#like... right?? you all know who i mean right. hunts you down relentlessly and enjoys every second of it. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rocorambles · 3 years

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Patient 1: Addiction

Pairing: Toji x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Predator and Prey themes, Cum play, Knife play, Non-Con, Degradation

Link to: Prologue

Patient Name: Fushiguro Toji

Diagnosis: Adrenaline Addiction

Your brow furrows as you stare down at your first patient’s files. An addiction isn’t uncommon, but to adrenaline? You suppose it’s possible to become addicted to just about anything. Yet there are a million questions buzzing on the tip of your tongue as you turn to Uraume who just shrugs and says you’re better off hearing it straight from Toji’s own mouth.

Everything about this psychiatric facility is strange and you curiously stare at the elevator buttons as both of you descend, noting how each button has a name of a patient next to it with the final button having no label.

“Each patient has their own floor. They’ve been here for so long that we thought it would be more humane to give them ample room to live in instead of the standard patient rooms you typically see in other facilities. After all, we’re not here to treat them like caged animals, right?”

The humanitarian in you can’t defy that logic, but you can’t help but wonder if it’s safe for them to not be bound during your session, only to cringe at your own thoughts. They’re just ill patients, humans just like you, not prisoners. With that newfound determination you stride out of the elevator only to freeze when you hear the outer elevator cage slam close on your heels.

You turn, hoping to see Uraume right behind you, but your heart sinks when you see them safely on the other side of the metal fence, an eerie grin on their face as the actual elevator doors slide shut, leaving you with some parting words.

“I’ll see you when you’re done seeing all your patients today.”

Not even seconds pass before you’re scrambling to look for a button or anything to help pry open the elevator doors, fear overwhelming you as Uraume’s ominous farewell haunts you. But there’s no escape and you turn around to take in your surroundings, trembling and on the verge of tears.

Expansive is an understatement and you nervously walk around the dimly lit area, quickly losing track of all the rooms, corridors, and dead ends you bypass and amble through despite doing your best to keep track of everything. It almost feels like it’s meant to be a maze or obstacle course of sorts…

“Well, well, well. Look at the new little mouse I’ve found.”

Your heart threatens to burst out of your chest only to still in shock when you see a familiar face grinning at you, immediately connecting it to the manilla folder tightly clenched in your hands.

“Fushiguro Toji?”

“And you must be the new shrink. Follow me, doc. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. They always do.”

You don’t want to think about what’s happened to your predecessors, this “they” Toji’s referring to. You don’t want to follow this stranger. You don’t want to be trapped in this unknown environment with a highly dangerous patient and no means of escape. But what choice do you have? And with limbs weighted with despair, you trail after the dark haired man.

You’re surprised when Toji leads you into a room not far off from the police interrogation rooms you’ve seen in movies. A single table with a chair on either side are the only furniture in the room and you quietly take a seat across from where Toji has casually slumped himself down. But you note how his large stature easily overwhelms the small space, making the substantial table between you seem meaningless.

There’s silence as you fidget and fumble with Toji’s file, trying to find any professionalism and composure you have left as said patient continues leering at you, an amused smirk ever present on his face. It feels silly to treat this like any other examination, but it seems like the only thing you can do, what Toji himself is expecting of you.

“What is...what is adrenaline addiction, in your own words?”

You wonder if this is what opening Pandora’s box felt like, the question barely out of your mouth before regret instantly seizes you as Toji’s grin only grows wider and sharper, a crazed look in his eyes when he replies.

“It means I like being excited a little too much, doc.”

“And what excites you?”

You don’t want to know his response, but it’s the only way forward and dread fills you as he responds.

“Oh, lots of things. The burn of my throat and rush to my head after taking a shot. Gambling and the uncertainty of whether you’ll win or lose. The look of despair on my victim’s face when I shove a knife through their beating heart. The way it feels so fucking perfect to shove my dick in any tight hole it’ll fit in. But you know what makes me the most excited, doc?”

It’s theatrical how he tapers off, green eyes piercing you as he silently orders you to acknowledge him. And all you can do is shake your head side to side, tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you play right into his hands.

“What makes me the most excited is the thrill of hunting pretty prey like you.”

Instincts have you jumping out of your chair and bolting from the room. You don’t dare turn to see if Toji is chasing you down, his amused cackle at your expense trailing behind you. You’re blindly running, no sense of direction as you randomly turn left and right, your only prerogative to keep moving, hopefully farther and farther from your patient. Every corridor, every passage, every room looks the same and you struggle to breathe as quietly as you can despite the way your lungs ache.

You strain to listen, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the drumming of your racing heart and you don’t hear the figure casually ambling towards you until you’re being roughly shoved face first into the wall you’re leaning on, a toned figure pressed against your back, caging you in.

“Now, now. You’re making this way too easy. Tired already?”

It’s a rhetorical question, one you can’t bring yourself to answer anyway, not with the way your teeth chatter and your body trembles in fear as Toji loudly inhales your scent while he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, tongue lazily licking a strike of your salty sweat.

You sob as he harshly bites down, not enough to break skin, but enough to leave you aching and hold you still as his hands wander underneath your clothes, groping and kneading your breasts and ass. You’re too scared to move, fearing the consequences of resisting, praying that maybe this is it, that you’ll be let off when he gets his fill of feeling you up. But you can’t help the way you yelp and instinctively struggle against his hold when he tires of your frozen state and decides to ruthlessly twist your nipples and shove a thick finger into your tight hole.

“There we go. Glad to know you’re still alive and kicking. I don’t enjoy fucking dead and broken toys like that pink haired bastard does.”

Pink haired bastard? Your mind briefly flashes to a hazy picture you’re sure you had seen in one of the patient files. What was his name-

You shriek as Toji shoves another finger alongside the digit already in you, sobbing as you feel him stretching your walls, relentlessly pounding his fingers in and out of you, his fingers painfully pulling at your nipples. All you hear is his grunts in your ears and you clench your eyes in disgust when you feel a long hard object grinding against you, knowing full well what it is without even looking.

He’s going to rape and kill you. This is how it all ends. And you wait for it, the searing pain of that massive shaft impaling you. But it never comes and before you know it you’re moaning as he twists and flexes until he finds that soft spongy spot inside of you, insistently rubbing and stroking it with curled fingers as he continues dry humping you from behind.

You’re so lost in the sensations that you don’t notice how your body is betraying you as it unconsciously grinds back against Toji’s hand, your ass shaking and pressing even harder against Toji’s cock. It’s funny how easily you’ve lost any common sense, but you’re not here to be a vapid bimbo toy. He’ll save that side of you for one his fellow inhabitants who’ll appreciate it more and he abruptly pulls his now soaked digits out of you, snorting at how you whine from the loss.

You look so confused, so stupid as he rapidly finishes himself off, hooking down your bottoms low enough for him to shoot his sticky seed all over the inner fabric of your panties. And he grins when you practically moan as he pulls your undergarments back into place, cruelly tugging a tad too hard and wedging his cum and the stained lace deep between your abused folds.

You’re panting, looking like a wreck as you try to ground yourself from the dizzying confusion of being pulled right from the brink of an orgasm, the emptiness of your edging making your head foggy. But then something sharp is being pressed against your vulnerable neck and it’s enough to have fear jolt you back to your senses.

“Don’t be such a boring slut. Time to run and hide again. It’s playtime, bitch. Or maybe you need me to cut you up a bit. Pain’s always a good motivator.”

He’s barely finished speaking before you’re shoving him and his knife away from you and he whistles in appreciation as he watches you race away again, taking his time to tuck himself back in his pants. You’ll need as much of a head start anyway to even try and remotely make some sense of this labyrinth he knows every corner of. Not that any advantage will actually help you much. Toji’s never had a prey he couldn’t catch.

How many times has he found you and released you after defiling you just a bit more every time? Neither of you can keep track and only when Toji has shoved his cock in all three of your holes, filling every orifice with his cum and fuckig you until you can barely walk does your session end. It’s almost comical how he has to quite literally drag you back to the elevator you had come from and he cruelly laughs at the white sticky trail you’re leaving behind you with your loose holes unable to keep in the copious fluids.

You barely register what’s happening, too exhausted, too fucked out of your mind to even be bothered by the rough friction of the ground against your body, only mildly stunned by the fact that the elevator you had frantically tried to re-enter is now innocently open. And it’s with muted despair that you realize what fate has in store for you as Toji presses the button of the next lower level.

Gojo Satoru

The neatly labeled name is all you register before the elevator doors slide open and you’re shoved out of it, blearily making out the sight of Toji tauntingly waving at you from inside the metal enclosure.

“See you at tomorrow’s session, doc.”

Your world goes dark as the elevator doors shut.

#toji x reader #yandere toji #yandere jujutsu kaisen #toji smut #tw: yandere #tw: noncon

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thebatfamfanatic · 3 years

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Six Times He Met Her

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, guy taking advantage of a minor in first chap, mention of underage smut in fourth chap, making out?, violence, mentions of blood/injury, main character death, adult language, angst

A/N: First thing I’ve written on Tumblr!! Tell me if anybody likes it, or if I broke your heart. And yes, I know I’m evil.

The first time he saw you was around 2:30 in the morning. Jason was squatting on the edge of a rooftop in Gotham, surveying the dark scenery below him.

Somehow, there was still plenty of traffic on the dirty streets, plenty of cars honking and driving around. Jason always wondered who the fuck needed to be somewhere at 2 am.

He fiddled with a loose seam on the Robin uniform he sported each night, hunting down the assholes of Gotham (pretty much 70% of the city) and putting them in jail, where they belonged.

At 16, Jason Todd technically should have been in bed, maintaining a healthy sleep schedule and doing some rich kid shit during the day. Of course, his adoptive (long story) father, Bruce Wayne, richest playboy in Gotham, employed him to be his little tweety bird sidekick at night, so here he was, at the rendezvous watching the streets. yay. A scream came from an alley nearby. Jason stood, stretched his legs, and leaped down from the roof onto the ground. He pinpointed the alleyway where the noise was coming from and raced into it. A girl, about his age, had been cornered by some bitch dude who thought he could take advantage of this girl. Not on Robin’s watch.

Before the girl could scream again, the guy was on the ground and Jason was helping her up. She shakily took the hand he offered her and looked him in the eye. Shit, she had gorgeous eyes. Jason froze for a second, lost in her beauty, before clearing in his throat.

“Hi. I’m Robin, uh, you probably knew that. Are you okay, ma’am?”

He hated the squeak that came out of his mouth. He sounded like a fucking 5 year old. The girl raised her eyebrow. She had recovered rather quickly. “You don’t have to call me ma’am. I’m not some rich-ass royal whatever from Britain.” Jason liked this one. Sassy, but just so. He inquired where she lived, and she gave him the address. With his grappling hook at the ready, Jason pulled her closer to him. She jumped at the sudden closeness, but seemed to enjoy it. Maybe? He didn’t know shit about girls.

Jason shot the hook, propelling them up in the air, and landed on a rooftop. They continued this routine until he got in front of her house. It was still several seconds before he released her waist.

She started to walk towards her door, before stopping.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Sorry, what?” Jason blinked.

“I thought you were smart, Robin. Its my name, dumb ass.”

Then Y/N disappeared into her house. Jason stood there foolishly outside on her front lawn for a while, thinking about the girl he had just met. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, and he realized 10 minutes later that he had forgotten to ask about where her family was and everything.

Oh well. Bruce would be expecting him anyways. Jason shot his grappling hook and started home, still dazed from the encounter.

The second time you guys met was two weeks later. Jason was just Jason Todd, a normal 10th grader living in the shadow of his (adopted) older brother Dick Grayson. Nobody paid much attention to him, and he didn’t really mind. Mostly Jason focused on getting A’s in class and then retreating into the library until Golden Boy’s after school clubs were over.

That is, until you walked in. It sounded as if you had just moved here, and for a minute, Jason felt a little sorry for you. I mean, Gotham wasn’t the greatest place to spend high school, or any grade, in his opinion.

You looked at your schedule from across the hall and then up at the locker next to him. For a second, your eyes met his and Jason was content. Lost in those brilliant colors. And then you looked away and started walking towards him. He realized just in time maybe he should stop leaning over your locker as you stopped next to him.

“Hi. Y/N. Just moved here. Looks like we’re locker neighbors.”

Jason was about to reply with “I know” but restrained himself. “Jason. Nice to meet you. Congrats on moving to this shitshow.”

He managed to not grin like an idiot as you laughed. The sound was music to his ears, like beautiful bells. God, he was being sappy.

“It’s not much of a shitshow when you’re here.” Ooh, she flirts too. Jason smirked as you opened your locker and dumped your stuff inside, pulling out the things you needed for your first class.

The first bell shrieked just as you closed your locker. “See you around, Jason.”

The small smile you gave him made his day, and he almost forgot to get to class. Yes, you were certainly one of a kind, and yes, Jason wanted you. The question was how to get to that point.

You guys had a couple classes together, and frequently sat at the same table during lunch, so it wasn’t long before you were quick friends with Jason. However, the next notable time you met was a little while after he got your number.

Jason was laying on his bed, scrolling mindlessly through Tumblr as he thought about ways to ask you out.

Y/N, would you grant me the honor of going out with me? No, too Romeo and Juliet.

Hey, want to grab ice cream? He had to make it clear what his intentions were. Then it wouldn’t be weird if he kissed you, right?

Oh, god, if he fucking kissed you….what would that be like? Before Jason could start fantasizing, his fingers were flying across the keyboard and he had sent a text to you. What did he do, what did he-

Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to see that new movie this weekend. It seems like something you would enjoy.

Hm. That was actually pretty good. Where did he come up with that?

Jason had just started inspecting his fingers for some kind of sign of being possessed by smooth-with-girls-syndrome when you responded. He looked up and read it quickly.

Sure, I’d love that! Thanks for thinking of me ❤️

A heart. You had put a heart at the end of it. Did that mean you knew it was a date?

Jason sighed. He certainly hoped so.

The weekend date went good. By the end of it, Jason was sure you knew it was a date. The second one passed, and then the third. The third one was when you hesitantly pecked him on the cheek. The fourth was when he kissed you actually. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was just enough for him to take you on a fourth date. An actual “will you go out with me on a date” kind of thing.

He took you to a restaurant in the fancy part of things. You two ate food that two broke 16 year olds technically shouldn’t have been able to afford, but Bruce helped Jason out.

Jason drove you home afterwards and discussed the topic of the upcoming summer during the car ride. What you were doing, where he was going. The entire time, Jason had butterflies in his stomach. He wasn’t sure how to act. Was he messing it all up, or were you actually into him?

Once he parked in front of your house and walked you up to the stoop, you looked at him. He noticed you were biting your lip nervously, and god, why did he think that was so hot? “My parents aren’t home.” It was the softest Jason had ever heard you speak, but he knew what you meant. He smiled gently, and kissed you again. This one was destined to last longer, and before either of you realized it, you had opened your door and you were leading him to your bedroom.

That night was one neither of you would forget, and by the end of it, Jason had officially asked out successfully.

You and Jason spent a lot of time together after that. You met his older brother, Dick (who was very happy for Jason, too happy in his opinion) and his dad, Bruce Wayne. Bruce was cool, but very busy all the time.

By two months, Jason still hadn’t told you his identity as Robin, and he was running out of excuses. One day, you confronted him, assuming he was cheating on you. He tried everything, but he had to go out on patrol.

Jason left that night assuming you were broken up. The entire patrol, he wasn’t himself. Truth was, he loved you so much he was afraid of losing you. That had become his greatest fear. It was that night everything went wrong.

You were out taking a late night walk. Down by the pier, a cold wind was blowing, and as you walked past warehouse after warehouse, you pulled your coat tighter.

You were affected as well, and confused about where you and your boyfriend stood. Did you guys just breakup? Did he love you? Did–

A scream echoed from one of the warehouses. You turned, afraid of stepping closer but afraid of leaving the person. Eventually, your curiosity won over and you climbed up several crates to peer into the window.

What you saw inside almost made you scream yourself. Robin, the hero everybody talked about, lay defenseless and bloody on the ground as a tall man-the Joker- whacked him over and over again with a crowbar.

You gasped, wanting to help, but you knew that would be foolish. You would just get in the way for a minute. Tears started to form in your eyes as Robin weakly cried out from the pain. He looked so…helpless.

Joker relentlessly beat him with the crowbar, and Robin’s mask began to come off. You rubbed the tears from your eyes just as the mask fell to the ground.

“No.” was the only thing that you could muster. Jason lay on the ground in the bloody Robin suit. Jason fucking Todd. There was your boyfriend, being beaten to death by the asshole of all assholes. That was why he kept disappearing at night, because he fucking protected the city!

You were mad at yourself for being so cruel to Jason without knowing what was really going on. You barely paid attention as Batman and Nightwing suddenly burst through the windows.

Joker laughed, and said something you couldn’t hear from the outside. Probably taunting Batman as he watched his apprentice get beat to death.

A fight broke out, Batman lunging at Joker as Nightwing rushed to Jason, laying broken on the ground. You had just enough time to duck as a Batarang came swooping out of the hands of the Caped Crusader and straight through the window you were looking through.

It was then you realized how close Jason was to death, and what you needed to do. The window pricked your jacket as you jumped through it, but you didn’t care. Gymnastics back in 6th grade helped when you landed awkwardly. Nightwing spun around, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that was Dick, which meant Bruce was Batman.

However, none of that mattered when Jason was half dead in front of you. Nightwing- Dick- made no effort to stop you as you knelt in front of Jason. “No, no, no.” You cradled his head in your hands, trying hard not to recognize how limp his body was, and how his chest barely moved as he struggled to breathe.

Jason’s eyes were closed, tears running down his face silently. You were crying as well, mumbling curses and things that made no sense.

“Please, don’t be dead. Please, I-I love you.”

You watched Jason make no acknowledgement he could hear you, watched him breathe once more. His chest rose and never fell.

You screamed and buried your head in his costume, not caring about getting blood on your face. Dick pulled you away wordlessly, out of the warehouse. You barely registered that the warehouse exploded behind you a few seconds later.

Dick let you sob into his shoulder for what seemed like hours. Him and Bruce exchanged a short conversation, both riddled with grief.

Six times you and Jason had met, and that was the last.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd angst #jason todd smut #jason todd fluff #dc comics #robin!jason

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chericarlisle · 3 years

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You asked for Carlisle Cullen requests and I am here to deliver❤️ can I ask for a fic where the reader finally confesses to Carlisle they are in love with him? Preferably fluffy with some kisses 😌, I would also prefer the reader not be a doctor or nurse if possible! Thank you so much!

𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐞 || 𝐜.𝐜

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: carlisle cullen x human reader

(𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐚/𝐧: i hope you enjoy this! i tried to think of a way to get the two to meet, but have it still correlate! so the reader will be Alice’s friend :) thank you for requesting <3 please know that the reader is NOT a minor!!!

For the years that you had attended Forks High, you had grown close to a certain Cullen daughter, Alice. Her personality was that of a pink rose and its symbolism. She was more than one could want in a best friend, and between her amazing advice or sense of fashion, there was never a dull moment.

Unlike a majority of the students, Alice was genuine and welcoming, causing the two of you to grow close as friends. It made you feel like high school wasn’t so bad after all.

As you talked more and more with Alice, you often wondered why the rest of her family was so reserved. They rarely interacted with any one else who didn’t share the last name ‘Cullen’. Alice, though, was the exception, having branched out to you.

It seemed that being friends with Alice was something that was a package deal because on occasion, she’d bring along her boyfriend Jasper. You didn’t question their family dynamic as Alice had already explained in simplest terms who they were. It was a much better definition than what Jessica had told you and the rest at that table on the first day. Looking back, it was more petty gossip than it was useful information.

For the first summer, you didn’t see much of Alice and rather texted her much more. You’d invite her over, but it appeared that they were on a long family vacation that summer. It was then that you truly realized that you knew nothing about Alice, let alone the Cullens, aside from what you had been told at school.

There was something that constantly affected Alice’s decision making, along with her siblings, but you didn’t yet know that factor, and you wouldn’t for a while. Instead, you let your mind consume the harsh option that Alice wasn’t exactly the person you thought she was. Maybe she really was just like the rest of the Forks High students.

Fortunately, your fears were consoled that next school year.

After much consideration, Alice eventually invited you over to her house where you officially met the rest of the Cullens. Edward, Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper acted so much differently than they did at school in the way that they even acted at all. Normally, they would just go through the school day rarely interacting with any one or anything else but themselves. It made you curious as to why they weren’t like this at school. They seemed to be such lovely people so why would they be so monotonous for eight grueling hours of the day.

You were able to see where they got those characterful values from. Well, more so who.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen, their adoptive father who looked too young to be a father at all and was so perfect that he must’ve been a hallucination.

Since that moment three years ago, you’d gone over almost every other weekend to do whatever extravagant thing Alice had planned for you. She hadn’t had a real friend in so long that she wanted to make up for all the missed time.

Over the course of time, the man, who you knew only as Dr. Cullen, had caught your eye. His compassionate mannerism and old fashioned style was something that just seemed to make you fall head over heels. At the mere sight of Dr. Cullen, the heat of your cheeks would make itself known and you wanted nothing more than to slap some sense into yourself. Whenever he spoke, you shamefully latched onto every word, his voice ever so comforting. The small smile resting on his lips whenever he spoke to you added even more charm and there was no hope left for you. This man made you swoon and you were so embarrassed over the fact that he was the adoptive father of your best friend.

High school graduation arrived in no time and along with it a huge family secret. A family secret that wasn’t yours, but once again, relating to the Cullens.

The family revealed it at a dinner, which was a rare occasion, considering that you hadn’t ever really seen them eat. You came over to their house like any other visit, except this time, the inviting smell of a freshly cooked dinner greeted you at the door.

The lovely dinner and charming smiles were all just the calm before the storm. Playful conversation ceased and suddenly Carlisle was speaking on behalf of everyone at the table. In a matter of seconds, it went from ‘casual family dinner' to ‘game show questionnaire' that was borderline an interrogation with the lack of feedback you were receiving. None of the Cullens, not even Alice, would confirm or deny any inquiries that left your mouth, leaving you to your own judgment. It was almost like your speculation was crucial to ending the slew of questions.

Eventually, you drew up the conclusion that they were vampires. You said this with such lighthearted intent that you were waiting for the big joke until you scanned the tables and saw their emotionless expressions.

All that you could really remember was falling from your dinner chair with Carlisle, who was sitting right beside you, catching your fall before you became close friends with the hardwood floor.

Needless to say, it took a moment to process this information, but you still continued on with Alice and her family. They were still the same Cullens you had known since the beginning and a small sliver of their real life wasn’t going to change who they were to you.

A couple of months later, you were spending the night with Alice for the weekend. She wanted to go visit Seattle for the day and do some holiday shopping. You readily agreed, remembering that you had to get some gifts for your own family. Shopping with Alice was always an experience, but an entertaining time nonetheless.

You had gotten there Friday night as both you and Alice planned to leave the next morning. There was no point in leaving now as the stores had been closed for at least a couple of hours.

Walking in the living room, you saw Emmett and Rosalie thoroughly invested in a comedy on tv. You had invited Rosalie to go shopping, but long hours with Alice in a store was not an activity for the less patient and she knew this. Edward was apparently missing from the scene, but Jasper, who was standing afar, greeted you and said that he was out with Bella. Jasper had finally loosened up around you, and after the family’s confession, you understood why he looked so uncomfortable all the time. The willpower these people had astonished you.

Alice had disappeared after letting you in and it wasn’t until she returned with Dr. Cullen in tow, that you truly noticed she was gone. You bashfully greeted the doctor to which he returned with his signature smile that could make you melt.

“I know this is bad timing, (y/n),” Alice walked to stand beside you, “But I have to go hunt, as do my siblings. You’ll stay here with Carlisle. He doesn’t need to go with us right now and we can't leave you alone.” By the end, the petite vampire was smirking and you jokingly scowled at her little plan. She knew of your silly crush on Carlisle and would relentlessly tease you about it, as a best friend would.

Before you could even answer, Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice were out of the room without so much as a peep. You shook your head at Alice’s sneakiness, forgetting for a second that a certain someone was left with you.

“How about I make you some dinner, (y/n)?”

The way he said your name was something you could never handle. It just rolled off his tongue like any other word would, but with the hint of his accent, it sounded so lovely.

“I don’t mean to be a nuisance. Dr. Cullen.”

Already flustered with the whole situation, the last thing you wanted was to bother Dr. Cullen any more than you thought you’d already done.

As if he could read minds, the blonde stopped in his tracks to face you. “Please, call me Carlisle and you are never an inconvenience, (y/n). Besides, I’ve already hunted so I’m more than happy to be here with you.”

Carlisle, being kind as usual, shouldn’t have said such words because your brain was currently going into a frenzy as his thoughtfulness. If it was possible, your heart must’ve been beating faster than what would be considered healthy for someone actively working out.

You weren’t able to find the words, but instead able to offer what you hoped was an endearing grin.

In the kitchen, Carlisle searched the desolate fridge in hopes of finding some food. The kitchen and its appliances were more of decor than they ever were useful.

After a minute or two, Carlisle closed the freezer door of the fridge, a pack of steak in his hand.

“It seems steak will have to do tonight.”

You shot him a pleased look. “You can’t go wrong with steak.” Famous last words.

While you insisted on cooking your own food, Carlisle returned the same persistence and eventually you gave in.

The two of you carried on a conversation while he cooked. Talking with him seemed so natural that for a moment, you weren’t nervous about talking to this man.

Carlisle plated the steak and brought it before you, an excited look painted on your face. He sat down beside you and eagerly waited to see how the steak turned out. At first, you felt a bit bad that he wasn’t going to eat anything, especially after all the trouble he had gone through.

“Carlisle, are you sure you’re fine? It just feels so wrong eating in front of you like this!”

He chuckled, quickly placing his hand on your own to reassure you. “I’m fine, truly. I just hope it’s edible.”

You grabbed the steak knife, jokingly rolling your eyes at his statement. Upon cutting into the steak, an unpleasant rush of cow blood came out revealing that the steak was far from even being rare.

Immediately your plate was being scooped up and brought to the kitchen counter where you joined Carlisle.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’s been some time since I’ve cooked anything and it seems that I haven’t caught up with modern cooking principles.” Carlisle looked a bit sheepish at the moment and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your lips. You weren't sure if it was the unintentional term of endearment or his adorable attempt at cooking. Either way, Carlisle was relieved to see that you weren’t upset, but rather enjoying this moment.

You stepped up beside Carlisle at the stovetop, shoulders touching as you reached across for the seasonings. “Here, we should probably season the steak a bit and clean off the pan.”

As you continued to do your own thing and guide Carlisle in cooking, he carefully took each word of your advice.

“See, you did everything right, Carlisle. It was just the heat and time that threw off the doneness of the steak, a bit.” Your words ended with a small twinkle as you turned to face the man who’d been so intently watching. He seemed to be so entranced at the moment… and by you.

It was like time was frozen and everything moved in slow motion, something you’d only see in a cheesy movie scene, except you were living it. Suddenly, life sped up and Carlisle’s cold hand was cupping your face and bringing you in for a kiss. You were happy that this was how you’d “confess” your love to Carlisle because words weren’t exactly your strong spot given the circumstances.

You two stayed lip locked for the longest moment in time, just pure bliss. It seemed like the kiss would never end until the smell of burnt oil hit your nose. Carlisle could feel you smiling against his lips and you began to peep out a small laugh.

