stood in the middle of the aisle. Maybe that had been insensitive of us. Neither of us tried to contain her. Neither of us really knew her that well. Or at all, as a matter of fact.

- "You were not supposed to go off on your own."- Hotch went straight to the point.

- "I know,"- she whispered, and I could see how (Y/N)'s face changed. I tried to read her, but all I was able to see was... anger? I had to be wronged. She had no reason to be mad at Ashley.

- "You could have been killed,"- Hotch crossed his arms on his chest and stared at her.

- "I know that, too."

- "Why, Ashley? You're smarter than that"- Rossi sounded like a worried father. I didn't look at him 'cos I kept my eyes on (Y/N)'s, still trying to read her emotions. But what I saw made no sense. She really looked like she was angry at Ashley. Like she hated her.

- "I never got to apologize to any of the victims. The families of the women my father killed. I thought if I could just apologize to one family that had been hurt that way..."

And that was when (Y/N) snapped. She jumped from her seat and walked to Seaver. Aaron and David looked at her surprised, and Morgan turned to me, taking off his headphones. Neither he nor Prentiss got what was happening until that moment.

- "Ok. Shoot!"- (Y/N) sat right in front of Seaver, next to David, and looked at her. But she didn't get it.

- "What? What are you talking about?"

- "You just said you wanted to apologize to one of the families. So go ahead. Try."

The silence on the jet was so deep and awkward it felt no one was ever going to talk again.

- "I'm sorry, (Y/N). But I don't get what you are implying,"- Ashley's voice was a whisper. I knew she was sad and affected, embarrassed even. But I also knew (Y/N), and I could read it on her face. She wasn't joking.

- "You said you wanted to apologize to the family of one of your dad's victims, so go ahead. Apologize to me."

My first instinct was to stand up, which I did. But I froze and didn't take a step closer to (Y/N) when I noticed the severe and cold look in her eyes. I didn't know what she was talking about. But I knew she wasn't bluffing.

- "Why should I... apologize to you?"- Ashley asked her, and her voice broke at a certain point, probably scared of the answer.

- "Your dad killed my mother's older sister. She was in college,"- (Y/N) spit each word with hate and looked at Ashley, waiting for her reply. But Seaver didn't know what to do. She widened her eyes and stayed still. She barely kept her breathing steady.

- "(Y/N), maybe we should let Seaver rest,"- Hotch landed a hand on her shoulder, but my friend shook her head.

- "No, Hotch. By making that choice, she put everyone at risk,"- (Y/N) didn't take her eyes from Ashley as she spoke- "As far as I remember when you are at the academy, they teach you that in the field, we are responsible to and for your team."

- "(Y/N)... I had no idea..."- Ashley tried to apologize, I could see it, but it was clear she wasn't going to win that argument- "I am so sorry."

- "I don't know, Seaver. Did you think saying "sorry" would make those families feel better? 'Cos it ain't working here. "Sorry" won't make my mom stop feeling guilty about what happened. And, if things had gotten ugly back there, "sorry" wouldn't have made your mistake go away in case anyone would have gotten hurt. So no. Sorry doesn't help. Maybe it can ease your conscience, but when you really fuck it up, it never makes things better."

(Y/N) stood up and walked back to her seat in front of me. I let her pass and didn't say a word. I knew she wouldn't want to talk about it there. And, of course, Seaver didn't say a word. She just stood up and walked to the back of the jet, to the bathroom. Rossi and Hotch looked at each other and then looked at me.

David poured a glass of whiskey and walked to (Y/N) slowly. He didn't say a word, he just handed it to her, and she just took it and sipped it with shaky hands.

- "Thanks,"- she whispered, and Rossi nodded. Hotch raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, I thought he was going to say something, but he didn't. He just walked to his seat and opened a case file.

I moved back to my seat and opened my satchel. I had run out of candies earlier that day, so I didn't have much to give to her that could make her smile. So I picked a book and handed it to her. She took it and smiled at me kindly. I knew she was fighting back the tears, and I am sure she has held back all the emotions than being with the daughter of the man who killed her aunt since she knew who Seaver was. And she managed to do the job well. I was proud of her.

- "Wanna grab something to eat when we reach DC?"- I whispered, but for the first time ever, she shook her head.

- "I'm gonna have to catch a rain check for that dinner. I think I wanna go straight to my bed today, honey."- she sipped her glass again, and I nodded.

- "Don't worry, next time."

I was waiting for the train to go back home later that night when I saw Seaver sitting at a bench at the station, staring at her hands on her lap. I didn't see her leaving the BAU, though to be honest, I was really focused on finishing my paperwork to go home. (Y/N) had left as soon as we reached DC, but I had stayed a little longer.

I hesitated for a few seconds before I took a few steps closer and waved at Seaver. She looked at me surprised, as soon as she saw me, but didn't move. I smiled, trying to look friendly, and sat next to her.

- "Hi. What are you doing here?"- I asked her, and she shrugged.

- "I was going to go home, but I think I sat here half an hour ago and haven't been able to move,"- I turned to her and shook my head.

- "Do you want to eat something?"- after what had happened at the jet, I figured Ashley wasn't feeling so good, and maybe talking with someone could help her. She looked at me and blushed; I don't know why. But at least, she smiled and nodded.

- "Great, pizza?"

- "Pizza sounds good."

We were waiting for our food and making small talk. I kept giving Ashley pizza facts to fill the silence 'cos it was weird hanging out with Ashley. I didn't know her, really. We had worked a case together, but that didn't mean I knew her. And, of course, we had the whole jet incident. I felt a little guilty about what had happened, though it wasn't my fault at all in retrospect. I just felt like it was my job cheering her up a little bit after everything she had gone through.

- "How do you do it?"- she asked me all of a sudden- "How do you deal with the pressure of this job?"

- "You get used to it, I guess. I don't know if it's a good thing to get used to, but... it comes with the job, I think,"- I didn't know if I was doing ok comforting her. Then again, I have never been particularly good at it. Not then, not now.

- "Did you always dream about doing this?"- she asked me, and her eyes locked into mine in a way that made me feel slightly uncomfortable.

- "Y... yes. Ever since I was a kid, catching the bad guys,"- Seaver nodded and sipped her coke- "You? Why did you get into the academy?"

I regretted my question right after I asked, just 'cos I realized she might have done it to understand her father's behavior. It was only apparent that had shaped her actions.

- "I guess you know that..."- Ashley answered and smiled, her eyes looking straight into mine. I know I blushed. She is a beautiful woman, though I wasn't thinking about her that way. It was an odd feeling being observed that way.

I was glad our pizza made it to the table, and we were forced to stop talking, and I could focus on anything else but her. Not that I didn't want to look at her, but... I think the right way to explain it is to call it "uneasy." That's how I felt. I wanted to be friendly with her, she had a horrible experience consulting with the team, and I was sure she wasn't really having a good day.

- "This might sound weird, but... do you think I can call you sometime?"- Ashley asked after a few minutes. We were eating and talking about nothing important. I nearly chook at her words and looked at her, nodding.

- "Sure, why?"- I didn't mean to be rude. I just didn't know why she might need to talk to me again.

- "I just think maybe you could help me with a few assignments at the academy."

- "Yeah, of course."

Ashley Seaver smiled and nodded at me, pleased. She took a sip of Sprite, and I could read her, trying to find the words to continue speaking.

- "I'm glad. I was sure you were going to say no."

- "Why?"- I furrowed my brows, confused- "I'm not a big fan of phones, but I can handle a casual phone call."

- "No, I just didn't think your girlfriend would like... I mean, I think (Y/N) hates me, and as her boyfriend, I thought you... would... I don't know."

- "I'm, we are... we,"- I was completely flustered as I tried to rearrange my thoughts. Seaver looked at me innocently and waited for my words.

- "(Y/N) isn't my girlfriend"- it bothered me to admit that simple fact. Why? 'Cos it hurt to think we looked like a couple, but we weren't. Why did Seaver think we were together?

- "Really? But..."

- "She is my best friend,"- I explained poorly. She nodded and hesitated before saying what she was thinking. It was obvious she was trying to arrange the words in her head.

- "It's just that you two... sorry, I'm overstepping,"- Ashley blushed and shook her head- "She is... strong."

- "Yes, very."

- "I think I started with the wrong foot with her."

- "Well, I don't mean to justify anything, but if your father hurt,"- I made a pause, trying to find a way to say it that wasn't so painful.

- "Killed. My father killed her aunt,"- she corrected me with a cold and monotonous tone of voice. I just nodded and sipped my water.

- "She is an amazing person,"- I don't know if I was trying to excuse (Y/N)'s earlier behavior or if I just loved her so much I needed to tell people how awesome she was.

- "I'm sure you will pass this,"- I assured her- "Once you get to know her, and she gets to know you."

- "I don't think she will give me that chance. Besides, I was just clear to assist with only one case."

- "If you want to stay, you can request your remedial training be here. And if Hotch approves it, I could talk to (Y/N). I'm sure she will like to know you better."

Why did I say all that? I had no idea.

- "Thank you, Spence. You are really sweet,"- Ashley moved closer and held my hand. I stayed very still, absolutely awkward.

- "Yeah, I don't... like... holding hands,"- I quickly moved it away and tried to smile at her. She stayed still, not understanding my reaction but trying to act normal.

- "Sorry."

- "That's ok. I'm a germaphobe, that's all."

After pizza, we left the place and said goodnight. I told Ashley I was weary (which was, in fact, the truth) and got her a cab to take her home. After that, I walked to my place. I felt like I needed to be alone for a while. My head was overwhelmed, and in the latest couple of weeks, I had severe trouble sleeping.

I had migraines that nearly blinded me. I was scared they meant I could develop the first signs of schizophrenia, like mom, 'cos they were coming more and more often. It wasn't that bad yet, the light didn't hurt my eyes, and I didn't have any sign of hallucination, but still, I knew it could be serious.

I tried to think of a reason why I might be having those severe headaches. I was eating correctly, mostly 'cos (Y/N) forced me to eat. No, she didn't force me, but she made sure I had all my meals at work, not just coffee. And usually, at the weekends, we would spend our time together, and she was a fantastic cook. So it wasn't an alimentary issue.

I wasn't sleeping well. That wasn't new, but it was getting serious. I wrote and read a lot at night 'cos I couldn't fall asleep until late. I didn't know why. I just couldn't rest. My body ached, and my brain wouldn't sleep. The only nights I could actually get some rest were the ones when (Y/N) stayed with me. It was a blessing when Hotch paired us to share rooms, 'cos I could easily fall asleep when she was around. Her presence soothed me in a way that I didn't understand. Let me put it this way, I know it might sound cheesy, but the beating of her heart set the rhythm for my own, and at night it would bring me peace.

I reached home that night and sighed. I knew I wasn't going to rest easy. (Y/N) wasn't there with me. So I made myself a cup of herbal tea, (Y/N) had a lot of those in my house, and I drank them when I missed her. The smell coming from the cup made me feel like she was close.

How pathetic I had become! But I could only share those thoughts with myself. No one knew I had feelings for her, and I was going to deny it till the end, no matter what had JJ said. I couldn't take that phone call from my mind, and on those sleepless nights, I kept overthinking and overanalyzing everything.

I got into bed with a few books and my cup of herbal tea. I took a look at my cell phone, two new messages.

- "I miss u"

(Y/N) sent, and a warm feeling spread on my chest as I imagined her whispering those words as I read them

- "Breakfast tomorrow before work?"

- "See you at seven-thirty."

I typed and sent it.

What could ever happen if I told her how much in love I am with her? I would lose her, and I'd be alone. She didn't feel that way for me. It was a fact. I was just glad she was my best friend, and I could share everything with her. Was I pathetic? Yes, very, but in a way, it felt it was just all I deserved. Not more, not less. Just being in love with a girl who didn't love me back.

At least she wasn't dating Paul anymore. I hated that guy.

(Y/N)'s point of view

Spencer was waiting for me outside our usual coffee shop, already holding two cups of coffee. His short hair looked dreamy as she smiled and took off his sunglasses. It had to be illegal being that hot. But, seriously, how didn't he get laid? He was fucking dreamy. In the four years we had been best friends, I saw Spencer in many hairstyles, and each of them made him look like a model.

Falling in love with Spencer Reid had been a process I hadn't actually been fully aware of. But I was completely conscious I needed to hide those feelings from him and from everybody at the BAU.

Ok, fine, I had somehow faced part of those feelings in front of my drunk best buddies at Penelope's house, but I never actually confirmed anything. I had just... shared some of my frustrations, I guess.

- "Good morning, honey bunny,"- I smiled and sighed as I stood in front of Spencer, watching him grin back at me and hand me one of the coffee cups.

- "Good morning, chipmunk. Did you get some rest?"

- "Yes, I fell asleep as soon as I reached my bed. I was exhausted."

- "I'm glad you are fully rested."

- "What did you do yesterday?"

- "Nothing,"- he answered quickly and turned around- "I got you a carrot muffin to go."

- "Thank you so much. I'm starving. I didn't even have dinner yesterday."

- "Really?"

- "I told you, I reached home and crawled into my bed."

We walked outside the coffee shop in silence. Spencer bit his donuts, and I ate my muffin. It was nice and calming being with him doing domestic things in life.

I hated how much in love I was with him 'cos I knew I had to shake that feeling away. He was never going to have feelings for me. I was a regular human being, and Spencer Walter Reid was a genius. He deserved better, he was actually never to think about me that way, and I refused to ruin our friendship with those feelings.

- "So, Comic-con is coming. What are we doing this year?"- I asked as I drove us to Quantico.

- "I was thinking we should do something classic,"- he looked at me, nearly beaming on his seat- "We haven't done Star Wars yet."

- "Really?"- I frowned, confused- "All these years? Are you sure?"

- "(Y/N), eidetic memory,"- he argued, and I chuckled- "So, how do you feel about Leia?"

- "Do I have to be Leia 'cos I'm a girl?"- I asked him, and he flustered right away.

- "What? No, you can be whoever you want to be. I was just, it came to my mind... I didn't,"- I giggled and looked at him for a second.

- "I'm messing with you, Batsy. I always wanted to dress as Leia. Surprisingly, I never had. Padme once, it was a mess, but never Leia. Who are you planning to be?"

- "Maybe Luke... or Obi-Wan. Morgan suggested C3PO once."

- "If I'm Leia, you should be Han,"- I don't know why I said that out loud. I thought about it, I pictured it in my head, but I knew I shouldn't have said it. Then why did those words leave my mouth? I don't know.

- "Han Solo... yes... yeah, sure. Of course! We can pick our outfits this weekend."

- "Great! What do you think would look better? Slave Leia or classic all in white Leia?"- Spencer didn't answer. He just sipped his coffee and looked outside the window.

- "You would look good in both,"- his cellphone interrupted our conversations, and I thought it might be a case. But I was so wrong, it hurt.

- "Hello? Oh, hi, Ashley,"- I nearly hit the break as soon as I heard him saying her name, but instead, I turned around and looked at him.

- "Good, yes. On my way to work with (Y/N). Oh, that's good."

I didn't care what she was saying. I just needed to know why that bitch was calling him. I was blind in jealousy, and I was having a hard time hiding it.

- "Really? Emily? That's... that's great. Sure, we'll see you around, gotta go. Bye."

- "What the fuck?"- I swear, I didn't think what I was saying. Those words just slip through my lips straight from my guts. I hated Seaver.

- "That was Ashley."

- "Figured when you said "Hi Ashley." What? Are you best friends with her now?"

- "What? No! No way! She just wanted to say hi... and... She.... asked for my number 'cos she wanted to help her with some of the academy's projects,"- Spencer was so nervous he actually stuttered as he answered my simple question.

- "Of course, she did,"- my voice was bitter and hurt, but most of all, ironic. And I don't know if Spencer didn't want to understand me or actually didn't get the hint, but he just continued talking.

- "She wanted to tell me she requested her remedial training be at the BAU."

- "What?!"- that wasn't subtle. I actually yelled- "I'm gonna have to see her again?"

- "If Hotch approves..."

- "Fuck!! That's awful!!"- I hit the wheel, frustrated.

- "She's not a bad person, (Y/N). Her dad was a murderer, but that doesn't mean..."- I turned to look at Spencer for a second, and he just shut up- "Sorry."

- "I don't like her, Spencer."

- "Yes, I know."

- "Her dad killed my aunt!!"

- "I know..."

- "And on top of that, that bitch is..."

I had to bite my lips and focus on the road, actually holding my breath for a few seconds, just not to open my mouth and ruin it all.

The main reason why I hated Ashley Seaver wasn't just because of what her father had done. That itself was enough to keep her away. But on top of that, she was flirting with Spencer. She wasn't even subtle about it; she was nearly all over him. I saw her! She wanted him, and he had no idea! He was blind to her attention. Unless he liked it. Did he? Shit, I hoped not.

- "She what?"- Spencer whispered, scared of my reaction.

- "She plays the pity card the whole time. Bad things happen to all of us. You don't have to make it who you are, she does, and she expects sympathy."

I grabbed my muffin and took a big bite of it. Spencer sighed and stayed quiet for a moment, giving me space to decompress, I think.

- "Did you know the origins of carrot cake are disputed by many countries?"- I looked at Spencer, and he nodded- "Many food historians believe carrot cake originated from the English recipe of carrot puddings, eaten by Europeans in the Middle Ages when sugar and sweeteners were expensive, and many people used carrots as a substitute for sugar."

- "My mom would fight all those historians and convince them she invented it. Her carrot cake is the best."

- "And I would agree, the cake she baked for your last birthday was amazing."- I nodded and heard him chuckle as I kept my eyes on the road. I wanted to focus on the memories of my last birthday and how fun it was, but something was bugging me.

- "And why did she call you to tell you what she wanted to do?"- I parked the car outside the BAU and turned to Spencer. He opened his mouth, but no word came from it. So I asked him again.

- "Honey, why did Seaver call you to announce she would take the remedial training at the BAU?"

- "It... might... had been my idea,"- he whispered and held his satchel tight against his body. I didn't know what to say. I couldn't believe it.

- "Why on earth did you do that, Spencer?!"- I shouted as I got out of the car, grabbed my purse, my clean go bag in case we had a case, and started walking towards the building.

- "It wasn't like a suggestion. She just..."

- "I can't believe it!!"

- "It doesn't have to be that bad! It's just for a few weeks..."

- "Hopefully, Hotch won't accept."

- "(Y/N), come on,"- Spencer held my hand and stopped me- "This is not like you. Yeah, you don't like her, but you are making it a big deal, and it's not."

- "I'm starting to think you are crushed on her,"- I didn't want to say those words. They just slipped.

- "What!? Why? No!! I'm not!"- the high pitch on Spencer's voice was a clear sign of how uncomfortable he was with the conversation.

- "Then why are you defending her?"

- "I am not! I'm just saying maybe you are acting a little bit... irrational about this whole thing. She hasn't done anything bad."

- "Other than jeopardizing the whole case yesterday?"

- "Right, other than that..."

I felt Spencer's hand in mine, and I swear, I couldn't stop thinking about how it felt. It kept sending shivers all over my body. His thumb rubbed small circles on my skin, probably trying to calm me down, and it worked. I followed it with my eyes for a second as I took a few deep breaths and nodded.

- "Ok, I won't make a big deal if she stays."

- "Thank you."

- "Just... don't ask me to be her friend."

- "You don't have to be her friend."

Spencer stood in front of me and smiled. I swear all I could think of was kissing him. And a part of me felt it was getting harder and harder to resist. He put on his sunglasses and kept his hand in mine for a moment until Penelope's voice took us from our little bubble.

- "Good morning, my wonder babies!! Ready to fight crime?"

I actually didn't know what I was getting into.

Hotch had taken the day off. We were around the one-year anniversary of Haley's death, and according to what Rossi explained to us, Jack wasn't feeling so good. It was said it would be just a day or two, but I had the feeling it might be a couple of weeks. Hotch would always put himself second, but he would do whatever it took to keep him safe when it came to his son.

Morgan had been asked to take a trip to Petersburg Federal Correctional Complex to do a risk assessment on a case, so Spencer, Prentiss, and I were in the bullpen. Garcia was in her office, and Rossi was in a meeting with Strauss. I'd say it was a very calm morning, catching up with all the pending paperwork we had. Spencer had just gotten me a cup of coffee when I heard Seaver's cheerful voice.

- "Hi guys!"- she walked in with a big smile and waved- "How are you?"

Spencer looked at me as we all said our hellos. I could almost read "Please, be nice" written all over his face, and for a moment, I was willing to do as told. I didn't want him to suspect why I was so annoyed by her after all.

- "I talked to Hotch"- Emily smiled at Seaver and moved a chair for her- He signed off your remedial training, and I'll be your training agent. I'll supervise your work. I already told Rossi too, so it's official.

Ashley jumped from her chair and hugged Emily. I rolled my eyes and stared at the file on my desk. I really wasn't ready to deal with her. I wasn't prepared to deal with someone trying to steal Spencer from me.

Ok, Spencer wasn't mine to keep, but we had been inseparable for four years, and I didn't want to lose that. I didn't want to lose him.

I had never been ready to deal with Spencer dating other girls. The few times girls had hit on him had been awful. Once, Morgan took him to a club when we were on a case, 'cos the unsub was picking his victims there, and he taught him how to pick up girls. The bartender ended up giving him her number 'cos my dorky best friend was charming. Derek still remembered that moment from time to time, quoting it as "The day he turned Spencer into a man."

I loved Derek, but fuck, I hated him sometimes.

- "Welcome to the team,"- Spencer waved at Seaver from his desk and turned to me, raising an eyebrow.

- "Yeah, welcome,"- I added and cut her a short smile.

- "I'm thrilled to join you guys for a few weeks. I always dreamt of being here. I'm ready for making it up after the last case."

- "Don't be so hard on yourself,"- Prentiss interrupted her and smiled friendly- "You remained calm under pressure, and the case was solved. That's all that matters."

I had to control myself not to snort after Emily's words. Instead, I kept my eyes locked on my desk like I had done before. I was so focused on it that I could have actually developed telekinesis skills and moved the freaking file with my eyes.

- "I just wanted to say thank you to all of you,"- Seaver's voice was soft, in a mix of fear, excitement, and... something else I couldn't read.

- "Especially you, Spencer. I really enjoyed our talk last night, and I have the feeling I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. Thank you for the pizza. I owe you dinner."

- "Don't, it was nothing,"- Spencer flustered and stood up quickly, grabbing his pile of files and walking away, arguing he needed to ask Garcia something.

I did my best not to move a muscle. I didn't want Seaver to know how much I hated the fact she had shared what seemed to be a lovely evening with Spencer. One he didn't actually mention when we talked about what we had done the previous evening. Why did he decide to keep me in the dark? I couldn't understand that. Maybe he just didn't want me to know he actually had feelings for Seaver. Maybe he had asked her out, and because he knew I hated her (though he really didn't know why), he decided not to tell me what was going on.

I had been wasting all that time in love with Spencer. I knew I would never act on those feelings, and clearly, he didn't have feelings for me. So... maybe it was time to let him go.

How could I let Spencer Reid go when I never actually had him?

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Next update: June 16th, 2021

#spencer reid #Criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #diwk #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds re write

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whoacanada · 3 years

Text

‘Wishful Thinking‘

Summary: Every NHL champion gets a single brush with ice magic. When Jack takes his first cup with the Falconers, he accidentally undoes the wish that brought him back from the brink of death in 2009, and Bitty becomes hell-bent on lifting the cup himself for a chance to set things right.

A/N: Finally posting some concepts I’ve played around with that aren’t 100% complete massive fics, but still pretty solid, just little things that might be enjoyed. Yet another cup-wish-gone-wrong-au with monkey-paw components. Also inspired by discord convos about canon!Jack meeting an older, veteran NHL!Bitty and having a lot of feelings. Also mentor/father-in-law!Bob trying to help Bitty navigate the NHL. There’s more to this floating around but this is the meat of it

____________

Bob can sense when it happens. A shift of something monumental that he’s only felt on a handful of occasions his entire life. A quick glance across the ice finds a number of the celebrating Falconers looking around curiously, unsure of the sensation; for so many, it’s their first brush with ice magic. A pleasant novelty. The vets, though, they look to each other.

Bob turns and doesn’t have to look far to find his son, one hand clasped around the cup, the other around Eric Bittle’s waist, smiling from ear to ear. Something about the moment is wrong, but Bob can’t quite determine why as he’s overcome with a wave of nausea. The stadium lights are too bright and he blinks hard, face scrunching, trying to force whatever wrongness he’s feeling out of himself.

Someone’s made a wish.

The moment passes. Bob’s vision clears. There, veiled in a shower of blue and gold confetti, is Eric; alone at center ice, face twisted in confusion as he looks around for the man who only moments earlier had been in his arms.

“You take the cup, you get one real wish,” the decades old, bourbon-lacquered voice of his first coach reminds him. “But only the one. Can be something small, like an empty cab in the rain, or it can be something big. World changing, even. The one thing, the most important thing — ”

“No,” Bob breathes. “Please, no.”

“— You never use your wish on another player.”

____________

They don’t know exactly what Jack wished for, but the next time Bitty’s blades touch the ice, it’s as if he’s stepped into the body of a new man. No more slurs. No more targeted chirps. He’s just one of the boys.

He plays. He wins. Then, the offers start to come.

NHL teams looking for fast wingers, team players, leadership material; not one of them mentions diversity, or Eric’s status as the first out NCAA hockey captain. No one cares. No one remembers Jack, and no one cares about Eric.

The best and worst case scenarios rolled into one. If this is the reality Jack unknowingly traded his existence for, Bitty has no choice but to walk through the door his partner opened.

Bitty swallows, trying to force the words out on one of his now nightly calls with the man who would have been his father-in-law in another world, if the shared connection between them hadn’t been interred in a Montréal cemetery almost a decade prior.

“I think . . . I think he wished for acceptance.”

___________

“No one remembers anymore.”

Eric scuffs his skate against this ice, building up a small pile of shavings before scattering them again, focusing on the soft white as if somehow he’ll be able to transport himself bodily to somewhere cool and quiet. Jackson Hole. Banff. Tremblant. Anywhere but here. Anywhen but now.

“Saw Tater last week at a press junket. Blank stares all around. Some days, most days, I wake up and I don’t know how I got here. I can go without thinking of him.”

Weeks. Eric doesn’t say aloud. Months. Those hideous mornings when he wakes up beside a warm body and forgets they aren’t him. They aren’t supposed to be him. Was there ever even a him.

Jack. Eric mouths silently, just to remind himself. His name is Jack.

The details always slip. The universe constantly trying to correct the fallacy of Eric Bittle remembering a man who died before they technically ever met. Faded photographs and corrupted memory cards. Selfies that used to have two people in frame. Vlog posts with cosmic ADR, swapping Jack’s name for someone else’s like a hastily rewritten script. Eventually, even Eric’s memories turn traitor. First times lost to reshoots and post-production magic. Blue eyes are brown. Black hair is blonde. Jack becomes Phillip. Eric’s first love recast. In desperation, he pulls a page from Memento, finds a tattoo parlor and has ‘Jack Laurent Zimmermann’ inked in dark, unmistakable letters on his inner thigh. Adds a cup, the Falconers’ crest, and the date they lost everything. It works well enough until the name fades; there are still days where a hook up will ask why Eric has a championship tattoo for a team he never played with.

Now, all he has is Bob.

“That’s why I’m here.” Bob reminds. “That’s why we talk.”

“But what happens if we don’t.”

Bob’s familiar assurances rumble through the phone. Constant. Refusing to acknowledge the harsh realities of the passing of time. The ever-present doomsday clock moving them both toward disaster — Bob aging, Eric aging out. He’s good, but he isn’t great, and the only offers coming his way are single-season contracts with teams that haven’t sniffed a championship in years. One day very soon, there will be no more chances for Eric to undo what’s been done. No more favors to ask of teammates that have long since forgotten a world where Jack Zimmermann was a college graduate and a rookie MVP. Not just an addict. Not just dead at nineteen.

Eric listens to Bob ramble, asks him to tell him a story, to tell him about the Jack that Eric never really got to know. The Jack he can barely remember. A man that Eric has dedicated his entire life to honoring, to bringing back — from where he cannot fathom — and Bob obliges in a soft tone Eric imagines is not dissimilar from how he must have spoken to his son as a child.

Eric ignores his teammates rushing around him — tossing chirps and gentle insults about his ‘Sugar Daddy’ — and focuses on the accented voice in his ear; grasping desperately at the memory of a man who doesn’t exist. Pretending. Hoping.

__________

Across the ice, Eric sees Kent Parson watching him. When they lock eyes, the aging star glides toward him, under a guise of one amicable captain greeting another. He’s pushing 37, and while the years of competitive play are starting to show, he’s just as viciously handsome as the day they first met. At least, Eric thinks he is. He can’t imagine a life where Kent Parson strolled onto a college campus and played beer pong at a frat party, but there’s a folder of old photos on Eric’s computer. Jack is in none of them, but there’s one of himself and Kent. Smiling.

Eric can’t recall why the image bothers him so much.

Parson used his wish years ago on something that he’s never bothered to share — and Eric’s far too much a gentleman to ask a man who was once a rival what he wasted his golden ticket on — but now, he’s slowing down, and this is supposed to be his farewell season. Going out with a bang, riding the high of his fifth cup win. He’s worked hard, and he deserves to shove the Penguins back down into obscurity for another season. Deserves it far more than Eric, with his selfish, single-mindedness that’s ruined god knows how many careers in the last decade between his own ruthlessness and Bob’s meddling.

Except. . . this is also likely Eric’s last season. His last chance to undo the great tragedy of his life, and Parson knows it.

“How you feeling, Peaches? You ready?”

Eric hates the nickname in the same way he hates when his father calls him ‘Champ’.

Eric fights his own shame because he wants to be honest, say, ‘No, I’m not ready, I’ll never be ready,’ but Eric can’t ask for what he wants, anymore. He wants the Aces to balk on a power play. He wants Parson to flub a pass and throw the game — he even knows the man would probably do it, too — but Eric needs to come by a win honestly. They learned the hard way in 2022 when Eric hands were wrapped around the cup, wishing, praying, crying, pleading . . .

Clear eyes, full hearts, or some such bullshit.

Cheaters don’t get wishes.

“I can’t remember, anymore,” Eric admits as they square up across the face-off circle, the resigned terror of an inescapable end creeping upon him like the burn of an old injury ignored for far too long. “Kent. Please.” Parson leans down, rests his stick against the ice, and holds Eric’s gaze as if to say, I’m here. Trust me. Just play.

The puck drops.

________

There’s someone watching him, young, handsome with dark hair and the kind of bright blue eyes that scream ‘notice me’ with all of the biological bluntness of neon plumage and a mating dance. The man weaves through the crowd, unnoticed by Eric’s teammates, and comes close enough that Eric can’t help but assume familiarity. He must be a fan, the way he’s flushed and excitable.

Eric’s drunk enough on the moment that he’s happy to indulge his baser instincts. He also literally can’t remember the last time he brought company home and if there’s ever been a night to get laid, it’s this one.

“Crisse, look at you, Bits.”

The man is caught between being awestruck and simply struck, reaching out to touch Eric’s arm but not quite making contact, like his depth perception is the tiniest bit off. He drops Eric’s old nickname so easily, so earnestly, that for a moment Eric thinks they might already know each other — but that’s impossible. Eric would remember someone so handsome, so very much his type.

“Only my friends call me ‘Bitty’.” Eric cautions, raising his half-empty champagne bottle in a mock toast and flashing his best ‘you’re coming home with me tonight’ smile. “But I’m more than happy to to get acquainted with you, Sugar.”

Eric isn’t usually this forward, this unrestrained. Tonight, it doesn’t matter, he’s celebrating: another championship, the end of a career, a life well lived. It’s to be expected. What isn’t expected is how the man’s relieved smile falters; as if Eric’s unbridled joy is somehow misplaced.

“Bitty? It’s me.”

“And ‘me’ is called . . . ?”

On very few occasions in Eric’s life has he been able to witness true devastation first-hand; and those instances were related to deaths, hockey losses, or blackout morning afters.

“Jack.” The man says softly, face slack with surprise. “It’s. . . Jack. Bitty, you know me.”

“If we’ve met before, I’m sorry,” Eric apologizes, hating to see the kid look so defeated. “I meet so many people — ”

Over Jack’s shoulder, Eric catches sight of Bob Zimmermann and waves, delighting in the way Bob’s face lights up when he catches sight of Eric, practically going supernova when he notices Jack as well, crossing the ice like a man possessed; Bob moves to pull them both into a hug but Eric’s new friend holds up a defensive hand and Bob stops mid-gesture.

It’s extremely apparent something is off, and between the reporters, the confetti, the champagne, and the fans, Eric is missing all of the context clues.

“Just won my last cup,” Eric singsongs, gesturing with the bottle between his mentor and the man Eric would very much like to fuck — who look very similar now that Eric can see them side by side. “Everyone’s super excited, right? Yeah? So, what’s going on. Did someone die?”

“No.” Bob says quickly, eyes flicking between Jack and Eric warily. “No. Not . . . that.”

“Severely injured?”

“. . . Non.”

“Okay, then, we should be celebrating!” Eric throws his arms wide and nearly clocks a passing teammate. “No more party pooping, Bobbert. Speaking, this is my new friend, Jack. Jack, Bob, Bob, Jack. Though, I’m getting the feeling you two might know each other. Or might be . . . related.” Eric gasps and smacks his free palm against his forehead. “Oh my god, the Tremblant retreat? Is that where I know you from? Listen, I was fucked up on pain meds that whole weekend, I am so sorry if we’ve already met.”

Despite Eric’s continued attempts at clarifying their shared mystery past, Jack keeps looking at Bob with that same wounded expression and it’s really killing Eric’s buzz.

“Bob.” Eric redirects. “Help me, here. Cutie’s nervous.”

“Eric, this is my, ah, well,” Bob’s smile is so forced, so tense, it looks more like a grimace. “Well, this is my son, Jack.”

There is only one ‘Jack’ Eric has ever known in relation to Bob Zimmermann, and he is not someone to be mentioned in polite conversation.

“Your son?” Eric echoes slowly. “Your son, Jack.”

Bob realizes what Eric’s tiptoeing around and casts a furtive glance toward the younger man, lifting two fingers to his cheek conspiratorially to imply ‘it’s a long story, not meant for public ears’. Eric knows how to play along.

“Wow, okay, did not expect that, but now that you’re saying it, I can one-hundred-percent tell. You have the same, well, everything.”

Eric takes Jack’s hand for an obligatory shake, not missing the way Jack’s features twist up into something caught between flattery and misery, before staring down his pseudo-mentor.

“My question is this, where have you’ve been hiding him — because how long have I know you, Bobby? Shame.”

“I’ve been . . . away.”

Jack’s tone is weighted with context Eric absolutely does not possess, but can definitely read into. Given the age difference and Alicia’s conspicuous lack of attendance this evening, Jack’s definitely a love child from some 90s Zimmergroupie. Or, original Jack didn’t actually OD and Bob spirited away his kid to keep away the prying eyes of the public; but that wouldn’t explain the age difference or the shared name.

Oh, Bobbert.

“Couldn’t wheel him out too soon,” Bob jokes, but Eric can tell the man’s heart isn’t in it, reinforcing Eric’s suspicion.

“Well, I’m happy you did,” Eric says graciously, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. “He’s very handsome, when he isn’t doing this Eeyore impression.”

“Just like his father,” Bob says reflexively — defensively — as Jack goes pink. “Eric, will you excuse us for a moment? Back in five minutes, tops.”

Eric offers a gracious wave, gaze lingering on Jack’s retreating back — and backside, bless — watching Bob rest a firm hand on his son’s neck, gripping tightly to lean in and furiously whisper something. As Eric watches, Jack looks back over his shoulder; it’s not the fond glance of a potential paramour. Regret, maybe? Grief, definitely.

He must be as disappointed to be cock-blocked by his father as Eric is.

Across the ice, Kent Parson has rushed Jack, gathering him into a crushing embrace that the younger man returns easily — burying his face against Parson’s pads; pulling back only when Parson grabs Jack’s shoulders to push him away, taking a long look at him, holding his face between his hands briefly before pulling Jack back into his arms.

They don’t just look like old friends, it’s a reunion of desperation, like the videos his mother sends of soldiers coming home from war, but before Eric can think better of it, a teammate fists a hand in the collar of Eric’s sweater and pulls — away from Bob’s forlorn love child and forgotten first meetings — and the night goes on.

Bob doesn’t return. Neither does Jack.

Eric doesn’t even notice.

__________

#Part I #maybe?#zimbits #omgcp #angst #long fic #cup magic #ice magic #my stuff #my fic #NHL!Bitty

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theonewiththefanfics · 3 years

Text

Because Hearts Get Broken (Part 1/3)

Synopsis: When your whole life you’ve been taught to push your feelings away, it’s hard to open up, even to the people you trust most. And sometimes what you give isn’t enough.

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: sad. just angsty and sad. swearing; emotionally closed reader

Word count: 2904

Y/N had never been the kind of person who talks about her feelings. It didn’t matter if it was friends or family; her mindset was – they’re my problems, so you don’t have to worry your head about it.

In relationships, it wasn’t any better, in fact, it was kinda worse. It was extremely difficult for the girl to open up to her partner, which in turn she’d let so many possible relationships pass her by. Not to mention, when she was in one, they slowly deteriorated because of her inability to share with them. Which is why it didn’t come as much of a surprise when it happened between her and Harry.

Somehow unconsciously Y/N had been almost preparing herself, preparing her heart for it to break. When he walked inside his place, she’d been there to prepare them a meal in. They’d both had a stressful couple of weeks with Harry starting off on a new album endeavour, while Y/N’s boss was practically threatening to rip her head off, as she scrambled to finish everything, even though the deadlines were months away.

It just all kind of came crashing down on her when her boss suddenly called her up, telling her to rush back to the office, and when Y/N asked if it could wait until the morning, the ultimatum came that if she wanted her job, she’d do it then and there.

“Hey.” She hadn’t heard Harry come in, only noticed it when his arm wrapped around her shaking shoulders. “Hey, shh, come ‘ere.”

Slowly, he laid the two of them down, letting her head be tucked beneath his chin, as his palm rubbed soothing circles on her back. “ ‘S gonna be okay, dove. ‘S gonna be alright. Come on, now.”

They laid like that for about five minutes, until Y/N pushed her face away from Harry’s chest and laid her cheek there, taking in a few short, shaky breaths, and steadying herself by placing her palm on his chest and feeling the steady thuds of his heart.

“Wanna talk about it?” he muttered in her Y/H/C locks, placing a soft kiss to the crown of her head, but she sighed, shaking her head no.

“ ‘S fine. Overreacted.”

“You were sitting on the couch, crying and hyperventilating, dove. Obviously, something’s wrong.”

“Harry,” Y/N let out a long breath. “Can you please just let it go? It’s nothing major. If it was, I’d tell you.”

“Would you though?” The whisper went almost unnoticed, but Y/N did hear it, and it made her eyebrows furrow and push herself up from where they’d been nestled together.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean.” Harry bit the inside of the cheek. “When is the last time you ever told me what’s bothering you? Like really, truly made you upset?”

“What are you implying?” Y/N’s voice had gone steely, almost emotionless, as her brain pretty much screamed ‘it’s happening’.

“How can I help you when you don’t let me in?” His gaze was pleading, as his hands grasped onto her cheeks.

“You’re not supposed to.”

“Pardon?”

Y/N sighed and stood up from the couch, letting his touch fall away. “You’re not supposed to. They’re my problems to deal with, not yours, so you’re not supposed to help me. And there’s nothing to help me with.”

“Do you not trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you,” she scoffed as if it was the most ridiculous question in the world. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“How are we supposed to be in a relationship, if you don’t trust me?”

“I dunno,” Y/N whispered hugging herself. Sometimes she hated how her brain worked, but it was inevitable, right? It always came to this, so why not be the bad guy in the situation. “Maybe we’re not supposed to then.”

Harry was more than stunned at her reply. Not once during their relationship, he'd thought that her immediate reaction to a problem would be to immediately dismiss their love. "You - you don't mean that."

"Well," Y/N sniffled wiping at her cheeks where new tears were trailing down, "maybe I do. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. I mean they do say the first year is spent with rose-coloured glasses on, right? 'S time to take 'em off."

“So that’s it? You’re giving up just like that?”

“What do you want me to do?” Y/N exasperated throwing her hands up. “It’s the way I am, and I can’t change that. And if you can’t accept it, then yeah, maybe I am giving up just like that.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “I –,” he stammered, “I can’t believe this.”

“What do you want from me, Harry?”

“To fight!” He was practically yelling at this point, hoping to see some kind of emotion on Y/N’s face. “To let me in! To – to – fuck! To start trusting me!”

“I do trust you!”

“But not enough to trust me with your heart.”

A deafening silence fell over both of them because without needing a confirmation, Harry knew he’d struck gold. God, how he wished he hadn’t, but the numb expression Y/N's face morphed into told him enough.

“I’m giving you what I can.” Y/N’s voice was quiet, resolute. “And if that’s not something you can accept, then this is it.”

Now Harry was the silent one. But sometimes you don’t need words to say everything you mean.

“Okay then.” She nodded, went to the mantlepiece and took her clutch. “I’ll see ya around, I guess.”

And with that Y/N walked out of Harry’s apartment without a glance back.

***

Two and a half months later and he still couldn’t understand how everything had gone so wrong. He was at the New Year party, and Y/N was there too, courtesy of Sarah, who was their mutual friend and hosted it each year. This one was a lot more intimate, seeing as the pandemic, though contained, was still raging on, so only the closest and most important people in her life had been invited. Sarah'd been actually the one who introduced the two. Well, more so given them a shove in the right direction. A literal one at that.

The night had been absolute chaos and became an even bigger one when Y/N entered his life, Harry recalled. Drinks were flowing, bodies were moving in an erratic rhythm, most of them completely unaware of how the music boomed while voices shouted the incorrect lyrics and glasses clinked as everyone celebrated the upcoming year, buzzing with excitement as they waited for the countdown. That’s when Sarah, pulling a woman by her arm stormed towards Harry and pushed her into his chest.

“Do not let her leave your sight!” she’d hollered over the music, as Harry blinked at his drummer. “And you!” Sarah pointed at the woman, who giggled, hiding behind her champagne glass and slinking further down Harry’s frame, so much so, he had to grab onto her armpits otherwise she would fall. “Behave for at least five minutes! I need to check up on Mitch before he decides vodka would be a good addition and completely destroys the room.”

With that Sarah was gone, brown hair swishing in a high ponytail, leaving Harry confused and concerned as this stranger snickered behind Sarah’s back, showing her tongue like a child would.

“Umm,” he started not really knowing what to do. “You alright there?”

“ ‘M Y/N.” She leaned up with as much grace as a drugged-up cat, spun around to face him and extended her hand to him, and he took it, giving it a firm shake. “And I might be a lil’ bit drunk.”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “You don’t say?”

“I do.” Y/N nodded confidently about her statement as she swayed on her feet. Harry had to grab her by the shoulder for the woman to remain somewhat upright. “And when I’m drunk, I thrive on chaos.”

“Is that why Sarah shoved you to me so I can babysit you?”

“See, she just doesn’t appreciate me and my talents. She thinks that I’m ‘unreliable’.” Y/N put the word in quotation marks, and in doing so, half her champagne spilt out of the flute. “And she thinks I need ‘supervision’.” There went the other half. “Honestly, it’s Sarah that needs to be looked after. It’s not me that set the curtains on fire.”

But the look on her face told Harry something different, and a smile bloomed on his face. “You set the curtains on fire?”

“I just told you, I didn’t.”

“Yes, well, your face is telling me a different story.”

Instantly Y/N facepalmed. “Stupid face. Can’t keep in check. Listen, the curtains were just…” She waved her hand around. “In the way of the flame. ‘S not my fault they’re made from such flammable material. Should’ve gotten more fire-resistant curtains, if you ask me.”

“Note taken – don’t let you near anything that can be set on fire or is fire.”

Y/N scoffed and gave Harry a side-eye. “As if you can tell me what to do. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

“And why's that?”

“Stranger danger.” Y/N wagged her free index finger in Harry’s face accentuating each syllable.

“Well then, let’s not be strangers.” He extended his hand just as Y/N had and waited until she took it. “ ‘M name’s Harry.”

“Good to meet you, Harry. Now, Sarah said nothing about not letting me dance, so come on! I love this song!” she exclaimed, making Harry throw his head back in laughter as she dragged him to the middle of the room, bodies grinding against them, but it didn’t really matter. Not when Y/N made Harry feel as if it was just the two of them in the world.

“Do you now?”

“Yes! Especially when he does the ‘da – dananana da – dananana’ part.” Her eyes went wide with excitement and pride. “Sarah’s in this song as well! She's the drummer!”

His eyebrow quirked up in amusement. Y/N clearly had no idea who she was talking to, and he was kind of loving her for it. Most of the time, as flattering as it was, it could become quite taxing when people recognised you with every step of the way. He wasn’t really allowed to have his smile leave his face, nor was he allowed to stay too lost in his thoughts, needing to be on constant alert if someone asked something.

But Y/N seemed to not care, and something in Harry told him – she wouldn’t care about it if she knew the truth.

“Wanna hear a secret?”