“I think we overcooked this one a little too much.”

a/n: i’m sorry if this is cringe-worthy, i wrote this at 12:30 am. i swear it will get better lol i just need to stop writing at ungodly hours of the night--

#carlisle cullen #carlisle x reader #carlisle cullen x reader #twilight carlisle #carlisle cullen fanfiction #twilight #twilight fanfiction

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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 3 years

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Like a fool [Oliver Wood x Reader] - Heloise’s Christmas Calendar - Challenge

December 24 – Like a fool [Oliver Wood x Reader]

Title: Like a fool Pairing: Oliver Wood x Female!Reader Word count: 4.7k Published: 24 December, 2020 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Notes: This is part of Heloise’s Christmas Calendar. Summary: You have fancied the Gryffindor quidditch captain so obviously, the whole school knew about it. Of course, Oliver didn’t miss to realise your feelings which you were sure he secretly returned. That was until you overheard a conversation. Challenge: [x] [x] [x] [x] I wrote this piece for @lunalovegxxd ‘s 12 days of angst event using the below prompt.

24.12 - “Left under the mistletoe”

This is also my entry to @chudleycanons ‘s writing challenge using the below trope and prompt.

Trope: “Unrequited love” Prompt: “You’re all I ever think about.”

Heloise’s Christmas Calendar Masterlist

Harry Potter Characters Masterlist | Masterlists

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Oliver Wood was once again in detention. He was not supposed to, he was the captain of Gryffindor’s quidditch team, he was regulated and composed, a born leader. He was always on top of things, ready with an answer even in the most unexpected situations.

Except when it came to you.

The boy knew of your crush on him, you have been chasing him for months relentlessly, but he just couldn’t figure you out. Why him, why then and certainly why you always got him in trouble. He didn’t want to think of you, he wanted you to be the last person to think of, but your continuous presence around him made you become the main focus of his attention and it riled him up. An infuriating feeling bubbled deep inside him each time you occupied his thoughts.

You didn’t cause trouble on purpose though, it just seemed to happen, but you used the opportunity wisely, to spend time with Oliver even if it was in detention. Whilst it annoyed him, you enjoyed each and every moment you could spend with him.

He groaned as he wrote down a part of the school policy for the 53rd times. He was angry about being in detention again, especially because of the scolding he received from McGonagall. The professor was rather unhappy that the captain of her house’s quidditch team once again found himself in trouble and she wasn’t afraid of telling the boy off in front of the whole school, embarrassing him.

“Are you done?” You asked, abruptly pulling Oliver out of his thoughts.

“Would you mind not talking to me?” He asked with gritted teeth.

“It’s your fault that we are here this time.” You shrugged and put your legs up on the table as you leaned back against the chair, your skirt sliding up on your thighs. His head shot up, his eyes ready to murder you or at least to try, before they wandered to the exposed skin on your legs. You could just see the slight flicker of fire in his eyes and no one could convince you that the boy didn’t feel something for you.

Oliver visibly shook his head, his eyes becoming firm again. “And how is this my fault?” He asked with a warning tone.

“If you gave into my advances before, we wouldn’t be here now. I wouldn’t have to chase after you, I wouldn’t have to keep telling you that I fancied you, and you wouldn’t get so pissed off about it that you break McGonagall’s window.” You wiggled your brows with a playful smirk.

“It was not my fault.” He raised his voice. “I’m your captain, you should listen to me, but you are the only person who always goes against me. You are driving me insane. If you did what I told you to do, things wouldn’t have spiralled out of control.” He huffed.

“As I said, if you accepted my date offer, none of the detentions would have happened.” You replied nonchalantly.

“Honestly, can’t you just stop? I have never fancied you, nor will I ever fancy you.” He spoke firmly, which made you chuckle. You stood up from your spot and walked in front of his table, bending over it, leaning on his notes with your forearm, your eyes lining up with him.

You could clearly see his adam’s apple nervously moving, his breath hitching for a second from the proximity you created. “How long are you going to keep lying to yourself?” You raised a brow questioningly. “I would have given up long ago if I didn’t see the changes in you. Back when I first confessed, you just ignored me, but it’s not the case anymore. I rile you up so easily, you can’t get me out of your head. Whenever I’m around you, it makes you nervous and when I touch you- I can see the goosebumps appear on your skin.” You whispered against his lips as you leaned forward, caressing his forearm, your own heart speeding up as you could feel him in your grasp already. His eyes wandered to your lips, watching as you bit on your lower lip.

But he quickly composed himself. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He spoke firmly, but he couldn’t fool you. You have studied each and every expression and little movement, his whole body language eagerly.

“We will see about that.” You replied with a cheeky smirk as you leaned back and walked to your table. You had 3 more weeks before Christmas break to get the boy and you were determined to do so.

Days passed by and Oliver was just exhausted from your constant nagging. Or so he kept saying. But you knew he didn’t mind it as much as he tried to tell others. You thought maybe he was just embarrassed that a girl was chasing after him, instead of letting him do the hunting. You thought maybe he was just inexperienced with girls, since you haven’t heard much about his love-life. You had many thoughts on why he didn’t want to give in to your advances, but him not having feelings for you was not one of them.

He sat in the Gryffindor common room with Fred and George on each side of his as they got lost in their conversation. You sat in an armchair in a corner with your friends, watching Oliver’s wide back and broad shoulders under the uniform. You were ignoring your friend’s chattering, the boy stole your attention without his knowledge. Or so you thought.

His ears started growing redder, his cheeks taking on the same colour. He turned around, his eyes meeting yours as you offered him a playful grin. He rolled his eyes and turned away, his ears taking on an even darker shade. He was way too obviously affected by you for someone who was supposed to hate you which made your confidence grow.

You stood up from your chair and walked behind the couch the boy was seated on, halting right behind Oliver. Fred and George realised your presence, but as you placed your index finger in front of your lips to quiet them, they decided to play along. They continued the conversation with a cocky smirk across their face.

“You seem to be blushing, mate.” Fred chuckled loudly, which earned a slap on the back of his head from Oliver.

“Leave me alone with your nonsense. Why on earth would I be blushing?” He huffed in an annoyed tone.

“Well, maybe because a certain girl forgot her eyes on you?” He grinned playfully. You were glad that Fred brought you up in their conversation, letting you listen in on Oliver’s thoughts.

“And why would I care about that?” Oliver asked with a nonchalant shrug, his tone clearly bored of the subject matter.

“Maybe you are catching feelings?” George quipped in, wriggling his brows. “I mean, no one would blame you. Y/n is certainly a catch.” He nudged Oliver’s shoulder.

“Are you having a laugh?” He scoffed, his scottish accent growing thicker in frustration. “I can’t stand that woman. She is making my life miserable. I have never seen anyone being so stubborn. She is infuriating and if she wasn’t a woman, I would have probably hexed her already.” He hissed through his gritted teeth. “I don’t just have to deal with her when we have quidditch practice, no, she follows me like a pathetic little puppy.” He spit in anger. You could always ignore his harsh glares, his angered tone, his irritated, hurtful comments. You always thought he was being cold because he felt awkward around you, but hearing him talk about you with so much hatred opened your eyes. You felt your throat close up, your eyes stinging from the unshed tears. You felt like he was holding onto your heart and deliberately squeezed it to cause you pain.

“Wait-” George wanted to cut him off, but Oliver didn’t let him.

“No! I understand she likes me, but what she is doing is not normal. Borderline stalker, if you ask me. She doesn’t care about my feelings, she is simply trying to force herself onto me without my permission. She doesn’t care about privacy, she is basically following me around. And most of all, it doesn't matter how many times I tell her to leave me alone, I can’t get rid of her. She is like a leech.” He groaned, agitation clear in his voice.

Your chest felt as if a heavy weight fell on it, your lungs unable to expand, your throat closed off the air it craved so badly. You felt your eyes fill up, tears glistening in them. You watched from the side as Fred looked up at you with an apologetic look. You held back the tears and nodded to the boy, silently telling him that you were just fine, but you couldn’t stay any longer. You turned on your heels and rushed up the stairs, straight to your room.

“That was harsh, mate.” Fred scolded the boy, but you couldn’t hear. You loudly shut the door behind you and fell on top of your bed, tears sliding down your face, being swallowed by your duvet.

You always thought he was just playing hard to get. You weren’t stupid, you saw the changes in him, you saw the way he blushed, the way you caught him staring at you when noone else was looking, but after all that you heard, you could only think of how pathetic you were.

You groaned in frustration, rubbing your eyes to get rid of the never-ending tears. You were disgusted of yourself, of the time you spent chasing him. Going after him for months, feeling as if you have made progress, openly showing your interest in him made you feel like a fool and now everyone knew how pathetic your crush on Oliver Wood was.

You hated yourself!

You hated him!

You have cried for days, your eyes were bloodshot, your cheeks swollen. You weren’t just upset about your situation, you have walked around like a bomb ready to explode, picking fights with anyone who got in your way. But by the end of the week you were just tired. Whilst Oliver’s words still hurt, you understood getting him in trouble wasn’t the best option to spend time with him, and you were smart enough to know that people didn’t always like those who they were liked by. You knew now that Oliver didn’t like you, you understood, but it was certainly not easy to see him all the time whilst trying to get over him.

You spent your time watching the boy from a distance, hurting yourself even more, but even if you tried harder, you just couldn’t get yourself to look away. Sometimes you caught his eyes as he turned to you, but you quickly turned away, pretending to focus on something very important in the distance. You didn’t want to feel like a fool, who even after being hated so openly, still ran after her crush.

You started off each day with a pep talk, preparing yourself for his presence. You couldn’t avoid him, you had classes together, you played in the same quidditch team, you were part of the same Hogwarts house, living in the very same Gryffindor tower.

Days passed painfully slowly as you kept forcing your gaze away from him, trying to concentrate on anything but his chiselled jawline, broad shoulders and cheeky grin across his face. It was a hard task, but you didn’t want to feel pathetic anymore, you had to work on getting over him and the best way to do it was to get your brain busy with anything, but him.

You walked towards your Transfiguration class, when a hand landed on your shoulder, stopping your steps. You turned around, your brows running high, your lips parting in surprise.

“Can I talk to you?” Oliver asked as he let go of your shoulder. You frowned at the boy, knowing how happy he must be to get rid of you. Though you were happy to see him, it also hurt in the worst possible way. Was he ready to laugh at you? He was finally free of you, he had no business with you.

“What for? If it’s about quidditch, you can talk to me at practice.” You spoke firmly. You didn’t mean to be rude, you knew people didn’t choose who they liked and Oliver was no exception. He couldn’t force himself to like you, nor could you force him to. Though you weren’t kind to him, the stern stance you took on was to protect your composed self.

“I’m sorry.” He breathed, his head falling forward, his gaze fixed on the ground. You frowned at the boy, unable to understand his apology.

“What are you sorry for?” You asked in confusion.

“You have been avoiding me and I didn’t understand why. George finally told me that you overheard what I said.” He explained.

You scoffed at his reply, your eyes wandering around the corridor, all sorts of angry thoughts running around in your head. Of course, now he was sorry, you thought. “Are you sorry because I heard what you said or because you said it?” You raised a questioning brow, a sceptical look spread across your face.

“Both.” He finally lifted his head to connect his deep brown eyes with yours. “I’m sorry that you heard what I said, but I shouldn’t have said it in the first place.” You knew he meant it, he was being genuine. You knew him way too well to know when he was lying and when he was telling the truth. “It was insensitive of me and honestly I didn’t mean it. I don’t want to look for excuses, but I was pissed off and the words just came out of my mouth. I really am very sorry.” It was the first time that he was standing in front of you without a hurtful word to say or an annoyed expression across his handsome face. For the first time you stood in front of him without confessing your love for him and chasing after the boy who never wanted you.

You took a deep breath, processing his words. “Your words hurt, you know?” You asked, looking into his eyes. He nodded in confirmation with an apologetic look across his face. “I guess I didn’t handle this whole situation well either. I was annoyingly stubborn.” A tiny smile was hiding in the corner of your lips as you reached for his hand to shake it. “I guess we are even. Both of us did some stupid things.” He looked down at your hand, before a smile appeared across his face and happily accepted your gesture. “I have class now, but I will see you at practice.” You said and without a second thought you left Oliver behind, heading to your class.

You didn’t plan on communicating with him more nor did you want to become friends with him, you were nowhere near getting over him. But you were glad he felt sorry and you were certainly happy that in the end, he didn’t hate you after all.

You were seated on your broom at the quidditch pitch, waiting for instructions from Oliver. To avoid any unnecessary conflicts, you tried to interact with him less in classes and at practice. Whilst you weren’t hated by him, you knew you had to keep him at arm’s length to be able to get over him.

You put a lock on your lips and when you were told to do something, you nodded diligently and did it. From a loud and opinionated person, you have become a ghost of yourself. You haven’t rebelled anymore nor did you get into arguments with the captain. It was just quiet and peaceful. Too peaceful to those around you who knew you well.

As practice finally finished, you landed on the quidditch pitch and hurried to the changing room.

“Y/n!” You heard Angelina from behind. You halted, waiting for her to arrive next to you, before you both headed to the changing room. “Are you okay?” She asked with a worried look.

“Of course.” You smiled, trying to shoo her worries away.

“You haven’t really been yourself recently.” She said and you didn’t need to ask to understand what she actually meant. Whilst it hurt you to distance yourself from Oliver, you didn’t want to seem any more pathetic than they already thought you were.

“I’m fine, Angie.” You placed a hand on her shoulder squeezing it reassuringly. Although the movement was more to give yourself some strength, to overcome the following 2 weeks before the break.

The castle was already decorated for Christmas, floating candles flying around the corridors, fake snow falling from the ceiling before they disappeared abruptly. Tiny Christmas trees decorated every corridor, a gigantic tree standing proudly at the Great hall in all its glory.

As you finished dressing and headed out of the changing room Angie called after you to wait for her. You looked back to give her a nod, completely missing the person standing in front of you as you accidentally walked into his back.

“Sorry.” You apologised, rubbing your forehead as Oliver turned around and shook his head. You wanted to move past him to leave, but your legs froze on the spot. Your eyes studied his handsome features eagerly. It’s been days since you actually looked at the boy, without trying to forget how good looking he was. His brown eyes scanned your face, before connecting them to yours. It’s been a while since you looked into each other’s eyes, let alone kept eye contact. You tried to force away the little scream in your head that was trying to convince you that he looked at you differently, that his eyes were warm and welcoming, not cold, hateful or apologetic anymore.

You heard a loud chuckle and as you turned your head you saw Fred pointing above you with a comical look. You lifted your head to see a mistletoe appear above you from the ceiling, leaving you gaping. Your eyes wandered back to Oliver who was still looking at the plant above him. You watched as his jaw tightened, the meaning of the mistletoe hitting him hard.

Whilst the randomly appearing mistletoes weren’t the professor’s inventions, nor were they approved by them, cunning students found a way around the rules and charmed the little buggers to appear in the most unexpected times.

Oliver’s eyes finally met yours, his lips parted in surprise as he realised what he was supposed to do. You prayed for whoever was up there to give you a chance. Just maybe a kiss on the cheek or even on the back of your hand, wrongfully getting your own hopes up.

But you were wrong.

The boy took a last look at you, his eyes holding an unknown expression as he turned on his heels and hurried out of the changing room with his steps disappearing faster than you have ever heard. You couldn’t deny the pain you felt, the suffocating feeling in your throat, your tears screaming to be able to escape. You cleared your throat and left the room, feeling the uncomfortable gazes on you. You couldn’t wait for Angelina, you needed to disappear. Once again you were the pathetic party, who longed after the boy who didn’t want you.

You just wanted the Christmas break to arrive already, you didn’t want to see him every single day anymore.

The last week before the holidays was going even slower, forcing you to be a shadow of your usually loud and confident self. You didn’t have energy to act as if you weren’t hurting. Teenage love is cruel, you feel it hundred times stronger and you don’t know how to cope with it. That was exactly how you felt. Unable to cope and hurting each time you caught sight of him.

You sat on one of the couches in the Gryffindor common room, the place empty and silent, two words you could hardly ever say about your part of Hogwarts. You watched the clock above the fireplace ticking. It was 3am, you were supposed to be asleep already, but you just couldn’t keep your eyes closed, your messy thoughts occupying your brain, insomnia laughing at you in the face.

You heard footsteps approaching, but you didn’t look up. You weren’t a prefect, you couldn’t care less about who walked around the castle at such late hours. You felt the couch sunk in beside you, but you didn’t move to look up at the arrival, nor did you care to know who it was. You were comfortable in the silence, your thoughts being your only friend.

“I’m sorry.” You heard his hoarse voice. You thought you heard it wrong, your head whipped around to look at him in shock as you realised his familiar voice.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, feeling slightly awkward after your last encounter in the changing room.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the fireplace. “I’m sorry.” He repeated himself again.

“For what this time?” You asked curiously. “You seem to enjoy apologising to me.” You chuckled lightly, making him smile as well, trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t enjoy it to be honest. I wish I didn’t have to apologise.” He heaved a deep sigh. “I didn’t want to hurt you when I left you under the mistletoe. It’s just-“ you didn’t let him finish it, you cut straight into his sentence.

“Wait, wait, please don’t apologise for that. It’s nothing. I’m sure it was just Fred and George’s stupid prank and you don’t have to apologise for something like this. Look, it’s not like you cursed me or started a fight with me for no particular reason. It was just a silly little thing, you really shouldn’t feel the need to be sorry at all.” You kept rambling, your words leaving your lips without control, your mind in overdrive as you tried to feel less embarrassed but forced yourself into an even more awkward situation.

“Have you finished?” He asked with a raised brow and a slight smirk across his face.

“Yeah.” You breathed as you closed your eyes momentarily, heaving a deep sigh, planning to dig yourself a six feet deep hole to hide in until you graduated.

“I am apologising because I wanted to kiss you.” He confessed. Your eyes widened in surprise as you watched his profile, his jaw tightening in the dim light as he let out a sigh. “I can’t tell you what it is, I don’t exactly know how I feel, but I know I wanted to kiss you under that stupid mistletoe.” He turned to you finally, his brown eyes looking right into your soul, or that’s how you felt. You weren’t sure how to react. It made you happy that he wanted to kiss you, but he didn’t in the end. It made you feel warm and giddy that he felt something for you, but in the end, he wasn’t sure what. You didn’t know how to react to someone who didn’t know his own feelings.

“I am confusing you, aren’t I?” He asked with a small smile, which earned him a single nod from you. “I’m confusing myself too.” He scoffed as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. You didn’t dare to talk, fearing to ruin the moment, afraid of making a fool out of yourself.

Silence fell on the two of you, your heartbeat loud enough for you to hear it in your own ears. Oliver never made you nervous, it was you who chased after him all along, but for the first time, you felt as though your heart wanted to jump out of your throat, your lips dried out in nervousness and in your awkward state you didn’t even know where to put your hands.

You had a silly idea, one that you were scared to voice, so you decided to push it in the back of your mind and instead forced yourself to talk. “What do you feel? I mean, you said you can’t word it, but maybe you could describe it?” You asked as you watched the flames in the fireplace, your throat drying out in your nervous state. You felt his gaze on you, but you didn’t dare to look at him as you waited for him to reply.

“You know, you’re all I ever think about.” You turned towards the boy, your eyes wide in surprise. “At first it was because you annoyed me with your constant love confessions, but since you stopped, I don’t know why, but your face keeps appearing in my head.” He chuckled weakly. “When we are in the same room, I keep looking for your eyes, but recently you haven’t been returning it and it makes me feel heavy.” He scoffed at his own words. “I thought I wanted you to stop hanging around me, but now that you did, it drives me nuts that you are not there.” You wanted to jump up from the couch and throw your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug, but you didn’t dare to move. It felt like you were in a dream and you were scared it would disappear the second you moved. “When we stood under that mistletoe, I really wanted to kiss you, but I was so confused and I just couldn’t do it. Since then I have been having a battle inside me.”

You gulped loudly as your silly idea from earlier returned, but after all you have heard from Oliver, you couldn’t keep it in any longer. “Maybe if you kissed me now, it would help.” You whispered, your eyes leaving him and focusing on the fireplace. You felt his intense gaze on you, but you didn’t dare to turn. You didn’t want to see his face if in case he decided to reject you again.

You felt him shuffle on the couch, soon the material sinking in right beside you. He placed a hand on your cheek, turning you towards him, his eyes studying you curiously. “Did you mean that?” He asked and you nodded in reply, his proximity not letting a word escape your lips. Your breath hitched as you felt him leaning closer, his lips gently grazing yours before connecting your lips.

You wanted to sigh into the kiss, his lips on yours feeling as if they were made to be for you, but the air was stuck in your lungs, fearing he would pull back. It was a slow kiss, both of you experiencing an unknown territory, studying each other’s movements, the sensation the kiss made you feel.

You pulled away for a long-awaited breath. His eyes were closed, but you could read his satisfied, content expression. A small smile spread across your face, feeling both confident and uncertain at the same time. Before you could have even said something or question his feelings, he pulled you back against his lips, kissing you hungrily, his usual confidence catching up with him.

You froze for a moment, but soon you kissed him back as passionately as you could, trying to force all your feelings in that one kiss. You ran your fingers through his short brown hair, scratching his scalp gently, earning a silent moan from him.

As he pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed. You watched his long lashes spread across his cheeks, his heavy breathing tickling your skin. “Did that help?” You whispered, which made him silently chuckle, earning a small smile from you.

“It certainly did.” He replied as he opened his eyes. “I don’t think I ever want to stop kissing you.” He confessed, your smile growing wider as you bit into your bottom lip.

“Noone says you have to.” You giggled as he pulled you back against his lips again, enjoying the feel of your mouth on his.

The night quickly washed away as you laid in each other’s arms on the couch, but you knew with the new day, you are on to a fresh start, a start where your unrequited love isn’t unrequited after all.

Notes: If you enjoyed reading this little piece, please don’t forget to leave a like, comment and/or reblog. Your opinion matters and gives us motivation. Thank you ^^

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sebsmetal-arm · 4 years

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Sex (f)or Breakfast || Bryce and Hunt

Summary: The morning after Bryce takes care of Hunt, the two are met with some unspoken truths lingering in the air. When their worlds - and lips - finally collide, there is going to be more than just eggs on the table for breakfast.

Disclaimer: These characters and world are the sole intellectual property of Sarah J Maas. I claim no right to this property, this is a work of fan fiction. I tried my best to stay true to Sarah's writing style and characterization but any difference in character aspects or dialogue is intentional. Please do not copy or repost my work. Hope you enjoy!

Thank you to everyone on Instagram that helped me with ideas of what was in Bryce's nightstand, and THANK YOU to my beta readers! You know who you are and I love all of you!

After the prior night’s events, Bryce had spent the better part of the morning laying awake in bed, waiting for a text, a call, anything to break the damning silence of the apartment. She knew eventually that bedroom door opposite hers would open and she would have to face the reality of what had transpired between the two of them. She couldn’t seem to shake the images of all that she had seen the night before - the dark emptiness in Hunt’s eyes when he had come through the front door. The way she discovered him sitting in the shower an hour later, letting the scalding hot water batter and burn him relentlessly. How she could feel the pain and remorse and inner hatred roiling off him in waves as thick and suffocating as the steam from the shower. The horrifying realization that this was not the first time he had done this, that he had become accustomed to this act of self-inflicted torture following each of Micah’s depraved missions.

The world had been so wrong about him, he didn’t wear the title of Umbra Mortis with pride; he wore it with shame. In that moment, he was nothing but a shell of himself, of the Hunt that she knew. It was akin to staring at a reflection of herself, of her soul, and of the torment and guilt that had plagued her every day since Danika’s murder.

So she did what she had wished for those past two years. She took care of him, the way she had wanted someone to take care of her. She had been alone, with no one left, and she would never let him feel that sort of hollow loneliness again.

She lathered his hair and his wings, and carefully scrubbed his raw skin free of any grime and blood that remained. With her hands, she gently coaxed as much pain from his body as she could, washing it down the drain along with any physical trace of what had happened that evening. He remained resolute in his silence, with his head downcast and the wet strands of midnight hair framing his face, only giving her the barest recognition when she asked him to stand. But it was enough. Enough for her to know that he was still in there, however deeply buried beneath the weight of contrition.

After slinging a towel around his waist, she gently patted him dry, and led him to his bedroom and into a pair of shorts before helping him into bed. When Hunt sank down into the mattress, the groan of the bed seemed to shake the stillness of the room, as if Hunt was piling on those invisible chains he had worn for over two centuries. He had been designed by Urd for the heavens, gifted with wings for great and magnificent things, but had spent most of his life shackled to the ground by the thorned halo across his forehead. That wretched tool of enslavement, which was a bastardization and mockery of the Malakim, placed a chokehold on his magic so strong that it had become nothing but a trickle.

When Bryce made to leave, his hand shot out and gripped her wrist, giving a barely there squeeze as if silently pleading for her to stay. So she did. Letting him nestle his head in her lap, she stroked his hair until the restless heaves of his chest stilled into a calm rising and falling as sleep consumed him. Once content with his sleeping form she eased out from under him, carefully letting his head fall back onto the pillow. There had been nothing sensual about that evening, but as Bryce crept back to her room she couldn’t deny the inkling that something had changed. Since they had begun their partnership, their lives had simply been locked in orbit. Revolving around the same fixed position, tethered by gravity that held together the shattered pieces of their lives. But with every stroke of her fingers through his hair and each desperate lean into her touch, their worlds had begun to eclipse.

***

When Hunt awoke, the first thing he noticed was the distinct smell of Bryce’s skin. He stretched out to reach for her, hoping to ground himself once more, but was met with nothing but crumpled bed sheets. She had definitely been there last night, there was no denying the scent of her that lingered heavily.

He had spent so long coping with his own nightmares in solitude, that when she was suddenly kneeling in front of him on the tile floor, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t even know what to say, his own mind numb and void of anything remotely human. It wasn’t until Bryce was coaxing him into bed that he realized what it felt like not to be alone. And when her caressing touch dragged the last dregs of tension from his shoulders, he had slept soundly for the first time in ages.

The intoxicating comfort of her presence called to him. He knew he needed to seek her out, to thank her, and to let her know that he was okay. He flipped off the covers and threw on a pair of sweatpants, silently padding to the door as the smell of coffee wafted through the apartment. As he approached the kitchen island, Bryce scowled at her phone before throwing it down in protest. He leaned against the marble countertop.

***

“Hey.”

Hunt’s voice, gruff with sleep, startled her out of her furious haze and she spun to find him leaning against the island. She couldn’t help but notice he was shirtless, a grey pair of sweatpants hugging his lean hips.

“Fucking Hel Hunt, you need a warning bell or something.” Bryce cursed, her fists clenched in surprise. His shoulders shook, his mouth crooking up slightly. A smile, good. “How are you?”

His brows furrowed, pain washing over his face momentarily. “Fine.” he stated in a pinched but gentle manner.

She took that as a clue to leave him be, not wanting to pry but worry overtook her so she averted her gaze, toeing the ground nervously before attempting to change the subject, “Do you want some-”

“Wait, Bryce,” he blurted, interrupting her, “I- I’m okay, really. I mean, I don’t think anything will ever change the- the person I have to be.” He ground out, his voice full of disdain, “Or the consequences of that. Not as long as I still bear this,” he said gravely, gesturing to the halo, “but-” he stammered, taking a breath to school his thoughts.

He closed the distance between them hesitantly, his statuesque form now towering over her. She couldn’t help the way her breath hitched at the closeness of him or the smell of his bare skin. As he looked down at her sun-kissed face, her lips already parted in anticipation, he could see the hope and trepidation swirling in her amber eyes. He took one of her hands in his, a gentle and intentional embrace.

“I’m more okay than I’ve ever been… Thank you.” he breathed, his words skittering across her skin like electricity.

Her eyes lit up, as if they had soaked in the morning rays beaming through the living room windows. Any fear that had once lingered on her face had been chased away and the smile that broke across her face, Urd help him, was brighter than any star in the realm. They shared a silent moment, her hand still in his before she averted her gaze, a secret blush creeping into her cheeks.

He broke the silence first, sensing her uncertainty of what to do or say next, “So, how about that coffee?”

***

As they milled about the kitchen, the routine was much of the same. But the unspoken truths hung in the air, smothering the very oxygen from the room until they were both choking on it. And when Hunt unexpectedly pressed a gentle kiss to Bryce’s cheek in a gesture of thanks, she was left reeling. She tried to fight the heat piquing in her cheeks as she became hyper aware of the hairs on her arms raising at his touch. Of the muscles between his wings flexing as he tended to breakfast. Of her thighs clenching to quell the rush at her core, and the subsequent absence of underwear causing the color to drain from her face. She was wearing nothing under the shirt. His shirt.

Without warning his shoulders went tight, his wings tucking in, and he slowly turned on her with a curious but predatory gaze. The sudden quickening of her heart rate had likely alerted him. Or maybe it was the newfound heat pooling between her legs that had incited the almost feral way his eyes were roving over her.

“You okay, Quinlan?” He asked, giving a smug perk of his eyebrow.

“Yeah, I- I’m great.” She choked out, barely able to breathe under the weight of his stare.

As he scanned the length of her body once more, his eyes narrowed, “Is that my shirt?”

She nervously fingered the hem, which fell to mid-thigh, tugging it down for good measure but not daring to look away. “Uh, yeah, I hope you don’t mind.” she breathed, her usual bravado now a simpering and demure thing hiding in the corner. He continued to examine her for another few seconds too long, causing her to resign to embarrassment, “I’m sorry, I’ll go change” she stammered, turning to escape to her room. But as she went to step, he grabbed on to the hem and tugged her back to him.

“No, Quinlan, I don’t mind.” He said, his fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the hem. “I like seeing you in my shirt.” he confessed, his voice rumbling over her skin as he dropped his own gaze. His throat bobbed as he swallowed roughly.

In the movement of him pulling her back, she was now wedged between him and the island, suddenly aware of the cool marble against her spine. She knew her next move could be detrimental, that she was toeing the line between staying professional or diving headlong into something she might never be able to come back from. But in truth, she was already drowning in his presence and her own arousal. She willed her hand to move, placing her palm against his chest and he became violently still. Neither of them dared look at the other, their attention solely on her hand which was now drawing lazy circles on his tan skin.

“What about…” she trailed off, her nerves jolting her into momentary submission before she steeled herself, practically shouting at that part of her quivering in the corner to pull up her fucking bootstraps, “what about out of it?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

He became preternaturally still, not even a feather rustling out of place. Before she could register what was happening, not even lifting his head he stepped away, letting her hand fall to her side, and turned back around to the eggs cooking on the stovetop. Bryce watched him for a moment, letting the realization of her mistake sink in, before whirling around to escape the sight of his rejection, the distance now separating them. She crossed the line that she had stood on the precipice of for so long, and she had fucked up. She silently admonished herself, pressing her palms against the countertop in agitation. The sound of the burner clicking off echoed through the morose quiet of the room. Not even she could muster the confidence to eat breakfast with him, not after what had just happened.

She was about to excuse herself from the room when a strong hand snaked around her from behind, palming her stomach, as another hand ghosted down the length of her arm sending chills racing along her skin. His lips were suddenly at her ear, his voice dripping with desire as it consumed every nerve in her body.

“I would like that even more, Bryce.” He murmured, her name rolling off of his lips like a prayer. His body was pressed against hers, conforming to every curve, and the evidence of his arousal was pushing into her backside. The only thing louder than the stark silence of the room was the thunderous beating of their hearts.

Hunt reached up, pushing aside her red-wine hair, and Bryce trembled at the cool draft suddenly whispering against her bare neck. Even though she knew what was coming, nothing could prepare her for the state of catatonic shock her body plunged into when his lips pressed against the silken skin of her shoulder. Everything became narrowed to that singular point of contact. She turned to putty in his hands. He trailed his lips up her neck, her mouth dropping open when his teeth grazed against her skin until he reached the shell of her ear once more.

“Where do you want me?” he asked, his voice a tremor beneath her, threatening to shift and rupture her entire existence.

“Everywhere.” she moaned, gasping for a breath she had been holding.

“Show me.” he said. A two word command that had her body aching and quivering.

His hand that had been tracing up and down her arm nestled into her cupped palm, hanging limp at her side. Silently begging for permission. For direction.

Fighting through the erotic haze fogging her brain, she found the wherewithal to respond and gripped his strong, callused hand. As she guided his hand down her leg, she turned her head to look at him, holding his gaze as their hands crept toward the inner apex of her thighs. It was when his fingers brushed across her center and the physical evidence of her aroused state that she whispered a single word.

“Here.”

His eyes went dark with primal lust and when his lips met hers, they were rough. Needy. No longer gently asking permission but rather desperately demanding entrance. She would let him take and take from her until they were both sweating and limp with satiation.

Her lips parted, his tongue diving in to entwine with hers. She grazed his bottom lip with her teeth and a guttural growl rumbled from his chest. In a swift movement, he spun her around and gripped her behind her thighs, lifting her to sit on the edge of the cool, marble countertop. It was as if he had read her mind, seen the fantasies she had imagined many a morning.

He pressed himself between her legs, the feathered tips of his wings tickling her calves as they flexed and shifted around them. His hands roved the surface of her body, fitting into every crook of her curves, each voluptuous swell nesting perfectly in his palm, his grip greedy and unforgiving. As they kissed, their gasps and moans the only sound in the room, Hunt pushed his hands up her thighs, working the shirt up to her waist. When his thumb pressed and circled around her delicate clit, her jaw slackened as she exhaled a whimpering moan into his mouth. She grappled for something to hold onto, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck. He continued to work her, massaging the sensitive bundle of nerves as he kissed along her jawline.

He hooked his arm under her knee, lifting it up and spreading her wider on the marble, causing her to drop one hand and lean back on the counter to support herself. With their faces mere inches apart, he held her gaze as he continued the rhythmic movements of his hand against her center, watching the way she reacted to him with delightful hunger. When he teased her entrance with one finger, her grip on his neck tightened and she bit her lip. She was aching for him and that drove him wild. He was becoming unhinged at the sight of her, her heaving chest pressing her pebbled nipples against his shirt, her thighs spread wide for him, and the way she had just bitten her pink, kiss-swollen lip.

Before Bryce could even beg, he slowly thrust one finger into her, making her head tilt back with euphoria, “Fuck, Bryce.” he cursed. The feeling of her wrapped around him, warm and wet, made his cock ache even more. Attaching his lips to her neck, he kissed and sucked and licked from her chin to the hollow of her throat. He wanted to draw this out, to tease her until she was trembling and gasping with pleasure. He wanted to taste her. Gods, he needed to taste her. But not yet.

After a few moments, he withdrew his finger before inserting a second. Bryce brought her head up and with her eyes closed and lips parted in a pant, she focused on the sensation of his strong fingers teasing and stretching her, her arousal surely glistening on his skin. She wanted him to fill her, make her ache and scream with pleasure until there was nothing left of her.

The next word she uttered made him groan in approval, “Faster.” she pleaded, knowing exactly what she needed to find her release. Hunt brought his forehead to hers, their lips barely touching as they shared breath, and he quickened his pace. The skin-to-skin contact and the way his strong fingers moved in and out of her, would bring her to the edge soon. When his free hand slid under and up her shirt to palm her bare breast, his thumb flicking her hardened nipple, she gasped, “Yes- yes, keep doing that, please!” she begged.

He did as she asked, his fingers unrelenting in their actions, and soon enough she was tipping her head back in ecstasy, her body shaking with pleasure. Hunt feathered kisses along her neck and chest, seeing her through her orgasm and when she was done, when her chest no longer heaved, he withdrew his fingers. He sucked them into his mouth, rolling his eyes back at the sweet and all-consuming taste of her. When his eyes opened again he realized she had been watching him, a self-satisfied smirk plastered across her flushed face.

“Are you done?” she asked pointedly, her eyebrow perking.

“Not even close.” he growled, catching her lips in his. When he dropped her leg, letting her straighten on the island, she broke from the kiss and gave a sharp intake of breath. The sound of pain sobered his mind and he discovered her face wrenched in a grimace. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” he blurted out, gently gripping the sides of her face with concern.

“Oh stop fussing, it’s just my leg.” she told him off, “As much as I fantasized about this exact moment, I didn’t really take into account the comfort level of a countertop.” she laughed.

When Hunt didn’t laugh along, Bryce searched his face and found it set in a look as grim as his sudden demeanor. He was gently running his fingers along the brutal scar on her leg, his mind somewhere else entirely. She reached out, tipping his chin up to look at her and his gaze met hers, full of remorse.

“No one could have changed what happened, not even you. If it weren’t for you being in that alley, I might have died that night… so stop blaming yourself.” Bryce said, her voice soft with forgiveness.

Hunt gave a terse nod, cradling her hand that was pressed to his cheek. He turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss into her palm.

“Now, for the love of Urd, can we go somewhere more comfortable?” Bryce laughed in feigned exasperation.

“Alright, c’mon, we’re going to your room.” he said, sliding his hands under her and picking her up, letting her legs wrap around his waist. He walked toward her bedroom determinedly and she eyed him with curiosity.

“You just want to look in my nightstand, don’t you?” she asked with suspicion.

“Oh, you fucking know I do.” he purred, giving her ass a possessive squeeze.

When they entered the room, Syrinx jumped off of Bryce’s unmade bed with a yowl and ran out of the room. Hunt kicked the door shut before laying her down carefully on the bed.

She swatted his hands away, “Fucking Hel Hunt, I’m not an invalid. I just need a second to stretch, okay? Go do what you came here for.” she said, gesturing to the side of the bed. As she began stretching her leg, he turned to the notorious nightstand, grabbing the handle and pulling the drawer open with contained excitement and curiosity.

Silence, and then,“What the fuck?” He exclaimed, her back turned to him as she stretched. The contents of the drawer jostled as he plucked an object from inside.

“Oh c’mon Athalar, don’t act like you’ve never seen nipple clamps before.” She scoffed, rolling her eyes before turning around to see that looming giant of a man clutching a tiny Jelly Jubilee to his chest, his other hand shielding the toy’s face like a child.

“Don’t look Juby!” He proclaimed, gasping in a playful tone. “Why in the Hel is she in your left nightstand?”

“I don’t know, maybe I decided to bring her in here for safekeeping after someone rifled through my linen closet!” she spat in accusation.

He leaned in, whispering as if performing an aside, “Y’know, I don’t think I can, in good conscience, continue this with her in the room.”

“Oh for fuck sake, Hunt, just give her to me.” Bryce demanded in endeared exasperation, reaching up and snatching the glittery pegasus unicorn from his clutches before tossing it into the opposite nightstand.

The contents of the drawer clattered again and when she turned back over, he was gripping her trusty vibrator in one hand, a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold swinging from one outstretched finger. “I see you found Bob.” She winked.

“Who the fuck is Bob?” he asked, genuine confusion lacing his voice.

She snorted. “Battery. Operated. Boyfriend.” she punctuated, pointing towards the purple, silicone vibrator in his left hand.

He looked back and forth between her and the toy, contemplating what to say next before gulping in a breath. “Well besides that, uh, interesting bit of information, I have so many questions.” he mused, climbing onto the bed and crawling over to kneel between her legs, already spread for him.

“For starters, where did you get these cuffs? They feel alarmingly real. Not just some cheap, adult store replica.”

Setting down the other two items, he focused on the metal handcuffs, unlocking them with the key he had also pulled from the drawer before tossing it onto the nightstand.

“Those?” she asked, propping herself up on her elbows and feigning forgetfulness, “Oh I, uh, may or may not have stolen them…” she said, “...from the 33rd.” she added, her face breaking out into a sheepish grin.

His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching as he let her words sink in. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because,” she sat up, peeling off his white t-shirt, her body in all its glory now visible to him. He gulped, his eyes growing wider and he shifted on the bed. “Just like the rest of this gods forsaken city, you’ve heard the stories. My reputation precedes me…” she said. He saw the hurt flash through her eyes momentarily, but as quick as it had happened, it was gone.

“So,” she stretched out two upturned fists to him, “cuff me officer.” she pouted, jutting out her bottom lip and giving him the saddest looking doe eyes.

His cock throbbed at the tone of her voice, at the way she was looking up at him so innocently, but he could see the wicked glint in her eyes. He took her hands, ratcheting the cuffs around each wrist and then picked up the blindfold, sliding his rough fingers along the silk material. He pushed a few stray strands of her hand behind her ears before stretching the elastic and sliding the blindfold down over her eyes. He ghosted his hands down the length of her arm, lifting them above her head and gently laying her back to rest on the bed. A knowing smirk played across her face.

“What are you up to, Athalar?”

He was hovering over her, his hard groin pressed against her aching center, his lips inches from hers. “Keep your arms up, and don’t move.” his voice was low and hungry, his command reverberating off her bones.

With his hands planted on either side of her torso, he began kissing his way down her body, his lips trailing a tortuous path along her skin. When he reached her breasts, her skin pebbled at the contact. At his lips savoring each taste, his teeth grazing her teasingly, and at the cool breath he blew across her skin. He took each pert nipple between his lips, sucking and swirling his tongue around them, meanwhile flicking the other with his thumb.

Suddenly, he pulled his hands away, releasing her nipple from his lips. As much as it killed him, he stopped touching her altogether, admiring the swell of her breasts as they rose and fell with each breath. She began to squirm and his grin turned devilish.

“Hunt, what the fuck? Why did you stop?” Her voice was wanting, needy.

He didn’t respond. Just continued to watch her squirm in the wake of his silence, enjoying the sight of her missing his touch. After a few moments he rubbed his fingers together, feeling the static spark come to life. Pressing the pads of his fingers to her skin, he circled them around her breasts, dragging a small electric current along her skin and causing her back to arch off the bed.

“Fucking Hel Hunt!” she yelped, bringing her hands down to her chest where he caught them by the chain of the handcuff.

“I told you not to move your hands.” He scolded, his voice a deep bass.

“But I-”

“Does it hurt?” He asked, a tinge of concern edging his voice.

She paused, considering her response carefully.

“No.”

“Then,” he pushed her arms back, guiding her hands once more to their resting place above her head. “Do what I say and don’t move, understand?”

She nodded, obeying willingly, and he sat back to work his remaining undergarment off and reposition himself. Laying down on his stomach, he nestled himself between her legs and wrapped his arms around her hips, bringing his hands up to rest on her abdomen. He looked down at the junction of her thighs, humming in approval at the sight of her gloriously aching center, the wetness of her arousal glistening in the morning light that shone through the penthouse windows.

He called forth that static again, that small kernel of power that was only a fraction of the full might of his gift. As he kissed down the inside of her thigh, the one that had been injured two years before, he traced his fingers down the inside of the opposite thigh. She let out a gasp, the sensation like nothing she had ever experienced. He repeated the action of kissing her other thigh, this time not using his power, taking care not to cause her further pain. When he could no longer contain himself, he pounced upon her, his tongue lavishing erotic pleasure to her sensitive clit. When he electrified her skin once more, her back arched into his mouth as he feasted upon the taste of her. The delicious mixture of sensations - the soft press of his lips and the sharp tingling of his fingers against her skin - sent her reeling.

He repeated the tantalizing of her skin, diving his tongue into her entrance. “Holy fucking Urd, Bryce, you taste so good.” he groaned in delight, each word a tantric vibration through her core.

Each languid swipe and thrust of his tongue was breaking her down and tearing her apart from inside. She could feel herself tightening, feel herself building to that eventual climax, but she didn’t want it to end that way. She wanted him inside her, filling her up so she could fall apart wrapped around his cock. She let him have a few more moments, let him savor the taste of her with delicious appreciation before setting her ruse into action.

“Hunt, stop,” she moaned, lacing her voice with a whimper. He pulled himself up, sliding his body over hers so that he was once more hovering above her face, his arms pinned on either side of her torso.

“What- what is it?” he asked. She could hear the panic in his voice. He had taken her bait.

She couldn’t help the devious smirk that spread across her face as she, with surprising strength, rolled him over onto his back and straddled him. She pushed the blindfold off and reached over, grabbing the key off of the nightstand. With quick precision, she unlocked the cuffs and chucked them, and the key, across the room. In this position, she could easily and selfishly find her release but she wanted nothing more than to sink down onto him. He reached up to caress her arms but she pushed them above his head, her body parallel to his, her breasts pressed against his hard chest.

“I want you inside me.” She moaned in a whisper, nipping his lip playfully. She felt his abs clench underneath her in response, heard the growl hum in his chest.

Reaching back, she grabbed his already hard cock, positioning it at her entrance, teasing herself and delighting in the way his jaw clenched at her touch. His eyes were dark with hunger, his face schooled into a look of lethal and predatory calm. When she finally shifted her hips, pressing herself down onto his throbbing length and taking him in fully, their jaws both slackened and the moans they let out were loud enough for even the wretched souls at the bottom of the Istros to hear. With her hands planted on his chest and her nails digging into his skin, Bryce sank down onto him over and over, her lithe dancer’s body affording her grace and flexibility as she gyrated up and down. Hunt reached around, his wide grip claiming her ass with devious possessiveness, bringing her hips down harder as he thrust himself up to meet her. The change in force made Bryce whimper and dig her nails in deeper, threatening to draw blood.

“So, is it just like you imagined?” Bryce asked, her words breathless and unhinged.

“If you’re referring to this,” Hunt said, giving a pointed squeeze of her ass, “it is so much better.” he growled, before pulling her down to catch her lips in his, his tongue invading her mouth with reckless abandon. Bringing his hands up to either side of her face, his fingers slid into her hair and he gripped a section, giving a tug to bare her neck to him.

“I have one more idea that I think you’ll enjoy.” she said as he feathered kisses along her skin from her chin to the hollow of her throat.

“What could I possibly enjoy more than this?” he whispered, his breath tickling her neck.

Without answering, Bryce lifted herself off of his cock, the absence of him instantly making her ache even more. She crawled down to the edge of the bed and on all fours, perked her perfect rear into the air and gave a beckoning wiggle. She wasn’t looking, but she knew as the bed shifted with his movement, that he was prowling towards her with a voracious hunger. She could practically feel the tension and sexual energy sizzling in the air. She felt his hands grip her ass again and then she felt his teeth sink into the tender skin of her rear, followed by a gentle but territorial spank.

His callused hands traced along her back and up to her neck, reaching around to gently grip her throat. His body was confirmed to hers and when his lips were once more at her ear, his deep voice rumbling through her, the fire inside of her was reignited with damning ferocity.

“The kitchen counter may have been your fantasy, but this is mine.” he groaned, tracing his tongue along the shell of her ear.

“Oh, I know.” she moaned with a smirk, her voice dripping with arrogance.

Hunt dipped two fingers into her, giving a few quick thrusts before withdrawing and sliding his cock in, letting her wrap around his sensitive erection. In this position, his reach was even deeper and their gasps and groans intermingled, filling the otherwise silent room. With his right hand still gripping her throat, Hunt reached his free hand around her abdomen, his fingers finding her clit. When they made contact, her body shuddered around him, writhing at the sensory overload assaulting her body.

Bryce heard an airy snap as Hunt unfurled his wings fully and a moment later the room became a torrent of air. With both hands occupied, he was using the flap of his feathered wings to both balance himself and provide him further leverage to sink into Bryce with each thrust. The currents of air made her nipples harden, made her skin tingle with delight, and she could feel the coil deep within her tightening again.

“You’re going to wake up the entire building with all that flapping.” Bryce snapped, her sex-mussed hair billowing like a curtain of fire.

“Good.” Hunt grunted, “Let them hear.” His wings beat faster, bringing his thrusts against her backside harder and deeper. His fingers still worked her clit, massaging her in circles that made her legs tremble. When he dragged his tongue up the side of her neck, biting her earlobe and groaning into her ear, it was her undoing.

The coil within that was threatening to rupture sprang alive and it was everything she could do to keep herself on all fours. Her body shook with unrelenting pleasure and her moans echoed off of every wall. When she tightened around his cock he, too, found his release. The windows vibrated from his roar as he spilled into her, every muscle in his body tense, his skin gleaming with sweat. When they both stilled, their chests heaving and legs trembling, they collapsed onto their backs in a sweaty but satiated heap, laying shoulder-to-shoulder.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was their gasping pants. Hunt’s wings were still extended, cascading over the edge of the bed in a blanket of white, Bryce’s blood red hair a stark contrast.

Bryce squirmed, reaching under her and yanking our the purple vibrator.

“I guess we didn’t need Bob after all.” She exhaled, tossing it to the other end of the bed. Hunt chuckled, his laughter shaking the bed, a smug smile forming.

“I-,” Bryce started, still gulping in air, “I guess it’s a little late to ask, but do you take the tonic?”

“Every month on the dot, as per Micah’s contract.” Hunt said, his voice now a sharp edge at the mention of his servitude, “It doesn’t bode well to have a bunch of slave offspring running around I suppose.”

Bryce looked over and saw the way his face was set into hard lines, his eyes turning dark as he became lost in thought. She rolled over onto her side, taking his tattooed wrist into her hand. She pressed her kiss-swollen lips against the inside of his wrist where the slave tattoo was etched into his skin. She repeated the action, kissing the spot several times before angling herself up to do the same across his forehead, trailing her lips gently across the thorned halo.When she was finished, she pulled back and looked him in the eyes with absolution.

“I’ve seen who you are Hunt, who you truly are, and you are so much more than those markings.” she spoke quietly, the tender admission lingering in the air between them. His eyes grew softer as he looked into the amber ones peering into his soul. Like so many other times, his breath caught at how beautiful she was. How the morning sun made her glow with an otherworldly radiance. How her face was so soft, a smattering of freckles bedecking her skin like a constellation. How her red hair spilled over her shoulders and back like a velvet curtain.

In that moment, he wanted so badly to say what had tortured him every day since his exploration of her linen closet, and the innocent way she had divulged a part of herself that no one else had seen. He could taste the words on his lips, could feel them forming, but before he could utter a word Bryce broke the silence with a contented sigh and flopped back down onto the bed.

“Alright Athalar, can we actually go make breakfast now? I’m fucking starving!” she exclaimed, making the bed shake from their laughter.

Hunt rolled over to hover over top of her, his sable hair hanging down around his face and tickling her skin. He pressed his lips to hers, lingering once more at the taste of her.

He spoke, his words coming out muffled against her mouth. “The last one there has to do the dishes!” he grinned wickedly, making a dash for his underwear discarded across the room.

“It’s on alphahole!” she shouted, leaping off the bed, knocking her bedside lamp off with a clatter in the process. She shrugged on his t-shirt once more, dodging the forgotten handcuffs he chucked at her which hit the closed bedroom with a metallic crash. From across the apartment, Syrinx gave a whine at the commotion, leaping down off of the couch to wait patiently for Bryce to fill his food bowl.

#BryceHunt #crescent city #Quinlar #Bryce quinlan #Hunt athalar #sarah j maas #alphahole #angel #smut #fanfiction #fantasy #books #love #angst #fluff #confessions

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crystalstar8 · 3 years

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Knights of the Night (ch 7)

Chapter 7

Ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139240/chapters/71536491

pairing: Jungkook x oc

genre: vampire au, college au, twilight, romance

word count: 1,367

warnings: blood (obviously), kidnapping, child kidnapping, needles, France

notes: vampires, vampire au, college, college au, so many twilight references, blood, needles, kidnapping, children, homelessness, dance, ballet, flashbacks, romance, slow burn, probably no smut, idk yet tho, France, French things, attempted genocide, inaccurate French history, bisexual main character, @strawberriewithchocolate-blog @mozy-j @daechwitad-2 @zobadak

summary: Catalina starts college in a small town all the way across the country. She doesn’t know anyone and isn’t exactly looking for friends. She just wants to focus on dance. But when she meets fellow dance major, Jimin, and adventurous, fellow freshman, Jungkook, Catalina ends up discovering a whole new side to the small college town; one that is dangerous but oh so enticing…

After they had shown the ghost hunting documentary at game night, which everyone had loved, Jungkook declared that he was thirsty and was going on a hunt for beverages. That’s how Catalina found herself searching the front of the house for the garage with him, since Taehyung said, “There’s soda pop in the garage refrigerator.”

They ended up in a back kitchen, which connected to a mudroom, which led them to the garage. The garage was filled with ancient looking equipment and a tractor so rusty, Catalina figured she could shatter it with a good tap.

“Here they are!” Jungkook said, facing two refrigerators against the wall.

“Which one is for the soda pop?” asked Catalina. Jungkook opened both at once. The one on the left was filled with pop, beer and a single head of moldy broccoli. The other was filled with…

“What do you want? Coke?” Jungkook asked, closing the other fridge and reaching into left one.

“Wait, what was in that other fridge?” asked Catalina. She opened the one on the right. Blood bags. It was filled with blood bags. They both gasped.

“The secret soda pop,” Jungkook whispered. Catalina slapped his arm.

“Jungkook! Why do they have these?” she asked. Jungkook shook his head.

“I don’t know. Maybe one of them is a doctor or something?” he said.

“Probably not,” Catalina thought for a moment. “Not a word about this to anyone. We’ll discuss it later. Let’s just go enjoy game night. We probably shouldn’t stay the night though. Just in case.”

“Right. Got it. So, coke?” he asked, pulling an entire case of coke out of the left fridge.

“Yeah, coke is good,” Catalina nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, Catalina sat up in bed on her laptop, unable to fall asleep. She just couldn’t stop thinking about what she saw in that fridge. She opened Google on her laptop and typed in “vampires”. Most of the sites that came up were about vampire novels or movies. She typed in “vampire history” instead. This gave her a bit more. There were tales about bloodsucking monsters all over the world. In Europe, they were considered demons or witches. There were many names for them throughout the middle east and Asia, but all the stories had the same few things in common: red eyes, superhuman speed and strength, unnatural beauty, and the need to drink human blood.

Catalina closed her laptop and sat against the wall, since her mattress was still on the floor against the wall. She had seen enough. Catalina knew what she needed to do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The front door looked less intimidating than it did the first time Catalina had laid eyes on the house, but her heart still pounded in her chest as she raised a hand to knock. She waited a few seconds before the door opened. It was Namjoon. Catalina’s heart stuttered. God damn, he is so beautiful…

“Oh, hi!” he said. “What are you doing out so late? Not that I mind seeing you- I mean…”

Catalina giggled and momentarily forgot why she was here. Namjoon scratched the back of his head.

“Um, anyway, come on in,” he said.

“I was actually wondering if we could go for a walk,” said Catalina. Namjoon nodded and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. He led Catalina into the woods on the cobblestone path.

“Is there something you wanted to talk about?” he asked as they strolled side by side. Catalina felt her heartrate pick up again.

“I know what you are,” she said. Namjoon stopped and faced her.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Don’t play dumb Namjoon. I know what you are,” said Catalina. The confusion melted from his face, replaced with an intense gaze.

“Say it,” said Namjoon.

“You have blood red eyes, and all of you are unnaturally beautiful. I haven’t seen it, but I bet you have superhuman strength and speed,” said Catalina. “I saw the fridge in the garage. It was filled with blood bags.”

“Say it,” Namjoon said again. “Out loud.”