Y/N gasped, eyes twinkling in the disco ball light. “Of course! I love secrets.”

“I’m Harry!”

“I know you’re Harry. You said it already.”

Her confused face made his smile widen even more. “No, I mean I’m Harry. Harry Styles. This is my song.”

And then it dawned on her inebriated brain. “Ooh. You’re Harry Styles!”

“Yeah.”

“Good for you then!” And she put up her hand in a high-five, and he couldn’t leave her just hanging like that, belly-shaking laughter erupting from him before he weaved their fingers together and spun her around.

That night had been one of the best New Year’s he’d ever had. Throughout the hour before the clock struck 12, she’d sobered up enough that when Harry asked if he could kiss her, she was coherent and could say yes. It’d been the best kiss of their lives by that point.

But now, seeing Y/N walk around Sarah’s apartment a smile on her face that he recognised to be fake, and laughter ringing in his ears that he knew wasn’t true, made him look back at that night and wonder if she’d been truly happy then.

She definitely seemed to have been, fuck, Harry hoped she was happy for at least some of it; that when Y/N said she was alright, she’d truly meant it, otherwise, he had no idea what he’d do with himself, but in all honesty, despite the fallout between the two, what he wished was for her to come back. To give him the slightest glimpse into what worried her. That would be enough.

In the beginning, Harry supposed, it was his own fault. He’d thought Y/N was just strong, she was so level-headed that whenever something was wrong, it was tackled immediately and righted that exact second, but in truth, it was just hiding, putting on a performance and living through a smile that was a complete lie.

He saw Sarah lean into Y/N and whisper something in her ear before her head snapped in Harry’s direction, Y/E/C eyes meeting his. He then watched her let out a breath, give Sarah a small smile and look at him once more before approaching, Harry’s own back straightening out as she opened the balcony door and entered his space.

She was a vision, a black and gold glitter romper covering her body, cinched at the waist with a solid gold-colour metal band, while the sleeves fluttered off in a ‘Morticia Addams’ style, as Y/N liked to call it, with her hair out of the way of her face in a simple knot at the base of her neck. Easy to make and easy to take out.

“Bobby pins are the creations of the Devil,” she’d muttered one night after they’d gone to some Hollywood event. Harry couldn't even remember what it'd been for, most of his focus on making sure his date was alright.

One by one she'd untwisted and twirled the metal pins out of her head. “Fucking, scraping my brain from the outside of my skull.”

Harry had chuckled, untying the lace front of his blouse style shirt. “Wanna massage?”

The affirmative groan made him grin like a child on Christmas.

Y/N was the one to break the silence, after having her eyes rake over his own form. A fitted chequered suit paired with a simple dress shirt and chequered moccasins. One of the tamer looks for him, but he wasn’t feeling very festive this year.

“Hey.”

Harry sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. “Hi.”

God, how had everything become so fucking awkward between them?

“How,” she cleared her throat, “how are you?”

“Honestly?” Harry wanted to spit out the ‘I’m fine’, the line that was so overused by her it’d lost its meaning, but he couldn’t. He’d always been an open book, especially with Y/N, so he told her the truth. “I’m hurting.”

“Harry…” Her eyes met the floor unable to hold his green gaze.

“Every day I wake up, and I’m in pain. And it’s not getting easier. And it won’t. Not for a long while.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry.” He laughed even though he didn’t mean it. “I just wanted you to talk to me. You know I’d never judge you.”

“It’s not about that…”

“Then what is it?” Harry snapped. “Because I’m at a fucking loss here. Have been for the past two and a half months.”

“It’s not easy when…” Y/N actually bit down on her tongue to not let the words out. She took in a calm, collected breath; then she continued. “It’s not easy to open up like you want me to when my whole life I’ve been taught to just push it down. Push it away, forget about it. I don’t know a different life. That’s my normal, that’s what I know. I know you wouldn’t have judged me, you’re not that kind of a person. But it’s not even about that. It’s… it’s… why couldn’t you have just left everything at ‘I’m fine’?”

“Because I don’t want to be fine,” he said, sad eyes looking right through her, right through to Y/N’s being. “I – I wanna be great, and ecstatic and fucking exhilarated or hurting or sad, even devastated. I want to feel things. And I want to share them with the person I trust most. I wanna share them with you. And I want you to share your emotions with me too. It’s not your job to carry the weight of the world on your own. That’s what a partner is there for.”

Y/N broke away from Harry’s eyes given how her own were now lined with tears that threatened to slip down her cheeks. She sniffled, using the sleeve of her romper to press against her nose.

New Years. When the previous one had started off with so much love and hope and laughter and the new one seemed to only show it had tears and heartache ahead. God, this was the worst holiday in existence.

“Ten, nine, eight,” the people inside counted down.

“Y/N, please.” One last try. He had to.

“Seven, six, five.”

She just shrugged. “I don’t know how to be different."

“Three, two, one! Hap–“

“Happy New Year, Harry.” Y/N leaned up and pressed a lingering kiss against his cheek. “I hope you find someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

With hands in her pockets, she retreated leaving him standing alone on the balcony, but right as she was about to close the sliding door, he spoke up.

“I had.”

That made Y/N spin around, cold air hitting her face just as harshly as the truth that spilt past his lips.

“Only she didn’t trust that I loved her the same.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Forever tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: Part 2? maybe??

P.S. my tags are always open :)

338 notes · View notes

delacyrose224 · 3 years

Text

Gold Rush

-Pairing: drummer!Jungkook x reader, with a side of guitarist!Jin x OC

-Premise: You were never one for rushing into relationships, but what happens when you meet a certain blue-haired drummer?

-Genre: rock band!AU, some fluff but also some angst

-Word Count: 8.1k

-Author's Note: This is based on the song 'gold rush' by the one and only Taylor Swift! It will still make sense if you don't know the song, but you'll find some fun Easter egg references if you do know it. Also, fun fact: this is the first fic I've written since high school...do with that what you will.

“Come...on!” Margot grunts as she tugs on your arm. You literally have no idea why you’ve agreed to this night out-it’s Tuesday, you have work in the morning, you’re already tired and the night hasn’t even started.

“I’m coming,” you mutter begrudgingly, as you step carefully in your heeled boots down very narrow steps into what looks like a very seedy bar. The Dynasty. You walk in the door, and instantly try to retreat-it’s tiny, the floor is sticky with who knows what, and it’s packed. More like The Die Nasty...this could not be further from your comfort zone.

Margot, meanwhile, could not look more excited. She’s been talking about this concert for weeks now. You can’t even remember the name of the band, that’s how not your scene this is. Margot steers you towards the bar. “What do you want? My treat, since I made you come out on a work night just to be my wing woman.”

You scrunch up your nose in disbelief. Her wing woman? Has she seen you? You’re the most awkward person alive around men, especially cute men. Plus, it doesn’t help that you barely had time to throw on an Eagles t-shirt with a pair of jeans, and your hair has frizzed out from the light drizzle of rain that started on the walk over. “A Malibu with coke works,” you say, adding, “And make it a double!” at her retreating back.

You turn and scour the packed room for an empty booth, table, anything. Your eyes finally land on a tiny two person booth in an awkward corner of the room. Margot may not be able to see the band perfectly from here, but at least you’ll have seats. “A drink for my best friend in the whole entire world!!” Margot smiles brightly as she brings your beverages over to the table. “Do you think Jin will notice me? I tried to look cute, but not try too hard, y’know?” She smoothes down the front of her blouse nervously. You immediately have a witty retort ready to go, but you don’t have the heart to say it when you look up and see how fidgety she is. “Mar-if he doesn’t notice you, he’s an idiot,” you smile kindly.

The show isn’t due to start for another 30-45 minutes, so you spend that time chatting with Margot about work, life, and everything in between. She’s convinced that if she can just get Jin to notice her, that she’ll be able to introduce you to one of his bandmates, and then you can go on double dates (or something like that). “Mar, do you really think tortured artists go on double dates? I really can’t see it,” you snort into your drink. Let alone a guy in a band being interested in you, you’re about as boring and straitlaced as they come. You lose track of time as you continue the conversation, and the alcohol is certainly making you less annoyed that you’re here.

“They’re starting, they’re starting!” Margot squeals, gripping your arm. “Really?” You try to twist around in your seat to see, but before you get very far, you’re being dragged out into the space right in front of the stage. You’re not quite front row, but you’re awfully close-too close for your own liking, if you’re being honest.

“Margot…” you hiss, trying to get her attention, but all hope is lost. Her eyes are glued to the small stage, waiting for the man she’s deemed to be the love of her life to walk out and pick up his guitar. You give up after a while, huffing and crossing your arms to show your displeasure. A few girls around you give you a sidelong glance, seemingly judging you for being upset at a concert. How dare you? After staring at you for what they deem to be an appropriate amount of time, they go back to their own conversations, which you’re able to overhear due to your close proximity.

“Were you at the last show? They’ve improved SO much since they started, I love them!!” one yells a little too loudly, while her friend nods enthusiastically.

“Have you heard that Jungkook dyed his hair blue?! He was hot before, but now…” the girl can’t even seem to finish her sentence, she’s so overcome by the ‘hotness’ of this Jungkook guy, whoever he is.

As soon as his name is mentioned, you suddenly seem to overhear it multiple times in the conversations surrounding you while the band’s crew finishes setting up for them. You lean over to ask Margot what the heck the deal is with Jungkook, but just as you open your mouth to begin talking, a loud strumming blasts from the speakers on the edge of the stage, and you mouth ‘nevermind’ and step back to where you were.

A tall, broad shouldered man steps out of the shadows at the back of the stage to deafening screams, his guitar already strapped across his chest. He lifts up a hand in greeting, and steps up to one of the mics set up. “Thank you all for coming out! We hope you have a great time tonight!” He blows a kiss to the crowd (to more deafening screams). Margot looks like she might faint-this must be Jin.

Next to walk out is a sullen looking guy, shorter and smaller than the first. He walks to the side of the stage opposite of you, and picks up a bass. Forget Jin, forget Jungkook (whichever one he turns out to be), you like this guy. Sure, he’s cute or whatever, but he literally looks like he wants to be anywhere but where he’s currently at. “Same, dude, same,” you mutter to yourself under your breath. One of the girls from earlier must have overheard you again, because she turns and gives you a weird look. The multiple Malibu and cokes you had earlier give you the courage to tell her to mind her own business and leave you alone, but just as you begin to lean forward, the loudest screams yet erupt from the crowd. You immediately clench your hands over your ears (which you realize looks ridiculous at a concert) and turn to look at what’s caused the reaction.

Over the heads of the people in front of you, you see a mop of almost neon blue hair making its way to the drum set, but the rest of him is obscured as he swiftly walks across the stage. This must be that Jungkook guy those girls were talking about earlier. His hair looks like a blueberry as far as you’re concerned, and you still don’t understand what the fuss is about.

He settles behind his kit, and as the people in front of you move slightly, you catch a glimpse of Jungkook. His blueberry hair falls around his face in waves, and his nose is scrunched up because of the giant grin on his face, clearly ecstatic to start the show. Okay, he was cute. Cuter than bass guy and Jin (though you’d never utter that sentence out loud to Margot for fear of losing your life). Still, he’s just another guy in a band, right?

Jin starts the opening chords to the first song to deafening cheers, bass guy starting to play shortly after, and Jungkook having the time of his life on the drums. After a long intro, you hear a smooth voice with a tinge of rasp come through the mic. It instantly feels like your bones have turned to jelly, and you want to melt into a puddle (in the best way). However, you are confused. You’re staring at Jin, who is immersed in his playing, sweat already starting to drip from his brow from being under bright lights. His mouth isn’t moving. Why? He’s the lead singer. Are you imagining the lyrics you’re hearing right now?

You lean over to Margot, who’s conveniently also looking at Jin, albeit for a completely different reason. “Why isn’t the lead singer doing anything?” you shout over the music. “Huh?” she screams back, unable to clearly make out what you’re saying. “I said, why isn’t Jin singing?!” you yell.

Margot looks over to you, mirroring the confusion on your own face. “Look!” she points towards the back of the stage. There you see Jungkook, not only playing the drums, but also singing lead vocals in one of most attractive voices you’ve ever heard. Not only that, but he’s somehow managed to keep that scrunched nose smile from earlier on his face while doing it. So THAT’S what all the fuss about Jungkook was over. Just as your brain makes the connection between it being his singing coming through the speakers, he makes eye contact with you and his smile seems to grow even bigger, his eyes sparkling with delight.

Oh, you’re in big trouble.

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

The rest of the concert seems to go by in a blur. You have no idea how many songs the group does, you are so caught up in watching Jungkook perform...he clearly has talent, but you can tell he’s in love with what he’s doing. Even when sweat makes his hair start to stick to his forehead, he merely gives his head a shake (sort of like a dog), and keeps going with that wide smile on his face. It certainly doesn’t help that it feels like at least every other song, he’s making eye contact with you somehow-even though you’re not front row, even though his drum kit is at the back of the stage. Surely you’re making that up. He’s just a good performer, right? He makes all the girls feel like this, like he’s performing just for them.

As Jin strums out the final notes of the last song, you shake your head to clear your thoughts. This is dumb, you had too much to drink, and you were distracted by a cute guy who has a pretty voice. That’s all.

As the song dies out, you turn to your best friend. “Margot, you ready to go? I’m tired.” What you’ve failed to notice is that your best friend has disappeared while you’ve been wrapped up in your own thoughts. Did she go to the bathroom? Had she gotten more drunk while you were busy swooning (no, NOT swooning) over a certain blue-haired drummer? Just as you’re about to start panicking, you see her as the group of fans in front of you starts to disperse...and she’s talking TO JIN.

He’s sitting on the edge of the stage, long legs dangling off the front, head tilted back laughing at something Margot has said. His laugh doesn’t quite seem to fit him-it’s loud and squeaky, kind of like a windshield wiper dragging itself across the front of a car. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his guitar pick, and goes to hand it to your friend. Simultaneously, he leans in and gives her a kiss on the cheek. Other girls that are around you, hanging back in hopes of meeting the boys, are clearly fuming at the action and some even stomp off.

On one hand, you are excited for Margot-she’s gotten the attention of the man she’s been talking about nonstop for days. On the other hand, you also want to leave-love is gross and you have no time for it. Since you can’t abandon your friend in a seedy bar with a man she hardly knows, you settle for the next best thing-your fifth (you think?) drink of the night.

“A Malibu and coke please,” you ask the bartender while sliding cash across the counter. You know you’ll regret the alcohol running through your system in the morning, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to care enough to stop. You pick up the drink, filled to the brim, and turn quickly to go hide in your booth from the beginning of the night. Surely Margot will come find you when she’s done talking, right? Just as you turn, someone walking the opposite way bumps elbows with you with enough force to cause half your drink to slosh down the front of your shirt and onto the floor.

“Oh wow, I am so sorry! I should have been paying more attention-let me get some napkins for you!” says some unknown male voice. You’re too busy mourning over your half spilled drink that you’d just paid too much for to reply. Suddenly, there’s napkins thrust into your hand, and you look up.

It’s Jungkook.

He’s even more attractive up close, if that’s even possible. He’s sweaty, but somehow makes it look good-his longer hair is swept back into a little blue half bun, his eyeliner is smudged, and he’s down to his white undershirt with ripped jeans. The dim lights of the bar are reflecting off both his earrings and what looks like the stars in his eyes.

“Um...are you okay? I can go get you a new shirt to change into-wait here!” Before you have the chance to form any words, he jogs off towards the stage where he has a conversation with the bassist. The bassist doesn’t look happy about what Jungkook says, but Jungkook still goes to the back of the stage, and comes back with a black piece of fabric in his hands.

“Yoongi’s pissed because these aren’t even ready to be sold, but whatever. Just think of it as an exclusive sneak peek or something,” Jungkook says as he hands the shirt to you. You accidentally brush your hand across his as you take what he’s handing you, and you feel like you might burst into flames with the way your insides feel like they’ve become molten lava.

You unfold the shirt to see that it’s got song lyrics written across it in dripping graffiti font, along with their signatures. The realization suddenly hits you that you still have not said a single word to the man standing in front of you.

“Y-Yoongi?” you stammer out. You hate how much you sound like a high schooler asking their crush to prom. “Oh yeah, that’s our bassist. The one who looks like he’d literally rather be anywhere else than playing with Jin and me,” Jungkook chuckles. “He’s really a softy underneath it all, but don’t tell him I said that.”

You laugh, though you feel like it sounds a little too forced and a little too loud. Your assumption seems to be right, as you see Jungkook raise one eyebrow.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I really am sorry I made you spill your drink.” He genuinely looks worried. About you. What universe are you even living in right now?

“I’m fine, really. Thanks for the t-shirt, you didn’t have to do that,” you mumble softly.

“It’s the least I could do for a pretty girl whose Eagles tee I ruined, don’t worry about it. Yoongi will get over it.”

Jungkook smiles that same smile he seemed to throw your way throughout the concert, nose scrunching up, eyes sparkling. It feels like you’ve been thrown overboard into the ocean in the middle of a storm. You can’t get your bearings, the waves keep throwing you under, and you’re disoriented. The only light is coming from the stars in his eyes. Surely this man who could date anyone he wanted to did not just call you pretty, as casually as he might have mentioned the weather outside?

You’re shaken out of your reverie as Margot and Jin approach the two of you. “JK, my man, sorry I took so long-I was too busy being enchanted by this lovely lady,” Jin smiles, and you can see that Margot is beaming with happiness. You’re glad someone’s night has gone well.

“No problem, I was just talking to...” Jungkook suddenly looks lost, realizing he doesn’t know your name.

“Y/N.” you blurt out. Margot looks at you strangely, but is distracted once Jungkook begins talking again.

“Yeah, I bumped into her and made her spill her drink, so I gave her one of our shirts and we were just chatting.” He smiles gently at you and your heart does a somersault.

“Nice to meet you. You must be cool if you’re friends with this one,” Jin nudges Margot with his shoulder. How long have the two of them been able to talk for, for him to know you’re friends? You’ll definitely need a debrief on the walk home.

You speak to Jin with much more ease and control than you can manage with Jungkook. “I like to think I’m cool,” you grin. At this, Jungkook smirks.

“She’s the best!” Margot chirps, clearly still a little drunk. Jin chuckles and puts an arm around her shoulders.

“Well, pretty girl, JK and I need to go help Yoongi with getting everything put up in our van. It was lovely to meet you,” he drops his arm from around her shoulders, only to pick up her hand in his and kisses her knuckles promptly. Margot giggles. “I’d love to take you out sometime.” She nods enthusiastically.

“It was nice to meet you too,” Jungkook leans in to half-whisper in your ear. When did he get that close?! You nod with a small smile in his direction-that’s all you can seem to manage when that drowning in the ocean feeling suddenly returns.

He and Jin turn to leave, and you go to your booth, making sure you didn’t leave anything behind before the whole drink-spilling fiasco happened. Seeing that you have everything, you turn to find Margot, only to see Jungkook whispering in her ear across the room and laughing.

Your heart drops. You were right all along-he does treat all the girls like this, like they’re special to him.

Margot comes up to you shortly after. “You ready to go?” you ask quietly.

“Yep!” she smiles, and drags you out of The Dynasty by the hand. The entire walk home, all she can talk about is Jin-how cute he is, how funny he is, how talented he is, and oh, did she mention how cute he is? You nod and smile in all the right places in her story. You are happy for Margot, but you can’t help comparing what she’s telling you with your interactions with Jungkook. You had acted like an idiot, and there was no way he was interested in you on any level. Plus, he clearly thought that your best friend was worth flirting with after Jin helped him escape your awkward conversation.

You shake your head to clear it as you reach your apartment building. Margot bids you farewell at the second floor, while you continue your trudge up the stairs to the fourth floor. You key into your apartment, throwing your keys into a bowl and heading for your bedroom.

Makeup off, pjs on, you’ve just finished washing your face when you look at yourself in the mirror. “Boys are dumb, and love is stupid,” you say to yourself, not sure if you actually believe what you’re saying. As you dry your face, you hear the sound of your phone receiving a text. Margot, no doubt, still waxing poetic about how she can’t believe that Jin wants to take her out on a date.

You slide into bed and turn off your lamp, grabbing your phone to set an alarm for the morning and to tell Margot that you’ll talk some more tomorrow during lunch.

Unknown Number

2:37 AM: Hey, it’s Jungkook!...I hope you don’t mind, I got your number from Margot. thanks for coming out to the show tonight, I hope you had a good time!! if you didn’t, you don’t have to wear the shirt I gave you, that would be weird for you to wear it if you hated our music…

2:41 AM: anyway, I just wanted to apologize again for making you spill your drink. Usually I’m not that clumsy, I guess I was distracted. You should come hang out with the band before our next show on Friday! only if you want. let me know...or don’t. Whatever you want.

2:45 AM: Can you tell I’m nervous? haha

2:46 AM: usually i’m not like this, but you’re really pretty and you seem cool. ANYWAY. I hope you hang out with us-bring Margot too, Jin would like that. I hope you got home safe and i hope i see you soon :)

You stare in disbelief at your phone. Jungkook just texted you. Jungkook just texted you FOUR TIMES IN A ROW. Good thing you are much less awkward via text, mostly because you have time to think out what to say. You can’t help the giant grin that forms on your face as you type out a reply.

2:50 AM: I made it home, thanks for checking in...I can’t turn down a good band shirt, so I’ll definitely be wearing it. Maybe I’ll wear it if we hang out, you’ll have to wait and see!

You place your phone on the nightstand and turn over to get comfortable. Maybe Margot wasn’t the only one who had a good night after all.

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

Three days later, you’re staring at your phone sitting on your desk. “Can you not?” Margot huffs from beside you, rolling over in her desk chair. “Just freaking text JK and tell him we’re coming to hang out with the band,” she rolls her eyes and lets out a huge sigh.

“Margot, can you not? Stop being so loud, we’re at work,” you hiss. Margot looks slightly taken aback at your comment, and then swiftly rolls back to her own desk.

You’ll deal with her hurt feelings later. For now, you go back to staring at Jungkook’s text that is boring a hole in your brain...he sent it about six hours ago, and you still haven’t replied.

Jungkook

8:53 AM: Morning! I know it’s kinda early, but i figured you might be at work already. You and Margot coming by later? Jin will cook for us! i think i can manage some cookies too, just don’t judge if they don’t taste as good as jin’s cooking...i swear he was a chef in a past life. You like chocolate chip?

You’d had brief text conversations each day since you met, nothing too crazy. Even so, you still can’t help but feel like your brain is freezing over, ceasing all functioning momentarily every time a text comes in from him. Margot is right, you just need to text him back already.

3:30 PM: Make it snickerdoodle and I’m there.