“Vampire.”

“Are you afraid?”

“I know you won’t hurt me,” Catalina said, looking up at him.

“You know the risk, and yet, you still want to see us,” he said.

“You’re not a killer.”

“I’m a predator, Catalina. Everything about me is meant to draw you in. You couldn’t outrun me if you tried, and you certainly couldn’t fight me,” said Namjoon.

“Namjoon. I don’t care. You and your friends have been nothing but kind to us. I’ve seen you all and none of you seem like you want to drink our blood,” said Catalina.

Namjoon scoffed and said, “You have no idea how much I’d like to taste your blood. You smell…irresistible.”

Catalina blushed. “Can you stop? Once you’ve had a taste?”

“What?”

“I mean, if you were to drink from me, would you be able to control yourself before you took too much?” Catalina asked. She couldn’t believe what she was saying. She was playing with fire, but the thought of it made her a bit dizzy with anticipation. Her blush was hot all the way down her neck.

Namjoon stared at her and said, “You can’t be serious.”

Catalina shrugged and brushed her hair off her shoulder, baring her neck. Namjoon smirked and shook his head. Catalina’s flush turned to one of embarrassment.

“I’m not drinking from you,” Namjoon said. “I’m old enough to control myself, but what if I wasn’t? A younger vampire wouldn’t have turned you down either.”

Catalina sighed and said, “Sorry, I don’t know why I asked that.”

“It’s okay,” Namjoon said. They continued walking.

“So, vampires are real?” Catalina asked. Namjoon nodded. “Are other things real? Like werewolves and demons?”

“Werewolves are real, but you probably won’t ever meet one,” Namjoon explained. “They tend to live off the grid and the ones who don’t are hunted pretty relentlessly by the Pack Hunters. Also, demons[PG1] aren’t real. Religion is a human based concept that holds no truth.”

“So, crucifixes don’t repel you or anything?” Catalina asked. Namjoon laughed and said no. “Cool, wait who are the Pack Hunters?”

“The Pack Hunters are an organization that hunts werewolves,” he said. “They say that they’re protecting society but most of the time, the people they hunt are harmless, just trying to live peacefully. It is a problem in the werewolf community. Werewolves can no longer live in packs like they used to. They’ve been on the run for so long, it’s basically every man for himself.”

“That’s terrible,” said Catalina. She had so many questions buzzing through her head and she didn’t know where to start. She supposed what she was most curious about was what lore was true and what wasn’t. “Do you have fangs?”

Namjoon flashed a toothy smile, showing off sharp fangs. Catalina gasped.

“I didn’t notice those on any of you guys before!” she said.

“That’s because we didn’t want you to notice,” said Namjoon.

“Can you be killed with a wooden stake?” asked Catalina.

“No.”

“Does silver hurt you?”

“Yes, it just burns a bit.”

“Can you enter a place before being invited in?”

“It’s not the polite thing to do, but technically yes.

“Do you burn up in sunlight?”

“Not exactly, we’re just more susceptible to really bad sunburns.”

“Are you actually immortal?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you?” Catalina asked.

“Twenty-three.”

“How long have you been twenty-three?”

A pause. “A while. Catalina, I’d love to stay out and answer your questions, but don’t you have class tomorrow morning?” asked Namjoon.

“Do you need sleep?” she asked. Namjoon sighed.

“No, I can sleep but I don’t need to. I’m pretty sure it’s nearing two in the morning,” he said.

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry for bombarding you with questions,” said Catalina. They stepped off the trail and Catalina didn’t even realize they had made their way back to the house.

“No, it’s okay,” said Namjoon. “I never mind spending time with you.”

Catalina blushed again.

“I like spending time with you too,” Catalina mumbled, playing with the ends of her hair.

“I’ll drive you home. Someone recently went missing in this town, you shouldn’t be out at night alone,” he said.

(Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!!!)

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jamielea81 · 4 years

Text

Conversations

Chapter 14

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: So much fluff. A few curse words.

Word Count: 6,435

A/N: And here it is, the final chapter of this series. Thank you to all of you who followed along, reblogged and encouraged me to keep writing. More Chris Evans series are to come. Special thanks to @panicfob who asked me if I ever thought about writing a series like this and @allaboutthebooz who told me about a Steve Rogers Disney series she was writing which in turn really got me into a Disney frame of mind. Please tell me what you thought of the series! There will be two one-shots that accompany this. One will be posted next month with the second posted in March. Stay tuned.

*Italics are internal thoughts

Catch up with Chapter 13

In retrospect, moving to New England in the midst of winter probably wasn’t a wise choice. When you moved to Florida all those years ago it was during the summer. It appears your timing is never right. You’ve slipped on icy sidewalks more times than you can count as it seems no one is nice enough to salt and sand the sidewalks surrounding their houses and businesses. You haven’t quite mastered public transportation so you take your chances walking the snowy roads for coffee and grocery items. You’ve learned parking really is a hot commodity until you get of further into the suburbs. For now, you’ll take the extra steps on your health app as they continue to grow.

Speaking of timing, Chris wasn’t even in the state when the moving truck rolled into town. You knew he wouldn’t be and it was probably better that way. You weren’t moving in together, so adjusting to the change without him would only further help you adjust with being on your own. The only caveat to that is you were rarely alone. The Evans clan had seemingly adopted you without your consent. Surprisingly, you were enjoying your adopted Massachusetts family.

When Chris told Lisa about your thoughts on moving to Boston, she asked to speak to you before you went home to Florida during your visit in October. If you were nervous the first time you met her, you were in full panic mode this time. Chris telling his mother everything was something you would need to get used to. God forbid you two have a huge fight at some point and then have to see his mom shortly after. Nope, that wouldn’t be awkward at all.

Chris drove you over with Dodger in tow. The two of them played outside while Lisa fixed you a cup of coffee and essentially asked what your intensions with her son were.

“I’m thinking about moving here to give Chris and I a fighting chance. The distance is hard, Lisa. You probably already know this, but he has flown to Orlando to see me three times in the last month and a half. He’s already busy and this is only wearing him down more. I don’t want that.” You took a breath, ignoring your coffee completely. “I’m not one of those women who’s trying to weasel her way in to his life. Chris and I were friends first and if this whole thing goes to hell, I hope we’re still friends because I’m not giving him or Scott up.”

Lisa smiled, stood up, pulled you to your feet and hugged you. “I think everything is going to turn out just how it should,” she said.

You sighed in relief. “Thanks, Lisa.”

“You should come for Christmas!” she blurted out after releasing you.

You chuckled softly. “My mother would kill me if I didn’t go home to Minnesota.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that. Come the week after for New Year’s.” Before you could say no, she continued. “I insist.”

Looks like I’m going to Boston for New Years.

“Okay… We should probably check with Chris though.”

“Trust me, if you’re here, my son will be too.”

Christmas in Minnesota was interesting. A lot of the time was spent talking and explaining yourself. Your brother still wanted to kick Chris’ ass and you couldn’t blame him. The two of them hadn’t met and he was pissed when he saw those photos on TMZ. You made a mental note to get Chris and Heath together to bond. Heath didn’t know Chris like you did and he didn’t understand that the two of you had discussed your relationship at length and were committed to each other.

While your mother was sad that you had chosen not to move back home, she was happy for you and understood the need for a change. She teased you relentlessly about moving somewhere with a true winter. After graduating from college, you declared that you’d never live in a snowy state again. Now you had tentative plans with Lisa to apartment hunt next week.

Your father was another story. You weren’t above bribery so you took him to dinner at his favorite steakhouse. Hoping the appeal of an expensive cut of meat would put him in a cheery mood. It was Christmastime after all. His spirit should already be lighter.

When you changed jobs in October, you told him about it almost immediately. Gary didn’t appreciate being left in the dark. You never called him Gary to his face, but when you ever spoke about your dad to Jana, you referred to him as Gary much to her amusement. He wasn’t happy about the job change which was of no surprise to you. He didn’t understand why you would make a change when you had a great position with the paper. “This is just like you,” he had said. “You’re never settled.” It wasn’t a fair statement. You had been settled for years. Yes, you weren’t married and you didn’t own your own home, but you had a career and had been at the paper for years. You were well respected in your field. There was absolutely nothing wrong with moving on to a position that would bring you growth in your career as well as your personal life.

If you hadn’t broken the news about the move in a public space, there was no doubt in your mind that he would have stormed out.

“Why on earth would you move to Massachusetts? I thought Florida was where you wanted to plant roots. This is just like you.”

There he goes with that same line. You sighed loudly, poking at your steak with your fork. You lowered your face, refusing to meet his eyes. It was like your twelve years old again, dropping out of soccer only to be lectured by your father.

“When are you going to get your life together?” he asked.

You snapped, well, you snapped as much as you could in a restaurant full of people having a holiday meal.

“That’s exactly it. This is my life dad. I’m choosing to make a change that’s going to fulfill me personally,” you said sternly in a voice just a tad louder than a whisper. “And yes, it’s a big change and yes, it’s scary. But. But.” Picking up your glass of wine, you took a large gulp and set it back on the table. “This is what I need to do. If I’m going to fail, I will fail. But what if this turns out to be the best thing for me? I want you in my life to celebrate my successes, but I also need you if life chooses to spit me out.” Your dad leaned back in his chair, a tired expression on his face. “Can you just try to be here for me if I need you?”

“Of course, Y/N. I’m always going to be here. But I worry. What if you’re making a mistake?”

“Then it’s something I’ll learn from and I’ll just try again.”

The week of New Year’s you stayed with Chris. His home was now completely remodeled, so that was one less stressful thing in his life. It was gorgeous when it was half under construction, now it was beautiful enough to be featured in a magazine on home design. It wasn’t a mansion by any means, it was just a very nice, large, upper class, suburban home. Well, a suburban home with a state-of-the-art alarm system. The house was luxurious without being pretentious and you found it strange to feel so comfortable there.

Chris was flying out to Atlanta and then to Costa Rica for filming the day after you flew back home to Orlando. It was a stressful time for him but he made sure to tell you every night that just you being there was helping. Chris was also incredibly clingy the whole trip. You chalked it up to him wanting to spend as much time with you as possible and also the anxiety of starting up a new project. Especially one that would take him away from home for a couple of months.

Every day the two of you cuddled on the couch and spent nights tangled in the sheets. Chris had only been able to visit once in November, so the two of you were making up for lost time. It was your first Christmas together as a couple and you weren’t together for it. Both of you had Facetimed for hours after both your family parties had ended. It wasn’t quite the same, but falling asleep with your phone held close to your face was the next best thing.

“Celebrating the new year together is going to be way more magical than Christmas. Christmas is old news sweetheart,” he said the night before New Year’s Eve. Your lips so close together that you couldn’t help but lean forward bridging the gap in a soft kiss. “This year brought me you. Next year can only get better.”

Apartment hunting was not going well. Like, not at all. Any place that Lisa considered to be decent enough to stay in was well over your price range. Not just an extra hundred or two a month over your budget, but close to one thousand dollars over the monthly amount you wanted to spend. Lisa told you she would keep an eye out for listings and send them to you as she found them. This move was looking to be more difficult than you thought it would be. You hadn’t lived with a roommate since college, but if you wanted to live anywhere near Chris, a roommate is something you would have to get used to.

New Year’s Eve was probably the most fun you’ve had in a long time. Granted, you didn’t remember the whole night, but the majority of it was worth the headache in the morning.

Chris, Scott, Zach, Shanna, Carly and you had spent dinner at Lisa’s and played games with the kids until they went to bed after celebrating the New Year at eight that night. There was sparkling cider, confetti, and kisses from all the kids to bring in 2021. Chris had arranged a car to pick the two of you along with Zach and Scott up to take you to their friend Benji’s house for the rest of the evening. You weren’t entirely sure if that was really his name or if it was a nickname he picked up at some point. Regardless, Benji’s house was packed to the brim with people. Chris threw so many names at you as he moved his way through the house that you just started smiling and nodding. Hopefully you’d meet his closer friends in a much smaller and quieter setting in the future.

To say you were feeling quite shy was an understatement. Scott had talked you into buying a dress that was shorter than you felt comfortable with. Your butt was completely covered, but you usually didn’t show as much thigh as you were currently sporting. The gold number was long sleeved with a high neck that provided some warmth, but the back was cut low which added to the “sexy New Year’s vibe” as Scott called it. Scott dressed in a black suit and gold tie which was why he was adamant you buy the dress when you saw it in a shop window earlier in the week. Chris was another story. He didn’t want to dress up, opting to wear jeans and sweater that he later removed when he became too hot, leaving him in a plain black t-shirt. This is why Scott was your date for the night. Technically Scott and Zach were your dates for the night. More so Scott as the two of you coordinated. Chris had fun making a game of it by pulling you away from Scott several times over the night to kiss you in “secret” as he didn’t want your “date” to find out. It was cute and if you were being honest, kind of hot.

You didn’t want to get drunk. Wanting to remember the night was important to you not only because it was your first New Year’s with Chris, but because there were too many of his friends at this party. Giving off the impression of Chris’ drunk girlfriend wasn’t what you were aiming for, so you kept the drinking light. A couple of beers and you cut yourself off. You grabbed a plastic cup and dumped a bottle of water into. It was a trick you used to do in college when you didn’t want to get pestered about not drinking.

“Y/N! Sassy!” Scott called from the across the room.

“My date needs me,” you teased Chris.

His smirk said it all. You turned away from him and he promptly squeezed your ass. You chased his hand away with yours but laughed at his advances.

“Grumpy, what can I do for you?” you asked.

“This my dear, is Nicolette. Nicolette, this is Y/N,” he said, throwing an arm over your shoulder and bringing you closer.

You stuck your free hand out for her to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“You as well,” she replied.

“So, Nicolette here needs a roommate,” Scott spoke, wiggling his eyebrows. “And since I know both of you, I know the two of you would get along.”

Taken aback by the sudden suggestion, you were sure your face looked somewhat shocked. You trusted Scott and you knew he wouldn’t set you up with a crazy person.

Nicolette laughed. “It’s true. I have a room available after my last roommate got married and ditched me. It’s a two-bedroom house with two bathrooms. I’m barely home, so it’s really kind of a house-sitting slash roommate situation.”

Now she had your interest.

“She’s a stage actress,” Scott said dramatically which causes Nicolette to roll her eyes. “She does a lot of traveling shows.”

“If you have time tomorrow, you can stop by and check it out,” she offered.

“Yeah. That would actually be great,” you replied.

The two of you exchanged numbers and Scott pulled you away shortly after, bringing you back to your boyfriend. “I got you girl!”

At midnight, Chris held you close with his chest pressed against your back and arms around your front. Benji stood on top of his pool table, large oversized wall clock in his hand calling out the last few seconds of 2020. Just as he shouted happy new year, Chris spun you around and kissed you, deep and slow. It went on for quite awhile as Scott eventually had the pull both of you apart.

The night was a blur from that moment on. You got dragged into a game of beer pong which later turned into four games of beer pong despite your objections of not being a great player. Scott and Chris passed you back and forth as their partner. The end result was always the same, you having to drink several of the cups with floating Ping-Pong balls inside.

The car service is called by someone, you’re just not quite sure who. All you remember is being pushed into the car and then out of it. Chris and you make it inside but don’t get further than his couch where you promptly push him onto it and straddle his thighs. The 2021 version of you is apparently very horny as you take control of the early morning hours of January first. The button of his jeans is popped open with the zipper quickly pulled down while your gold dress is pushed up over your ass. He’s all consuming and very eager for you to take control.

Chris kisses you like it’s the last time from the short-term parking ramp a couple of days later. Tears flow easily from your eyes as you say your goodbyes. He leaves for Atlanta tomorrow for stage shoots then on to Costa Rica. There are no planned visits between you as per his manager and assistant, there just isn’t time. He’s not set to be back state side until March. It’ll be a long three months that just happens to coincide with big changes for you.

Chris wipes your tears away with one hand while the other cradles your faces.

“Don��t cry sweetheart,” he murmurs, bringing his lips to yours in a short soft kiss.

“Why? Cause it makes your cry?” you asked, nose already stuffy from your tears.

He chuckles and blinks away his tears.

“No,” he said softly, licking his lips. “Cause I love you.”

Chris loves you. Chris loves you. You’ve felt it. You’ve been saying it in your head since Thanksgiving, but haven’t been able to say the words out loud. With your gloved hands, you pull his face to yours and kiss him. Pulling back, you rip off your gloves and drop them to the cold cement ground before grabbing his cheeks once more. The kiss is hungry and needy. You’re both out of breath when you part.

“I love you too. God, do I love you.”

Chris smiled softly, giving your nose a kiss. “I’m going to call you every day.”

“Babe…” you sigh out. “We both know that may not happen. You’re going to have days where your exhausted or have late shoots. Just-Just call me when you can. It’s going to be hard and it’s probably going to kill me, but when you’re back, we’ll be in the same state,” you smiled. “We’re only like forty minutes away from each other rather than a three hour plane ride.”

“We’ll make it work. I love you so much,” he said, kissing you again. “Call me when you land.”

You nodded, kissed him once more then walked to the terminal.

Carly was calling you for the second time that day. Her first message was asking about getting together for lunch. You weren’t trying to avoid her, but you had been starring at the same blank page for three hours. The deadline for your story on a protest that took place over college campuses across the US this morning needed to be submitted within the next two hours. Your head wasn’t in the game, so despite Carly calling twice, and Scott once, you were tempted to put your phone on silent. Chris had been MIA for two days now. He had kept to his promise of calling you daily over the last three months, even if it were just ten minutes to check in. You were trying to not let it bother you, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss his voice. Production was delayed by two weeks keeping him in Costa Rica longer than expected. You’d been in Boston since the end of January and it was now the first week of April.

You shot Carly a text telling her that you were busy with work.

Y/N: Lunch tomorrow?

Carly: Of course. Good luck!

Nicolette was on the road working on a production of Aladdin, so you had the house to yourself. They were set to perform in Boston in May and she had promised you tickets. A perk of knowing one of the stars of the show. She was rarely home so it really was like living on your own with someone else’s furniture. You had donated or sold everything except for your bedroom set since you didn’t want to pay for storage and you weren’t entirely sure how long you’d be living with Nicolette. When you eventually moved out on your own, you’d have to start new, but that wasn’t anything to worry about now.

An hour later you were almost done with the article after turning on your “get shit done” playlist as you so perfectly named it. After proofreading it for the third time and two key strokes away from submitting it to your editor, there was a knock on your door. Despite living in the city for more than two months, you didn’t know anyone outside of the Evans family plus a few friends you’ve met through Scott and Shanna, but they generally didn’t show up unannounced. You chose to ignore it, assuming it was someone selling something or another for the scouts or a representative from a church wanting to spread the word of God. But the knocking wouldn’t stop. It was persistent and loud. You almost dove under your desk to hide, despite the shades in your room being drawn. After what felt like five straight minutes of knocking, you left the safe comforts of your room and walked to the front door. The sooner you answered, the sooner they would go away and you could take that nap after submitting the article.

Lifting a corner of the curtain on the living room curtain as inconspicuously as possible to see who it was, you audibly squealed and ran to the door. Throwing it open you screamed again much to Chris’ amusement.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“Hello to you too sweetheart,” he chuckled, throwing his arms around you and pulling you close. Neither of you are saying anything, just enjoying holding each other. You snuggle your nose in the crock of his neck, breathing in everything that is Chris. One hand traveled up the back of his neck to his hair. The strands are longer and you can’t wait to play with them later.

“Missed you,” you murmur into his neck.

“Missed you so much, Y/N,” he replied, kissing your temple. “Can I come in?” he said with a soft smile.

“Oh my gosh, of course,” you can’t help but giggle out.

The next fifty minutes are spent christening your bed more than once, even though the two of you have had sex on your bed before. To Chris’ point, this is the first time he’s “banged” you on your bed in Massachusetts. His words, not yours.

With your face pressed against his chest, your fingers draw shapes through the hairs on his stomach. “I like the longer hair. It’s kind of sexy in a nineteen eighties kind of way.” Chris hums. “Maybe you should keep it.” You lift your head up to catch his expression. He’s smirking but shakes his head. “I’m serious. It’s kind of like how you had it in Red Sea Diving Resort. The ladies really dig it.”

His hand that was rubbing your back starts to dig into your sides until you can barely breathe as you’re laughing so hard. “The only” *tickle “lady” tickle* “that I’m” *tickle “trying to” tickle* “impress” tickle* “is you!”

“Mercy! Mercy! Mercy!” you shout until he finally ends his attack.

Chris pulls you back close and kisses your lips. “I never want to go that long without seeing you again.”

“I agree. I’ll live in your rental car on location if I have to.” He kisses your temple in reply. “M’happy you’re here, but I wasn’t expecting you for another week.”

“We pushed through. Long hours to finish up, but it was worth it. I love you so much sweetheart.”

You sit up until your seated on your bottom. Raking your fingers through his hair, you look him in his eyes. “I love you too. I’m so happy you’re home and I can’t believe we are living in the same state.”

“Same city practically.”

You nod in agreement, pushing a strand that has fallen over his forehead back. “I’m also glad Nicolette’s out of town.” Chris chuckles and closes his eyes. “You tired baby?”

“Yeah, had an early flight and then a long layover. Mind if I nap?”

“Course not. I’ve actually…Oh shit! I have an article I haven’t sent in yet!” You jump out of the bed, looking for something to throw on. You pick up Chris’ undershirt and slip it over your head. You hop back in the bed and give him a kiss before returning to your desk a few feet away and hit send. “I forgot to hit send before I answered the door.” You swivel in the chair to face him, point your finger at him. “You sir, are a distraction.”

“A damn good one,” he said so casually. Chris pats the empty spot on the bed. “Come nap with me.”

“Can’t refuse you.”

Spring turns into summer in no time at all. Chris spends more time in Boston than he does in Los Angeles. He told you that from the beginning, but with how much he works, you didn’t expect him to be home as much as he has been. When he is gone, it’s only for a few days. Despite having a roommate that is never home, most of your nights are spent at Chris’ places.

“Dodger misses you. He likes when you sleep in bed with us.”

“Oh, so it’s Dodger that misses me. Not you Mr. Evans?”

“Nope. It’s all Dodger. I just can’t take the whining. Promised I’d call you.”

“You’re such a brat,” you groan.

“You love me. Plus, my bed is bigger. It’s too much of a squeeze if I bring Dodger to yours. Cah’mon,” he groaned. “You know you want to.”

“Fine. Fine. I’m only coming over for Dodger though.”

When you arrive at Chris’ place and let yourself in because he insisted you have a key, you see the lights are dimmed and candles are lit throughout the living room.

“Babe?” you called out. Passing through the living room and into the kitchen. You see a couple of pans on the stove simmering away, but no Chris. You walk up the stairs towards the bedroom, pushing open the door. “Babe?” you called out again.

Chris is standing in front of the bed while Dodger lays on it. More lit candles are scattered on the dresser and night stands.

“Hi Beautiful,” he said, stepping forward and grasping your hands.

“What’s all this?” you asked.

“Happy anniversary.”

“It’s our anniversary?” you asked, head titled to the side.

“To me it is.” He took a big breath and smiled. “Now, I know we had a rough start, but on this day, one year ago, I knew I was head over heels for you. Technically, I’d say our anniversary was back in May. That’s when we started talking a lot more and of course that’s the month we first kissed. But it was July when I knew I could never go back to being just friends. It was July when I knew that I needed to hear your voice every day. It was on this day in July that I knew we were going to be something special.” Your breath was stolen from your lungs as cliché as that sounds. “I love you baby.”

Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, a few landing on your lips as you couldn’t contain the sappy grin on your face. You grabbed his face with both hands, smooshing his cheeks. “I love you, you crazy, wonderful man. Happy anniversary.”

Compromises were made as Chris dragged you to Red Sox games in the early fall and then to Patriot games in the early winter. You were forever a Twins and Vikings fan, even though they broke your heart every year. You played nice, accepting the jerseys he gifted you for both teams. The two of you flew to Minnesota to meet your family in late September. Heath and Chris attended a Twins game together as a truce in the new found friendship they were working on. They weren’t best friends, but you hoped they would grow closer. When the Vikings played on Sundays, Chris watched with you so long as it didn’t cut into his Pats’ games, but he refused to wear a Vikings jersey. The funny thing was, you rarely watched football or baseball, but found yourself getting really into it the more you played along with the non-existent rivalry.

In October you flew to Florida to cover Magic Kingdom’s fiftieth anniversary. Chris was off on a press tour on the other side of the country. You extended your stay since Chris wouldn’t be back for another week, opting to stay with Jana and Brooks rather than a hotel. The biggest surprise was Jana’s small baby bump.

“I’m going to be Auntie Y/N?” you asked, tears in your eyes.

“You bet your ass you are,” she said, tears in her eyes as well. “Way to make a pregnant woman cry.”

You pulled her into a hug. “Shush. And you should clean up that mouth before the baby gets here,” you snorted.

By the time you got back to Massachusetts, you had a week and a half reprieve before you were flying back into Orlando with the majority of the Evans crew for their annual Disney vacation. Lisa had invited you herself before Chris even got around to asking you. He later said he wasn’t going to ask because you had no choice in the matter.

“I can’t believe I’m going back as an actual tourist,” you whined to him on the plane.

“You were just there!”

“That was for work. Doesn’t count. I don’t even have my annual pass anymore. What is this bizarro world?”

“So dramatic. Should really be an actress,” he said, nudging you with his elbow.

The trip was great despite the long days in the park. It was a treat to have a Disney Cast Member leading your group around for most of the trip. It sure cut back on the time you usually stood in line.

The downside of the trip were the pictures that were posted online of you and Chris. The two of you did your best not to touch when out in public places, but you both found that hard. Chris would often place his hand on your back leading you from one spot to another. Even though you often sat with Scott or Carly on several of the rides, the ones where you sat with Chris were the ones that were posted. It didn’t take fans long to recognize that you were the same girl pictured with him two years before. Taking Chris’ advise, you didn’t read the comments online and avoided Twitter like the plague. Chris said you both needed to go on like you had been. If you both kept your relationship private, people would eventually lose interest. And they did for the most part.

Christmas was spent in Boston with the Evans family. You bargained with your mother for the week after Christmas and she agreed much to your surprise.

Despite Lisa’s insistence that you and Chris spend the night at her house Christmas Eve, Chris wasn’t having it. He wanted to go home after gift opening and spend it with just the two of you.

You barely made it in the door before Chris was wrapping you in his arms.

“What’s gotten into you?” you asked with a laugh.

He kissed your cheek. His warm breath tickled your nose, causing you to hunch, lowering your head and burying it in his chest.

“Move in with me.”

Huh?

He said is so casually as if he’s asking if you want a glass of water.

You pull your face away from his body and hold him at arm’s length. “You wanna say that again?”

“Move in with me. I want you to live here. I can’t handle Dodger askin’ every day.”

“Oh! So, it’s Dodger,” you said, poking his chest. Upon hearing his name, Dodger got up from the couch and came to stand next to you, his butt bumping against your leg. “I’m sorry Bubba, but I can’t move in. It seems that only one of the Evans boys that live here want me to move in. I need a unanimous vote.”

“Cah’mon. Don’t break his heart like that. He said you give the best belly rubs and frankly I can’t compete,” Chris said crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know,” you said, finger tapping against your chin in thought.

“Fine…” Chris dramatically sighed out, rolling his eyes. “You have my vote too. Move in with us.”

You bend down to give Dodger a belly rub, avoiding Chris’ eyes. “Nah.”