Jungkook immediately sends back a reply, overeagerly filled with emojis, their apartment address, and instructions to come over at 6. For a drummer in a rock band, he is surprisingly silly, kind, and warm. You’re not sure what you expected from him, but it wasn’t this.

The rest of the work day goes quickly, your mind preoccupied with what’s in store for you at the boys’ apartment. As soon as you and Margot step outside your office, her eyes are glued to her phone. “Hey, Margot...I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I just don’t know what this...thing...is with Jungkook, and I’m stressed. Not an excuse, but you didn’t deserve me being rude,” you say in a small voice.

“Girl, I forgave you like ten minutes after you said it, it’s whatever. Look at this!” She shoves her phone under your nose, and you examine what she’s trying to get you to look at. Pictures of food? You’re confused.

“What is it?” you ask. “Our dinner, silly! Jinnie’s making us pasta carbonara with homemade breadsticks!” Your mouth involuntarily starts watering at even the mention of food. Homemade bread? Jungkook must not have been kidding about Jin’s cooking.

“Look look look, your boyfriend is making us snickerdoodle cookies too-how sweet!” Margot gives you a sly smile, and you can immediately feel heat radiating off your cheeks.

“He’s not my boyfriend! He’s just-whatever! He’s not even interested in me like that, he hasn’t asked me out or anything. Not like someone I know,” you attempt to distract her by bringing up her date with Jin (it had literally happened the day after meeting him, and he’d set up a second one for the weekend-you couldn’t help but be impressed). Even though you’re flustered, you still can’t stop the warmth spreading through you. Yes, embarrassment. But also Jungkook was making snickerdoodle cookies like you asked.

“Boyfriend or not, we’re here!” Margot singsongs as you walk through the front doors of an apartment building, and step into an elevator, pressing the button for floor seven.

There’s a loud pinging sound as you step out, and Margot knocks on the door directly across from the elevator. You hear clanging sounds, alongside shuffling and male voices indistinctly talking. The door swings open to reveal Jin in a pink apron.

“Hey pretty girl,” his eyes light up when he sees Margot standing in the doorway, and he immediately bends down to kiss the top of her head. Margot is positively beaming, and looks up at him like he’s her entire world.

You clear your throat awkwardly. “Oh hey, y/n,” Jin smiles warmly at you. “Jungkook’s excited to see you, he hasn’t stopped talking about you coming over since he started making those cookies.” Jin winks as your eyes grow wide.

“HYUNG!!” you hear Jungkook bellow from you assume the kitchen. As you all walk into the apartment, you can see him glaring at Jin.

“What? I’m just telling the truth, nothing wrong with that-right, Margot?”

“Right,” your best friend grins.

“Not you too, M. Why do I put up with this torture?” Jungkook pouts in your direction, blue strands of hair falling messily in his face. You can see he’s also wearing an apron, black-but with lots of flour stains.

You walk closer to the kitchen and lean on the counter that separates it from the living room. You may be nervous as ever, but maybe if you fake confidence, things will feel better.

“Oh, I dunno, maybe because he’s one of your best friends and bandmates? Because maybe it is the truth?” you grin cheekily.

Jungkook’s doe eyes go even wider than you thought possible, and it looks like he may drop the mixing bowl he has in his hands.

“Weren’t you excited I was coming over, Kook? I can leave if you want…” you step into the kitchen with him, reaching forward and gently pushing a loose strand of hair out of his face. You swear he leans into your touch, and it feels like electricity is coursing through your veins.

“I-I mean, of course I was! I invited you over, didn’t I? Of course I want you here.” Jungkook has a fierce blush creeping up his neck towards his face, and he looks like he wants to sink through the floor.

A deep chuckle resounds from the corner of the living room, and you turn around to see Yoongi smirking at the two of you from an armchair. “Can we eat now, please? As much as I love seeing the two of you absolutely not know how to function like normal human beings...I’m hungry.”

Jin uses this opportunity to sweep into the kitchen, grabbing his pasta off the stovetop and bringing it to the center of the dining room table. Margot brings the breadsticks over and places them down as well. You each take a seat, Yoongi sitting at one end of the table, Jin and Margot on one side, you and Jungkook on the other. Dinner unfolds in a relatively normal fashion, mostly silent because everyone is so hungry. Jungkook may have actually been underselling Jin’s cooking ability, because you’re not sure when the last time you had pasta this good was.

Just as you’re finishing up, the timer on the oven beeps, signaling that Jungkook’s cookies are done. He hops up out of his seat to grab the pan out of the oven. A few seconds later, you hear a loud expletive and a metallic clang. “Kook?” you call, already walking towards the kitchen. As you round the corner, you see him holding his hand under the faucet, water streaming over what looks like a nasty burn.

“Kook!” you exclaim, swiftly moving towards him, peeking around him to see the injury. “What happened?”

Jungkook turns around, seemingly just noticing your presence. He gives you a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing. The pan started slipping out of my hand, so I went to grab it with my other hand to steady it. I just happened to forget I was only wearing one oven mitt.” He forlornly looks behind the two of you. You follow his gaze to see that most of the cookies have fallen on the floor, save for three. “I just wanted the cookies to be perfect.” His lower lip juts out as he begins to pout, staring at the cookies littering the floor.

“Jungkook, look at me.” His eyes raise from the floor to your own. “The fact that you even made any cookies at all is very sweet-pun intended. It’s the effort that counts. That, and making sure you don’t have permanent burn damage.” You reach out for his wrist and delicately turn his hand to look at it. It’s angry looking, but you can tell it will heal pretty easily (you may have suffered several cookie-related burns yourself in your day). “Just make sure you put ointment on this a couple times a day for about a week, and you should be fine.” You shoot him a soft smile, which he returns.

“What are you, a doctor?” he asks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” you reply, grinning widely.

“Yah, why do you have to be so difficult? Here I am, trying to be nice, trying to get to know you more, and this is what I get in return,” he gripes, but there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Hmm...I dunno, Kook. I think you like it when I’m contrarian,” you giggle, turning to leave the kitchen. Before you can move through the door frame, Jungkook moves in front of you. You look up at him confused. He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear as he whispers.

“...maybe I do. But next time I see you, you should actually wear the shirt I gave you.”

He winks, leaves the kitchen, and leaves you to wonder what the heck just happened.

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

Your sporadic texts with Jungkook have turned into one long, continuous conversation over the past few weeks. It feels like you talk about everything, but also nothing. He remains somewhat a mystery, though you know this is because you’re still keeping him at arm’s length.

Jungkook is too good for you, you’ve decided. He’s cute, funny, charming, and talented. Everyone is in love with him for good reason. Every time he makes eye contact with you, his smile lights up his entire face. That smile has you falling faster than you’d like, and it isn’t a pleasant feeling. A cloudlike floating down to Earth? Try hurtling through the atmosphere like an asteroid determined to destroy the planet. You haven’t hit the ground yet, but you’re not sure if you’ll be able to properly recover once you do.

Kook

4:23 PM: Come with me to the beach this weekend! You need a break from work, and i need a break from the morons i live with...don’t tell them i said that. I need to work on song stuff too, but i’d like some company :)

Your chest constricts at his latest message. Is this a date? He hasn’t asked you on one before, but this feels suspiciously date-esque. But he’s working on band stuff, so maybe he really just wants company. You shoot off a quick text in the affirmative before you can think much harder about it. Jungkook immediately sends back a slew of emojis, as well as telling you he’ll pick you up at 8AM on Saturday to drive the two of you down to the coast.

The next two days go by in a blur. Before you know it, you’re standing in front of your closet Saturday morning, wondering what to wear on your not-date. It’s not quite summer yet, so you know the two of you aren’t wearing bathing suits (not to mention that would have been a whole other crisis to work through-being half naked in front of a very attractive man on a maybe-date? Absolutely not). You quickly put on a pair of jean shorts, and smile as you grab their band tee and slide it over your head. You still hadn’t worn it in front of Jungkook. You finish off with french tucking the shirt, sliding on sandals and wearing a simple gold necklace with your first initial on it-you didn’t want to be too fancy.

You make yourself a cup of tea to pass time waiting for Jungkook to arrive. Halfway through drinking it, there’s a knock on the door. You hastily place your mug on the coffee table, grab your bag, and open the door to find Jungkook leaning against the doorframe.

He lights up upon seeing you, his doe eyes widening when he notices your outfit. “You’re finally wearing it! I thought I was gonna have to bribe you or something,” he smiles.

“Let’s go, dork,” you reply, shutting your door behind you and making sure it’s locked.

Jungkook leads you outside to his car, opening the door for you. “After you, m’lady.” You roll your eyes, but not without laughing at his antics. He slides into the driver’s side and starts the car. “Off we go!”

The car ride is comfortably silent-probably because it’s still early in the morning, neither of you are completely coherent yet. The hum of the road beneath the car combined with the radio playing in the background puts you at ease. You can swear you keep seeing Jungkook look at you from your peripheral vision, but maybe you’re imagining things. You settle for looking out the window at the passing scenery, which honestly is beautiful-you should get out of the city more.

After about 10 minutes, you glance over to the driver’s side, only to make complete eye contact with Jungkook. “Kook, why do you keep looking at me?” His eyes widen, and now you know you weren’t imagining things earlier.

“Oh, uh...I-I’m just glad you decided to come. Yeah. And um, you look really good in my shirt.” You can see his ears reddening as he says this, and all of a sudden, you’re looking at anywhere but him.

There’s an awkward pause for a few moments, and then suddenly that molten lava feeling from a few weeks ago at the concert is back. You whip your head back towards Jungkook so fast, you think you might injure your neck. He has reached his hand across the console to where yours sits on your thigh, and as you watch, he intertwines your fingers with his. It feels like an out-of-body experience, where you’re watching yourself from above. Is this really happening? You glance up at Jungkook’s face with wild eyes, and he meets you with a steady smile. Not only is the molten lava feeling back, but it’s brought along the storm in the ocean feeling as well. Only this time, Jungkook is there to be the lighthouse that leads you back home.

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

The rest of the drive is peaceful. Jungkook continues to hold your hand the rest of the way to the beach, shooting you smiles every time you look over at him. You’re so mesmerized, you don’t even realize that you’ve parked until he lets go.

He immediately rushes over to open your door after getting out of the car, and then proceeds to pop the trunk open and grabs a cooler and a picnic basket.

“Kook, what is all this?” your eyes widen in surprise.

“Please, like I was going to take you to the beach and not pack a picnic. We have to eat, don’t we? I got those weird sparkling waters you like too.”

Your response is to grab the picnic basket out of his hand and immediately intertwine your fingers again with his free hand. Jungkook looks like his face might split in half with how big his smile is.

“You like it?” he asks with a hint of uncertainty.

“I love it.”

The two of you walk hand in hand down the beach quite a ways before you find what Jungkook deems the ‘perfect spot’. “And what exactly makes it perfect?” you peer up at him.

“Easy-one, we’re snagging the last free shaded spot,” he points at the umbrella stuck in the sand, “and two-it’s far enough away from other people that I can work on songs without a ton of noise distracting me.”

“Are you sure I won’t distract you?” you frown slightly, worried that he won’t get any work done.

“You’re never a distraction, you’re an inspiration.” He winks conspiratorially at you, and chuckles at the flustered look on your face. He sets the cooler down under the umbrella and looks over at you. “There’s a blanket in the picnic basket, can you get it out? As much as I love the beach, I don’t really want to find sand in my shorts for the next month.”

You set the basket down next to the cooler, open the lid, and pull out a bright blue blanket. Jungkook takes one side, you take the other, and you unfold it and place it lightly on the sand. He immediately plops down on one side of the blanket and reaches his hand up toward you, motioning for you to take hold. As soon as you do, he yanks a little too hard, and you careen sideways onto the blanket and into his side. “Well, that’s one way to sit down I guess,” you laugh at his appalled face.

“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to pull that hard…” his brow furrows in worry.

“I’m good, weirdo. Great, even.” You reach into the cooler, pull out a sparkling water (key lime, your favorite), and pull the book you always keep in your bag out. You lay out on the blanket, propped up on your elbows, and begin to read. Jungkook lays down beside you in a similar position, pulling a small notebook out of his back pocket and starts scribbling.

You sit in this position for a couple of hours, silently working, occasionally catching each others’ eyes and smiling when you do. Suddenly there’s a loud rumbling beside you. You laugh. “Hungry, Kook?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he laughs, sits up and reaches over to pull the picnic basket closer to the two of you.

“What’s on the menu?” you peer over as he starts to pull plastic containers out.

“Gimbap. Simple, easy, and delicious.” He hands you one of the containers as he pulls out a second for himself.

“Did you make this yourself?” you ask, mouth half-full. He nods. “Delicious,” you concede through your mouthful. He grins.

“Maybe I could actually cook for you sometime. Without burning my hand on cookies, that is.”

“I’d like that,” you shyly respond, eyes firmly locked on the plastic container of gimbap in your lap.

“It’s a date, then.” Your eyes shoot up to meet his, and you can see dimples forming alongside his smile. You can’t help but smile back.

After eating, the two of you go back to your previous positions-you reading, him working on song lyrics in his notebook. This time, though, after about 30 minutes you start to get restless. Looking over at Jungkook, you notice he keeps shoving his hair behind his ears as it falls in his face while he’s writing. You rummage through your bag for a hair tie, and scoot over closer to him. He raises an eyebrow in curiosity at you, and you just lean over and gently start pulling his hair back for him into a half bun that matches the way his hair looked the night you first met.

“Better?” you ask quietly, running your fingers absentmindedly through the hair at the nape of his neck that’s too short for the bun. He looks up at you, awestruck.

“Everything is better with you,” he whispers. You’re not sure if he knows he’s said this out loud. He suddenly sits up on the blanket, flipping through the pages of his notebook he’s been working in. He stops about halfway through. “Can you look over these lyrics? I’m not sure they’re quite right, I need a second opinion.”

You look down at the page and see lyrics scribbled in Jungkook’s messy handwriting.

“I wish you were right here, right now”

“This mad, mad love makes you come running”

“See your face, hear my voice in the dark”

Different versions of these lyrics are scattered across the page, certain words changed, scribbled out, and moved around within phrases. As your eyes scan the page, they land on one final line etched out on the bottom of the page. No scribbles, no changes-it simply reads:

“I wish you knew that I’ll never forget you as long as I live.”

“This is really good, Kook! It’s so much different than the music the band’s done before, how’d you come up with this?” You’re genuinely curious, this almost seems more like a ballad compared to the band’s usual upbeat tunes.

Jungkook looks at you warmly. “I’ve had new inspiration lately, that’s all.” You suddenly notice that he’s way closer to you than he was when you started looking over his notes...he’s sitting directly in front of you now.

You feel frozen as you see him stealing glances at your lips while his face inches closer. Is he going to kiss you? He’s going to kiss you. Oh my gosh, JUNGKOOK IS GOING TO KISS YOU.

As his lips meet your own, the molten lava turns into an erupting volcano. You feel hot and tingly all over, and Jungkook is assaulting your senses in every way possible. You can smell his cologne, feel the softness of his lips, taste his mint chapstick, hear the satisfied hum that gets caught in his throat as your lips collide. Even though your eyes are closed, the vision of Jungkook leaning in to kiss you is seared into the backs of your eyelids.

The kiss is over far sooner than you’d like. As Jungkook retreats, he doesn’t go far, instead leaning his forehead against yours, gazing at you longingly. The stars in his eyes have become a full blown galaxy, and you can’t look away. Still recovering from the kiss, Jungkook breathily laughs.

“You make me want to write all the love songs in the world.”

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

Margot is tugging insistently on your arm. “Hello? HELLO? Is there anyone in there?” she taps the side of your head. When you don’t respond, she grabs you by both shoulders and gives you a shake.

The room comes back into focus and you look over at your best friend with eyes still lightly glazed over. “Huh?”

“I said, it’s intermission...are you enjoying the show? You certainly seemed distracted by Jungkook-I saw him smile at you,” she grins. “Jin made eye contact with me a couple of times, he even winked!” she gushes, continuing to talk about how hot she thinks he is.

Your stomach feels like it’s dropped completely out of your body, and your throat has gone dry.

“Hey...you okay?” Margot notices that you still seem slightly out of it.

“Yeah, yeah...I just...need another drink, that’s all,” you manage to choke out, turning on your heel and heading straight to the bar. While the bartender works on your drink, you run through everything in your head. The texts...the dinner at the boys’ apartment...the beach. The kiss. None of it was real, was it? What was wrong with you?

You take the drink that’s slid across to you and head outside to a side alley beside the bar. No one’s there, everyone has gone to the bathroom or to refill their drinks while waiting on the band to return. You let out a deep sigh, leaning against the brick wall and running your hands through your hair, making it even frizzier than when the night started. At least it isn’t raining anymore, you think to yourself.

You return to the question Margot had asked you-are you okay? You’re not sure. You’d apparently made eye contact with Jungkook, a man you had never spoken to, and imagined a whole entire relationship with him in the span of half the band’s setlist. Are you that desperate for a man? Apparently. You let out a deep sigh, replaying the scenarios you had created in your head. Once your brain reaches the kiss again, you find yourself getting teary-eyed at how sweet Jungkook had been...in your head. You feel a tear escape, and you quickly swipe it away.

Taking a steadying breath, you push yourself off the wall and move towards the door to head back into the bar. As you reach for the handle, the door swings open and hits you in the shoulder, turning you slightly to the side and spilling your drink on your shirt and the cobblestones of the alley.

“...again?!” you mutter, looking down at your ruined shirt.

“Um...are you okay? I can go get you a new shirt to change into-wait here!” you hear a male’s voice, but as you look up, the bar door is already closing again as he’s gone inside.

A minute later, the door is swinging open again to reveal none other than Jungkook-hair in a half bun, eyeliner smudged, and in a white undershirt and ripped jeans. Just like in your imagination.

He reaches out to you with a black t-shirt in his hand. “Yoongi’s pissed because these aren’t even ready to be sold, but whatever. Just think of it as an exclusive sneak peek or something,” he parrots your imagined scenario you had played in your head moments ago.

“Thanks,” you say as you take the shirt, unfolding it to see the familiar graffiti design.

“It’s the least I could do for a pretty girl whose Eagles tee I ruined, don’t worry about it. Yoongi will get over it.” Jungkook smiles at you the same way he did during the first half of the show. One thing your brain got right are the stars in his eyes sparkling at you, which makes you smile back at him.

“Hey, I need to get back to make sure we’re ready for the second half of the show, but it was nice to meet you. You should hang back after the show-Jin thinks your friend is cute, and he was talking about inviting her to come grab food with us when we’re done. Yoongi can’t come and I don’t want to be a third wheel. Come hang out with us and save me from dying of awkwardness?” he looks at you shyly, his rock star persona melting away completely.

“I’ll think about it,” you tease, turning away and heading back into The Dynasty. Jungkook is left wide eyed in your wake, smiling as he turns to head towards the backstage door.

You meet up with Margot again after changing into your new shirt. The crowd has started to gather in anticipation of the second half of the show. “Hey Mar, let’s move all the way up,” you motion at the space in front of the stage.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?” Margot gapes at you in disbelief, but follows your lead as you weave through the crowd to get to front stage center. You shrug goodnaturedly and just smile as an answer.

A moment later, Jin, Yoongi and Jungkook come from backstage to get in place for the second half of their set. You can see Jungkook scanning the crowd, brows slightly furrowed. You give a small wave, which catches his attention, and his nose scrunches in a smile as he sends an enthusiastic wave back. ‘I like your shirt’ he mouths at you as he settles behind his drum kit, winking as he does so. You can feel the heat creeping onto your cheeks as a bar employee strides across the stage to the mic and the crowd starts cheering.

“Give it up again for Gold Rush!”

#jungkook x reader #jk x reader #jk x y/n #jungkook x y/n #jin x oc #seokjin x oc #bts fluff #bts angst #bts one shot #bts rock band au #jungkook oneshot

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ussgallifrey · 4 years

Text

Jealous

✦ Summary: The little green monster has a way of ruining a perfectly good night, and he is not talking about the Hulk. ✦ Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader ✦ Warnings: Little bit of angst, jealousy ✦ Word Count: 2.4k ✦ Author's Note: This was written ages ago for a request that's now vanished from my ask box from an anon asking for a jealous Bucky.

It's there in the curl of your lashes and the hand that you bat against the Asgardian's arm - that's when the clenching sensation presses down on his throat. When he feels his fingers wrap a little tighter around the shot glass on the bar. The night long since gave way to the pleasant thrum of inebriation, but all Bucky can sense is the bitter taste in his mouth when he watches you laugh so freely across the room.

Another gloating tale of ancient glories, a genuine laugh, a flirtatious quip - Bucky's painfully present for it all.

He had been cowardly perched on this one bar stool for almost the entire evening, trying to find some liquid courage - though he couldn't get drunk, not even close, it was just a bit of a placebo to get the gears going. Meanwhile, you flitted between the others with a carefree ease and an intoxicating smile. Wrapped up in soft pinks and a striking flower in your hair.

Bucky glowers at his reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

He had watched the way you seemed to flow through the crowd, taking the time to join each circle of people. Laughing unabashedly with Clint and Tony, resting your head on Natalia's shoulder, letting Sam throw a too familiar arm over your shoulders and tug you closer. That one probably stung most of all.

Your laugh seems to rise above the music and the crowd - an arrow sent right towards him, alluringly sweet in its intensity. But it's not for his ears, not happening because of something he said. No, you're wrapped up in the blonde demigod's looming stature and chiseled everything.

Maybe he lingers too long on the shape of your body leaning against the other man's. The styling of your hair, the way your eyes never leave Thor's. And the way the Asgardian's eyes seem to dip below your eye level to wander freely along the lines of your body.

He struggles to swallow the darkness that threatens to rise - the itch in his throat that ices over his heart and makes his blood run cold. It's metallic and chilled and difficult to ignore and he hates himself all the more for letting it take over.

Thor's returning laugh is deep and rich, coated with the finer golds and riches of a royal lineage. Bucky has to steady himself with a hand on the bartop when the blonde ducks down to place a kiss to your cheek, a fitting smile on his face as he excuses himself from your presence.

It's hard to ignore the giddy rush of nerves that seems to creep up as your smile turns bashful, averting your gaze as you press a trepid finger against your cheek. And then you're turning and he's looking down at his drink - trying to ignore the sting and pangs of the little green monster.

"Mr. Barnes," you cheerily greet as you plop down on the neighboring barstool, a manicured hand placed just a breath away from his own much larger hand.

Pulling his gaze from the gemstones on the end of your nails, Bucky nods in acknowledgment. Not trusting his mouth for anything as his stomach still sloshes and slurs with the sourness of unwarranted jealousy.

That sweet perfume seems to mingle in the air between you, something floral and soft - warm and pink to match your dress and nails. Princess-like, something entirely untouchable and angelic.

"You've been… notably absent tonight," you pester, sipping from your nearly emptied neon-blue cocktail.

"Have I?" he lets his finger drag along the rim of the glass, catching a drop of condensation.

You hum with a nod, "Been missing you something fierce."

That gains his attention as he finally lifts his head up, trying to read your doe-eyed expression.

He turns a little more towards you, a knee daring to touch your own but not quite able to close the gap.

"That so?"

Another hum, followed by another sip. Gaze drawn low to watch the way your fingers wrap around the black straw, lazily gliding up and down as you give a coy smile his way.

There's a distant part of himself - the shadow of a man who used to look like him, but a little more clean-cut - that would know the right things to say. The sweet prose and flirt to get you turning his way, wrapping you around his finger, and never letting go. He'd sure like to get in contact with that version of Bucky Barnes right about now because he's feeling next to hopeless in your presence.

"This isn't really your vibe, is it?"

Vibe? Right, more slang and lingo that sometimes has him stumbling over his own feet and looking like a right fool in front of everyone else.

You seem to catch on to his internal dilemma because you're quick to clarify, "You're not big on parties."

No argument there. He rubs the back of his neck as he fails to avoid your gaze, "Yeah, uh, no. Definitely no."

There's a little cooing sound in return, a batting of long eyelashes as you swirl your tongue around the straw, taking a long final sip of your drink. He could get lost in the action alone, watching your lips pursed together to suck on the straw, cheeks hollowing out - it's hypnotizing and entirely dirty, but he just can't look away.

But then Thor's bellowing laugh carries far across the party to lodge itself directly into Bucky's ears. He can't help but grimace, staring down at the bar in favor of actually groaning his disdain.

But you catch on - of course you do. You follow the pitiful trail of jealousy right up to his seething face like a bloodhound. He must reek of it too because your sweet expression seems to fall in an instant.

"Do you," your fingers stroke along the tip of the straw. "Do you not like Thor?"

He balks at how easily you hit the nail on his head. "Wha - no. I - he's, I mean, I don't really even know the guy, you know?"

There's this look that settles on your face that says you're not buying a line of his bullshit.

"He's sweet."

Bucky taps his glass with an impatient finger. If he has to sit here and listen to you compliment Thor, he might just vomit. Oh, he'll sit and listen alright, but it doesn't mean he has to like it.

"I'm happy for him and Jane," you continue. "Says he plans to stay on Earth for a while, think he couldn't stay away from her any longer."

You're talking, but the words aren't registering the way they should be. It's just an infinite loop of you laughing and Thor kissing your cheek.

"They're a good fit for each other."

Of false images of Thor wrapping his arm around you, dipping you backwards, and kissing you senseless.

"You'd never think they would make a good couple, right? But they totally work in their own way."

How easily you'd be swept off your feet, probably picked up and made to wrap your legs around him. He was probably shirtless at this point because why wouldn't he be?

"Hey, are you - are you okay? Bucky? Did I say something or...?"

God, why was he so hung up on this? Why couldn't he just work out the nerve to just go up to you and ask you out? It wasn't that hard, right? Just a few words, his heart waiting on the side to be broken, his returning ego to be bruised.

It's not like he could compete with someone like Thor. The man was literally a God; a legendary being of Norse mythology and epics. Compared to… him. Him with the flashing neon sign above his head that read Fucked.

"Bucky?"

It was probably a fool's hope that you would've been interested in him. He was so many things this side of wrong. Not golden and wonderful like the man you had been laughing with for the past thirty minutes.

There's a hand on his.

Oh.

Slowly, he looks over at you.

You smile gently. Thumb carefully rubbing over his knuckle in a soothing motion, "You drifted away on me. I - I wasn't sure if…"

The words fade away with a cautious touch. He wants to turn his hand, lace his fingers with yours. It feels right in his mind, he wants it to be right.

A soft silence drapes itself over you both. Your hand remaining on his, fingers lazily rubbing circles over the top of his tense knuckles.

"You know," you say after a moment. "I think I'm ready to get out of here."

You watch his expression with a curious gaze before continuing, "Even I can get partied out, Barnes."

He doesn't want you to leave, enjoying this haven you've created in the corner of the bar with him. It's the lingering hope that burns in his chest that maybe he stands a chance with you. Maybe he can win you over if he ever gets the nerve.

But you don't move to leave, fingers coming to a sudden rest - a breath away from his skin.

"Are you out of here too?"

Is that a twinge of hopefulness in your voice? It's nearly hard to believe, but he latches on to it like a lifeline. Finding himself nodding fast and dumb as he says, "Yeah, yeah. I'm good here."

Your hand runs its way up and over his arm and shoulder, lingering above the collar of his leather jacket. Waiting, he realizes. Waiting for him to join you.

There's a surprising amount of nerves going haywire in his body because his legs seem unusually shaky as he stands from the bar. But you're there, batting those glittery eyes as you wait. Your body manages to press up against his side as you wade through the remaining partiers. Floral perfume wafts up from your exposed neck and he nearly buckles over.

"My lady!" Thor bellows in shock, a stupid grin upon his stupid face as he manages to untangle himself from the group.

He pauses in front of you both, baring Bucky not even the slightest glance.

"Surely you're not leaving so soon."

When did he grab your hands in his large godly ones? Why does Bucky's stomach feel like it's going to make him spew all over the floor now?

Your laugh is easy as you gently pull your hands back, "Even mere mortals like me know when to call it quits, Thor."

And it's only then that the god seems to take in the dark figure you're leaning on, mismatched eyes looking Bucky over with a sudden glint of realization. He backs away almost immediately, "Oh, of course! Another time, then."

It's only when you're walking again that the blonde throws him a playful wink, which makes Bucky feel all sorts of confused.

And the thing is, he's not even entirely sure where you're going and if you expect him to follow you there. He'd like to think that, but he can't be sure.

The warmth of the party gives way to the misting rain of the darkened city streets. Illuminated only by the neon signs and streetlights. Seeing the contrast to you, wrapped in soft pinks and gentle flowers, only makes Bucky feel all the more aware of his surroundings. But you seem to pay no mind to it whatsoever as you make your way down the sidewalk.

You're tucked against his right side, arm rubbing against the leather of his sleeve, your pink dress fluttering in the gentle breeze of the night. And when a car rushes by on the slick road, it'd be impossible to not notice the way you shiver. When you stop at the crosswalk, Bucky doesn't even think - pulling his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders.

There's a little gasping sound as you pull it tight around you and your eyes are absolutely shimmering in the street light when you look up at him. Bucky can actually feel the moment his heart swells.

"Thank you," it's said so softly, so sweetly. And you finish it by gently squeezing his hand.

He takes a chance, throwing his arm over your shoulder and tugging you close. The contented sigh that falls from your lips makes him know he made the right move.

You pass the walk in pleasant silence, occasionally bumping his hip with your own, a soft laugh when he looks down at you curiously. It doesn't take a genius to figure out where you're headed as the glowing tower comes into view.

You pause at the front entrance - the harsh lights from the lobby illuminate the space behind you, making you glow in the rainy night air. Bucky reluctantly pulls his hand away. Feeling lucky enough to have gotten to walk you home, but not enough to expect anything beyond this point.

But your drawn brows pull his attention as you grab his hand back, "And where do you think you're going?"

He huffs a laugh. Steeling his nerves as he sheepishly looks up at you, "Guess that depends."

You give a thoughtful nod before tugging him flush against you. He gasps, despite his best intentions.

Brushing his hand against your cheek, you give a pleasant little mewl. His heart thumps harshly in his chest as his eyes darken.

"You know," you murmur against his hand - your hands now resting on his hips - as you pause, pressing a kiss to his palm. "Jealousy isn't a good look on you."

Bucky groans softly, feeling the weight of the evening sinking lower in his chest.

"Especially," you continue. "When you could just have what you want."

Your mouth finds the underside of his chin, kissing lightly on his Adam's apple. Manicured nails find their way into his hair, scratching carefully against his scalp and neck. And then you pull back, dark eyes staring up at him with a smirk.

"That is, if you want it, Sergeant."

Soft hands smooth over his arms, down his sides, to his hips once more.

"Do you want it, Bucky?"

His mouth feels dry as he takes in your beautiful features. The way your dress curves your figure, the way his jacket seems to be perfectly made to fit your shoulders. The obvious thrum of passion coursing through him. And just one look into your eyes gives him all the reassurance he needs - there's no competition here, you only have eyes for him.

So, he settles his hands on your hips, fingers splayed out along your lower back.

"Yes," he says hoarsely. "I definitely want."

And then you're angling your head up to meet his lips as you walk the two of you backwards into the tower and out of the misting rain, into something decidedly warmer and better.

Permanent Bucky Tag List: @livvy-barnes

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#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes one shot #marvel fan fic #my fic

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tripleaxeldiaz · 3 years

Text

maybe one day i’ll fly next to you

chapter 4/8

read on ao3

start from the beginning

“Buck!”

Buck nearly slices his hand on the skate he’s supposed to be sharpening when he hears May’s voice. He drags his eyes away from ice long enough to see her, Chim, and Maddie looking at him expectedly. Apparently, that wasn’t the first time she’d said his name.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said we’re going to that Thai place on Sawtelle for dinner, do you wanna come?”

“Oh, uh—” his eyes drift back in time to see Eddie land his cleanest quad lutz all day, and he tries not to smile. “I’ve got a session with Hen in a little bit, maybe tomorrow?”

“You okay, Buckaroo?” Chim asks. “You look...forlorn.”

Buck snorts and shakes his head. “I’m fine, just tired.”

Chim shrugs as he follows the girls out of the rink. Buck tries to focus, tries to get lost in the back and forth of sharpening, but he keeps getting distracted by Eddie’s practice and the way he commands the ice even when no one’s scoring him. He feels an ache in his chest watching him, a dull one but still there — it’s been a month since Skate America, and they still have lunch and hang out and everything is fine, but there’s also a tension between them now, the tension of knowing what it’s like to have their hands on each other, what the other one tastes like, and wanting to do it more.

They make eye contact as Eddie heads for the locker room, and he sends Buck a smile so warm Buck swears it’s better than sunshine.

He keeps thinking this waiting thing is going to get easier, but it really, really hasn’t.

“Did you guys get a divorce or something?” Buck jumps as Hen sits down next to him and starts lacing up her skates.

“What? We haven’t— We never— What?” Buck asks, voice an octave higher than normal.

Hen levels him with an unimpressed look. “Don’t give me that. You went from hating him to being attached at the hip to staring at him like a lovesick puppy in like six weeks. Either this is a lover’s spat, or it’s some kinky roleplay thing that I don’t actually want to know anything about.”

Buck doesn’t think he’s ever blushed so hard or so fast in his whole life. “Jesus, it’s none of those things! We—” he looks around quickly before turning back and lowering his voice, “we did kiss, at Skate America, but it was just once and we decided to...pause any next relationship steps until after the Olympics.”

“Why? You’re allowed to date teammates, that’s not against the rules.”

“I know, but—” he’s not sure how to explain I can’t stop thinking about him but that makes me lose focus and as much as I want to make out with him I also want to beat him at every possible competition without sounding insane, so he settles on “we just don’t want any distractions.”

“So you’re gonna pine for each other from afar for the next three months, because that’s less distracting than actually being together?”

Buck pauses lacing up his own skates. “Okay, so maybe it’s not a great plan.”

Hen shrugs as she pushes off from the boards, skating backwards so Buck can still see her skeptical frown. “It might be easier to handle if you just embrace it now. I know it’ll be easier for me to handle.”

Maybe she’s right, a little voice in his head whispers, because it makes sense. But at the same time, a relationship is something he’s never had to factor into competition season before, so he’s honestly not sure how to navigate it. Maybe it starts great, they’re mooning over each other, but then one of them has a bad showing, and it leads to animosity or jealousy or some other ugly thing that would drive a wedge back between them when they’d (he’d) just overcome it. Buck cares about Eddie, cares about their friendship, their potential relationship, Eddie’s general happiness. But he also cares about his career, about his own dreams, and call him selfish or single minded, but he really cares about winning the Olympics. And he’s not willing to risk hurting any of those things by jumping into something too quickly.

He wants to do this with Eddie, but he wants to do this right, when he can make Eddie a top priority like he deserves. If that means he has to endure a few more months of pining, then fine. Come February, it’ll all be more than worth it.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, he’s sitting cross-legged at center ice, staring off at nothing, when he sees Eddie skating over to him out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t say anything, just sits down next to Buck, copying his position, and inviting himself into the reflective silence Buck’s created in the dim morning light.

He finds he doesn’t mind the company so much.

“Are we meditating?” Eddie whispers eventually, like he still respects the quiet even though he has no idea what it’s for.

“Something like that,” Buck says, and Eddie nods, lets them fall back into their own thoughts. It makes Buck melt a little bit, a welcome relief from the incessant buzzing he’s been feeling under his skin all morning.

The truth is, Buck hasn’t been able to make himself move for about 20 minutes. He came in for one last early practice before they’re supposed to fly to Japan, fell on every single jump he attempted, and eventually just didn’t get back up. He had half hoped giving up would spurn his stubborn streak to try one more time one last jump, but instead he just sat, his worries burying him deeper and deeper like freshly fallen snow.

He groans and leans back, laying flat on the ice, trying to focus on the bite of the cold on the back of his head instead of anything else. Eddie follows suit to mirror him again, and Buck’s stupidly grateful that he’s here. He turns his head to face him and is met with eyes glowing honey colored in the sunlight.

“I’m really worried about fucking everything up,” he says in a rush, like Eddie’s gaze pulled it right out of him before he could put all is walls up and lock them, pretend like he’s still strong and has it all together.

“You won’t,” Eddie says with no hesitation.

Buck rolls his eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“I do. I’ve watched you skate since we were 16. I know setbacks make you fight harder.”

“This isn’t about setbacks,” he says, sitting up and resting back on his hands. “This is about going to the last GP before the Final, where everyone is warmed up and has all their kinks worked out, while I can’t even land a clean triple loop.”

Eddie, once again, sits up to mirror him. “One bad practice doesn’t mean anything. Your programs are solid, the audience and the judges love you, you really have nothing to worry about.”

“Except your perfect jumps getting in my way.”

Eddie laughs and it echoes around the rink. “Yeah, except that. But hey, if I win, I’ll let you hold the medal, just to remember what gold feels like.”

With anyone else, Buck would bristle at a joke like that, especially after a trainwreck of a practice. Hell, three months ago, he certainly wouldn’t have been okay with Eddie saying it. But now he just laughs, and he feels almost relieved, because despite their being direct competition, despite the pause they put on whatever it was they were moving towards, he still has Eddie in his corner. He might not actually know how this next week will go, but Eddie believes in him, and right now, it’s enough to finally get him up off the ice, offering a hand down to Eddie to pull him up too. They linger for a minute, hands still clasped, before Buck pulls away and glides toward the edge of the rink.

“Think you can’t beat me in a 500 meter, golden boy?”

Eddie smiles that smile that makes Buck’s stomach drop, and then he’s flashing past him, halfway around the ice before Buck can even start. They go around and around, name calling and playfully shoving, and Buck’s nerves melt away with every burst of speed and every glimpse of joy on Eddie’s face.

~~~~~~~~~~

By the time they land in Sapporo, Buck’s so exhausted he feels a little drunk. He’s never been good at sleeping on long flights, always too distracted by the endless movie choices or a trashy thriller he picked up at Hudson News or his own worries swirling in his head. He finally managed to fall asleep for an hour before he was woken up by the warm weight of Eddie’s cheek resting on his shoulder, his hair softly brushing his jaw.

His only focus after that was on keeping as still as possible for the rest of the flight.

Eddie, thankfully, takes charge of herding him through customs and to the car waiting for them at arrivals, gently steering him so he avoids people and poles while his eyes are half closed. He’s much nicer about it than Maddie ever is, and he only runs into a wall once. Eddie apologizes for it profusely, gently rubbing his head checking for bumps. Buck has to literally bite his tongue before an embarrassing string of words tumbles of his exhausted mouth.

They make it to the hotel in one piece, and Buck barely has time to take his shoes off before he passes out, starfished on the bed, soothed by the background noise of Eddie puttering around the bathroom. 30 seconds later (actually four hours but it feels much shorter), an alarm goes off, and Buck is once again herded around the room and out the door, a cup of coffee shoved into his hand as they get in the van to take them to practice.

Thanks to the coffee and a 30 minute nap in the van, Buck’s at least awake enough to be functional when they arrive. He’s even more awake after a few laps around the rink, the wind stinging his face a better pick-me-up than caffeine. He runs his jumps with Bobby, lands them clean, and he feels good, his nerves quieted by lingering exhaustion and confidence he hasn’t been able to find in a few weeks.

He sees Eddie by the boards, the usual thrill of having him watch running through him, pushing him just a little bit harder, but it’s quickly snuffed out when he sees that Eddie’s not alone, and he’s not even looking at the ice. Instead, he’s talking to a handsome Russian skater, one that Buck’s known since they were juniors so he knows how big of an asshole he is. He’s laughing loudly like Eddie just told the funniest joke he’s ever heard, his hand running up and down Eddie’s bicep in a much too friendly way. Buck tries to shake it off and keep focused, but after falling out of two spins and almost face planting on a three turn, Hen sends him off to stretch on his own and “get your damn head on straight”. He stalks off, passing close enough to Eddie and The Asshole to hear The Asshole ask when Eddie will have time to get dinner before going back to the States.

Buck...he’s not jealous. He has no reason to be, he and Eddie are not dating. But he feels something boiling hot and nasty in his stomach, and he kind of wants to slam the guy’s hand with a toe pick every time his laugh pierces through the rink.

He’s being obnoxious and distracting, so Buck is pissed, but not jealous. And he is not avoiding Eddie by hiding in Chimney’s room until he’s sure Eddie’s asleep.

He does avoid him the next day, out of an abundance of caution that his brain-to-mouth filter might fail and he’ll say something he regrets, and because he does need to get his head on straight and focus like Hen said. He needs at least silver to qualify for the Final and push him a little bit further in the USFSA’s good graces, upping his chances of being named to the Olympic team in two months. He can’t do that if he’s worrying about non-existent relationship drama. So he fills the rest of the day with practice and conditioning, working hard enough that his brain quiets and he feels prepared, but not so much that he hurts himself. He sees Eddie here and there, thinks he tries to catch his eye a few times, but he’s got tunnel vision now, and nothing short of a life or death emergency will break it.

At least, that’s how his tunnel vision used to work.

But the next day during short programs, he sees The Asshole strutting towards Eddie again before their warm-up group goes out, and his tunnel crumbles, filling his brain with static and rubble.

His program could have gone worse, overall, but it also certainly could have gone better. A quad loop turned triple loop and a sketchy landing on his triple axel land him in third place, meaning his free actually has to be perfect to get him to the Final. Only the six highest scoring skaters after all Grand Prix events qualify, and last he checked, he was just in sixth place but could easily be overtaken. Eddie is (surprise surprise) in first, Buck feeling a strange mix of pride and panic as he watches him execute another flawless short. It seems to be only getting stronger as the season goes on, which should also be happening for Buck, but instead it feels like he’s slowly unravelling, hurrying to spin himself back together before he loses too much ground.

The Asshole is in second. Buck has to sit on his hands during the presser so he doesn’t reach across the table and smack that smug look right off the guy’s face.

“He really said he was ‘looking forward to representing his country at the top of the Olympic podium’. Like seriously? We’re all thinking it, but no one’s conceited enough to say it out loud and on the record.”

Maddie shrugs from the other end of the bed. “Maybe it’s a language thing. Like he meant to say ‘on the podium’ instead but got confused because English is hard.”

Buck levels her with an unimpressed glare. He had come to her room right after the presser, lamenting about everything that went wrong and stupid judges and stupid Russia (“Really, Buck? The whole country?”). He’s usually grateful for Maddie’s voice of reason, but today he just needs to vent all his frustrations that have built up over the past few days. He really doesn’t care if they make sense or not.

“You should see the way he’s throwing himself at Eddie. I’ve watched him flex his arms every time Eddie’s walked past for two days. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so irritating.”

“Well, I’m sure Eddie’s not falling for it if this guy is as big of a jerk as you say he is.”

Buck stays quiet, avoiding her eyes and slowly dragging a french fry through ketchup on the room service plate in front of him.

“Oh my god,” Maddie groans, reaching forward to shove his shoulder. “Do you really think Eddie is that shallow?”

“Well I don’t know!” Buck says. “I heard him ask Eddie out to dinner after the competition, maybe he said yes! It’s not like he’s seeing anyone.”

“It’s not like he’s seeing you, is what you mean. Since you were the one who said you two should wait until after Beijing.”

“Whatever,” he mutters as he stabs another fry into ketchup.

Maddie shakes her head. “Jealousy is not a good look on you, Buck.”

“I’m not jealous! I’m just...concerned for my friend, and—” He stops as Maddie just stares at him like she sees right through him. Which, he supposes, is probably not hard for her to do. She reaches out for his hand, taking it in hers and squeezing gently.

“If you’re that ‘concerned’,” she says, air quotes very much implied, “then I think you should just go talk to him.”

“And say what? ‘I don’t want you to go on a date with that handsome Russian man because I want to go on a date with you, even though I was the one who said we should wait because I’m an idiot’?

“...maybe not those exact words. But you do have to go back to your room, because it’s after midnight, the free dance is in eight hours, and I need to sleep.” She all but rolls him off the bed, pulls him into a quick hug, then shoves him into the hallway. “You got this! Use your words!” she yells as the door closes behind her.

When he gets back, Eddie is still awake, reading a book and icing his right ankle. He smiles at him in greeting, that same soft smile that Buck’s pretty sure only he gets to see. The smile he definitely didn’t see whenever he saw Eddie talking to The Asshole.

Maybe not all hope is lost.

“Rough day?” Buck asks, nodding towards Eddie’s ankle.

“Think I just landed on it weird,” Eddie says. “You did really great.”

“I think the judges would say otherwise, but thanks. You were really great, too.” They swim in a semi-comfortable silence as Buck gets changed. He waffles back and forth on what to say, if it’s actually even worth saying anything at all despite what Maddie said, until he faces Eddie again and blurts out, “So are you gonna go to dinner with that Russian guy?”

Eddie just blinks at him for a second before he starts laughing. It’s not a mean laugh, it’s more like a I can’t believe you just said something that dumb laugh. Maddie has a laugh that’s very similar.

He’s still catching his breath a bit when he answers. “No, no I’m not going to dinner with that guy. You know him, right? He’s a total douche. Pretty sure he was actually holding a flex whenever he was talking to me.”

Buck sits on his bed and tries to keep his own laugh in, worried that it would come out hysterical with relief. Not that he ever really doubted Eddie’s taste or ability to take care of himself. It’s just...nice to have it confirmed.

“Plus,” Eddie says as he gets his composure back fully, “I, uh, told him I’m interested in someone else anyway. So hopefully he’ll back off for good.”

Buck freezes, his eyes locked on Eddie’s. A wave of guilt washes over him so suddenly it makes him nauseous. As dumb as his friends may think he is, he’s not that dumb — he knows what he asked of Eddie when he put this thing of theirs on hold. But hearing that Eddie’s following through, seeing it in action — it doesn’t sit right with him. It makes him feel like he’s imposing, like he’s taking away part of Eddie’s life just for the vague chance that they could have something, something that’s not even guaranteed no matter how right it feels to Buck even now.

“Eddie,” he starts, waffling again, “if you want— I mean you shouldn’t have to— I don’t want you waiting around for— for me, for us, if that’s not something you’re interested in anymore.”

There’s a beat before Eddie moves, tossing his book and the ice pack aside. He stands gingerly, favoring his left side just a little bit, and shushes Buck when he tries to protest. He crosses the short distance between their beds slowly, like he’s trying to make sure Buck doesn’t bolt before he gets to him. Carefully, he reaches down to take both of Buck’s hands in his, moving until he’s standing just between Buck’s legs. When Buck doesn’t look up (partially out of embarrassment, and partially out of marveling at how warm and good Eddie’s hands feel in his), he squeezes gently until he gets his attention. Buck finally manages to lift his head, and is met with a look so full of fondness it takes his breath away.

Eddie lets out a slow breath through his nose. “I wasn’t kidding when I said it meant something,” he says quietly, unwilling to disturb the bubble of peace they seem to form when they’re together. “So I’m still very interested. And I really don't mind the waiting. It’s only three months — we’ll be too stressed and working too hard to think about anything else anyway.”

Buck tries to talk around the lump in his throat, but he can’t, so he just nods instead, squeezing Eddie’s hands back. Something loosens in his chest, a tension he thought was coming from agonizing over his programs and his protocols, but maybe not. Maybe he’s come to rely on Eddie, on his friendship and general presence, more than he thought he has over the past few months. That confirmation that they’re moving toward something, together, makes him feel grounded in a way that he hasn’t felt in weeks.

They stay in their bubble for a little bit longer, and Buck feels himself calm even more. Eventually, Eddie squeezes his hands one more time, whispering “goodnight, Buck” before pulling away and getting back in his bed. He turns the lights off, the room falling into darkness, and Buck drifts off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

Something’s definitely wrong. Maybe it was minor yesterday, but after landing on his ankle eight more times during his free, Eddie’s clearly favoring his left side and in a whole lot of pain. It’s clear to Buck, at least — to anyone else, Eddie is all grace and smiles as usual, easily taking first place with no way for anyone else to beat him, even with three skaters left.

But Buck knows, knows Eddie and knows that feeling of trying to push through the pain better than anyone, but he doesn’t have time to do anything about it — talk to Eddie, talk to Bobby, talk to someone — before it’s his turn to skate. He tries to shove the worry down, but that raspy little voice is back in his head, whispering about all the worst things that could be happening to Eddie, and all the worst things that could happen to him again if he fucks up his own landings. Visions of cracked bones and bandaged cuts fly through his head — flashbacks to months of bitterness and rage and uncertainty. The panic at his dream potentially slipping away from him again floods his chest and makes it hard to breathe. He swears he feels his leg seize up, just like it used to, just like it hasn’t in over a year until right now, but can’t figure out if it’s real or not.

His music starts just as his spiral does.

The first fall is, technically, his fault. He’s too close to the boards for his triple axel, so he can either crash into them when he lands or stop short and hit the ice. He loses points either way, but in the split second he has to think about it, the latter seems less embarrassing and less painful. As he stands back up, he quickly does the math in his head. Accounting for his average component scores and any potential tech panel biases, he really, really cannot afford any more screw ups.

So, naturally, he falls again.

It’s the jolt this time — that fear that grips his entire body when he sees the ice so far below him, the memory of landing so incorrectly that he couldn’t walk for three weeks, couldn’t skate for even longer. And it’s all laced with worry for Eddie, who he knows is watching from the side, no ice on his ankle and still standing on it, trying to ignore something that’s only going to get worse. Maybe it’s projection, but he wouldn’t wish the misery he went through on anyone, not even Eddie when he couldn’t stand the sight of him, and especially not Eddie now.

He finishes by sheer force of will, his stubbornness and perfectionism overcoming his panic long enough to get him through his last step sequence and spins and to hit his final pose with a smile. The applause feels genuine, but he knows it’s not enough. It’s not even close to enough.

He finishes fifth in free skate, fourth overall, and he knows before he even sees the complete standings that he’s not going to the Final.

Luckily, since he finishes off podium, he doesn’t have any post-competition pressers or photo ops or reasons to slap on a fake smile for anyone. He goes back to his room and packs up so he has something to do with his hands. Maddie and May both text him about doing something with their last night in Japan, but the thought of going out and talking to his friends about their successes against his own failures kind of makes him want to throw up. Instead, he turns off his phone and finds a Japanese dub of Goonies playing on cable and burrows into bed in an attempt to get his brain to shut up for the first time all day.

When burrowing doesn’t work, he squishes himself into the armchair by the TV instead.

When that still doesn’t work, he paces.

That’s what he’s doing when Eddie gets back, looking worn out but still smiling, ribbon of his gold medal dangling out of his warm up jacket pocket. He waves goodbye to whoever is on the outside the door, but as soon as it’s closed, the act drops. Buck watches him sink against the door and lets out a long breath, grimacing as he tests out putting full weight on his right ankle.

Whatever anxiety Buck had managed to pace off (which really wasn’t a lot) comes back in full force, and he’s at Eddie’s side in three long steps.

“You’re hurt,” he says matter-of-factly.

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s just really sore, Buck, it’ll be better when I finally get to rest it.”

“No, it won’t be,” Buck snaps as he strides towards the ice bucket in the corner of the room to start filling up a bag. “You’ll think it’s getting better, and you’ll keep taking painkillers to take the edge off, but it’ll just keep getting worse, and you won’t even know it until your PT finally tells you it’s either two months off your feet to let it heal properly or you risk never being able to compete again.” He almost rips the bag in half as he finishes filling it with ice. He wraps it in a spare towel and shoves it at Eddie, who takes it gingerly before sitting on his bed and placing it on his ankle.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Eddie says.

Buck shrugs. He might know a thing or two about trying to force healing too quickly and ignoring pain, about getting a cast off two weeks too early and almost having his bone heal crooked. But his issues are not what’s important right now.

What’s important is Eddie.

“Look, can you just—” Buck sits on the bed next to Eddie, hovering over him like he can use his body to shield Eddie from anything else that might hurt him. “Just promise me you’ll get it checked when we get home, okay? Don’t put it off, don’t wait until after the Final—”

“Hey,” Eddie says, his hand coming to Buck’s shoulder and squeezing. “I’ll go, I promise. First appointment I can get.” Buck nods, and Eddie nods with him, thumb softly pressing against his pulse point. He doesn’t feel better, but he feels less buzzy, less like he’s dangling off the edge of a cliff by the tips of his fingers.

Buck nods again, decisively, before quickly squeezing Eddie’s wrist and standing. Eddie catches his hand before he makes it very far, his eyes filled with an intensity he hasn’t seen off the ice.

“I’m okay,” he says firmly, reassuringly. “We’re okay. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”

You don’t know that, Buck thinks, but he just quirks a smile instead before heading to the bathroom.

He closes the door behind him, sinks to the floor, and tries to let any worse case scenarios push him back over the edge.