“What?!” Chris shouts causing Dodger to get back on his feet and you to fall on your ass. You erupt in giggles. Dodger walks circles around you, tail wagging excitedly.

“You turnin’ me down? Is that’s what’s happenin’ sweetheart?” He drops to his knees in front of you, resting on his hunches. The laughs die out on your breath and you slowly start to breathe normally again.

“Ask me again,” you whispered.

One hand rested on his thigh, while the other runs through your hair taming the pieces that have fallen in your eyes. “Will you move in with me?”

You nod your head slowly. “Yes,” you answer simply enough.

“Yes?” he asked, big smile slowly forming on his face.

“Yes,” you repeat. You let out a big huff of air. “Now, take me to our bedroom.”

Before you’re even fully awake, your phone is buzzing like crazy Christmas morning. Reaching blindly to the night stand since Chris has extreme blackout curtains on the windows, you couldn’t see your phone if you tried. Technically, they were your curtains now.

Scott: It’s already been 9 hours and you haven’t called me about you livin’ in sin with my brother

Scott: Get dressed and come to breakfast at Ma’s

Scott: That’s an order

Chris had one arm resting over his eyes with the blanket pushed down to his waist. You turned to face him, kissing his bare chest until he starts to stir.

“How does Scott know I’m moving in?” you asked with a coyness in your voice.

Chris chuckles. His mouth full of sleep and his arm still resting over his eyes. “I sorta texted him when you were changing for bed.”

“You’re a brat. He texted me at seven this morning bitching that I didn’t tell him yet.”

“Sorry,” Chris said, removing his arm from his head and turning to his side to look at you.

“No, you’re not,” you scoffed.

He chuckled again, pulling you into his chest. “No, I’m not.

“Hey babe,” you shouted through the open door.

One of the guest bedrooms was turned into your office a month ago and you were still decorating slowly but surely. Chris wasn’t allowing you to pay rent which ensued into a big argument. He ultimately caved some with you paying for the lawn care as well as Dodger’s food. It was still no where near the price of rent you were paying at Nicolette’s, but you would take what you could get for now. You often did all the grocery shopping when Chris wasn’t home so he couldn’t object to you paying. With extra funds in hand, what wasn’t going into the bank you splurged on nice office furniture and some vintage Minnesota Twins pennants to hang on the wall.

“Yes, my love?” Chris said, standing in the doorway.

“Can you help me hang these?” You lifted two of the pennants, one in each hand and gave him a cheesy smile. “Please.”

“You’re killing me babe. You know how bad this makes me look? The Twins?” he scoffed.

“It’s my office. We can keep the door closed when we have company. You’ll live.”

He gave you a wet kiss on your forehead, grabbing one of the pennants from your hand. With your hand free, you wiped at your forehead and stuck your tongue out at him.

Scott had kept you busy all day with what he dubbed “Best Friend’s Day”.

It started with brunch, then on to shopping where you spent entirely too much on wool peacoat. You both got a hot stone massage followed by hot donuts from a shop you frequented before he dropped you back at your place.

“Tell Chris he owes me,” Scott said just as you shut the passenger door.

“He owes you?” you questioned. But it fell on deaf ears as Scott waved and drove away. “Why are my friends so weird?”

Unlocking the door, you stepped inside calling out to Chris.

“In here babe!” he shouted back.

Making your way to the office where you were certain you heard his voice, you saw that the door was partially closed.

That’s weird.

“Are you in my office?” you questioned just outside the door.

“Yes, now get your butt in here.”

Pushing the door open, you see Chris sitting on one of the two brown leather club chairs you had situated on the other side of your desk. On the wall above his head is a huge Red Sox logo that has to be at least three feet across. On the wall next to the window is a framed signed Tom Brady jersey.

“Welcome home sweetheart. I added some more décor to your office. Do you like it?” He’s got a huge grin on his face with his eyebrows raised.

“You are something else,” you said, shaking your head as you walk across the room taking a seat at your desk.

Chris gets up from the chair and strolls over to your desk taking a seat on it and facing you. “Something good?”

“Hmm. Not so sure about that babe. Is this what Scott owes you for? Was Best Friend’s Day a ploy to get me out of the house?”

He scratches the top of his head. “M’fraid I don’t know what you’re taklin’ about.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” You sit up slightly and grab on to the neck hole of his t-shirt, pulling him to you. “You’re lucky I like you.”

He kisses your lips and pulls back to look you in the eyes, despite your hand still firmly holding his shirt.

“I love you,” he said softly. He kissed your nose then each of your cheeks.

“I know,” you replied, letting go of his shirt and opening up your laptop.

“Did you-did you just Han Solo me?” he chuckled.

You looked up from the screen, a small smile playing on your lips. “You bet your sweet ass I did.”

“You’re gonna get it. You are so gonna get it,” he threatened. You shut the laptop and pushed back on your chair. “You better run!”

You were out of your seat as fast as you could, squeals of laughter spilling from your lips as Chris chased you through the first floor and up the stairs. “I love you!” you screamed between laughs. “I love you!”

“Damn right,” he said tackling you onto the bed you shared.

The End

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lu-undy · 4 years

Note

Hello! I was wondering, how about sniperspy version of "seduce me" hehehe

Alright, this took me ages and I hope I met your expectations! I had great fun with this one and I hope I’ll give the same smiles I had on my face as when I wrote it.

"So, what is it you seek with me?"

Sniper was standing awkwardly in Spy's suite. He was nervously fiddling with his hat between his fingers in front of the Frenchman who looked, on the other hand, as if he couldn't possibly be more comfortable.

"I uh, I'd like some advice."

"And you decided that of all the people you could ask, I would be best?" Spy raised an eyebrow.

Sniper sighed and nodded.

"Pray take a seat."

Spy extended an inviting hand and Sniper obliged, albeit on the edge of the armchair. The Frenchman, who wasn't wearing his jacket or vest but only his shirt and tie, took a seat opposite him, on the other armchair. The coffee table separating them as well as the fireplace on Sniper's left, or Spy's right.

"So, how may I help?"

He gathered his fingertips and elegantly put a leg on the other.

"I uh… Well, there's this… person."

Spy hid his surprise.

"I… I like them… I'd like to know them better and I don't really know how to, y'know, approach them and start the whole thing."

"Ah, I see."

Spy nodded slowly.

"So yeah, that's my problem."

"And you are asking me because…?"

"Cause I know you're good with this stuff. And I…"

"And?" Spy repeated.

"And I hoped you wouldn't make fun of me."

Spy smiled but not in an arrogant way, non, not when his colleague had made the effort to come out of his den of a van and be honest with him.

"I will help you."

Sniper raised his eyes to his masked friend.

"But you need to know that there is no way to do this without getting out of your comfort zone." The Frenchman said.

"Yeah…"

"I am serious, Sniper, I know you adore your solitude in that van of yours but if you really want to approach someone, you will have to come out of your shell quite a bit. Are you sure that it is what you want?"

Sniper looked left and right.

"I uh, I'll try."

"That will not do." Spy answered and the Aussie lowered his head, frowning.

"You need not to try, but to succeed; if you really want that person, that is."

Spy paused before he added:

"Do you?"

The silence lasted for half a minute or so but for Sniper it was eternity and it weighed on his entire being. He closed his eyes.

"Spy, I-" Sniper's breath cut on its own. Spy watched with attention. The tension on his colleague's body was visible. “Yeah. I want to."

"Bien, in this case, I first need an idea of what I am working with."

[Good.]

Sniper raised a curious eyebrow. His eyes met with the Frenchman's ice blue ones.

"Show me what you can do."

"What d'you mean?" Sniper asked.

"Seduce me."

Sniper gulped down hard and he felt himself sweat.

"W-what?"

"Seduce me." The Frenchman repeated as he moved to sit on the sofa.

"Alroight."

Sniper stood up and adjusted the collar of his red polo shirt. He made sure it was tucked in his trousers and rolled up his sleeves.

"Roight." He took a deep breath and approached the Frenchman whose eyes were locked on the fireplace. Sniper sat next to his friend, but not too close.

"Hey."

Spy turned his head to him.

"How're you doin'?"

"Not too bad. Yourself?"

"Yeah, I-I'm alroight… I think… Uh…" Sniper put a hand behind his neck.

"You think?"

"Y-yeah, well, nah, I'm-I'm fine."

Spy smiled. He knew his colleague wasn't very good with social interactions but he hadn't imagined he would be at a loss that much.

"You can ask me what I do for work if you don't know it, or what I do outside of work." The Frenchman suggested.

"Ah, yeah, that's a good idea. So uh, what do you do outside o'work? Got any hobbies?"

"I collect short blades. I have about three hundred of them. Some I like for personal reasons, others because their fabrication was a work of art in itself. I also like to read."

"Oh, cool, that's nice, I like knives but I don't know much about them. I just look at them like paintings, I suppose."

Spy was surprised but didn't let it show. Sniper had continued on the conversation as if collecting hundreds of knives was ordinary.

"And uh…" The Aussie continued. "What d'you like to read?"

"French literature. Mainly 19th century authors. I find contemporary authors quite empty and arrogant. I much prefer the man who wrote without knowing that he would be famous hundreds of years after his death."

Sniper had drank his colleague's words like a priceless wine.

"Oh, wow… That's quite poetic, the way you put it, eh?"

Spy smiled.

"I do like it that way, don't you?"

Sniper blushed and looked away as Spy's eyes were too sharp.

"Part of me does."

"And the other part?"

"Tries to hide it."

"Why?"

"Because… I don't think that's what people like in general, eh. Can't be a hunter and a poet. People think huntin' is barbaric but that's because they never tried."

Spy raised an eyebrow and listened as Sniper's eyes locked on the dancing flames in the fireplace.

"Hunting can be complicated and takes ages. It's not just point and shoot. First you want to attract your target's attention, you want to know it well, understand its behaviour, the patterns painted on its soul. And when you decide to approach, it is to get it but you mustn't do it too soon, eh."

"Otherwise?"

"Otherwise the target just runs away and you don't want that… Also, when you take your aim and decide that it's the right moment to shoot, your entire body is focused on that one particular target. You hold your breath to steady your aim, your eyes see nothing but the target, your mind think about nothing but the target. Only the target exists."

Spy tilted his head on the side and the corner of his lips pursed up in a smile.

"And then you shoot. In a split second, you have taken the target from this life to the next. And God forbid you ever have to shoot twice. Hunting isn't a game and you must treat the target with the utmost respect. There's no point in making it suffer. You want to kill it as cleanly as possible."

"Tell me, Sniper..." Spy pulled his friend out of his almost monologue.

"Yeah?"

"You said that you were ready to make outstanding efforts to get that person, oui?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

Sniper's eyes lowered slowly.

"H-they're… special."

"How so?"

"They… count a lot to me." Sniper took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "First, they're gorgeous. They're absolutely stunnin'. I look at them and I can feel my eyes burn when I do, because that's how hard their image gets imprinted in my head."

"Hm." Spy nodded to show he was following.

"And then they're… They're just perfect… Yeah, well, ok, I don't think we go well together and I don't have much hope they'll accept to spend more time with me."

"But?"

"But I have to do it."

"Why?"

"Because I can't think about any bloody one else! I wake up and they're the first image that comes to my mind. I work and I can see them in my head all the time, and when I go to bed, I… I just wish they were with me."

The Aussie sighed.

"Tssk it's ridiculous. I know it won't work."

"What?" Spy asked.

"I'm givin' myself false hopes. I-I'm hoping they could like me but I know they don't and they won't."

"Sniper."

He raised his eyes to his friend's.

"Tell me more about them."

"What do you want to know?"

"When you see them, what do you think?"

"I can't."

"Well if you want me to help you, you will have to help me with that!"

"No, you don't get it."

Spy raised a curious eyebrow. He noticed Sniper was tapping his foot relentlessly on the floor.

"I can't think when I see them is what I mean. I… I just don't know anything anymore. They're… I'd kill to just have an evening more with them."

Spy's eyebrow twitched at the "more".

"And in fact, that's what I do everyday. I kill and kill, hoping they would, y'know, maybe pay a bit of attention to me…"

Sniper took a deep breath and sighed.

"Sniper, what do you feel for them?"

Spy's voice was delightfully calm.

"He has the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. He's gorgeous." Sniper lowered his face and hid it in his hands. "When I see him, nothin' else matters anymore, I just become obsessed, and-and stupid I s'ppose."

"Have you tried talking to him before?"

"Once."

"How did it go?"

Sniper raised his head again.

"There wasn't a second that I didn't appreciate. I sat next to him and… It's like I could feel the heat of his body even though I wasn't touching it. I felt hot and sweated b-but I'm so bad with words, Spy, why does it have to be so hard?"

Spy looked at his friend and smiled.

"Ah but that is what I meant when I said that you would have to come out of your shell. Engaging with someone is exhausting in truth."

"Even fer you?" Sniper looked him in the eyes briefly.

Spy chuckled.

"Oui, even for me. But if you feel so strongly for them, I can only understand the torture that is going on inside of you, the constant indecision. Should I, or should I not? Will that get me closer to him, or push me farther? Besides, I did not know you could enjoy the company of men."

Sniper realised only then that he had been using "he" and "him" the whole time. He blushed so hard he might have blown up.

"Ahem, well, I mean uh…"

"But don't get me wrong, mon ami, far from me the idea to judge. I can appreciate a man's company too."

[My friend]

"Oh, really?"

"Oui. And, if it is confession time, I will add that there is one that my heart is not insensitive to."

"Oh…"

"Let me tell you more, it might help you…"

Spy adjusted himself on his seat and cleared his throat.

"I don't recall how I started getting interested in him and I must admit that it surprised me when I realised that I did. You see, I am no stranger to romantic stories and am well versed in it all. Also, rarely have I faced rejection."

"But?" Sniper half guessed.

"But that man is different. He is so different that I genuinely do not know how to approach him."

Sniper raised a curious eyebrow.

"Oui, even I don't know so who will? But one thing is for sure, you would never think I could fall for such a man. He is my polar opposite in all aspects and all ways possible and I fear that if I did as much as talk to him, I might ruin it all."

"Did you try and talk to him or…?"

"Oui, once. We had a long conversation. Oddly enough, it happened in this very room. I was sitting here and him, more or less where you are now."

Spy sighed but his lips were pursed in a genuine smile and his eyes were dreamy.

"We had a chat that I wished could last forever. His voice is such a delight to my ears. He doesn't use it often, but when he does, it is such a sweet melody…"

Sniper blushed seeing how Spy felt. He had never imagined the Frenchman could tell him something that personal, and he seemed honest about it too…!

"Sniper, if I had to describe him, I would say that yes indeed, no one would imagine him and me together. And believe me, it is very hard for me too. I cannot imagine for a second that he would want it either. Of course I do guess that he is not insensitive to my charms but I think that I am lacking what he might be looking for in someone else."

"D'you know if he's into blokes?"

"Well I did my fair share of research on the man and came to learn very recently that yes, he does not exclude that possibility. What about you?"

"Yeah, same."

"We are fortunate then."

"And cowards." Sniper added and Spy's eyebrows jumped. "Cause we're talkin' here on your sofa and not really amounting to much, are we?"

"Would you be achieving more anywhere else?" Spy asked.

"N-no, not really, that's true."

"Then I suppose we are not so cowardly."

"I guess so… But, Spook, uhm, d-do you… I mean I can't imagine you do eh, but, do you feel like you're dumb when you're around him? I mean I lose my words and-and I stutter a lot more than usual and…"

"Ah, I see what you mean. I might feel so but I have long learned how to control my emotions, so it doesn't really show. Although I feel the soft tingling in my insides, the electricity in the air and in me when my eyes meet his. His eyes are blue, but very different from mine."

"Ah, same for me. I just have blue eyes but his are… My God, they're somethin' else, when he looks at me I'm so scared that he might see that-"

"That you love him?"

"Y-yeah… His eyes are so piercing he might as well see through me and behind, as if I was transparent."

“You are fairly easy to read, Sniper.”

“Huh?” He sweated more heavily, feeling put on the spot. “What d’you mean?”

“Let me explain. I think you have said a lot about that man, almost enough for me to know who he is.” Spy grinned smugly.

“W-what? N-no, how?!”

“Correct me if I am wrong.” Spy closed his fist and opened his thumb. “First, the person is a man.”

Sniper nodded.

“Then,” Spy extended his index finger. “You know what job he has.”

The Aussie’s eyes snapped wide.

“How did you know?”

“You didn’t ask for his job, but his hobbies.”

“Ah, y-yeah.”

“There is also the fact that he knows that you are a hunter at least.”

Sniper lowered his head.

“Add to that the fact that you never go anywhere near people and I do imagine this is your first time out of your beloved Australia, the man you have your thoughts on is in this base or the other one.”

The Aussie’s knee bounced faster up and down.

“Now, I know your professionalism and I do believe he isn’t one of the enemy, which then means that he is in our team, is he?”

Sniper hid his face in his hands and shyly nodded.

“Interesting. The man I have my thoughts on is also in this team.”

The Aussie’s face flashed up to his colleague.

“W-what?”

Spy wasn’t sure if he saw surprise or disappointment.

“I love him, Sniper. What you describe about the heat of his body, ah… I can only dream about letting my fingers trail his cheeks and entire body, and I did. How many times? Bah, not enough times for me, and sure too many for you who are listening to me. But what else can I do? As you know, I am used to romance but he is so different, so special. I cannot invite him to a restaurant, I cannot take him out for a ride, I… I am condemned to enjoy him like I would a priceless work of art, from a distance, and without doing more than just watching.”

Spy sighed.

“Maybe I am asking too much, maybe I should just content myself with what I have but… My thoughts are stuck on him, his tall and slim silhouette, his beautiful eyes, there is something wild and primitive about him that burns my insides, Sniper…”

“W-wait, he’s on the team and he’s tall and slim. So… That’s not Engie, Heavy, Pyro, Soldier or Scout. You’re taller than them and Heavy’s not slim. That leaves Demo and Medic. But I can’t see how Medic could have something wild about him. Oh bloody hell, it’s Demo?!”

Spy chuckled.

“I also forgot to say that he is adorably selfless. His smile is rare but when I see it, I can feel flutters everywhere in my chest, as if it contained butterflies that had been kept dormant for too long. Only he can make me feel those things, only the sight of him can do hat. Well, not only the sight. When he blesses me with his voice and his attention, very few words can describe what that generates.”

Spy turned to Sniper.

“It’s Demo, isn’t it…?” The Aussie repeated, with a disgruntled sigh.

“You sound disappointed.”

“N-no, I-I’m just surprised, is all.”

Spy spotted the bad lie as easily as an elephant in a porcelain shop.

“Sniper?”

“Hm…”

“Look at me.”

“I am.”

“Non, in my eyes.”

Sniper took a deep breath and raised his defeated eyes to the Frenchman.

“You forgot someone in the team.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did.”

“Who? Miss Pauling! She isn’t a man, is she?”

Spy chuckled and moved closer to his friend on the sofa.

“Indeed she is not.”

“So it’s not her?”

“Non, it is not.”

“Then who?”

“Look in this very room, do you not see anyone else?”

“Y-you? You can’t be lovin’ yourself, I mean, you can’t find yerself wild, can you? If anything I live in a van and all, so I’m wilder than you and-?”

Spy had nodded which cut Sniper short.

“W-what?”

“You have finally found him.”

“W-wait, who?”

Sniper was sweating bullets as he saw Spy’s gloved fingers rise and soon he felt the velvet against his cheek.

“Toi.”

[You.]

Spy’s dreamy eyes were a sight to behold. He looked in love indeed but the Australian couldn’t believe it, so he refused to and frowned.

“I understand I might not be the one that you put in your heart Sniper, and I respect that.” The Frenchman removed his hand from Sniper’s cheek. “I will not trouble you with my feelings again and shall help you talk to whoever you want.”

Spy was annoyed, that was clear enough in his slightly clenched jaw and furrowed brow. But if Sniper needed help, he would oblige.

“So, who is it?”

Sniper’s jaw had dropped and for seconds that felt like eternity for them both, he was incapable of producing any sounds, let alone words.

“Sniper?”

“You love me?” He finally asked.

“I do. Now, can we not dwell on this, as you are obviously looking for someone else.”

Irritated, Spy took his cigarette case out and opened it. He was about to take one when-

“I love you too.”

“What?” Spy’s cigarette case fell off his hands. He stopped sharp and looked up at the Aussie. “You cannot change your feelings that fast. You can fake it, oui, but you cannot enter this room with someone in your heart and exit with someone else.”

“Ya wanker, it’s you I was talking about since the beginning!”

Spy’s eyes flashed with the flames that they reflected from the fireplace.

“You lie very poorly.”

“Oh that’s rich... “ Sniper spat. “One, you’re the bloody Spy here and two, look at me!”

Spy had been busy picking up his cigarette case from his lap and collecting the cigarettes scattered there. He stopped to look at the Aussie.

“I… I…”

“Pathetic. You lie so poorly that you cannot even say it.”

Spy felt his feelings flip like a wave crashing. He went from head over heels for the man to furious, fuming with rage. He clenched his teeth.

“I LOVE YOU!” Sniper shouted and his roar was so powerful, that it startled the Frenchman on his seat, tipping over his cigarette case again. He blushed intensely seeing the Aussie get that loud for the first ever time. His voice had projected so powerfully, he worried that the entire base had heard it.

“I love you, alroight?” Sniper repeated with his usual calm voice this time. “I came here to ask you how I could… Talk to you… And spend more time with you. Yeah, as you said, I don’t do fancy dinners and all that but I love you. I can’t not think about you. So I thought of this to spend more time with you. I don’t know what you like, posh stuff I guess, so that was the only way.”

Spy’s eyes were riveted on his spilled cigarette case again on his lap but when his friend finished, he raised his eyes to him.

“And you were ready to help me get with someone else?” Sniper asked.

“Oui.”

“Why?”

“I want to see you smile, even if I am not the reason for it.”

And Sniper obliged. His face radiated with an innocent, almost naive grin, which Spy reciprocated.

“I’m sorry I’m bad with words…”

“Don’t be, it makes you more charming.”

And with that, Spy leaned on Sniper’s shoulder. They found each other’s hands and slid their fingers through without a word. They couldn’t hear the fire crackle, their heartbeats were too loud.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

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doc-pickles · 3 years

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won’t let no one break your heart (part two)

morning folks! i was going to wait until wednesday to post this, but personally i’m feeling a lot of anxiety surrounding today and the future of america so i figured this would be a nice little pick me up. stay safe, go vote, and do things today to keep your mental health safe!

TW// Implied & Referenced Child Abuse

“You have a bump.”

“Mmm don’t say that, that means I’m getting fat.”

Jo and Alex were laying in bed, enjoying a rare lazy Saturday that they both had off. Alex’s fingers splayed across the slight swell of Jo’s stomach, his lips pressing slow kisses across her shoulder. They had a lot that they should be doing, they were moving to a new house next week, but both were too content in the other’s arms to make any move to leave.

“I like it,” Jo laughed as Alex’s lips pressed against her neck, the stubble on his face tickling her. “Makes you look sexy.” “You sound like a caveman,” Jo turned around, lips meeting Alex’s as his hands continued to roam her body. Alex’s phone rang out from the nightstand, a groan leaving Jo as she attempted to pull him closer again. “No, hell no. I’m not doing this again, tell whoever it is that the Chief is off duty and his wife desperately needs to get laid.”

Alex blindly grabbed for his phone and answered it, one arm still wrapped around Jo as she curled into his side, “Karev.”

“It’s Hunt, I need you to come down here.” “Give it to literally anyone else, this is my first day off in weeks. I gotta pack this place up and my wife will kill me if I leave,” Alex swatted at Jo’s hand that was sneaking beneath the covers and trying to distract him. “Jo, knock it off.” “You know I wouldn’t call you unless it was an emergency.”

“Owen, come on-” “You remember that girl with the collar bone?” Alex bolted upright in bed, eyes wide as his heart began to hammer loudly, “Sadie? Is she there?” “Yeah and she won’t let us treat her, she keeps asking for you.” “Okay, I’ll be there in 15,” Alex hung up the phone and looked to Jo, who was already pulling on a sweater. “God damn it.” “Hey, what’d I tell you,” Jo came to stand in front of Alex, her hands coming to run through his hair as he leaned his head against her. “She trusts you, you did the right thing. Get dressed and I’ll drive down there.” 15 minutes later, Jo and Alex rush through the doors of the ER. Owen spots them immediately, a sigh coming from him as he makes a beeline for the couple, “She came in with multiple contusions across her face and torso. We got a portable xray to confirm a couple broken ribs, but she wont let us do anything else.”

Alex and Jo both peeked into the room that Sadie was settled in, the sight before them not a pretty one. He hadn’t seen her in over two months, but she looked like a shell of the girl he’d met before. Her blonde curls were matted with blood and her right cheek was swollen and purple. Alex felt his blood boil as he stared at her, wondering how someone could hurt an innocent little girl.

“Dad brought her in, but PD came and took him into custody,” Owen sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We haven’t made a call to CPS yet, I was waiting until we could examine her.”

Alex stared helplessly at Sadie, knowing that she was going to get thrown into the system just like he and Jo had. His wife’s voice broke his train of thought, her calm demeanor helping level him a bit, “I’m gonna go up to your office and call CPS, you take care of her.” Jo pressed a kiss to his cheek before walking off, Owen clapping him on the back telling him he’d send someone down to examine Sadie after he talked to her. Alex stood alone in the hallway for a moment, his mind reeling as a hundred different thoughts buzzed through his head.

Sadie was about to endure the same crappy childhood he had, being bounced around to different homes that were only there to collect a check. A kid like her, a good kid, shouldn’t have to go through that. Sadie deserved a mom and a dad who loved her and tucked her into bed every night. People who would help her with homework and teach her to ride a bike and keep her safe. Alex thinks his heart breaks for the little girl because he’d been put through hell when he was only a bit older than her, but he knows deep down that the knowledge of his own impending fatherhood has softened his heart as well.

Alex finally took a deep breath and walked into Sadie’s room, the girls eyes lighting up as soon as she saw him, “I asked for you when we got here, I came to find you Doctor Alex just like you told me.”

A sigh leaves him then, a small smile lighting his face up as he comes to sit on the edge of Sadie’s bed. She immediately crawls over to him, settling herself into his lap and curling up like she’d done it before, “I’m glad you asked for me Sadie, do you think we can get some nice doctors in here to make sure you’re okay?” “Will you stay here with me?,” the blue eyes that look up at Alex tug relentlessly at his heartstrings, the little girl looking to him like he was the only person in the world that could help her. “Please Doctor Alex?” “I’ll stay here, don’t worry Sadie,” Alex saw Meredith lingering in the doorway, a grin appearing on his face as he noticed his best friend. “Sadie, this is my best friend Doctor Meredith, can she take a look at you?” With another assurance that he wasn’t going anywhere, Sadie let Meredith and Schmitt examine her while Alex told her a story about Jo accidentally washing her car keys that she’d left in her pants. The story makes the little girl giggle, but the look on Meredith’s face doesn’t bode well with him.

“She’s got a punctured lung I’m pretty sure,” Meredith’s voice is low as she meets Alex’s worried eyes. “And I’m worried about damage to her kidney, I want to get her up to an OR as soon as possible.” Alex runs a hand over his face in exasperation, head reeling as he took in Meredith’s words. He was a doctor, he knew that Sadie’s injuries were minor for the amount of damage she’d endured, but he was still angry and upset about the circumstances that led her there. He’d found himself fiercely protective of the young girl that he’d met by chance, everytime she looked up to him with her bright eyes his heart fell deeper for her.