~~~~~~~~~~

[from: Eddie] It’s a stress fracture

[from: Eddie] They said if I had landed on it a few more times it would have been much worse

[from: Eddie] Glad I listened to you

Buck feels a weird sense of relief and unease as he reads Eddie’s texts. The door to Bobby’s office shuts behind him, the sounds of the rink muffled to a dull murmur. He’s not sure why he’s here — he hasn’t done anything to get him in trouble, and they literally had practice together an hour ago.

Bobby sits at his desk, hands folded in front of him. “So I’m not sure if you heard, but Eddie—”

“—has a stress fracture in his ankle, yeah, he just told me.”

Bobby smirks before continuing. “He’ll be out for the next six weeks at least, so he’ll be missing the Final.” He pauses for what feels like dramatic effect.

Buck scrunches his brow. “Right. But what does that have to do with me? I’m second alternate, that kid from Japan should be taking his spot.”

“And he is,” Bobby says. “But the skater from Canada who qualified also has to withdraw. I guess a bad case of the stomach flu has been going through their team. He won’t be back in shape by next weekend, which means—”

“I’m in,” Buck says quietly.

Bobby nods. “You’re in.”

Buck’s first reaction is to laugh. A high pitched, hysterical laugh because he really can’t believe this is happening. He screwed up, screwed up bad, but he’s getting a second chance, by some twist of fate or intervention from the universe or however the hell this happened. Bobby keeps talking about flights and practice schedules, and Buck hears him, but not really, because all he feels is relieved. Relieved that his Olympic chances maybe won’t be as squashed as he thought, and relieved that he gets a chance to prove himself again, to show that he can deliver and that he’s worthy.

That’s all he’s ever trying to do, really.

He leaves Bobby’s office practically floating, already texting Hen about when they can meet and tweaks he wants to make that will push his programs that much closer to perfect. He’s in the middle of calling Maddie when he gets a text back, pulling it up as she starts listing all the program improvements she has planned for her and Chim to work on since they didn’t make the Final themselves.

It’s not from Hen like he expects, it’s from Eddie — a picture of him laid up on a couch, foot in an air cast but still smiling at the camera.

[from: Eddie] Told you I’d take care of myself. I’ll be cheering you on from here

It hits him then, and he plummets back down to Earth at the reminder.

Eddie’s not coming with him.

He gets to try and keep his Olympic dreams alive, while Eddie stays home and hopes that he does enough to be healthy in time for Nationals.

A year ago, he’d be stupidly smug about a change of events like this. Now, it just makes his stomach twist and sympathy and sadness. He’ll be facing this competition alone — without his friend, his fiercest competition, his...Eddie — and no matter how much easier it might be for him to stay focused, alone is the last thing he wants to be.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fox #buddie fic #911 fic #9-1-1 #fs au #ficcery

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poormeowmeowcollector · 3 years

Text

Two Gals Sitting On An Elevator Because They're Not Gay

Pairing: Lady Loki/Female Reader

Warnings: claustrophobia, panic attacks

Summary: with the power cut off, you get trapped in an elevator with Loki.

Notes: after being tempted by a certain lady *coughcough* @lucywrites02 *coughcough*, my bisexual thirsty ass needed Lady Loki, okay?

Read On AO3

You're pacing down the corridor, the shoes slamming rhythmically on the tile floor. It's just your first meeting and you're already late.

You slide into the elevator right before it closes, pressing the button and staying put in a corner.

"Good day," a posh voice greets. You turn to face a woman around your age, black locks of hair framing her sharp and pale face, her green eyes scanning you. She's also dressed nicely, a black leather jacket and jeans with old boots and a green tee, some gold jewelry here and there. And she is holding four cups of coffee, the biggest ones the shop inside the Tower has to offer.

"Good day," you smile and nod, eyes still on her. You can swear she looks familiar, apart from illegally attractive. "Excuse me, but have we met again? You look familiar," you mutter, already regretting it. Gosh, you sound like a freak.

"Perhaps from the TV, when the attack took place," she answers, voice low and deep. You stop and think for a bit. The only women on the TV from back then were Agent Hill and Agent Romanov, and this woman is much taller and paler than both of them. You're ready to ask for more information, in hope of recognising her.

"Apologies, I looked different then. I'm Loki," she explains, a tint of anxiety in her eyes.

"It's fine, don't bother with it. Oh, by the way, what're your pronouns?" you ask, secretly glad to see that anxiety dying out.

"Thank you, she/they for now," she smiles, still small and distant. You nod and stay silent, feeling that there's nothing more to add to the convention. Loki agrees with it.

There is a silent agreement among humanity, one that says that we cannot stare when inside an elevator. But your eyes can't stop trying to steal glances. It's not the superhero fact, you knew very well that you needed to acknowledge the fact that you're on the tower and respect those people's boundaries the moment you got the job. It's how damn beautiful they are, even though she's just standing there.

Then, you can't stare altogether, because the lights are out and the elevator comes to a halt.

"What just happened?" There's an obvious panic on Loki's voice, accompanied by a small breeze.

"Probably the power was cut off. A second generator or the reactor will turn on again soon, don't worry. We just need a light so we don't bump into each other…" you mutter, trying to find your phone.

Which you, apparently, forgot at home when you rushed here. Great!

"Do you happen to have something that can light up the place?" You ask, trying not to groan. A small lantern appears on the centres of the small box, lighting it up with a green light.

"Nice, relaxing," you smile at Loki, watching as they nod from their tiny corner. You sigh and go to the door, trying to open it.

"Allow me," Loki appears from behind you and digs her fingers into the small split, the metal bending around them. With one flex of their hands, the doors are torn apart, only to reveal a wall. There's no light or air coming from below or above, you're trapped exactly between the floors.

"JARVIS, tell Stark that we're here," she sighs and turns towards the black screen that is supposed to be the board. Nothing happens.

"Maybe the AI needs power to work. They'll find us. Until then, we should get comfortable," you suggest as you sit down, facing the green lantern. Loki hums but doesn't sit. Instead, they walk around in circles like a caged animal and mess with their fingers (the coffees are on a corner), an obvious nervous gesture.

Without thinking about it, you grab your fidget toy from your bag and wait until Loki walks in front of you so you can kick her gently. "What?" They ask, glaring at you. You smile and offer the toy, watching her expression becoming softer as she takes it and starts messing with it instead of her fingers.

"I apologise, but I don't have the best experience with closed rooms, they're like cages," they laugh, the nervous kind of it.

"No need to apologize," you shrug, mentally trying to think of a way to make it more bearable. Damn, you should have searched for it while you had the chance…

The elevator gets colder, distracting you for the mental barade on how ignorant you are. "Could we run out of air?" Loki asks, stopping the walk and staring at you.

"There's a vent on the ceiling and air coming from the holes in the door so, no," you take it literally. It probably won't help but she still nods and tries to smile.

They sit down, opposite to you, and keep playing with the toy, eyes lost. Her lips are muttering things in a language that comes to your ears as a combination of trills, groans and gagging sounds. Their skin becomes clammy and pale and their eyes glassy, shoulders jumping up and down faster than before.

You're not an expert, but this is not a good sign.

Your breath comes out visible from the cold as you call Loki's name. She doesn't respond. Instead, they throw the toy down and curl into a ball, head hidden and something between wheezing and sobbing coming out of them. Her hands, tight around her curled feet, have a green glow on the fingers, like fire threatening to burn everything down.

You move closer and call their name again, hoping you won't starle them and make it worse. She doesn't flinch, but doesn't respond either. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay. You're safe. You will be fine, alright? You'll be fine," you whisper, again to no avail.

You try to run your hand against the green flames, still repeating those words and warning her. It covers your fingers too, giving you a numbing sensation of a sleeping limp.

Then, Loki literally grabs you like you're a teddy bear and squeezes you, but gives you enough freedom to do the same. You're afraid to apply pressure but they squeeze you back, almost asking you to mimic them.

So, you hug each other for dear life, your hands drawing patterns on her back. Against your body, their heart pounds like it's going to break out and their lungs move faster than light, their whole body shaking and feeling clammy and cold. She's resting her head against your shoulder, tears streaming down as she fights for air.

"Shhhh, it's okay, it's okay. You'll be okay. It will pass, I promise. Just try to breathe and wait, okay? You're not alone in this one, you're not. Everything will be okay," you whisper again and again against their ear, hoping to help somehow.

It takes time and effort for Loki to finally draw a full breath, even though a shaky one. You smile and praise her for it, happy to hear the next ones being more full of air and feel her body steady.

But there's a cold wave again.

"Sh- I'm so sorry… I-I… I had no control…" they mutter and break the hug, head hanging down with shame.

"Since you're better, it doesn't matter," you smile, trying to find her hand again. She's quick to cup yours with hers, squeezing and tracing lines with her thumb.

"Then, thank you," they raise their head and give you a weak smile, eyes still glassy from the tears.

"Don't mention it. Em… do you want me to step back, give you space?"

She nods a no. "Actually, I would ask for the exact opposite," they whisper, trying to maintain the smile. You turn around and sit beside her, your upper body resting against the metal wall.

"You're free to go ahead, you know," you let them know. Without a warning, not that you needed one, she tangles her hand against your and lays on your shoulder, breathing heavily. You move your own hand against their waist, bringing them closer.

"Can I ask, why do you feel so safe with me? You're literally a goddess," you ask.

"You aren't a threat. When you," she stops to take a breath, "when you touched my seiðr, it felt safe," they explain, voice wheezing just so.

"The green fire thing?" You furrow your brows. Loki gives you a hum.

Neither speaks for a long time, you stay put where you are. But it's not awkward at all. In fact, it's quite comfortable. She stays there, the small and occasional squeezing on your side by her hand is the only proof that she hasn't fallen asleep, but it's obvious how the attack drained her.

Then, they start humming a tune, completely foreign to your ears.

"What's that song?" You ask out of the blue, praying you won't starle her.

"An old lullabye Frigga used to sing to me and Thor when we were small. She said it has a protection spell to keep creatures of the night away," they sigh. Only from the myths, you recognise the name.

"It probably is inappropriate to ask, but do you mind singing it out loud? The melody sounds sweet," you suggest, voice small. Loki chuckles.

"My singing is terrible in this form, I was unfortunately trained to sing only with the male voice and there's no way I'm turning into him anytime soon,"

"Oh, okay then," you nod at her response, convinced that that's the end of the discussion. Loki stays silent for some long moments, and then they straighten themselves against the wall.

"Come, lay here. If I am to do it, better do it the way she did," she argues, petting her thigh. Whatever bisexual alarms exist in your brain start beeping like bomb sirens from the WWII, so loudly that you swear they can hear them.

"We're strangers…" it's all you manage to say. Loki responds with a shrug.

"Yes, and?"

You nod and do as she commanded, your eyes put on hers. They smile and take some deep breaths, you don't know if it's to gather courage or air.

Then, she starts singing. The sounds are still rough and hard, like their mumbling earlier, and the melody is completely foreign to your ear. It doesn't stop it from being magical. You soon close your eyes and find yourself relaxing in her lap, drunk in her voice.

Their foot jerks, hitting your head and making you groan as you land face–first on reality. "You could at least pay some attention," she scolds, icy eyes glaring at you.

"I'm sorry, I got lost in the song. But your singing is stunning," you try to explain yourself, but their face doesn't seem to soften.

"You could use a better lie, I sound like a dying goose," she maintains her serious face, or façade, even though you start grinning.

"Now who's lying?" you tease, rising up and going back to your previous position beside them. Her cheeks go pink and then red, the blush spreading to her ears and her lips turning into a thin line.

And gosh, they're so adorable!

"I-" she stammers, seconds before hiding her burning face between her fingers and muttering in Old Norse.

"Hey, are you alright?" you ask, worried you might have triggered another attack. They nod and sigh, revealing their now pinkish face.

"I apologize, it just started to hurt," she whispers, eyes looking down at her hands. You shrug one shoulder.

"You have nothing to apologize for." They smile at the answer, laying back at your shoulder and digging their nose in your neck, long cold fingers grabbing your hand and playing with it as tickling fire comes and goes. She digs her head out, watching carefully your hand's reaction to the fidgeting.

"You have a beautiful hand, you know that?" they mutter, almost you themselves.

"Thank you," you don't know if you giggle from the comment or the tickling coming from her seiðr. They hum, consecrated on your hand and maintaining a second wave of comfortable silence for several minutes.

"What do you plan to do when we get out?" she asks out of the blue, leaving your hand alone and hiding back to your neck.

"Make sure I'm not fired, apologize to my boss, probably get something to eat since I didn't have time for breakfast…" you whisper, scared of breaking the silence.

"If Stark fires you, he dies, slowly," they don't break the calm with the threat, but you still giggle at it.

"Thank you, sweetie. What're you planning to do?" you beam and move some hair away from her face as she turns around.

"Move to a balcony, smoke the whole tobacco industry, never use an elevator again, and kill Stark," they shrug, gazing at the metal wall in front of you.

"Sounds like a plan," you grimace and fail to hold back a shiver. When did it get so cold again?

Loki starts to quiver too, but you bet it's not from the cold.

"Loki?" you keep quiet, hoping you won't scare her. They don't respond.

Instead, she just sits there, like a statue, vacant eyes on the wall.

"Loki, you're safe now. Okay? You'll be alright. I promise, you'll be just fine," you start whispering again, raising a hand to hold them.

Your head gets slammed against the wall. Loki stands in front of you, her eyes glowing green and filled with rage and a flaming punch being ready to launch in your face. You raise your hands in surrender, praying that they'll see them instead of the way you shiver from fear.

Her eyes soften, and then water up. "You're not- Oh Norns, I'm so- Oh Gods!" they stammer and walk back, their whole body shaking. She stops on the neatest wall, her feet collapsing and making her fall down.

They need space, you know that, but you still walk closer. "It's okay, you didn't mean to," you whisper, now careful not to touch without permission.

"I almost…" she mutters, hiding her face behind her hands.

"Almost. You didn't do it," you debunk, hoping it will somehow help.

Plus that punch couldn't be so bad. Expect that they're able to bend metal… minus the magic… Nevermind, you'd break your skull.

"Hey, did you listen? You didn't do it. It was close, yes, but it didn't happen," you repeat, sure that her thinking was louder than your speaking.

"Could you… could you stop talking? Please?" they whisper, removing their hands from their face to glare at you.

You nod, waiting for another way to help. She pats the metal beside her, and you move there, letting her lay on your shoulder again.

"You know, I never thought of you as a cuddler…" you comment.

"If you tell anyone, I will kill you," they growl. You nod, sure she didn't feel like joking.

You stay still as they move around to get more comfortable, ending again on your shoulder but this time their body is relying on yours and their nose brushing your neck. For someone as thin, you didn't expect her to be that heavy, but you're not getting crushed, literally, so you don't complain.

"What happened? Did the snake eat your tongue?" they purr, and you get to feel their sinuses vibrating as they speak.

"You asked for silence," you shrug your free shoulder, turning to face her. They hum and go silent again, pressing their face harder on your neck.

"Oh, apologies," she whispers, after a yawn so soft you thought it's just a sigh, her voice dragged and half asleep.

"It's fine, you can even sleep," you whisper back, smiling as they smile at you and dive further down.

And maybe five minutes later, her breath evens out and deepens. You stay even more still, they had maybe three panic attacks, they must be exhausted. So, in order to entertain yourself, you decide to daydream and maybe count the deep sighs she releases against your neck.

At about ten sighs, the elevator starts moving down, which is enough to wake them up. "They're getting us out?" she asks and yawns, eyes on the wall that reveals the door of the lower floor.

Someone digs their fingers on the other metal wall and opens it. The sunlight makes you cover your eyes.

"Sister, are you well?" Thor's voice literally bombs as he runs inside.

"Be quiet, you idiot…" they respond, basically jumping up before Thor can realise that you were cuddling. You follow her path.

"Oh, a Mortal. Are you well?" Thor turns his eyes on you.

"Yes, yes. Is Mr Stark here, by any chance?" you mutter. The characteristic sound of the suit walking towards you is enough of an answer.

"Yes, miss. Don't worry, you're not fired. In fact, since you are now needed more spontaneously, you'll move here. And before you ask, yes, that's a promotion," he moves the metal mask out of his face to deliver the good news.

"Also, how did Loki not kill you?" Captain America pops up and asks.

"They were hugging when I opened the door," Thor answers before you can muster a lie. Your first reaction is to bite your lip and turn to Loki, whose face has gone all pink from the shame.

"No, no! She was scared and asked for it. I committed out of pity!" they make up a lie. All three heroes turn to you.

"Yes, yes, exactly. It was terrifying. Now, if I could… pack up my things? Yes… Gotta go, sorry…" you stammer and walk back, towards the staircase.

"Wait, I… I can help you. With the seiðr and superstrength and all…" Loki also stammers and follows you.

You walk down a level in complete silence, waiting to be 100% sure no one is listening. "They will never let that die out…" Loki sighs, her hand brushing her bright red cheeks.

"Definitely… in order to make up for the embarrassment, may I tempt you to dinner? On Friday? I know a nice place," you smirk, hoping to appear less messy.

They offer you a mischievous grin, her eyes shimmering in the dark staircase. "Temptation managed,"

#lady loki #loki/reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki marvel #loki #tw claustrophobia #tw panicking #elevator #bisexuality #chaotic bi energy #pre relationship #loki fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #trapped in an elevator

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magnusbae · 3 years

Text

Las Vegas - Malec - Marriage 1,581w

I had this crazy notion of Magnus and Alec meeting in Las Vegas and getting married bc of reasons™ so here we are (❁´◡`❁)

▾▾▾

Alec is in Las Vegas (not by choice), he’d literally rather be anywhere else but it’s his bachelor party (also, not by choice) and Jace had insisted.

“If you’re forced into a loveless marriage, the least we could do is get drunk shitless and have one last good time” he said to him while driving.

“Gee...Thanks.” Alec can’t help the bitterness in his tone, he knows Jace is trying his best to cheer him up in this messed up shitstorm that is his life, but quite frankly? It doesn’t help.

▹▹▹

If Alec is asked how he ended up drunk and spilling all his pathetic little secrets to a complete stranger, the simple answer would be: because Jace is a complete and utter asshole.

Alec downs the fruity, colorful cocktail and tells the nice stranger that much “...being ditched on my own, forced, bachelor party?... must be a new low..” his cheeks are heated and he’s not keeping anything inside anymore.

There’s something about this inhumanly attractive man that demands trust. His dark kind eyes are focused on him, he’s not judging, he listens. And Alec realizes just how badly he needed someone to listen.

The man is also flirty, extremely so.

“Oh?” the man raises an eyebrow and tilts his head “Bachelor party?”

Shit. He just had to ruin the one good thing about tonight, didn’t he?

“Arranged Marriage” Alec blurts out, as if it could somehow salvage the situation and excuse the fact that he’s engaged, that he’s sitting here and drinking up every single compliment and flirt like he’s dying of thirst. Which, quite honestly, he might be. With how this beautiful man looks.

“I don’t even like her-- I don’t even like girls” Alec’s mouth snaps closed, heat rushing to his face and heart bungee jumping into the abyss of his terror. He had never confessed this so clearly and loudly, he had never.

Alec has a half mind to jump to his feet and run, it probably shows, because the next thing he knows is a hand on top of his and a warm squeeze, rings brushing against his skin.

“It’s okay, I understand” the man’s voice is a quiet murmur and yet somehow Alec hears him loud and clear, feels those words hit hard.

He doesn’t know why he says the next part, maybe it’s the way the man's hand feels, or the way the corners of his eyes wrinkle as he smiles, or just the way his lips look when his tongue flicks to wet them.

“I’ve never even kissed a man”

There’s white noise in his ears and his heart beats, fast and furious.

“Would you like to?” the man’s fingers brush over his forearm.

Oh god.

▹▹▹

The first thing Alec becomes coherently aware of is the way the sunlight seems to punch against his closed eyes. Groaning, he tries to turn away, feeling the migraine stirring into awakeness along with him. He feels sick, like any sudden movement might get him puking right there and then. Wherever there even was.

“Ugh...” he swallows, throat bitter and dry “Jace?” he croaks, hoping that in the very least his brother had the decency to deliver him safely to the hotel.

“Not quite” a sultry voice replies instead. It’s deep and soft around the edges, there’s something intimate about it, and it’s decidedly not Jace’s voice.

“Who-- “ Alec sits up so fast that his head spins, he feels the sick raising and swallows, grimacing and making a choked sound. A bathroom-- there must be one around-- he searches the room frantically, panic rising as fast as the sick tries to.

“That way” the man in front of him offers with amusement, though not unkindly. He points at the open door, painted nails glittering with gold. “Take your time”

▹▹▹

It’s nearly an hour later when Alec finally stumbles out of the bathroom.

After the unfortunate spewing of his guts, Alec had locked himself in the bathroom. Not his proudest moment, but at least it gave him a moment to regroup. He washes his face, drinks some of the tap water, and finally admits to himself that no, he is not in a hotel room. He’s not even in a normal house-- castle, more like. If the royalty-like bathroom is any indication to go by.

"There you are” the man sounds genuinely pleased to see him “And here I thought that you had decided to fortify my bathroom and take refuge there for forever” he smiles at him and it’s dazzling, more than the morning sun.

Alec can only stare at him, slack jawed. Flashes from yesterday surfacing with hot beats, the way his lips were soft, the way his cologne smelled, the way it felt to be pressed tight against a wall-- he gasps audibly, shrinking on the spot.

How is he real? How was it not some sort of an intoxicated hallucination his poor brain had provided to torment him. How is he sitting here, right in front of him surrounded by gold light like some sort of god.

“Not that I would terribly mind” the man continues, not minding Alec’s stunned state of mind “having such a handsome man living in my bathroom must have it’s benefits, don’t you agree?” he adds cream into his coffee and stirs is, his pinky raised. Royalty. Alec thinks, numbly.

“I would offer you some coffee as well darling but I doubt it’ll do you any good, here” he gestures at the juice glass, there’s a few pills laying on top of a small tea plate “ I thought you might want those” his brown eyes are deep and warm.

“Than--” Alec feels breathless, like there’s no air left in his lungs “Thank you.” he’s acutely reminded of last night, of how kind and patient the man was, how when Alec hesitated outside, he simply took his hand and led him back inside, buying him a soft drink and telling him funny stories that got him laughing.

“I don’t even...” Alec is ashamed to admit, considering he somehow ended up sleeping in the man’s bed (he wonders if?)(he doesn’t allow himself to go there yet) “...know your name...” he feels small and stupid “I’m sorry.” he clasps his hands behind his back, standing there and waiting to be scolded.

Instead, the man laughs “You’re something else” he murmurs when his laughter subsides “I’m Magnus, Magnus Bane” he introduces himself with a little flamboyant wave of his hand. “And you, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, should really take your medicine now” he raises the plate and offers it for him.

Magnus.

Alec remembers now, he thought that he was kidding, so he giggled when he told him his full name too.

Under the man's--Magnus’--purposeful gaze, Alec accepts the medicine and the juice, quickly swallowing the pills and drinking up.

All the while, he can’t stop staring. Magnus is wearing a ridiculously luxurious silky gown, his hair styled in effortless soft waves and his eyeliner glitters every time he blinks. For the hundredth time this morning, Alec wonders how a man this beautiful can be real.

Alec places the glass down, he wants to thank Magnus again, ask him how did they end up here, and where his phone was-- a glitter of gold catches his eye, he stares down at his hand, raising it slowly and spreading his fingers.

Undeniably, a gold band is wrapping his ring finger.

“Magnus.” his voice comes out even, calm “...why is there a wedding ring on me?” his eyes close for a moment, he inhales deeply and holds it.

Alec tries to patch last night’s event together, a lot of it feels like a dazed dream.

They were at their fourth, maybe fifth bar. Magnus insisted on showing him Vegas-- the real Vegas. It was a quiet one, with soft rock music playing in the background and dark corners you could hole up in and get lost in conversation.

He remembers Magnus’ attentive eyes on him, remembers confessing that he was enjoying himself, that this was the most fun he had in years.

He also remembers how sad he felt when he whispered that he wished he could spend the rest of his life like this, that he felt more like himself with a complete stranger than with his own parents, his family.

How he wished he didn’t have to marry a woman he would never be able to love.

“Oh my god.” his eyes snaps and he remembers, suddenly crystal clear.

Magnus’ lips curl with the same incredible mischief he had yesterday while leading Alec to the nearest courthouse.

“You can’t be forced into an arranged marriage if you’re already married..." Magnus echoes his own words with such clear mirth and joy, it’s wonder he’s not purring with how satisfied he looks “Am I right, darling?”

And how genius Alec thought him to be last night, how wonderful the idea sounded, how he laughed, how swooned he felt when they sealed their marriage with a sloppy kiss.

“Oh my fucking god.” his parents are going to bloody murder him, or worse, disown him-- and yet-- he’s smiling “You are crazy-- I am crazy!” he's bewildered and amazed, a strange mixture of anxiety and hope filling his chest.

“Uh uh” Magnus waves a finger at him “We are crazy” he corrects him easily.

▹▹▹

Alec Lightwood-Bane ends up showing at his parent’s house with a husband at his arm and a death wish at his lips.

#Malec fic #Alec Lightwood #Magnus Bane #Malec #shadowhunters #I wasn't going to write it but then I did #I know it's not mentioned anywhere at all but-- Magnus owns clubs across Vegas-- okay? okay.#That's a fact f life.#And I hope you like the angsty undertones with a very happy ending <3 #I hope you enjoy a little silly Vegas fic C:#Good night cupcakes~#any odd typos to be excused due to severe sleep deprivation haha #buns.w #buns.all

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ilovefandoms102 · 4 years

Text

Part 16

Summary: Things for you and JJ take a turn

Taglist:

@ma10427 @lasnaro @certainstatesmantoadartisan @iamaunicorn4704 @fernweh-fangirl @justcallmesams @sspidermanss @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @hurricane-abigail @outerbongs @gviosca @eb15 @lopineapples

Part 15 Part 17

Note: I hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you guys think!

Songs referenced later in the chapter:

More Than Words- Extreme

You’ll be in my Heart-Phil Collins

===================================

“JJ,” I mumbled, gripping harder on the armrests.

“Why are we at Barry’s?” Pope asked.

“Be right back guys” JJ said, climbing out of the van.

“JJ no!” I yelled, running after him.

JJ rummaged and threw stuff around in Barry’s house. It was so disgusting and smelled like no one had cleaned it in a very, very long time.

“JJ what are you doing?” I asked, standing by the door while he was in the kitchen.

“I know this motherfucker has a stash hidden” he said.

“A stash of what babe?” I questioned, throwing my arms out. I ran after him as he went to the back of the house. We stopped in what I’m assuming is Barry’s room.

“Found it” JJ said, dumping a shit load of cash on the bed. He grabbed a bag, stuffing all of the cash into it quickly.

“So, we’re robbing people now JJ?” I asked rhetorically, following behind him back to the front door.

“I’m sick and tired of people messing with us, we’re getting even” he spat out, slamming the door open.

“Yeah JJ and ya know, if you keep doing shit like this you know who you’re going to end up like? Your fucking dad!” I shouted, immediately regretting my words.

He slammed me up against the van, grabbing the front of my shirt. I didn’t back down from his stare. I was too angry and stubborn to see what I had said was so wrong. I could see the hurt behind the fury in his eyes.

“JJ!” John B yelled, coming to my side. I held up my hand, telling him I had the situation handled.

“You really sprouting that shit on me baby?” JJ asked.

“This is beyond psychotic JJ! Barry knows dangerous people, and he’s going to come after us.” I spat through my teeth. He gripped at my shirt tighter, staring more intensely in my eyes. “Put it back” I whispered.

“No” he said, getting in the van.

I stood still where I was, not knowing what to do to make him see he was being crazy. Everyone else stared at us, I looked at my brother, the sting of tears creeping up on me without my permission. I choked out a sob I didn’t want to come out. I knew I had to say it or this was going to be bad.

“JJ” I said, turning to look at him.

“I’m not putting it back!” he yelled.

“Put it fucking back or we’re done!” I screamed, the tears starting to leak down my face.

Everyone gasped behind me, JJ’s eyes widening. I stood my ground, the adrenaline still pumping in my system caused my whole body to start shaking.

“Please JJ, put it back. I can’t lose you, please” I whispered, the tears coming down harder.

“Fuck this” JJ scoffed, he got out of the van and started walking away from us.

My heart shattering, I was losing the love of my life. But, I knew even in a fucked up way, this was all from a place of love. He was reacting because we were threatened, and a gun was pointed at all of our heads. I started after him, but my brother stopped me with an arm going around me.

“JJ!” I sobbed, leaning on my brother. He turned me around, my head going into his neck as I cried.

“Let’s go bubba” John B said, pushing me to the van. John B drove while I took the passenger seat. I got out my cigarettes, chain smoking them the whole way home trying to ease the pain in my heart.

Later that evening:

I blew up JJ’s phone the minute we got home from Barry’s, worry pooled deep in my stomach. I knew he was going to take that money to his dad, and who knows what the hell they’d do with it. I cried in my brother’s and Sarah’s arms for hours, regretting everything I said to JJ.

“I just wanted him to see how unreasonable he was being, I didn’t think he’d actually take it seriously” I sobbed, Sarah ran her hands through my hair.

“He knows that Bubba, he was acting out of anger. You know he loves you.” John B said.

“What if his dad does something to him?! Oh god, I’d never forgive myself Birdie!” I screamed out, jumping up off the couch. I ran to the door, grabbing the keys.

“Bubba!” John B yelled, him and Sarah following after me.

“Where are you going?” Sarah asked.

“I’m going to get JJ” I stated.

They both piled into the van, I pounded my foot on the gas. We were half way there when two motorbikes pulled up.

“Pull the fuck over!” one of them said.

I slammed the gas harder, the guy pulling in front of the van, and I had to slam on the breaks to keep from hitting them. The man took his helmet off, and none other than Rafe fucking Cameron was the one driving.

“Let me handle this” Sarah said.

I ignored her, slamming the door shut. I walked up to Rafe and shoved him as hard as I could.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!” I screeched.

“Nice to see you too little Pogue” he smirked.

“What the hell Rafe?” Sarah said.

“Ahhh my beloved little sister” he said.

“Cut the shit Rafe, what do you want” I asked through my teeth.

“I want a lot of things from you little Pogue, but now’s not the time for that. What I’m really here for is to ask why you all thought it was a good idea to steal from a drugdealer.” Rafe said. Sarah and I looked at each other, my fist balled up.

“We didn’t take anything” I said.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, but you should know...Barry is a bad man. He has connections everywhere, and he’s going to come after you all” he said.

“Well thank you for almost dying just to tell us something we already know dumbass” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You misunderstand me little Pogue. He knows Maybank has the money, so he’s going to take YOU as his prize.” Rafe said.

“I’d like to see him try” I said. “I can handle myself quite well with the amount of times I’ve beat your ass huh Rafe?” I asked, smirking at my last statement.

“If you don’t want your friends to die Sarah, you best be getting that money” Rafe said to Sarah.

All of the sudden, we see a van pull up. Men rushing out, heading for me and Sarah.

“Shit” I said.

“Hey! I said not my sister!” Rafe yelled.

Sarah and I bolted back to the van, men getting a hold of us almost instantly.

“JB!” I screamed for my brother. I saw him run to the back of the van, he pulled the gun I took from Barry out and rang out a shot.

“I suggest you let both my sister and my girlfriend go, or I’m going to blow each of your fucking brains out.” my brother said, deadly calm.

That bought me enough time to elbow the guy that had a hold of me, turning around and punching him in the face. Another trying to grab me, but I kicked my leg out and hit him right where it counts. After Sarah and I got free, we got in the van and I got us out of there. I couldn’t go to JJ’s now because it would lead Barry’s men right to him.

“We have to move the gold tonight, with or without JJ” I said, speeding back to the chateau.

I suddenly got a text from JJ, telling me to meet him at the house. My eyes widened at the message, I sped faster to get to him. We got home and it was completely dark out now. I instructed my brother to get the stuff ready so we could move the gold. Suddenly, a shit ton of fairy lights came on all around the chateau.

“The hell?” I said, looking around. I spotted a huge ass hot tub in the middle of my yard, my mouth fell open.

“A jet is going right up my butt babygirl” JJ slurred. He was drunk off his ass, sunglasses sitting low on his nose.

“JJ, what the hell is all this?! How much did this cost?! How did it get here?!” I started asking a million questions to which he shook his head at me.

“Baby, it doesn’t matter. Come on get in with me!” he said, waving his hand at me.

“JJ, this is insane...seriously how much was all of this?” I asked.

“Well, let’s see. I had express delivery, had to buy the gas, and the lights. So....all of it” he said nonchalantly. My eyes were so wide I’m sure they would have popped out of my head.

“WHAT?!” I screeched. “JJ!” I yelled at him.

“Sweets, it’s fine. I bought this for us! Our friends,no fuck that this is our family.” he said.

“JJ...this is not ok! You could have at least used that to pay your restitution! Or literally anything remotely helpful!” I shouted.

“Ok well I didn’t!” he said, standing up.

His whole stomach was covered in huge bruises, I stared at them. My poor JJ, just wanting acceptance and love. No matter how hard I tried, he would always still look for it from his dad, and when he did, it resulted in another bruise.

“Baby” I croaked, my hand going over my mouth.

“Now stop all the emotional shit! Get in! I mean it’s sweet right?” he said, finally starting to break down.

I ran to him, getting in the tub and throwing myself into his arms. He broke down completely, body racking sobs escaping from his chest. I held on to him, singing our song softly in his ear. He cried hard, holding me so tight it was almost I struggle to breathe. When he calmed a little he spoke softly to me.

“Will you sing another song for me baby?” he asked. I started singing another song.The sobs coming again from him, shaking me with him.

“Come on baby, let’s go inside” I said softly to him.

We got out, heading inside. I got him in the shower and cleaned him off. I applied some cream to his cuts and made him take some medicine for the pain. We sat on my bed beside each other.

“I almost killed him” JJ muttered, a silent tear rolling down his face.

“Honey” I mumbles, running my hands through his wet hair.

“I just want to do the right thing for once sweets” he said, putting his head in his hands.

“I know you do sweetheart, it’s ok” I said, pulling him to me. His head landing on my chest. I combed my hands in his hair, getting rid of the knots that already started to form.

“No it’s not! I’m such a fuck up! I’m so sorry baby, I hurt you. I lost it and I hurt you.” he cried into my chest, his arms going around my waist.

“It’s ok baby, we were both mad and I said things I didn’t mean” I said.

“You’re right. I fuck everything up just like my dad. I’m becoming just like him” he muttered.

“JJ Maybank, do you really think I would let that happen?” I asked.

“You’re going to get tired of me eventually. You can’t fix me.” he said.

“JJ, I love you. And I know you love me. I know in my heart, that you are a good fucking person. And I’ll be damned if you or anyone tries to tell me any different.” I said, now my turn to start crying. “I want you, all of you. The good and the bad.” I said, quoting him.

“I just blew 25k on a fucking hot tub! I could have done something to help us and I bought a hot tub!” he yelled, pushing away from me. He turned and planted his feet on the ground, his elbows on his knees, and his head going in his hands.

“Well maybe we can sell it.” I said.

“It doesn’t change anything! Barry is going to come after us and it’s my fault! I should have listened to you! I was just so mad, and scared. Mad that fucker had a gun pointed at my girl and my friends. Scared because now people know the gold is real and that we have it. FUCK!” he screamed, punching the pillow.

“We’ll figure it out! We always do..we knew this shit was going to be dangerous, My dad died for this gold.” I said, rubbing his back.

“We need to find somewhere to get this gold cashed, and get out of the country” JJ mumbled.

==========================================

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accioprozac · 3 years

Note

Hey, love! Can I get a ship with anyone from any era. I’m a Sagittarius and I’m a ravenclaw! I love writing and listening to movies. I love traveling and I’m really impulsive. I’m pretty outgoing but I can be shy. I’m short and I have curly hair and I’m chubby. I love swimming. I love dying my hair different colors. And I love anything to do with horror! I hope that was enough info! Thank you, love!

Hi nonnie!

Thanks for requesting!

I ship you with

Oliver Wood!

You and Oliver Wood would be such a power couple. He probably first notices you while you’re laughing with your friends and is automatically drawn to your outgoing, friendly aura.

Maybe you’re into quidditch, maybe you’re not, but Oliver’s obsession with quidditch scares you at first. Like, does he do anything that’s not related to quidditch?

You soon realize his competitiveness extends outside of quidditch and into the classroom as well. He puts his all into almost everything he does and you really admire that about him.

You go to Quidditch matches occasionally and whenever Oliver sees you on the stands, he lowkey tries to impress you.

He probably asks you out after winning a match! He’s always extra confident and happy when Gryffindor wins, and he always goes to the after party. He never really gets drunk during the parties because hangovers are not good for early morning quidditch practice, he knows from experience. Never the less, he still has fun, especially when you’re with him.

You’re both pretty passionate people. Even though you may not necessarily love quidditch, you listen to Oliver ramble about it for hours and Oliver lets you talk about movies, and he may not understand muggle films very much, but he loves to sit there silently with a dopey grin on his face as he watches you talk about them.

Your first date is going to see a muggle horror film. He’s definitely fascinated at first but during the movie he jumped quite a bit. He tried to hide it and act all tough, but he was lowkey terrified. He literally ended up in your lap, his head buried in your shoulder. “Scared Ollie?” “Shuttup.”

Oliver is probably a year older than you, and when he graduates, he immediately gets offers from multiple professional quidditch teams. He ends up on an Italian team that travels across the world.

You were happy for him, you knew it was his dream, but you couldn’t help but feel like he was neglecting you. To be honest, you felt left behind.

The night before he left for Italy, you got into a huge fight with him. You accuse him of caring about quidditch more than he did about you. Both you and Oliver were super angry, and you end up saying some things you don’t mean.