“I’ll break the news, you book an OR,” Alex nodded at Meredith, turning back to Sadie with a sad smile. “Hey Cass, Doctor Meredith wants to help fix up your owies. It might be a little scary but she’s the best doctor in this whole hospital.”

Sadie pauses for a moment, eyes scanning Alex before she speaks up, “Even better than you?”

“Yes,” Alex chuckles, happy to see a small smile on the little girl's face. “Way better than me. She’s gonna take good care of you.”

An hour later, Meredith is rolling Sadie down to the OR, Alex by her side. They reach the doors and Alex looks down at the girl he’d become so attached to, “Alright kiddo, this is as far as I go. But I’ll be here when you wake up okay?”

“Can you find Molly for me? I miss her,” Alex furrows his brows, Sadie clearly not willing to reveal more to him. Working in Peds for so long, he knew that she was probably talking about a stuffed animal or a blanket, but she seemed genuinely concerned about the matter. “Please?”

“I’ll find Molly, you just worry about getting better,” Alex squeezed Sadie's hand once more before letting Meredith wheel her away. He stands in the hallway for a few more minutes before heading up to his office.

Sadie would be fine, her surgery was relatively easy and Meredith of all people was doing. But after that, then what? What would happen after Sadie had recovered and she was shipped off to a foster home and treated just the same as she was at home with her own father? The system would chew her up and spit her out, it’s what had led him to being thrown in juvie and had led his wife to living in her car and dumpster diving for dinner. He didn’t want to imagine a future like that for such an innocent child like Sadie, but it was a reality that was playing out before his eyes that he felt helpless to change.

Finally arriving back at his office, Alex couldn’t help the grin that plastered itself onto his face at the state he found his wife in. She was sitting on his couch, eyes struggling to stay open as she rubbed the back of the toddler resting on her chest. He had no clue where the little girl had come from but seeing Jo cradling her so gently made his heart burst.

“Hey, how’s Sadie doing,” Jo perked up a bit as Alex came to sit next to her, his arm slinging around her shoulder as he pulled her into his side.

“Mer just took her into surgery, she’ll be fine though,” Alex looked to the little girl in Jo’s arms, taking in her delicate features and dark curls for a moment. “Where’d you get this one from? You stealing kids from the Peds floor now?” Jo let out a light laugh, shaking her head as she rested it against Alex’s shoulder. Her fingers brushed back some of the stray curls from the little girl’s face, a contented sigh leaving her as she snuggled further into Jo, “This is Sadie’s sister Molly, I was on the phone with CPS when Owen brought her up. Apparently when PD went to sweep their house, they found her all alone crying her eyes out. She was still pretty shaken up when she got here, but I finally got her to settle down. Poor baby reeks of drugs, they found a whole storehouse in the garage.”

So this is who Sadie was so insistent on him finding. Both girls were so young, way too young to be dragged through the shit that they’d already been subjected to. Alex watched his wife and the way she stared at Molly with tears in her eyes. He knew that her mind was going to the same place that he had, thinking of the way both of these girls would be tossed around the foster care system with no regard for their well being. Hell, there wasn’t even a guarantee that the two sisters would stay together through the tumultuous process.

“Hey, they’re gonna be just fine, I’m gonna do my best to guarantee that,” Alex pressed a kiss to Jo’s forehead, holding her close. “They’re not gonna go through what we did.” A knock on the office door breaks the quiet moment, Alex leaping up to answer it as Jo gently shushes the toddler who’d stirred momentarily at the noise. Opening the door, Alex is met by an older woman who stares him down apprehensively, “I was told I could find Doctor Karev here. I’m Martha Lewis from CPS.” Alex opened the door wider, gesturing for the woman to come inside, “I’m Doctor Karev, this is my wife… also Doctor Karev… Please call us Alex and Jo.” Martha settled into one of the chairs across from Jo on the couch, eyeing her and Molly as she pulled a manila envelope from her bag, “Is that Sadie or Molly Morris?”

“This is Molly, Sadie just went into surgery a little while ago,” Jo relayed the information, hand tightening against Molly’s back as Martha looked back up at her. “Umm Alex knows more about that than I do. I was the one who called CPS down here, I’ve been with Molly since she arrived.” Watching his wife’s nervous energy, Alex seated himself on the arm of the couch and settled one hand on her shoulder before turning back to Martha, “Sadie had a lot of surface level injuries including a few broken ribs, but she went into surgery for a punctured lung and possible kidney damage. We’ll know more when she comes out, but she’s in good hands for now.” “I’ll need detailed charts and instructions for her post operative care, we’ll need to forward them to her foster parents,” Martha’s eyes were trained on the papers in front of her, not seeing the worrisome look that appeared on both Alex and Jo’s faces. “Molly will be going to a home tonight, do you know if she has any belongings with her?” “Wait hold on, are you going to separate them? You can’t do that,” Jo’s voice was frantic as she sat up, eyes moving from Martha to Alex, who looked just as upset as she did. “They’re six and two, they’re not going to do well in the system alone, they need each other.” Martha finally looked to Jo and Alex, her expression bored as if she’d had this same conversation a hundred times before, “They are going to separate homes, they don’t have any family members and there’s zero chance of their father regaining custody. Not many people want two young girls on their hands, especially ones that have been in and out of the system before.”

Alex looked from Martha down to Molly, who’s wide green eyes had opened and were blinking up at him in confusion. He thought about Sadie, who was lying on an operating table repairing damage that her father had inflicted on her and about Molly, who was so young that she probably didn’t even know what was happening. He couldn’t let them go through this, not when he had the chance to fix things.

“How long would it take for us to get certified to foster,” Alex’s eyes whip up to Jo, her teeth nervously biting her lip as she pleads with the woman across from them. “We’re moving into a new house this week, we have more than enough room.” A heavy sigh left the older woman as she glared at the two doctors sitting in front of her, “Even if I wanted to-”

“Sadie’s going to need medical attention when she comes home from the hospital, we’re doctors we know what we’re doing,” Alex cuts Martha off before she can speak again, voice sounding just as desperate as Jo’s had. “And she won’t be out of here for awhile, she’s going to need to recover from her surgery. We’ll take them both, at least until you can find someone else willing to take both of them.” Jo and Alex finally meet each other’s eyes, the silent conversation that happens between them fast and simple. They wanted this, they both wanted to help Sadie and Molly if they could, even if it was just for a little while.

“If you’re serious, I’ll forward a recommendation through for you, but it won’t go through for at least three weeks,” Martha looked back to the file in her hands, closing it resolutely. “Molly will have to go to another placement tonight, which means I’ll be taking her now. If you two are approved, she’ll come back to you.” Martha has Alex sign paperwork for Sadie’s case, detailing what he knew already and what he’d surmised from her last visit in the ER as well. Jo entertained Molly while they finished things up, the little girl giggling away in her arms as they played. When Alex was done, the older woman packed up everything again and gestured for Jo to hand Molly over.

“I’ll have someone contact you for a home inspection and other paperwork to get you certified, in the meantime you’ll need to keep the agency updated on Sadie’s condition until she’s released from the hospital,” Martha settled Molly onto her hip, the little girl instantly reaching her hands out to Jo and whining for her. “Come on dear, let’s get going.” Martha and Molly leave then, Jo not even bothering to conceal the tears that are flowing from her eyes as the little girl cries out and continues to try to reach for her. Alex pulls Jo into his arms, one hand coming up to stroke her hair as he holds her, “Hey it’s okay, she’ll be back soon. We’re gonna figure this out, it’s okay.” Jo sniffles, watery eyes coming up to meet Alex’s, “We’re insane.” “I know, but there’s no one else I’d rather be insane with,” Alex’s hand moves from Jo’s back to her growing bump, a grin coming up on his cheeks as a thought forms in his head. “You know, depending on how long the girls are with us we could have three kids in the house.” The remark finally pulls a laugh from Jo as she leans up to press a kiss to Alex’s lips. her hands pressing against his sweatshirt, “Yeah maybe we won’t do that. But we can keep them for a while, as long as it takes to find someone for them, right?”

“Absolutely,” Alex nods as he and Jo begin to walk out of his office. “They’ll be in good hands.”

#jolex #jolex fic #jo wilson #jo karev #alex karev #jo x alex #greys anatomy #greys anatomy fanfic #nina writes

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kaeyas-beloved · 4 years

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Plumbing Problems {Lucifer x Reader}

Prompt -> Credit: @givethispromptatry

I don't know how I feel about this... I don't know if it's any good but here you go anyway...

Chaos.

It was the only word to truly describe the current state of the House of Lamination at the moment.

In the corner of the room we have Mammon and Leviathan fighting over who knows what plus Satan and Beel entering from different sides of the living room, towels wrapped tightly around their waists and slightly annoyed expressions on their faces. Asmodeus was wearing an irritated look at the fact he couldn’t freshen up to look as beautiful as he always does and Lucifer was in the middle of it all, shouting about how everyone needed to calm down.

Then there was Belphegor sleeping soundly on the couch, unaware of all the shouting going on around him, cuddled up soundly with his cow printed pillow.

And all because the plumbing broke somewhere in the middle of the night, rendering the residents unable to use any water that morning.

Thank god it was a weekend or else they’d have even more problems...

“Oi Lucifer! Why don’t ya just call that one guy! Y’know, the one who deals with these kinda things!” Mammon exclaims, throwing his one arm up in frustration. Lucifer groaned, the eldest brother was planning on contacting the mentioned man, but with all hell breaking loose, the idea was placed on the back burner.

“I know Mammon. I was about to summon him before you idiots decided to make a fuss...” the raven-haired demon states, rolling his eyes while making his way into the kitchen, glittering red sparks falling from his finger tips.

A flick of his gloved hand along with the muttering of a short chant and a figure soon started to fade in. It shouldn’t take longer than a minute or two for the process of this summoning to finish, yet it felt way longer to Lucifer, factoring in that right after he finished the summoning spell he had to turn his back to the human, distracted once again by his noisy younger siblings and their bantering.

As the Avatar of Pride dealt with his problem children, behind him stood a very confused human, their (e/c) eyes frantically scanning their new surroundings, taking in the very unfamiliar scene. They were just in their bedroom a second ago, how the hell did they get here!? AND WHERE IS HERE!? Before the human or his brothers could point out the obvious problem to him (that he’s got the wrong human!!), Lucifer relentlessly continued scolding his brothers for all the noise and headaches they’ve caused, leaving no room for argument.

“Yo, Lucifer-” Mammon tried to speck, lifting a hand to point at the present human, but was cut off within a second, a sharp, cold glare being sent his way.

“MAMMON QUIET!!” The shout seemed to rattle the very foundation of the house, the demon which the yell came from switching into his demon form. The anger that Lucifer was bottling up regarding the matter and from the constant pestering of his brothers, finally exploding. The white-haired demon flinched back, as did the other brothers, along with the already frightened human and they all shut their mouths.

“And you, weak human, should start fixing our issue, no payment as well, seeing as you didn’t just get right to work” It was a command no doubt, the tone of the eldest demon alluding to it, but through the confusion and what they just saw, anger started to radiant from the human – anger sprouting at being given instructions but not a single piece of context.

But also at the fact that this whole thing has a lack of money in the equation. What can they say? (Y/N)’s got their own underlining greed…

So really there was only one thing to do – yell and assert dominance… probably.

“NOW WAIT JUST A DAMN SECOND!!!” Stunned, the raven-haired individual quieted down, not at all expecting to hear a voice that didn’t belong to the usual man that he summoned when the plumbing stopped working. Spinning around, Lucifer’s black and red eyes connecting with a pair of (e/c) ones, scowl present on the new comers lips.

“You don’t get to yell at me, you prick! I have no idea what I’m doing here! You brought me here and told me to fix shit! You aren’t even paying me!” (Y/N) hissed and crossed their arms, glaring into Lucifer’s very being. Said demon quickly recomposed himself, blackened wings and horns disappearing, his lips returning into the normal straight line they’re always in, but his eyes still held a glimmer of annoyance, with added surprise too.

“May I ask who exactly you are exactly, seeing as you are not Mr. Ray…” Lucifer inquired in a steady voice, eyes narrowing and brow raising.

It was almost like a switch, like turning off and on lights to a room. All the hostility that arrived with (Y/N) dissipated, their eyes softening at the mention of the name.

“Ray (L/N)?” Their voice was soft, an underlining sadness hiding in their tone. When more than one demon nodded the human sighed, leaning on the kitchen table, rough seeing as it’s made of unpolished wood. “That’s my father but… he’s not around anymore…” The brothers became silent, quickly scheming what they meant. There was only one real meaning to it so when they finally understood everyone turned their gazes to the ground. After a moment Lucifer cleared his throat, catching (Y/N)’s attention.

“I am sorry to hear that…” though his tone may be misleading, Lucifer was indeed upset at the new information. But the man was human, it was inevitable, bound to happen sooner or later – Lucifer knew this.

“It’s fine really…” the (h/c) haired human signed, switching the subject “what did you need him for anyway? Was it the plumbing?” The Avatar of Pride nodded, gesturing to the unit at the back of the kitchen where the water pipes were. Nodding, (Y/N) took meaningful strides towards it, a business-like aura surrounding them suddenly and they opened the unit, examining it.

“Do you have any tools?” (Y/N) questioned, staring at the demons.

“We do, I’ll go get them” Satan spoke smoothly, walking out of the room. Mammon suddenly started arguing, claiming that his younger brother had no clue where they even were. Asmodeus and Leviathan joined in, countering that there was no way he knew where they were either. Soon all but one demon left for the hunt of tools, the shouting getting quieter as the others left.

“What, may I ask, are going to do?” Lucifer questioned, folding his arms. Though he had a pretty good idea of the answer, he still wanted to make sure.

“Fixing it.” (Y/N) stated in a ‘duh’ kind of tone, reaching into the pipe system. The eldest brother opened his mouth, a multitude of threats forming in his mind all directed at them for using such a tone with him – who does this human think they are!? – but was cut short. “My father told me about you guys ya know. He called you special customers and showed me how to fix your specific system. Though he never explicitly told me you were other worldly beings, he just told me I’ll know when the time comes – if it did…” (Y/N) chuckled bitterly, not looking away for a second from their work.

The sudden reappearance of 4 of his 6 brothers - one got lost and the other was still sound asleep - silenced Lucifer from giving a reply. (E/c) eyes turned between the tools that were given and back at the piping system, red gradient eyes watching intently as the human worked, his arms staying crossed against his chest.

As (Y/N) worked their coloured hues ended up flickering between the task in front of them and the tall, looming demon over them. A few times they caught each others eye, and all (Y/N) could think about was how the shade of his eyes matched that of blood, yet there still was a darker light to them. After a good 15 minutes (Y/N) wiped their forehead and stood.

“That should do it…” they announced, facing the demons.

“So, the shower works now?” Beel questioned. As soon as the (h/c) haired human nodded all the brothers bolted out of the kitchen, about to enjoy their returned use of water. (Y/N) chuckled at the show of enthusiasm.

“I believe my work here is done.” Lucifer nodded wordlessly, a little disappointed that the new human was leaving, despite just arriving less than half an hour ago. The Avatar of Pride didn’t know what it was, but something about this human caught his interest, whether it was their rather vulgar first impression or how the human’s entire demeanour instantly softened at the mention of their lost love one, it was a mystery to him.

“It would seem so. Let me just grab-”

“It’s not necessary…” (Y/N) spoke, stopping Lucifer and handing him the tools back. The raven-haired brother raised a brow, unsure of their intentions.

“You were about to grab money to pay me despite what you said, no? There’s no payment needed, really. Think of it as a favor for being an acquaintance of my dad.” A light giggle erupted from their lips along with a wink, “plus, I don’t think Grimm would work very well in the human world!” The eldest frowned, hating to entertain the thought of owing favors, especially to a human. When (Y/N) turned to leave the kitchen and head into the hallway Lucifer grabbed their shoulder, halting them in their step.

“No, I insist…” Lucifer smirked, a pleasant idea just entering his mind. Eyeing the expression on his face, a smirk of their own slipped itself onto (Y/N)’s lips and they spin themselves around to face Lucifer.

“Fine then, if you can think of a way of payment that I approve of, I’ll accept it.” There was a challenging glint in their eyes and tone, confidence skyrocketing with the thought that there was no possible answer that would be acceptable.

“Would dinner suffice? If so, you will be staying here for the remainder of the day.”

Well, well now! Who would (Y/N) be to turn down such a generous offer for FOOD!? The true entrance to a mortal’s heart – or at least this particular mortal – is food.

Who knew right?

But (Y/N) couldn’t let Lucifer know that that was one of the keys to their heart, that they could be so easily won over like that! So, ignoring the entire part about staying in hell itself, (Y/N) responds as calm as ever.

“Hm… alright, dinner for my services it is.” The raven-haired demon gave a smug grin, pleased with the human’s response.

“Good. I’ll arrange for a reservation at Ristorante Six. This way, to your room. I expect you to be ready by 7PM in the dress I will provide for you.” …Shit that’s right, (Y/N) though, I’m stuck here for the rest of the day.

“Lead the way then” and yet, above all else, it wasn’t that awful sounding. They still get a free meal for doing such a simple job, which is a major plus.

And then there was the man who was paying for said dinner. Yes, the food will no doubt be fantastic, but from those intense red eyes, shiny black locks and overall cool composure, Lucifer wasn’t that bad, gorgeous if (Y/N) was being honest. And the sheer power that he was radiating was extraordinary.

It all just enticed them in further to the Avatar of Pride.

So as (Y/N) climbed the house’s stairs, they found that deep within themselves they knew that Lucifer was the true reason they accepted the invitation for dinner.

And maybe, just maybe, they could get to know him even more…

#obey me #obey me!#obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #obey me! lucifer #obey me one master to rule them all #one master to rule them all #shall we date #obey me! shall we date?#obey me! lucifer x reader #lucifer avatar of pride

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sabraeal · 4 years

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Hypewired Unsolved Drinking Game, Rule #2: Shirayuki Despairs Over Obi’s Life Choices

Rule #1

Written for @ruleofexception on the occasion of her BIRTH. I thought this would be more ghost hunting and less metrics, but I should have known I couldn’t resist a premise-building chapter.

[Shirayuki] Have you ever heard of the Gardner Museum Heist?

[Obi] Oohhh.

[Shirayuki] *laughs* What was that?

[Obi] Oh, nothing, nothing. It’s just... I love heists.

[Shirayuki] You love heists? *laughs* No, I take it back, that doesn’t surprise me at all.

[Obi] *laughs* Come on, who doesn’t love a good heist?

[Shirayuki] This one *is* known as the biggest art heist of its kind.

[Obi] Oh ho ho ho. You’re saying all the right things to me.

The thing about haunted houses-- the real kind, not the ones that hire teenagers to wear stage make up and hold fake chainsaws-- is that they’re hard to book.

“Oh, in my hometown, they hired ex-convicts,” Obi says in the same casual way he says anything vaguely terrifying about his childhood, “and they gave them real, working chainsaws.”

Her jaw drops, face still plastered to her phone’s screen. Soft jazz worms into her ear. “That can’t be true. That has to be a-- a rumor or something.”

“Nah, nah, the farm had a work program with the local prison. I think sometimes they did seasonal work too?” He shrugs. “I don’t know. But it definitely made the hayride more popular. Gave it a real element of danger, you know?”

Shirayuki stares. “And they gave them real chainsaws?”

“Well, they only revved them a little.” He twitches his shoulder, as much of a shrug as he ever gives. “One time a guy hopped on the cart and chopped the bale next to me, but I mean, I probably deserved that.”

She might be sitting down, but oh, she could really do to sit down again. Harder. Mentally. Emotionally. “And you’re sure these were ex-convicts?”

“Yeah, probably.” Not an endorsement ringing with confidence. “I mean, I’m sure they were in for non-violent crimes, at least.”

There are two wolves inside of her, and one of them is pleased to hear about a local business working to place disadvantaged community members, and the other-- well, the other thinks that maybe everyone should be a little more solid on the whole non-violent convictions than they are.

Before she has the chance to suggest it, the phone clicks, and a pleasant female voice says, “Hill House, Donna speaking, how may I help you?”

“Oh, hi, yes,” she fumbles, “I’m Shirayuki calling from Hypewire. We would like to talk about booking your location.”

“Hypewire?” Donna pauses, the good long kind that means she’s probably from a generation that prefers to read its news on paper, and not from a website that has an option to react with emojis. “Oh, did you want to do an article on the house?”

“Ah, something like that.” Obi arches a brow, lips twitching as he crams another Funyon between them. He’s far too distracting to have around while she needs to have thinky thoughts, especially if he’s going to make faces at her. “I’m the producer of Hyperwire Unsolved, and we were wondering if we could possibly do a, ah--” she coughs-- “an investigation? Of the house? For the show?”

“Oh, Hypewire Unsolved!” The woman laughs. “My nephew loves you guys. But don’t you do true crime?”

[Sender]: [email protected] [Recipients]: [email protected] [Subject]: Re: Episode Filming

Thank you for your interest in our venue for an episode. Some of our interns are big fans of your show! However, we have to admit some confusion, as we were under the impression you were a true crime show…

“How’d they get that impression?” Higata grunts, hunching further over his keyboard. His screen in the only light in the editing bay, castling a ghastly glow over his face. “The art department just sent me six different aliens to pick from for the Roswell episode, and now we’re Serial? Come on.”

Shirayuki sighs. “I know. But it seems our more popular episodes are the ones about collar bombers and serial murderers. At least by the metrics”

Higata might only be twenty-six, but he’d be right at home at the VA buffet with the way he grumbles. “You know His Highness over there was talking to me about making true crime and supernatural separate seasons. Something about...keeping views and organizational groups or something.”

“Huh.” She sits back, nibbling on her lip. “It would certainly give me more of a focus each season. What do you think?”

“I guess it’s fine. Two editing credits for my resume for one show’s work is a good deal.” He overlays a shadowy police sketch into the video, shoulders rounded and tense. “What do I know? I just sit in the dark and pick which ghostly visage I want to layer over your audio.”

She leans in with her sunniest smile, squeezing his arm right above the elbow. “And you’re so good at it!”

“I am.” He’s too much of a professional to look away from his work, shifting the same image three pixels over and then three pixels back, but his bicep relaxes beneath her grip. “I am a top tier spooky face picker. All the commenters say so.”

She blinks. “Oh? They do?”

Higata twists in his seat, gaze somehow even more incredulous in the lack of light. “No, Shirayuki, they don’t. But they should.” He gestures to the screen vaguely. “They mostly just talk about how much they want to fuck Obi.”

“OH.” There’s some information she really, really didn’t need. “That’s um, ah--”

“Your job, according to roughly half our fan base.” His mouth hooks into a grin she does not enjoy. “What do you say, Lyon? I think we could break the bank if you kissed him once on camera.”

“I-- I mean--” it’s a ridiculous request, clearly a joke, but her heart is pounding so loud in her ears she can’t hear her own thoughts-- “that’s not really w-what the show is about.”

Higata laughs. “That’s what you think.”

“What does who think?”

Shirayuki jumps straight out of her chair.

It’s not an exaggeration; there’s literal air between her butt and the seat, and when she lands again, the soft cushion makes the most obvious whoosh noise in existence, only worse, since it’s slow too. No obnoxious whoopee cushion womp, oh no, just an endless, air pump whoosssssshhhhhh that’s as blatant as a rattlesnake in the silence.

“Obi!” His lean shadow fills the doorway—wow, is he actually that tall?—and his head tilts, just enough so that his eyes shimmer gold. “I—nothing! We were, um, nothing?”

“We were talking about true crime,” Higata supplies, darting her a pitying look, “and how that’s what everyone thinks we are. Winchester House just emailed back.”

Obi grimaces, teeth flashing white in the dark. “Ah, great. Another one of those.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, deflating into a slouch. “I could talk about Big Foot until I’m blue in the face, but everyone thinks I have nuanced opinions about Jeffrey Dahmer.”

One narrow brow arches toward his hairline. “But you do have nuanced opinions about Jeffrey Dahmer.”

“I just think animal mutilation is probably a sign things aren’t going right in your life and someone should have noticed.” She waves her hands, at a loss. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to explore a supposedly haunted house.”

His lips twitch, right at one corner. “For a skeptic, you’re really into the idea you could see a ghost.”

“Stories are part of the human experience,” she explains primly. “We use them to understand what feels inexplicable. And ghosts are part of how we compartmentalize death.”

“Or they are the remnants of people who died too soon.” Obi pushes himself off the jamb, sauntering over to where they sit. “Or whatever bad juju is left by human misery—hey, that’s a sweet mugshot. Who’s it supposed to be?”

Higata squints. “I keep thinking it might be Shiira? But the cheeks are all wrong.”

“Huh.” Obi leans between the two of them, nose hovering mere inches away from the screen. His arm presses into her shoulder, too warm. “Brecker.”

“Brecker?” Higata tilts his head. “Oh yeah, I see it now. He’s not gonna like that.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Good thing he doesn’t watch joyless tripe like Unsolved then.”

“Yeah.” Higata snickers, raising the opacity. “Good thing.”

Obi settles back on his heels, hand gripping the back of her chair. She dares a glance up, and there he is, watching her with one of those looks she doesn’t know how to read. “Don’t worry, Lyon,” he says, thumb rubbing at the plastic back. “The season’s only just started. Give it some time.”

“I’d love to,” she mutters, tilting her head back, resting it on his wrist. “But try explaining that to Izana.”

[Obi] I’m just saying, there’s no sexier crime than a heist. ...Well, I mean, that doesn’t involve actual sex.

[Shirayuki] *wheeze*

[Obi] You know what I mean.

[Shirayuki] Do I? Am I finding out too much about you right now? Is this how you get seduced at parties? Girls just cornering you and telling you about high-profile robberies?

[Obi] *laughs* This is absolutely not how I get seduced at parties. Unless you’d like to try...?

[Shirayuki] . . .

[Obi] Besides, it’s not like this is just a regular robbery. Heists don’t happen to normal people. Just the rich ones.

[Shirayuki] Well, this *is* a museum. It’s for learning purposes.

[Obi] Oh, like all that stuff actually *belongs* to a museum anyway.

[Shirayuki] Actually...this time it does!

[Obi] Wow, now there’s a mystery I want to investigate.

“We want to capitalize on the energy from this season.”

Izana isn’t a man who lounges; his mesh office chair is relentlessly ergonomic, only a few aggressively rolled lumbar supports away from a torture device. But still, he gives off the energy of a cat lazing in a sunspot, already gotten into the cream.

“Unsolved has always had excellent metrics, but since the premier--” he glances pointedly at Obi-- “they’re unparalleled by any other digital media Wisteria has put out on any of its platforms.”

Obi sprawls in one of the wire-frame chairs Izana has out, far too big for its delicate frame, every inch of him as still as the grave. Except for his one, bouncing knee, practically vibrating as he asks, “That’s...good right?”

“Very good.” Shirayuki may not be a metrics person, but working with Zen gave her more than a passing acquaintance with what success sounds like. “I think he’s telling us...we’re his cash cow.”

Izana’s lips lift into a smirk. “Just so. You’re more popular than Stand the Heat, and that’s saying something.”

It is saying something-- Obi’s show consistently has the most hits and the highest likes-to-views ratio. It’s been the backbone of Hypewire’s digital media section since it premiered last year, and now-- now Unsolved has passed it. If the graph Izana’s laid out is right, they’ve passed it by...a lot.

Shirayuki sneaks a glance at Obi as he leans over, taking in the numbers. She can’t move, can’t even breathe as he stares, eyes rounding as he understands what’s happening.

He rips the paper off the desk, shaking it at her. “Do you see this?”

She blinks. “Y-yes?”

His mouth breaks into a grin, like a Labrador who has found a particularly giant stick. “We’re awesome.”

“Oh,” she breathes, and wow, this is really not the time to think about the-- the Abayan effect, even if that smile makes it extremely hard not to. “Okay.”

“We should have you on the show.” His knee bounces a mile a minute, words barely keeping pace. “See if that makes the ratings draw even.”

Shirayuki stares at him, but there’s no hint of sarcasm, no undertone of agitation. For all intents and purposes, it seems as if he’s just...inviting her on his highly rated cooking show.

That can’t be right.

“Not a bad thought, Abayan,” Izana hums, fingers tapping at the desk. “Turn that in to me with the rest of your proposals for next season.”

Obi grins. “No problem, boss.”

“Wait.” This is all happening too fast; it’s all too much. Three weeks ago she was scrambling for a new co-host, and now she’s sitting next to Hypewire’s media darling, talking about how she needs to be on his show for his ratings. “I don’t-- we shouldn’t--”

“Oh, can you not cook?” Obi smiles, and it’s-- entirely too much. “Don’t worry, Lyon, you’ll be on top when I’m done with you.”

“N-no!” she chokes. “I-- I’m the daughter of a bar! I mean, my grandparents--” ugh, four years to get a journalism degree, and she still can’t word good-- “they owned a pub.”

“Great.” His teeth flash, half-feral. “Then you’ll know how to follow my lead.”

“I think,” Izana says, tipping her a speculative look, “that Shirayuki is less worried about her prowess in the kitchen, and more about what these sort of numbers might mean to a show like Unsolved. Isn’t that right?”

“Ah, I mean...” It’s terrible how good he is at his job. “It’s all so...quick. We’re still editing this season, and already I’m working on the ideas for next one, and I have to not only write scripts but also scout locations, and Higata is already stretched thin--”

“We’ll get you another editor.”

Her jaw drops. “W-what?”

Izana folds his hands, so calm, and tells her, “We’ll get you another editor.”

Shirayuki stares, mouth utterly dry. It had been a struggle to get Higata last season; after Obi had roasted the idea during Pitch Fight, Hypewire’s higher-ups had been loath to put any actual support behind Unsolved. Only his dogged enthusiasm-- and flagrantly working on the project behind their backs-- had gotten him on board after the pilot took off. And now Izana Wisteria was just handing her someone else. Personally.

She reaches down and pinches herself. Yep, this is-- this is real life. Somehow.

“You want to-- you mean that--” she gulps-- “you want to give Unsolved a team?”

He nods, brusque and efficient. “I can get you another researcher as well. Or if the locations appear to be a problem, perhaps a personal assistant?” He lifts a hand, a Wisteria shrug. “Just let me know your needs, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Unless it’s time, right?” Obi asks wryly. “That’s straight out.”

Izana’s mouth stretches into the barest grin. “The internet is instant, I’m afraid. You have to strike while the iron’s hot. I hope--” he fixes her with a meaningful look-- “we are all able to make the best of this opportunity.”

kisskissfall4luv: does ne1 no f this guy is gonna b here 4 the hole sesson? i luv Zen but i lik the nu guy 2 hes so funny!

kayla0202: I hope he is! I never thought I’d like something as much as Stand the Heat, especially a show about aliens and weird crime, but Obi and Shirayuki make me tune in every week! How long are Unsolved’s seasons again??

unsolvedjunky42: There’s only one other season, and that was 12 eps, though a lot of those were 10 minutes long, and these ones are averaging 17-20min. It looks like Obi Abayan is credited as co-host for the rest of the season: [follow link] So glad he signed on, I thought Unsolved would be dead in the water without Zen but Obi brings a whole new dynamic I didn’t ever realize the show was missing.

zenluvr999: i no were only 3 eps in but i think im gonna need a new name lmao

“Ah, I understand, but we really are looking to--” Shirayuki clenches her stress artichoke, its plush petals ballooning out from between her fingers, and stifles a sigh. “Yeah, I see. Thank you.”

The call cuts off with a beep, too cheerful a sound for its finality. Another opportunity lost. Shirayuki spills over her keyboard, groan lost beneath the function keys.

“Going that well, huh?” Kihal barely spares her a glance, but she does pull aside a headphone; the way editors show they care. “Tell me again how much you love this job.”

“I do love it,” she insists, muffled by the cool metal of her desk. “It’s just...so much work.”

“You know, we could just get that personal assistant.” Higata drops his headphones around his neck, settling back in his chair. It creaks beneath him, protesting his slouch. “I still can’t believe you said no to that.”

“We don’t need another team member.” Shirayuki lifts her head, just barely, to give him a warning glance. “We already have Kihal. That’s more than enough.”

“Really? We still have half a season left to edit, you have another season to write, and you want to tell me we couldn’t use another set of hands?” His eyebrow twitches up toward his hairline. “You just love making all those phone calls, huh?”

“It’s not that.” She rolls back, lifting herself upright. Her spine reminds her sharply that it doesn’t like doing that, that it was having a fine time as she was, but if there’s one thing Shirayuki knows how to ignore by now, it’s a complainer. “Unsolved was my idea to begin with, and if we can’t do the proposal we submitted last week, it should be me who’s to blame for it, not some poor intern.”

“She’s so cute,” Kihal coos across the cluster. “She’s got morals and everything.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Higata deadpans. “Didn’t you unionize the Yuris office?”

Her teeth flash predator white between the crimson stain of her lips. “Why do you think I volunteered to work this gig?”

He sighs, long-suffering. “See, this is the problem: the both of you like working too much. It’s getting in the way of having someone fetch my coffee for me.”

Shirayuki levels her best glare at him, the one she’s honed from one too many long nights in the editing bay. “If we had a PA, their job would not be to get you coffee.”

“If we had a PA, their job would be to make these stupid phone calls so Shirayuki can get actual work done,” Kihal informs him with a playful superiority than makes his eyes roll. “Instead of spending all day in a fugue of sadness and misery because no one will take her seriously.”

Shirayuki almost protests—there’s no fugue, and if anything, the rejections just make her more desperate and determined, but—

Her list of high-profile options has been reduced by a half, red lines spiking through some of her best hits with no relief in sight. She is about two seconds from eating her feelings through the oversized cinnamon buns in the company vending machine, and a fugue state is starting to sound like a preferable way to spend her afternoon.

“Ugh,” she decides, and lays down again.

“There, there,” Kihal croons, patting her back across their desks. “Someone will have to give you the time of day at some point.”

“I’m getting calls back.” She rolls over onto one cheek, thoughtful. “People are fans of the show! They just...don’t think we’re serious.”

Kihal scoffs. “About what? Aliens? Ghosts? I’ve been fielding queries all morning from Shuuka asking which direction we want to go for The Alexandria episode.”

“It’s the whole ghost hunting angle.” Higata leans over, liberating her artichoke from her grip, tossing it between his hands. “If I want to be fair, which I don’t, but here we are—it’s a new direction for the show. I guess it could be confusing to people used to our format.”

“I know, I know.” She pillows her chin with her hands, letting out a sigh. “I just wish one of them would give us a confirmation instead of—“ she waves her hand at her empty schedule—“all this.”

“They will.” She doesn’t know where Higata unearths all this unearned confidence, but she’s glad one of them has. “Let this season run its course. Zen was never big on the supernatural episodes, but these ones with Obi...people are definitely going to pay attention.”

He wouldn’t be saying that if he had to suggest waiting to Izana Wisteria. “They’re already paying attention to Obi. I’m always getting asked if--”

“If I’m as handsome as I look on screen?”

The thing is-- she’s not expecting it. One minute she’s sprawled across her desk, and the next Obi’s purr is tickling her ear, and--

“Ow, fff--” his gaze darts over where he clenches his nose-- “fudge. Sicles.”

“Nice save,” Kihal deadpans. “Now if only you could do that in the first minute of every video.”

“What can I say,” he honks, rubbing his nose. “I’m an off-the-cuff kind of guy.”

“You’re a ‘ruining our monetization’ kind of guy,” she shoots back, though she pushes over an abandoned chair for him to sit on.

“Oh, Obi!” Shirayuki yelps, hands hovering on either side of his face as he sits. “I’m so sorry! I was just--”

“Surprised, yeah, got that part.” he lifts his fingers, wobbling the bridge of his nose. “No harm done.”

“Good thing,” Higata mutters, “that face gets views.”

“Oh please.” Obi grins, devastating as always. “Chicks love a broken nose.”

Kihal barks out a laugh. “When it comes to you, chicks love breathing.”

He shrugs, sliding into a slouch. “Still no luck, I’m guessing?”

“None,” Shirayuki confirms. “Though people have been saying they enjoy the new season.”

“The concierge at the Roosevelt says you’re a lot cuter than Zen,” Kihal offers, needlessly.

Obi’s grin widens, wolfish. “You don’t say.”

“Maybe you should start using that Abayan charm to get us some bookings,” Kihal suggests wryly. “Earn your keep around here.”

“Please, I earn my keep. I’m the eye candy.” He winks. “Besides, I’d be happy to, but the big boss over here always tells me--”

“You don’t need to worry about it,” Shirayuki says, “it’s really my job--”

Higata waves a hand, long suffering. “You see the problem.”

“I do.” Kihal settles back. “Well, if you really just need a place...”

“I’ll take anything at this point,” she says to the particleboard of the ceiling. “Even if it’s just a haunted hole in the ground.”

“All right, well--” Kihal grins, sheepish-- “my condo is haunted.”

[Obi] So you’re telling me that this is just some crazy lady’s house, filled with all her stuff?

[Shirayuki] Isabella Stewart Gardner was a socialite and a philanthropist, *not* a crazy lady.

[Obi] Right, okay, but...she did turn her house into a museum, and then made everyone promise not to touch it. Not exactly what I think of when someone says ‘stable.’

[Shirayuki] Because she *curated* it, Obi!

[Obi] So what you’re telling me is that she knew that from forever to the end of time, she would have better taste than everyone else on the planet.

[Shirayuki] *sputtering* W-well--

[Obi] No, no, you’re right. I retract the crazy lady thing. Because that’s *baller*.

[Shirayuki] *laughs* O-obi!

[Obi] I want to be that lady. Like that is shade from the grave.

[Shirayuki] . . . . She also was personally friends with Monet.

[Obi] SEE? Life goals.

“So,” Obi hums from around a dumpling, his chopsticks already rooting for another, “what do you think?”

Shirayuki looks up, halfway through a very un-dainty bite of her own. “About--? Oh! I can’t believe they’re only fifty cents each! Where did you find this place?”

Despite his reputation on camera-- forward-facing, casual, intimate-- Obi isn’t someone who looks at people head-on. She’ll catch a glance sometimes, or maybe a considering look from the corner of his eyes, but for the most part, he’s always moving, eyes darting around to watch who filters into a room, or at the cars moving outside, or staring down the squirrel that likes to scratch at their window.

So when he looks at her, gold eyes trapping her as thoroughly as amber, she notices.

“Well,” he says after a long moment, “when you run a food show, people do give you some hot tips. But, ah--” he rubs at the back of his head, ears pink at the tips-- “that wasn’t really what I, ah, meant.”

Her mouth rounds. “Oh.”

His hands raise, chopsticks knitted under his knuckles. “Though I’m glad you like it! It’s, ah, one of my favorite places too. I just thought that you might have some, er--” he grimaces-- “thoughts, about the whole haunted condo thing.”

“Oh! That.” She taps her chopsticks on her plate, trying to gather her thoughts. “I just think...I don’t know. It’s not a bad place to start, but I just wanted...”

She blows out her cheeks on a sigh. “The ghost hunting is a new aspect of the show, and I wanted us to come out strong with an actual location...”

His mouth curls at a corner, too knowing. “And having us just carry around proton packs and talk about cold spots in a friend’s house isn’t really going to do much for our supernatural cred?”

“Yeah.” She slumps against the chair, defeat. “That. But I also feel like beggars can’t be choosers, and no one else is telling us yes, so...”

He nods, mouth pressed into a thoughtful line. “So there’s no rush to say no.”

“Right, yeah.” She glances at him from the corners of her eyes. “How about you?”

Obi blinks, eyes fluttering wide. “Me? This isn’t really my--” he hesitates, mouth working, starting a half dozen words-- “ah, I mean, I think...it’s smart. You’re right, a bigger place will give us more credit, but if one doesn’t come through then we have to start somewhere. Besides,” his mouth tics at a corner, twitching toward a smirk-- “I’ve always wondered whether she’s bikini or boyshorts.”

It’s only when her chin hits her chest that she realizes her jaw has dropped. “We’re not there to look in her underwear drawer!”

“Well, we’re not at work for her to look in my gym bag either,” he replies, sour, “but she did anyway.”

“She already said that was an accident--”

“--a likely story--”

“--That’s not what I meant anyway,” she admits with a huff. “I wanted to know if you were okay with the whole, ah...” her shoulders round, shy-- “metrics thing.”

“Metrics?” His head cocks, quizzical, but then-- “you mean, the stuff Izana showed us weeks ago?”

“Two weeks ago,” she corrects, heat flaring on her cheeks, “and, um, yes. I just...you’re not mad?”

Obi stares. “About what?”

“Unsolved.”

He shakes his head. “You’re...really going to have to be more specific than that.”

“The ratings.” She pokes at a dumpling, miserable. “Stand the Heat-- that’s your baby isn’t it? You pitched it and everything.”

“I...did?” he says, brow furrowed. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“It’s just-- Unsolved is doing better.” It’s not bragging, she knows that, but it feels like it. “And it’s-- it’s okay if you’re, um, upset about it. You’ve been doing this for--”

“OH.” Obi coughs, suddenly looking anywhere but at their table. “No, I really-- you don’t need to worry about that. At all. Please.”

She stares. “Obi, it’s okay. I’m not going to take it personally if you--”

“Kid, please,” he begs, holding up his hands. “It’s nothing. I mean, yeah, if Stand the Heat was on top, I’d be happy. I mean, I was happy when it was on top. But, this is...” his fingers twirl his chopstick mindlessly-- “this is good, too.”

“But--”

“Listen, I know you may find this hard to believe, especially with how we, uh, met, but I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a huge fan of the show. Not even a little. Understated it, in fact.” The tips of his ears flush. “So, uh, it’s kind of cool that I joined my favorite show, and now it’s super popular. That’s sort of the whole fanboy dream, right?”

“O-oh!” She stares down at her hands, willing them to stop trembling. “I, uh...I didn’t...I didn’t really think of it like that.”

“Yeah, well, now you know you don’t have to worry about it,” he says with a laugh. “I’m living the dream here. Not only am I on the show, but I’m more popular than the last guy. And I get to take the cute host out to lunch and call it business. The only square I need to finish fanboy bingo is getting to ki--”

His teeth snap down, so loud she hears the click. “Haah, never mind. Hey look, is that the waiter? Could we, ah, get the check?”

[Sender]: [email protected] [Recipients]: [email protected] [Subject]: Season 3 Hard Proposal

Is there any reason this isn’t in my inbox already?

Shirayuki closes her inbox with a grimace. “Ah, hey, Kihal?”

Her editor looks up, brows raised. “Yeah?”

She licks her lips, bracing herself. “Just...how haunted do you think your condo is?”

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #ans #buzzfeed unsolved AU #ghost hunting got pushed back for FREESTYLE FLIRTING #so i'm sure none of you will complain #but also I had lots of thinky thoughts about how i didn't want to push aside the show aspect to do just the romance #since the manga focuses hardcore on her career #listen guys the second chapter of fics is always the hardest because then you're thinking of TONE and OTHER STRUCTURE THINGS #esp since i wasn't sure if i would expand this beyond a one shot #so i had to decided if this was gonna be straight up rom com business #or whether i wanted to be shirayuki making this show work as it sort of grows beyond the two pony operation she had before #and also here is her hot co-host she keeps accidentally flirting with oh no #obviously i'm going the second route here #so ENJOY

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sserpente · 4 years

Text

24 little kinks | Door 16 🎄

“You remember that chocolate advent calendar I got you for December?”

“I do,” he chuckled and pressed a tender kiss to your temple. “You made me display it in the kitchen so I would not eat it all at once.”

Your smile widened. “How about we get another one?”

Loki raised an eyebrow, only now paying proper attention to the sex toy ad. Then, he frowned. It was an odd mixture of disgust, genuine curiosity and even a hint of arousal flashing in his blue eyes.

A/N: You know what day it is tomorrow, right? ;-)

NSFW warnings: erotic tickling (?), orgasm delay

“What are you doing, my sweet?”

You flinched. You should be used to him sneaking around as quiet as a cat hunting its prey and yet, he managed to startle you every single time.

Quickly, you covered the box you were in the process of wrapping with the blanket hanging from the bed.

“Have you opened the calendar without me again?” He chastised, crossing his arms before his chest as he leaned against the threshold. You shoved the box under the bed inconspicuously, along with the tape and the scissors.

His question could pose the perfect excuse for your secrecy. But your butt was still sore from his attention last night and you couldn’t risk him finding out about what really was in that green box with the golden bow. He’d learn soon enough.

“I did not, I promise! I was looking for a toy cleaner. Our collection is piling up, I’m gonna have to stock up soon…” At least, that wasn’t a lie. You could always clean the toys with hot water but some actual disinfection solution would do no harm. “Let’s open the calendar.”

Loki held the box in his hands before you made it over to your desk. It was large but light and when he opened it, it revealed a long black feather.

You gasped in a delighted manner. “You know what to use that for, right?”

“Oh, I do indeed.” Curiously, he ran his fingers over the soft feather. You could tell a plan was forming in his mind—and you would be lying if you claimed you were not excited for whatever he had in store.

Making popcorn garlands for your Christmas tree was something you both loved and despised. The aroma was tempting—salt and coconut oil, and that satisfying popping of the corn in the microwave… stringing them on a thin cord with a needle, however, was a true Sisyphean task. Loki was doing little to help you after you had explained to him what it was you intended to do.

He had made one garland—and then emptied his whole bowl of popcorn by eating it all up. You slapped his hand away when he reached for your bowl.

“Loki! Stop eating my popcorn!”

“How do you expect me not to eat it, putting it right on the table before me?”

You growled. “I told you what I need it for! Popcorn doesn’t grow on trees and I’m not keen on leaving the house again to buy more.”

It had started to snow again over night. Thick flakes fluttered to the ground, resulting in a heavy snow storm. According to the weather forecast, it was going to continue snowing like this for the rest of the week.

Initially, the plan had it been to take Loki out to a Running Sushi place (which he had been meaning to try ever since Thor told him about your food moving right past your table) tomorrow. If you got snowed in, you would have to improvise.

Loki narrowed his eyes at you when you sighed at the window. You were up to something. He could feel it. And you never kept any secrets from him.

“What was really in that box you hid from me this morning?” He asked, following your gaze back to the popcorn garland. Surely, you must have made enough by now unless you intended to put up a twelve foot tree in your living room tomorrow. He underlined his statement by reaching for some popcorn yet again. You pursed your lips, suppressing a grin.

Loki really did remind you of a cat sometimes. Graceful, proud, indifferent towards strangers, a sweet tooth… and sometimes too curious for his own good—at least when it came to you.

“Tell me.” He demanded softly. With a sigh, you finished the next garland and wiped your greasy fingers on the kitchen roll you had brought.

“Nope.”

Loki raised an eyebrow at you—a silent warning. You held back a giggle.

“Tell me.” He mused again, inching closer to you. You leaned back, biting your lower lip. If he truly did not know… then he might have forgotten that tomorrow was a special day. Loki had told you once he barely celebrated his birthday anymore. There had not been a reason since Frigga’s death. Everyone had always made a fuss about the aging of his brother Thor, even now that they had settled on Earth but Loki’s birthday… Odin had never deemed it as important.

Now he did enjoy praise and worship… for Heaven’s sake he had written a play about his own alleged death before… but there was a sweet bitterness to his birthday upon learning they did not care.

Well, you did. But you were not going to let him in on it yet.

“Tell me…” Hovering above you, he smirked. He knew that whenever you did keep things from him, it was to give him a pleasant surprise, never to deceive or betray him, so he wasn’t worried. But he was in the mood to play. “Tell me…”

You squealed when he started tickling you, making you laugh out loud. Struggling and squirming underneath him, you attempted, in vain, to push his hands away from you. In your frenzy, you kicked out with your feet, knocking the full popcorn bowl on the coffee table straight to the floor and scattering the salty snack all over the carpet.

You were panting when he let you catch your breath, still capturing your body with his.

“Tell me.”

“No!”

“Come on, now, tell me, my sweet…”

“No! Look at the carpet, who’s going to clean that mess up?”

Unfazed, he flicked his wrist and the popcorn disappeared.

“Now… back to important matters. What is in that box?”

“I’ll never tell you!” You screamed playfully, once again letting out a scream when he started tickling you again.

“Oh, I will get it out of you… we have all day, my sweet. Now, where are those handcuffs?”

Your eyes widened. He knew where those handcuffs were. Unceremoniously, he materialised them in his hands, momentarily blinding your eyes with a green light—then, he grabbed your wrists and cuffed them together.

Your eyes met. “Are you willing to tell me yet, my sweet?” Pressing your lips together, you shook your head defiantly.

“Very well…”

Now he could have used magic to remove your clothes with magic but where would be the fun in that?

Painfully slow, he tugged your comfy sweatpants off your body, along with your knickers. Your jumper was next. It hung off the sofa covering your hands because of the cuffs. Loki tilted his head, seemingly contemplating if he should simply cut your bra with his daggers.

“Don’t you dare, Loki! That’s one of my favourite bras!”

He growled in response when he opened it and pushed it up to the jumper, leaving you entirely naked and exposed to both his greedy gaze and skilful hands.

Loki sat back down on you, immobilising the rest of your body. Then, he produced the feather from today’s door. Your eyes widened once more. Oh, you should have known that he would use it against you… you had simply hoped it wouldn’t be so soon.

Making you shiver, he brought the tip of the feather to your left nipple, immediately making you shiver and creating goose bumps all over your chest. You couldn’t quite decide whether it tickled or aroused you… ultimately, it was both. Loki soon tended to your other nipple, right until both of them stood, hardened, along with your constant giggles. The stimulation was so light you arched your back, silently begging him for more.

“Are you going to tell me?” He asked innocently. You grinned and shook your head.

And so Loki continued his sweet torture, pampering each and every inch of your bare skin with the black feather until you were breathing heavily, wetness pooling between your legs. It was insane. Everything Loki did to you, it somehow aroused you.

Finally, he moved between your legs, prying them apart for access with lust sparkling in his blue eyes.

His fingertips tickled your inner thighs, making you squirm again. When he brushed the feather over your swollen lips, you moaned.

Loki started teasing you relentlessly, the tip of the feather tracing your entrance slowly and intimately. It tickled—but it did so in the most pleasant way possible. Finally you understood why a feather of all things was considered a sex toy in many cases. It was so light the stimulation was barely enough to give you that orgasm you craved so much.

Your chest was heaving. He briefly wondered whether he could make you come undone for him with only this feather. If he kept stimulating your clit like this… that sensitive bundle of nerves so desperate for his touch…

“I will let you cum if you tell me now, my sweet. How does that sound?”

It cost you all of your strength to shake your head again. “No!” You whimpered. “Loki, it’s a s-surprise.”

“So there is something in that box I am not to see?”

How could he make such a fuss about this? Oh, you knew… because he needed a reason to tease you into oblivion. He had definitely succeeded. You almost started thrashing wildly when his finger found your pussy to massage it lazily as a reward for your confession.

“No! I mean, yes… Loki, please…” You were tempted to move your cuffed hands down to finish the job yourself but you knew that would only bring you another delicious spanking—which was too soon after last night. You bit your lower lip, begging him with your eyes.

“Don’t cum…” He ordered softly.

“Loki… Loki, please…” He continued to stroke you, now firmly rubbing your clit until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Not yet…”

Just when you were about to burst, he stopped, reaching for the feather again. And this time… the stimulation was enough. A few firm brushes pushed you right over the edge. You came hard on the sofa, with Loki’s hungry eyes on you as you arched your back and bucked your hips to intensify the feeling—uncontrollable movements you couldn’t help but give in to.

There was something about this advent calendar experience with the God of Mischief. He loved to give, loved to pamper you… loved to make you feel good without always asking for something in return. And while you enjoyed giving him the very same bliss, sometimes downright enchanted by his impressive length, your love for this man went so much more beyond mere sexual lust and the compassion you had felt for the storm inside of him. Loki had a good heart.

It was about time he learned what it meant for him to be appreciated.

A/N: Door 17 will be opened tomorrow, on December 17th!

Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! Also, if you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente

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atamascolily · 3 years

Text

Shield of Lies, continued.

What would my mother think of me? he wondered, and it was the first time such a thought had ever confronted him.

Luke, you really suck at introspection, don’t you? Like... NEVER in TEN YEARS have you EVER wondered about your mother? Sigh.

Shortly after the reorganization of the government, Nanaod Engh had given Luke keys to most of the real treasures of the New Republic—the central data libraries maintained by various branches of the General Ministry. Thanks to Admiral Ackbar’s intervention, Luke also carried the highest-grade security clearance held by any civilian.

Between the two, Luke had—potentially—a great deal of information at his fingertips. But the access he had been granted was a courtesy, not a necessity. Luke’s most urgent curiosities were in areas of little interest to bureaucracies, and he had never found reason to make much use of the favors extended him.

But he found himself with reason now.

Speaking of lack of imagination.... SIGH.

Luke returned to the pilot’s couch and curled up sideways in it. “How do people become part of the circle?”

“Curiosity is not sufficient—which I hazard you know. Some are born to it. Some come to it. Is it any different in your discipline?”

“Born with the gift, do you mean, or born to someone who already belongs, to a trained adept?”

“Is the gift not in the blood?”

“Sometimes it seems that way. Sometimes it seems as if the talent goes wild, almost as if the Force chooses its own,” Luke said, turning on his back and propping one foot on the control panel.

“Why, what do you mean?”

“Look at the way the Jedi are coming back,” said Luke. “The Empire hunted us so relentlessly that most everyone who escaped thought they were the only Jedi left. But it isn’t just that a few solitaries who were hiding have resurfaced. I’ve found students with no family history whatsoever, in species that were never represented before in the Order.”

“Some of your number may have been adventurous travelers,” said Akanah. “On Carratos, I heard many jokes about how the Emperor spent his evenings. If a Jedi sleeps alone, surely it must be by choice, as it is with you.”

LOL, Akanah doesn’t know about Callista. Or Gaeriel. Or anything else about Luke’s messed-up love life.

“Are you saying that you expected me to warm a bed with you?” Luke said. “I didn’t think that was our bargain.”

“No,” she said. “I never expected that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“That Luke Skywalker could have a hundred children by now. A thousand.”

“That’s crazy.”

“No—that’s the simple truth. There are different rules for heroes and royalty, and you’re seen as a little of both. You can’t be unaware of that.”

Luke frowned and looked away. “I don’t know how to be a father to one child, much less a thousand.”

“You wouldn’t need to know,” she said. “Their mothers wouldn’t expect it. They would be grateful enough for the gift.”

“I’d expect it of me,” he said, and firmly steered the conversation back on course. “We were talking about my being an honorary member of the circle—”

Again, I’m surprised by Luke’s lack of imagination--and offers--given how people at the spaceport viewed him. Did none of them really think, “I would totally bang this dude?” WHY IS HE SO SURPRISED?

Also Luke, just say “fuck,” it’s okay, I promise.

“We were talking about my being an honorary member of the circle—”

“Not honorary,” she corrected. “Novice.”