“Maybe we shouldn’t be together then!” “Maybe we shouldn’t..”

Oliver leaves the next day without saying goodbye and you’re devastated, although you try to convince yourself you’re better off without him.

Oliver, who is living the life of his dreams, is miserable in Italy. He loves quidditch but he can’t get you out of his head.

Both of you are too proud to write to each other and apologize.

Surprisingly, it’s the Weasley twins who convince him to reach out to you. He sends you a ticket to Italy, inviting you to his first professional game.

Although you still harboured some feelings of anger towards him, you went. It was basically a free vacation and you’ve always wanted to visit Italy. You also thought that seeing Oliver again would help you move on. Boy, were you wrong.

The moment you saw him, all the memories came rushing back to you. Your first date, your first kiss, and the fight that led to your breakup.

Oliver didn’t have time to talk to you before the game, but he planned to when the game was done. You cheered him on, and Oliver’s heart warmed at the memory of his Quidditch matches at Hogwarts where you were fully decked out in red and gold(much to your housemates distaste).

When the game ended, Oliver was intercepted by some girls. To be honest, he didn’t really care about them. He knew they were just interested in his fame.

You saw a beautiful girl put her hand on Oliver’s shoulder, laughing airily at something he said. Jealousy pooled in your stomach and you stormed off, trying to hold back tears. You felt horrible, pining after your high school sweetheart who had clearly moved on.

Oliver looked for you after he escaped from his band of fan girls, but you were nowhere to be found. After asking around, he had realized why you left.

He shows up at your hotel room with a bouquet of slightly crushed flowers. He looks disheveled but somehow adorable at the same time. Although both of you are still hurt from the breakup, you decide to give it another go.

When you graduate Hogwarts, Oliver is still travelling as much as he did when he first joined his new team, but this time you could follow him. But you weren’t just following him, you were doing it for yourself as well. You loved travelling and experiencing different cultures. While he was at practice, you would be exploring.

Although Oliver was an amazing quidditch player, his team did lose sometimes. After a loss, he’d always be in a foul mood. The first time that happened, you quickly set him straight and made it clear that although you loved him, you were not going to put up with him being rude to you.

All and all, you and Oliver love each other a lot. Although at first it seemed like your lives were incompatible, you found a way to make it work without either of you having to make huge sacrifices.

I really hope you like it! Thanks again for requesting!

#oliver wood x reader #oliver wood #harry potter request #harry potter requests #harry potter x reader #harry potter headcanon #harry potter oneshot #quidditch #requests open #ship requests

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evening-starlight · 3 years

Text

Chances {Chapter Ten}

I think this is my longest Chapter so far lmao

Master List

Tainted

Word Count: 1867

I'll be honest with you guys, our first kiss is tainted. This chapter will explain it. I will also mention that this might be hard for some readers to read, so reader discretion is advised.

I pray for the world to open and swallow me whole right then and there. Of course, he would show up. He has to insert himself into every wonderful thing in my life. He has to plaster his face in every corner of my mind. Tom looks over my head at the man I used to be married to. This is not how I wanted to tell Tom about who it was. I slip my hands out of Tom's and turn around to Jared.

He smiles wickedly like I've fallen into his trap. The smile sends waves of nausea and anxiety coursing through every vein in my body. "What do you want, Jared?" He hands me a bouquet of flowers. Purple and green daisies. I cross my arms to avoid taking them. "I was thinking of you, so I bought you some flowers." Jared's attention shifts his attention to Tom behind me. "Thank you for dropping my wife off. I really appreciate it." Oh, absolutely the fuck not.

"Jared," I snap, pushing him away from Tom so we can speak semi-privately. "Why in God's name are you here? I am not your fucking wife. I don't want your damn flowers, which you never bought me when we were together anyways. I don't want you near me." My voice rising with the anger I feel boiling inside me. "You are nothing but a horrible stain on my history that I wish I could erase. You have ruined my life from the moment you walked in with that stupid book. You are the most possessive prick I have met in my life, and I regret every minute I spent with you." Jared continues to smile down at me. He has me right where he wanted me, yelling and spewing venom.

"I just wanted to show Tom what kind of girl you really are," He says, looking at Tom behind me. "A venomous bitch." My jaw drops to the floor when I realize I walked right into his trap. He pushes the flowers into my chest and grabs my face roughly in his hands. The kiss is forceful and possessive. I feel the bile rising in my throat the longer he keeps his lips pressed to mine.

Jared finally pulls away, wiping his lips. "I'll see you later, Jules." He walks off like nothing volatile just happened. I have approximately five seconds before I spew popcorn all over the steps. I drop the flowers on the ground and rush to the door, slamming my keys against the sensor pad and hoping it works. The door clicks like a heavenly sign. The gold trash can next to Will's desk is the closest and safest spot for the vomit.

"Holy shit, Stella. Are you okay?" Will asks, standing up from his desk as I empty my guts into his freshly cleaned bin after falling to my knees. Someone rests their hand on my back before pulling my hair out of my face. I wave them off.

"Fuck off, Jared." I manage between heaves.

"It's not Jared." Tom answers. "I want to make sure you're okay, and then I'll leave if you'd prefer." I have no energy to fight as I continue to dry heave, nothing but saliva and air coming out. Will hands me a handful of tissues as I sit back on my heels. I manage a small smile in return as I wipe my mouth.

"Sorry, Will." I apologize.

"Don't be. I'd rather it the trashcan than across the floor," Will jokes back. "Let me get you a water from the back." I look at Tom when Will leaves.

"I'm sorry. Theater popcorn doesn't taste good coming back up." He shakes his head with a small laugh.

"Don't apologize, Love. He seems like a cock." I chuckle with a nod. "I'm not going to force you to talk about it now, but I would like to understand more about that relationship." I nod. It's a fair request.

"If you grab those stupid flowers for me, we can head up to my apartment and talk. If you want," I suggest. Tom gets up to grab the flowers as Will comes back with a cold water bottle. I trade Tom the bottle for the flowers, pushing them bud first into the bin I just hurled in. I give Will another apology and tell him I'll get him his favorite bistro next time I'm at the studio.

Tom follows me back to the elevator silently. I have no idea what to say to him, especially after something like that. What are you supposed to say when you kiss the guy of your dreams, and your abusive ex comes by and forces one on you? Sorry I have a fucked up past I've been conveniently avoiding? I unlock my apartment door and walk in first. "You can sit anywhere. I have to go bleach my mouth." I mumble, making my way to the bathroom.

I avoid looking at myself as I gargle mouthwash, turning my back to the mirror. I can't believe I let that happen. I should have done something other than stand there like a statue. Why couldn't I do anything other than stand there and let Jared do that? Tom must think I'm a whore.

The mouthwash is traded out for my toothbrush and toothpaste as I continue replaying what the hell just happened. Jared showing up out of nowhere with flowers after years of saying they're meaningless because they'll just die. And of course, they were purple and green; self-centered prick was probably thinking of himself as he bought the Joker colors. I meet my own eyes in the mirror as I stand straight after spitting the toothpaste out. I have mascara tear streaks running down my cheeks. I've paled considerably enough to enhance the dark circles under my eyes. I look terminally ill.

I fix my makeup steaks quickly before walking out to the kitchen. "Do you want something to drink?" I ask Tom. "I have beer, Capri Sun, and water, but you'll have to drink out of a shot glass because the two cups I have are dirty." Tom opts for a CapriSun. I hand it to him as I sit on the opposite end of my couch. We sit in silence for a few minutes while I think of how to start talking and how much I want to tell him.

"Your apartment is quite nice," Tom starts, looking around at all the frames I have of the band and I. "Do you play all those?" He asks, gesturing to my elevated music area by my balcony door. On it is a bass guitar, acoustic and electric guitar, along with a keyboard and violin.

"Yeah, when my parents heard I wanted to make music because Jared was, they paid for multiple lessons. I fell in love with singing, but I can definitely shred it on bass." I joke. Tom laughs with a slight nod.

"How old were you when you met Jared again?" Tom asks in such a casual tone it calms me down slightly. Maybe he's just worried about me. Or maybe he just wants to know where Jared went wrong so he won't make the same mistakes, good or bad.

"I was introduced to him at fourteen." I avoid Tom's sudden worried look by looking at the floor beneath my sneakers. I should get a carpet in here. "My parents wanted to be millionaires, so they moved us all to LA when I was, like, three, I think. I don't know how they met Jared's family. They never told me, and neither did Jared.

"Everything was really innocent at first. He was my closest friend for years. He helped me with homework and practicing my music. I wanted to be just like him." I let out a bitter laugh. "I was sixteen when I realized I like him as more than a friend. We had to share a bed in a hotel on tour, and I remember not sleeping because he was right there, and he was cuddling me. He asked me out the day of my eighteenth and proposed two months later, married two more after that. We got divorced when I was twenty when I realized how much I really did miss out on life, and he was so possessive he stopped letting me go to band practice without him.

"The band started pointing it out too. Robbie was the one who literally slapped sense into me. Because why would I hit Robbie back and tell him off, but not Jared? So, yeah. Jared's super possessive and still is." I finish quickly, realizing I was going on a tangent.

"And he called you Jules?" I almost wished Tom would have forgotten about that. I know it's somewhere on my Wikipedia page, but would Tom have gone that far in learning about me?

"I've had three legal names in my life," I say, finally bringing myself to look at Tom. He seems concerned, and his eyes are so soft and welcoming I could curl up into his chest right this second. "Juliet Davis is my birth name, and I took Jared's last name when we got married. Then, about a year after our divorce, I decided to rebrand myself and use a new name entirely. Don't ask me why I chose Thompson; I googled it when I was drunk, and it just stuck. Stella is from this one kids' book I was obsessed with for years, Stellaluna. I don't know why, but I carried it everywhere with me until about junior high."

I guess I didn't notice the tears falling or that my voice was faltering. However, Tom did. Without hesitation, he pulls me into his arms, resting his head on mine. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all that, Love," He says in a soft voice. "You didn't deserve any of that. Thank you for sharing with me." I let him hold me for a while longer. I enjoy his touch, but I really just want to be alone to cry and break shit.

I don't know when I fell asleep; I just know when I woke up on the couch with a blanket on top of me and water on the coffee table in front of me, that Tom had taken care of me. He left a handwritten note as well, which I still have in my house. It said, 'I didn't want to leave you alone after something like tonight, but I felt it weird to stay the night uninvited. I truly appreciate you sharing something hard with me. I hope it's alright I washed a cup for you, and found some medicine as well, in case the crying caused a headache. Text me when you wake up. Much love, Tom.' Yes, I did run through the house like a crazy lady trying to find the letter so I could write it down verbatim.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston imagine #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #i got 99 problems and tom hiddleston could fix everyone of them #jared leto #Jared Leto imagine #jared leto fanfic #jared leto fanfiction #love #romance #fanfic #fanfiction #fiction #Original content #Oriiginal character #og #oc #Chances

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musingsofsaturn · 4 years

Text

Taking Matters into Her Own Hands

Fandom: Star Trek The Next Generation

Ship: The USS Titan Will Riker/Deanna Troi

Rating: MA for smutty stuffs that I can’t believe I actually wrote

Words: 2,400+

Summary: Much to the suffering of her husband, Deanna Troi-Riker is not a woman who takes kindly to being kept waiting.

Author’s Note: You GUYS I’ve wanted to write something like this for literal years but I was always so shy and embarrassed (you have no idea). Anyway, I’m still shy and embarrassed, but at least I wrote it, which is 90% of the work! If you see this on my blog, please know that I am extremely brave, or extremely drunk. And if you know me irl, GO AWAY PLEASE. Anywho, I’m gonna go try really hard to stop blushing and leave you to read. Hope you like it!

~ Saturn

Deanna checked herself in the mirror one last time. Her hair was styled in the way she knew Will loved it, tied high on her head with long curls cascading around her face and dancing at her collarbones. She had on a silken robe that she’d brought with her from Betazed. The material was sheer, and it was cut to reveal a woman’s curves perfectly. She gave herself a reassuring smile, before turning on her heel and marching to the door between their bedroom and their living space.

Will was sprawled across the sofa, reading something on the PADD. She could sense his concentration, but also recognised that whatever he was looking at wasn’t of any particular importance.

She cleared her throat softly.

He turned towards the sound, and she watched his eyes darken as he drank her in. “Hello,” he greeted her.

His thoughts were always amusing to her in moments like this. Normally he seemed so focused and alert, and she loved that he could lose all that clarity in an instant, just from the sight of her. Well, the sight of her combined with his own imagination, the suggestions of which she allowed herself a moment to enjoy.

Just a moment, though. “Hello.” She matched his suggestive tone, stepping forward into the room. Will sat himself up, placing the PADD on the coffee table as she neared.

“Good nap?” he enquired, referring to the reason she’d gone into their bedroom in the first place. She’d been tired, and overworked, and was feeling all too ready for a rest. As she attempted to fall asleep, however, her mind had drifted to thoughts of the man in the other room, and she couldn’t put the thoughts aside.

“I didn’t take it.” Deftly, she untied the cord from around her waist. “I remembered that there are better ways to relax.”

Deanna’s eyes met Will’s across the coffee table as she pushed the robe off her shoulders and allowed it to drop to the floor.

“Deanna,” he said softly, appreciatively, as he took in his wife’s body, bared to him so willingly. Then he rose, before striding around the table to capture her lips in a loving kiss. “Gods, I adore you.”

A quiet laugh escaped her at his passionate proclamation, as her arms moved around his shoulders, gently slipping a hand under his uniform collar to stroke a fingertip across the skin at the back of his neck. Goosebumps rose at her touch, and she lifted her chin to kiss him again.

“I adore you too, Imzadi.” She pressed her body to his, and he took the hint to allow himself to be pushed backwards, towards the still-open bedroom door.

Will’s sudden groan caused her to stop.

Eyebrow raised, she all but laughed, “Will, I haven’t even touched you.”

“No, it’s just that... Alpha shift starts in a quarter of an hour.”

A slow smile spread across her lips. “We could make that work.” He laughed at that, leaning down to kiss her again. But she knew that this was less lustful, and more affectionate. He was already trying to calm himself down. “I could place you on leave.”

She was only half-joking, but Will let out a laugh at her remark. “I think that would count as an abuse of your position, Counselor.” With that, he carefully untangled himself from her arms, and moved to the replicator. “Two waters,” he instructed. He glanced back to her with an amused smile. “Cold.”

Huffing, Deanna picked up her robe from the floor, dressing herself quickly and tying the cord with an angry grunt, aimed squarely at Will’s back. She knew he got the message; his smile was apologetic as he handed her a cup and gestured for them to sit on the sofa. Juvenile as she knew it was, she couldn’t help but pout slightly as she did so.

“Sorry, I’m disappointed too. But we can do better than a rushed ten minutes, and you know it.”

“You said you had fifteen.” She was playing up her annoyance now, exaggerating it as she understood where he was coming from.

He moved closer to her on the sofa, snaking an arm around her waist before pulling her close to him. “You deserve hours of my undivided attention. And that is exactly what you will get. Later.”

Resigned to her fate of waiting, Deanna took a sip of her water. “We’re grown adults. We can wait a few hours.”

“Looks like you’ll be taking that nap after all.”

Once Will had left, Deanna tried to busy herself around their quarters. She rearranged the bookshelves, made the bed, tried to take a nap, remade the bed, asked the computer for inane facts that she really didn’t care about... The distractions weren’t working.

She reached out with her consciousness for the one thing she could think about. Will was bored, and she felt him stir slightly when he recognised her presence in his mind.

Retreating back to her own mind, she sighed to herself. Suddenly she snapped herself to attention. “Deanna Troi-Riker, you are a grown woman. And you do not have to wait for your husband in order to get some relief.”

Moving back to the bedroom, she removed her robe again, casting it to the side with a flourish that was uncalled for, but one she enjoyed doing. After settling herself in the centre of the bed (who was there to leave room for, after all?) she reached for the bottle of Betezoid lubricant on the nightstand, using her other hand to caress her breast.

As she splayed her hand over her flesh, before using her fingertips to gently pinch at her nipple, she realised she was trying to replicate the things Will did with his hands that she enjoyed. And with that realisation, she had a wicked thought.

He felt her presence pressing at the edge of his consciousness once more, and tried to project a loving welcome as he let her into his mind.

Of course, he was never going to be an Empath, but the Imzadi connection between him and his wife was strong enough for them to communicate like this, projecting feelings, thoughts, and words between them.

At first, this connection seemed like his wife innocently checking up on him, as they frequently did throughout the day. But as he relaxed to her presence in his mind more and more, he recognised that she was projecting certain feelings that he was only used to getting from her in a more private space.

She wasn’t, was she?

He let out a small gasp as he realised what she was doing, quickly stifling it in his sleeve as he pretended to cough. He sensed her amusement.

She projected the sensations into his mind, letting him practically feel her pleasure with her. He felt as a gentle fingertip circled her clit, teasing herself in a way that made his chest tighten.

‘I wish you were here.’ Her voice drifted to him. Helpless to her, he concentrated on echoing the sentiment back to her. All he wanted to do in that moment was replace her fingers with his own, allow her to relax and surrender to the pleasure he could give her.

He felt her pleasure deepen as she pressed her finger to her clit, applying pressure that was enough to send subtle tremors throughout her body. Will concentrated very hard on not letting out a groan right there on the Bridge.

Deanna’s laugh felt like molten gold as he heard it echo inside his head. ‘Are you regretting leaving yet?’

‘I regretted it the instant I set foot out the door.’ It took a lot of focus for him to project full sentences to her, but he could do it. And he knew that she’d understood him when he could sense her smug satisfaction. ‘You’re an evil woman, Deanna Troi-Riker.’

Her smugness only grew at that comment. ‘Only to you, Imzadi.’ Through their connection, he felt her hand continue stroking her clit lightly, while the other moved to lightly pinch and twist at one of her nipples. ‘Why does this feel so much better when you do it?’

The stroke to his ego didn’t go unnoticed, and he knew that she could feel just how aroused he was by her teasing. His arousal only grew when she ceased her actions, only to slowly press a finger inside herself. She was wet, he knew that much, and her eyes were closed so she could focus only on how good she felt.

Will felt his tension as she added another finger, and quietly tried to rearrange his features into a more neutral expression. One that didn’t scream: ‘My Wife is Finger-Fucking Herself Right Now and Telepathically Inviting Me Along for the Ride’. He wasn’t sure if he was entirely successful.

With a ‘come hither’ motion of her fingers, he sensed as she arched her back off the mattress. If he’d been there, he’d have been able to take in just how gorgeous she looked. He would have heard her beautiful sounds; her breathy moans, her whimpers and whispers of his name. He could have captured her lips with his own, being as rough and as commanding as he liked because he knew that she could take it.

‘Mm, sounds lovely.’ His thoughts must have been clearer than he realised. ‘But you’re not here. You had the opportunity, and you refused me. Now look where we ended up.’

Juxtaposing the not-so-subtle dig that her words suggested, there was a warmth surrounding their delivery into his mind. He knew that Deanna had already forgiven him within seconds of his refusal, and he also knew that she was very much enjoying ‘where they’d ended up’.

If there was one thing William Riker knew about Deanna Troi, it was that she loved to tease him. It rivalled her love of chocolate, rivalled the pleasure she could give herself physically as her thumb moved to stroke her clit in time with her fingers sliding in and out of her own wet heat.

She would use outfits to capture his attention, adding an elegant sway to her hips that was meant just for him. Her hand would go to her face, drawing his gaze to her dark eyes, or her soft lips. She would make a double-entendre in conversation, glancing her eyes to his to show that she was deliberately turning his thoughts to exactly what she intended.

And when she had him alone, she would tease him with her hands and lips, avoiding everywhere on his body that he wanted her to go right until he thought he might burst. She’d bring him to the edge and then deny him his release, just because she could. She would set the pace to whatever suited her, and he would just have to give in to it - no matter how hard he begged for her to slow down or to give him more, goddammit.

She did all of this and more to drive him wild, and yet he found that he was surprised to be held hostage in his own mind by the woman he loved. Deanna had found yet another depraved way to torture him with her patient teases.

As he felt her pleasure mounting, her thoughts becoming less coherent by the second, Will realised just how much trouble he would be in if he couldn’t get himself back under control. He was on the Bridge, and he was the Captain, no less.

‘Deanna, I really need you to stop this.’ He wondered if he sounded as pleading in her head as he imagined he would have if he’d said it out loud.

Her amusement was palpable; he could almost taste it on his tongue. ‘I know you do. But I’m enjoying myself a bit too much, Imzadi. I’m not sure I can let you go just yet.’

That white hot laugh that he loved and cursed in equal measure entered his mind again as he glanced down at where he was straining against his uniform. ‘Deanna, please-’

She was close, so close, as he sensed her thought: ‘I’ll stop if you order me to.’

Using all of the self control he could muster, Will suppressed the groan that threatened to escape his mouth. Just. ‘Counselor, I order you to stop this.’

‘Yes, sir.’

And just like that, her presence within his mind slipped away. He didn’t need it to know that her fingers would be working away furiously, as her back arched and she threw her head back, moaning his name in the most delicious way he’d ever heard it.

Her climax would send shockwaves of pleasure through her, causing her to grow tense, then shudder, then squirm as it continued. That was a sight that Will Riker knew well, and it was his favourite sight in the universe. He didn’t need a telepathic connection to imagine exactly what he was missing out on in that moment.

Saved from what could have been an extremely awkward situation for everyone on the Bridge, Will closed his eyes briefly and allowed himself a few deep breaths. He tried not to focus on just how easily he could have climaxed himself just from hearing her call him ‘Sir’. It was even more arousing to realise that she must have recognised how it had affected him, that she knew that her use of that word was enough to make his cock twitch and his palms grow sweaty.

Slowly, much more slowly than he would ever have admitted, he shook away what he could of what had just happened, gradually allowing his focus to recentre on, oh, captaining the Titan?

Later, Deanna was perched on the sofa, quietly reading a book. She knew exactly what time it was (having checked every ten minutes for the past hour), and she was listening for the telltale whisper of the door to their shared quarters opening.

When it opened, she glanced up from the book, meeting Will’s gaze, red hot, where he stood in the doorway.

“Hello,” she greeted him innocently.

Shaking his head lightly, he stepped into the room. “Computer, lock door.” As he kicked off his shoes, striding towards her, she stood up, knowing just how smug her expression must have looked. “You... you are-”

“Evil?” she suggested, a self-satisfied grin spreading across her face.

His hands went to her waist, pulling her to him roughly as he kissed her. Pulling way only briefly, she felt his breath on her lips as he whispered hotly, “Bedroom. Now.”

With her teeth, she nipped gently at his bottom lip, before pulling away to lock her eyes with his.

“Yes, Sir.”

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