“Novice, then. But there’s an exception in your oath for people like me?”

“Every adept has the right to judge and the duty to teach,” she said. “I’ve made my judgment.”

“And the rest?” Luke asked. “We’ve had many hours together—why haven’t you started to teach me?”

“But I have,” she said. “I’ve asked you to think about what you know and believe. To go beyond that, the novice must ask for the door to be opened. But you aren’t ready to think of yourself as a student again—not yet. You run too well and easily to go back to crawling.”

#accurate. Luke spends most of this book so convinced he knows everything and yet he can’t figure out why he’s so stuck in a rut.

“No,” Luke said, shaking his head. “To be a Jedi is to be a seeker. A Jedi is always learning. It’s only on the dark side that one becomes obsessed with knowing, and impressed with doing.”

“There’s a touch of the dark side,” Akanah said slowly, “in the way you cling to the privilege of killing, and resist the teaching I’ve offered you. A hint of a mind that has settled on answers and resents being challenged with new questions.”

Luke toyed with the lacing on his longshirt as he considered her words. “You may be right,” he said finally. “I found the Force at a time when what I needed was power. I wanted a weapon to protect my friends, not enlightenment. I was thinking of war against the Empire, not peace with the universe. Perhaps something of that lingers in how I see myself. I’ll think on it.”

“Good,” she said. “Your words give me hope. And hope is the beginning of everything worthwhile.”

I have no idea how the chronology lines up with the other plots and honestly it’s hard to care. This is the most interesting part of the book to me, and I’m STILL reeling at how late in the game this is.

He then took advantage of the open space inside the bay to work his first complete set of Jedi training drills since leaving Coruscant. Working both with and without his lightsaber, he patiently went through the complex exercises which brought him to a profound state of restful clarity.

It was in this state that he felt most keenly the truth and the wisdom of the simple words: There is no emotion; there is peace. There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no death; there is the Force. The peace, the knowledge, and the serenity were gifts that came with his surrender to the Force and with his connection through the Force to all that was.

Sustaining that clarity was always the challenge. In the isolation of a Dagobah, the Jundland Wastes, or a hermitage on a frozen shore, an experienced Jedi could preserve that inner state indefinitely.

But the chaos of the real world was another matter. When ego returned, so did will. The surrender became tainted, the connection flawed. The clarity gradually slipped away under the continuous assault of elementary drives and passions. Even the greatest of the masters needed to perform the practice regularly lest they lose the discipline that made them what they were.

GAH. WHY IS IT ALWAYS DUALITY WITH YOU, KUBE-MCDOWELL? WHAT ABOUT A MIDDLE WAY BETWEEN THE “TAINTED WORLD” AND “PURITY OF ISOLATION”. What about “entering the market-place with gift-bestowing hands”? And nothing ever stays the same “indefinitely”!!!!!

The drills were as much a test for the body as for the mind, and the docking bay’s newly sanitized shower brought a blissful peace to muscles that were telling Luke they had not been properly exercised in too long. He stood for a long time in the place where the six needle jets converged, letting the water flowing down his body become another meditation.

Yeah, maybe you should have thought of that in your hermitage-quarantine-sulk thing??

I’d forgotten about the bookstore full of Jedi forgeries!!!

The offerings included Emperor Palpatine’s Principles of Power, a private publication for Imperial Moffs; the Sith book of offerings and rituals; the H’kig book of laws; and the secrets of forming Bilar-type claqa group-minds, among others—with a special discount if Luke took any three or more. Most of the documents were undoubtedly frauds, and none tempted Luke beyond idle curiosity over the skillfulness of the fraud.

And the Jabba’s palace re-creation OH MY GOODNESS:

But making his way to the outgate, Luke turned a corner and was taken aback by the brilliantly lit exterior of a club bar called Jabba’s Throne Room. Performing Nightly—The Original Max Rebo Band, said the scroll. Visit Jabba’s Guest Quarters with a Pleasure Slave. Face the Mighty Rancor in the Pit of Death—

Driven by an outraged curiosity, Luke joined the line and paid the membership charge without haggling. Inside, he descended a curving flight of stairs into a remarkably faithful copy of the throne room in Jabba’s desert palace on Tatooine. Some of the dimensions had been stretched to accommodate more tables in front of the bandstand and around the rancor pit, but the architecture and atmosphere were authentic.

“Why, it’s just like the Palace Museum,” [he] said to the tall and elegantly dressed Twi’lek barring the way at the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m afraid my master Jabba is away on business,” said the Bib Fortuna look-alike, nodding toward the empty dais. “But I’m having a little party in his absence, and I hope you’ll enjoy yourself.” His head-tails stirred in signal, and one of the scantily clad dancing girls hurried to him.

“Yes, Lord Fortuna,” the server said.

“Oola, this is a friend of mine,” said the major-domo. “Treat him well. Find him a seat at my best table.”

The same fiction was carried through everywhere else—an Ortolan keyboardist leading a jizz-wailer trio on the bandstand, the roaring of the rancor underfoot, an annoying Kowakian monkey-lizard skittering around the room stealing food and cackling rudely, even a carbon-frozen Han Solo hanging in the display alcove. But a busy kitchen was concealed down the corridor to the servant’s quarters, and the price card “Oola” left for him included various services available upstairs in the guest quarters and downstairs in Jabba’s dungeon.

It was tasteless and exploitative, but the music was surprisingly agreeable, the roast nerf was tantalizing, and the clientele was markedly more subdued than their counterparts out on the walks. [He] ordered a drink and the executioner’s cut of nerf, refused all other offers with a polite smile, and settled in to discover the truth quotient of The Secrets of the Jedi.

Shortly after his meal arrived, Luke’s consciousness was pricked by hearing a familiar name spoken at a nearby table: Leia’s. He looked up, fearing that the evening’s entertainment at Jabba’s Throne Room would be a dance by a slave-girl-Leia look-alike. But the band was on a break and the transparisteel dance platform over the rancor pit deserted.

I’m honestly surprised this isn’t at Galaxy’s Edge, tbh.

Shortly after, a holographic Jabba made an appearance on the dais above the main floor. That signaled the start of an elaborately scripted show that promised to involve not only “Bib Fortuna” and the dancers, but additional actors and the audience as well.

Luke took that as his cue to leave. His decision was affirmed when, climbing up the curving stairs to the street, he encountered the bounty hunter Boushh coming down them with an unconvincing Chewbacca in tow.

“Aren’t you a little short for a Wookiee?” he muttered under his breath as they passed.

LOL. Anyway, here’s some stuff on archives searches in the GFFA:

From Carratos he requested any information available from newsgrid, political, or police records on Akanah Norand Pell, Andras Pell, and Talsava. He sent the same query to Coruscant’s criminal records office and citizen registry and to the home offices of both the Coruscant Global Newsgrid and the New Republic Prime Newsgrid.

From the New Republic Reference Service, he requested a quickreport on naming conventions on Lucazec and Carratos, thinking he might parse another lead from the names in hand.

A second request to the same source asked for five-hundred-word excerpts from all matches on the key words “Fallanassi” and “White Current.” After a short debate with himself, and despite the pathetic and sensational inaccuracies of Secrets of the Jedi, Luke also contacted an information broker on Atzerri and paid a hundred credits for a search on the same keys.

He also requested a Current Terms & Conditions brochure from the chief librarian’s office on Obroa-skai. The library computers there were the only resource offering both a greater variety and a greater volume of records than those held by Coruscant.

But Obroa-skai’s generosity with its planetary treasure was limited. To protect against theft of the library, and to provide the resources needed to maintain it, accessing the records meant either going to Obroa-skai or hiring one of the library’s own trained contract researchers.

In either case, Obroa-skai was not a resource one turned to for quick answers. The official language of New Republic recordkeeping was Basic, and everything held by Coruscant was kept in one of several readily searchable data specifications. But the Obroa-skai library was a collection of primary documents, in ten thousand storage formats and uncountable languages. The most complete general index covered only fifteen percent of the library’s holdings, and all the specialty indexes combined added only a few percent to that.

Those were the principal reasons why the brochure—which Luke received within minutes of requesting it, as the first response to any of his inquiries—reported that a normal single-part library search was averaging eight days. The waiting list for terminal time was holding at fifteen days, and the backlog for contract researchers had climbed to seventy.

LOL. I should definitely use that in a fic at some point.

#star wars #eu fuckery #the black fleet crisis

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sierraraeck · 4 years

Text

How to Make Friends (Pt.1)

Spencer x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: Spencer’s had a problem with Aundreya since the start. How is she going to earn his respect? Story four.

Category: Some angst, some fluff.

Warnings: Cussing. Quick mention of normal CM stuff and the quick retelling of two rough childhoods. Mentions of bullying.

Word Count: 5.3k

So I’d been going about this all wrong. The whole time that I’d observed the FBI from the outside, they all seemed to be strictly business. I knew they cared about each other but I never expected them to be family. I was going to have to start slowly nudging my way in if I ever wanted to earn respect and do what I was hired to do. I had to stop thinking about this like a co-worker situation and had to start thinking about it like a client situation.

I had good social skills, I just hadn’t been using them correctly thus far. Whenever I needed to talk to someone that was vital for my survival, or the survival of my ring or gang, I could always be very charming. Usually, I would take them to a high end restaurant and we would talk things over. That’s what I decided I needed to do with each member of the team. They were my clients, and I was going to sell them Aundreya Chambers.

The first person I decided to take to dinner was Aaron. He was the nicest to me, by force or by choice I didn’t know, but either way, he’d be the most inclined to accept my offer. Plus, if it was okay for the Unit Chief to go to dinner with me, hopefully it would show that it was okay for the rest of the team to go to dinner with me. The night with him went well. We talked about work of course, but I also got to know about his family. He already knew what happened to mine, so he didn’t ask about it. That’s probably another reason I picked him first. I knew I wouldn’t have to answer as many questions.

Next I asked Emily. She was the first to voluntarily share a personal story with me about her tattoo, and I figured she’d be the next I could get to accept. She was also a big personality on the team so getting to know her would only be helpful. Emily was a lot of fun to go out with. She ordered wine for us, something Aaron did not do, and we talked until the restaurant closed at 11. I learned about her childhood, she taught me some French, and I heard all about her new cat, Sergio. She didn’t tell me about her time with Interpol (a fact I’d learned when I was privately investigating each member), which I knew she wouldn’t, but it was still interesting hearing about everything else she’d done. She asked me about my childhood so I told her and got the same sappy reaction I got from everyone. As much as I hated being pitied, I needed the team to soften their view of me. My childhood story was the most efficient way to do that.

After that, I asked Penelope, then David, then Jennifer. That’s when the easy part ended.

By the time I got to Derek, he already knew I was going to ask. Apparently, the rest of the team had already filled him in. I was just curious to see how much they told him. He clearly wasn’t ashamed to let on that he’d heard a lot, because he started asking me deeper questions, skipping over the surface level talk. I didn’t mind. Why repeat the same conversation I’d already had four times? For the first hour, he didn’t have any reaction towards what I told him, but as my backstory kept going, I could tell that he was softening up, just like everyone else. However, I saw something different in his eyes that I hadn’t in the others’. He was relating to me. He finally let me ask him questions, and I learned about his father’s death, how it was living with three girls, and how he worked hard to move up the ranks in Chicago PD to eventually get to the FBI. He didn’t neglect to remind me how much of a pain in his ass I was though, running around as The Figure. I joked that I made him a better investigator and he finally cracked a smile.

So that left one more person to win over. Doctor Spencer Reid. I was leaving the best, and the hardest, for last.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

I was sitting with Derek and Emily while I waited for Spencer to show up.

“So is it finally pretty boy’s turn to have to suffer through dinner with you?” Morgan teased.

“Oh come on. You know you enjoyed my company,” I said to him with a wink. Ever since getting to know one another better, Morgan was more inclined to tease me like he had when we first met.

“Or maybe you just aren’t as good at profiling as you think,” Derek replied.

“Oh, there he is,” Emily said before I could respond. I watched Spencer casually walk into the bullpen, then pick up the pace when he saw me watching. And those goddamn back muscles were twitching again.

Look, I understand that I make people uncomfortable. Some I make really uncomfortable. And I know that Reid is kind of awkward around a lot of people, but come on. After five weeks of me constantly being around, he still could barely stand to be in the same room as me. What was going on?

He rushed right past us to his own desk, not even stopping to say hi to Derek or Emily.

“Woah, woah woah. What’s going on, kid? Where’s the fire?” Morgan said, brow furrowed. I gave Emily a knowing look.

“Nothing. No fire,” Reid said, setting his bag down, then quickly moving toward the pot of coffee across the room from us.

Derek turned to look at me. “You sure you want to take him out?”

“We’ll see. First I gotta keep him in my vicinity long enough so I can actually ask him,” I retorted.

“What? Three seconds isn’t long enough to ask him to dinner?” Morgan said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes at him and sighed.

“What is it?” Prentiss asked.

I laughed. “I’ve been in a gang, an underground ring, drugged, hunted by the police, trapped by the FBI, and sent to prison. But of all things, what’s really going to stop me in my tracks … is an angry genius?”

Morgan laughed with me. “He can be pretty feisty.”

“But hey. You have made it all the way to the FBI, far enough so that you can even consider that a problem of yours,” Prentiss pointed out. I nodded along as she spoke, “And you're still alive.”

“That’s true,” I agreed. “I mean, it only cost me four ER visits, three ribs, two bullets, and a knife. Well, and now an angry genius.” Both of them whipped their heads toward me, shock taking over their face. I wish I could have captured their priceless reactions on tape.

“W-Wh-What?” Derek said through a confused laugh. Emily just stared at me open mouthed.

“But you’re right,” I casually continued, “being alive is important.”

“Guys we have a case,” Hotch strode into the room, holding up a case file. Morgan and Prentiss were still just staring at me. I tilted one side of my mouth up and shrugged at them, leaving our spot to head to the briefing room.

“You can’t just leave us hanging like that?” Derek called after me.

I turned around while walking so I could face them, putting my hands up in surrender. I tried to sound as innocent as possible. “We have a case.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

The case was standard, you know, just your usual headless bodies in a lake. The unsub was quickly devolving, so it wouldn’t be long until he made a mistake and we could catch him. I was getting the silent treatment from Reid, as always. On day two, him and Jareau went on air to alert people in the area.

The very next day, we had an odd visitor come into the precinct. And by ‘we’ I mean ‘Reid’. She was about average height, blonde, probably five years Spencer’s senior, and enthusiastic. Too enthusiastic for a person in a precinct.

She walked right up to him and started talking to him. I couldn’t really hear what they were talking about, and I couldn’t see her face because Spencer’s back was shielding it. Across the room, I saw JJ look over at them, but then quickly dismiss it. I was about to do the same when a familiar sight caught my eye. Spencer’s back was twitching.

He had a variety of tells of discomfort, but when he wanted to, he could keep himself completely composed. Except for his back muscles. They had become the number one thing I looked for every time I saw him, because every single time, they told me he was uncomfortable.

The longer he talked to this woman, the worse the twitching became. I was initially going to just leave it alone and let him figure it out, but my curiosity got the best of me. Who was she and why was he so uneasy?

I decided I’d pull one of the oldest tricks in the book, and hoped he’d pick up on it.

I approached the two of them, placing my left hand on Spencer’s right shoulder blade, slowly moving it up his back to rest on his shoulder. I knew he had a germ thing, so I didn’t want to get too cozy. I interlaced my fingers so it looked like I was leaning on him. I could feel the twitching beneath my fingertips, but he didn’t flinch or faulter at my sudden presence. I peered up at him through my eyelashes. “Hey,” I tried to sound as seductive as possible. “Who’s this?”

He cleared his throat. “Oh, uh, this is-”

“I’m Kristy,” Kristy said, holding her hand out to me. I ignored it and instead looked her over.

“I wasn’t asking you, sweetie,” I said. She opened her mouth and let out a noise of offense. She practically had the words ‘shallow bitch’ written on her forehead. I turned my attention back to Spencer.

“She and I went to CalTech together,” his voice was dry and he swallowed, like he was in desperate need of water. I hadn’t gotten the whole story, but I knew that he was relentlessly bullied in high school, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it continued on in college. If I had to guess, this girl fell into that category.

“Oh really?” I asked. I turned toward her again and she nodded at me eagerly. The level of fake radiating off of her definitely equalled ‘mean girl’, which to me meant she deserved to taste some of her own medicine. I aimed to be as demeaning as possible. “So, Kathy-”

“Actually, my name is Kristy.”

“Whatever,” I said, fluttering my eyelashes. I could already tell I was getting under her skin. “What brings you in?”

“Well, I work for a magazine, The Triplehorn Tribune, you’ve probably heard of it-”

“Nope,” I interrupted. It took all of my willpower to not roll my eyes.

“Anyways,” she said slowly, about to continue on.

“Anyway,” I corrected. She looked at me confused. “You meant to say ‘anyway’. ‘Anyways’ isn’t a word and is grammatically incorrect.” Out of my peripheral, I saw Spencer quickly press his lips together, fighting a smile. I’d just pulled his signature move. At this point, JJ had looked back to see what was going on, and had nudged Prentiss to pay attention. It wouldn’t be long before the rest of the team was watching.

Meanwhile, Kristy-bitch was starting to fume. She released an annoyed breath through her teeth. “Anyway, I’m here because we want to do a story on what it’s like to be in the FBI. I saw Spencer on the tv yesterday and figured he’d be the perfect person to interview.”

“Oh, so you only want to talk to him now that he’s been on tv?” I asked.

“What? No! It’s not like that-”

“Then what is it like?” I asked. When she didn’t respond quickly enough for my liking, I decided I’d answer for her. “See, I think that you’re only here for you. I think that you got out of college and got a crappy job working for a crappy magazine. You want to be recognized and appreciated which means you need an interesting article. This serial killer thing would be big, but what would be even bigger would be interviewing one of the top profilers in the top unit of the FBI about the serial killer, who has also been on tv for press conferences. Lucky for you, this top profiler just so happens to be the easily manipulated kid you bullied in college, so you think that you can just show up here out of nowhere and request he give you the big break you supposedly deserve. How’m I doing so far?”

Her mouth dropped in unspoken shock. She was floundering and I was more than happy to let her. Behind her I saw the team and at least half of the precinct watching. I hadn’t noticed that Reid’s back stopped twitching for a while until it started back up again at the increased attention. I gently squeezed his shoulder, trying to help him calm back down. Kristy finally regained her ground.

“What are you, his possessive girlfriend?” she spat, incredulous.

“Something like that,” I said. I could barely get the words out before I was left speechless by the arm that wrapped around my waist. His hand landed just above my hip and subconsciously brought us closer together. I was surprised, even more so at the slight swimming in my head, but I forced myself to keep my wits about me. So he did figure out what I was going for. I smirked at her.

“Well why don’t you let Spencer speak for himself,” Kristy hissed at me.

“Why don’t you show Doctor Reid the respect you neglected to give him years ago,” I returned, just as fiery. I felt Spencer’s shoulders straighten just slightly at my comment. I removed my hands from his shoulder and reluctantly moved my body out of his grasp so that I could step forward and look down at her.

“Look, Cassy-”

“Kristy.”

“Whatever. You clearly are one of the bitches that thought it’d be funny to pick on the young kid in your class. You didn’t accept him for who he was then, so you sure as hell don’t deserve him for who he is now. I think you should go.” I stared her down, and I have to admit, girl’s got balls to continue to stand her ground.

“I’m only asking for a simple favor-” she started.

I took another step forward, cutting her off. “Back off, he doesn’t owe you anything!”

She took a step back, clearly surprised by my sudden change in volume. “You need to control your girlfriend! She’s a psycho!” She gave Reid a quick glance before marching toward the door.

“That’s what makes me good at catching them, Misty!” I called after her.

“My name is Kristy!” she yelled as she stamped out the door like a toddler. It made her look like the pathetic, insecure fool she was.

Once the door shut behind her, I couldn’t help but start laughing. I turned to look at Spencer who was still in shock. I scanned the room and saw that the entire precinct had stopped what they were doing to observe the scene that I helped create. I made eye contact with the rest of the team, all of whom were gaping at me. I stopped laughing.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, turning back to Spencer. I was starting to worry that I’d misread the whole situation and just caused something to go horribly wrong. “I hope you don’t mind that I did that. I could just tell that she was making you uncomfortable and I figured that I could-” I was cut off mid-sentence. Spencer had suddenly erupted in laughter, which triggered an entire laughing fit to wash over the whole precinct. Even Aaron was laughing, which never happened. I let the joyful feeling I’d felt moments ago fall back into my grasp.

“I absolutely didn’t mind you stepping in. You have nothing to apologize for,” he said to me with a smile. The first one I’d ever received from him. It was contagious and I couldn’t help but return it.

“Thank god, I was starting to worry. I’m glad you picked up on what I was putting down,” I stated.

“Oh, yeah. The fake girlfriend trick, one of the oldest in the book.”

“It was the best one I could think of on short notice,” I joked.

“How could you tell he was feeling uncomfortable?” Jennifer asked, approaching the two of us. The rest of the precinct had gone back to what they were doing, but the team’s attention was still on us.

“Yeah, I looked over at them and all I saw was the normal level of awkward,” Derek stated. Spencer glared at him.

“That’s because you were looking at him from the front,” I said, raising my eyebrows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Reid asked, his voice raising an octave.

“It just means that I’ve gotten very accustomed to your tells of discomfort, from all angles.” The mood of the group shifted at my reminder of the reality that Reid still had a very high level of dislike for me.

“Sure, but that still doesn’t make sense. Reid does a great job composing himself, but I think we all know him well enough to detect if he’s uncomfortable,” JJ pressed. I just shrugged my shoulders, not really knowing how to respond.

“Okay, let’s refocus,” Hotch said to us with a serious nod. I could tell when I made eye contact with him that I was in trouble. “Aundreya, that was inappropriate.”

“I know. That was well deserved, though,” I pointed out, unapologetic.

Aaron toyed with a half smile and let out a sigh. “Let’s just get back to work?”

“Fine with me,” I said with a grin. I got a nod from him and Rossi, a smile from the ladies and a clap on the back from Morgan. Reid gave me a small, closed-lipped smile, and directed his attention back to the maps and pictures hanging on the board.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

It took us the next three days to find and catch the killer. Three days full of Reid avoiding me at all costs. Maybe I was crazy, maybe I was hallucinating, but I thought we had a moment. I thought that I’d done something good for once, something to prove to him that I wasn’t a terrible human. But no. Nope. Not a chance, because for the rest of that afternoon and the three days following, the avoidance was actually worse than it was before. I didn’t even think that was possible. It had earned me more respect from the rest of them, but not him himself. Did I embarrass him? Was he weirded out that I touched him? Was his loathing for me just that strong? It didn’t make any sense and by day three, I was at my wits end.

“Emily.” I stated.

“What?” she asked me.

“What did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Our profile is good and we hav-”

“No, not about the profile. About Reid.”

“Oh,” she said, seemingly surprised. “How do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I get it, I’m bad news, but this feels like more. Was it something I said the other day with Kristy..?”

“Ha! So you do know her name,” she said with a grin. I rolled my eyes. She was trying to get me off topic.

“Seriously, though. He’s not this cold to everyone.”

“Well, he can be a hard person to get to know,” she said, avoiding the breadth of my questions.

“But not this hard?” I tried to finish.

“No, not usually,” she replied. She clearly knew something I didn’t, and was very hesitant to give it up.

“If you aren’t going to tell me, at least tell me it wasn’t something I did the other day.”

“No, not really.” She was keeping herself distracted with the pictures in front of us, even though they were useless considering the rest of the team was already headed to a barn where the unsub kept his victims before decapitating them.

I sighed. “Fine.”

She looked over at me. “Sorry.”

It was all she had to say.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

They ended up finding the killer in the barn with his next victim, and were forced to fire because he refused to put the machete down. It was late Thursday night when we were getting on the jet to go home. We were all exhausted.

“Shouldn’t you be doing something?” Derek came to ask me a few minutes into the ride.

“Huh?” I asked, completely confused.

“With pretty boy?” he prompted. I’d lost all hope, at that point, of ever getting to know him. Even after he thanked me for swooping in and saving him from that bitch, he still seemed utterly disinterested.

“Probably not,” I said, tiredness running through my voice. Other thing: since when did Derek Morgan suddenly care and become my friend? The dinners must really work. All the more reason to lift myself out of my chair and go talk to Reid.

Morgan was still staring at me expectantly.

“Ok, alright, I’m going,” I said, getting up. He raised his eyebrows at me and flashed me that pearly smile of his. It made me want to praise him and hit him all at the same time.

I walked over to where Reid was sitting, thankful that no one else decided to sit across from him.

“Friday or Saturday?” I asked.

He looked up at me, puzzled. “What?”

“Friday. Or Saturday?”

“What are you asking me for?”

“Why can’t you just answer the damn question?” I asked a little too harshly, sliding into the seat across from him. He leaned back in his chair, putting as much distance between us as he could without just getting up and leaving. It seemed to me he’d rather just be swallowed up by the wall.

“Look,” I tried starting over with a softer tone. “Clearly you have something against me. Something more than the criminal thing. I’ve been killing myself for the past six weeks trying to figure out what it is but I’m at a loss.”

He scoffed, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

That set me off. I was trying to be nice, make an effort, but he just kept shooting me down. So I decided I was done being nice.

“Okay, Doctor Reid. I’ve been refraining from judgements because, who knows? Maybe I remind you of someone who hurt you. Maybe I remind you of someone you lost. I don’t want to push it if that’s the case. And, hell! If anything, you guys are the ones who are supposed to be judging me, not the other way around. You all have a six to ten year head start on making connections with each other. I’ve been here for six weeks. I’ve been doing this dinner thing with everyone because I’m trying to get to know the members of this team. I mean, you are considered part of the team right?” I looked around the jet to the audience I knew I had. “He is considered a part of this team, right?” It was rhetorical and they all knew it. Even if it wasn’t, I think they were all too flabbergasted that I was going after their baby to actually answer. I turned back to him.

“Like, I understand that you are up here in ‘Genius Stratosphere’,” I said, waving my hand around above my head, “but if I were to make a list of all the team members, you would be on it, right?”

“Yes!” he finally answered, exasperated.

“Great. So go to dinner with me,” I said. It was the most compelling argument I could make in the moment.

“Why?”

I sighed. He was not making this easy for me. Not like I expected him to.

I tried to make my voice sound neutral again. “I’m just trying to get to know you. If you ever decide to stop acting like a little bitch about it, or you finally wanna help me out and tell what your problem is … or just tell me exactly what you need from me, even if that is avoidance, let me know. Because I’m getting pretty sick and tired of … all this,” I said, gesturing to the air. Spencer was looking down again, and I figured he would continue to ignore me.

I got halfway out of the seat and was about to turn away when he said, “Friday.” It was barely more than a whisper and he was still looking down when I turned to face him.

“What?” I demanded.

“Friday,” he said with more confidence this time, meeting my eyes.

“Spectacular choice,” I said, lacking any emotion. I reached for the napkin sitting next to his coffee cup and the pen I had in my jacket pocket. I scratched my number on it. “That’s my personal number. I gave it to everyone in case you can’t reach me on my work one or it is for something non-work related, which this occasion would be. Text me the place. I wouldn’t want you to have to suffer through bad food you didn’t like, as well,” I stated, crossing my arms. I walked back toward my seat, Morgan long since evacuated. I gaged the reactions around me as I walked, and clearly no one had ever talked to Reid like that before. It didn’t surprise me since he seemed like golden boy number one and no one ever had any reason to get short with him. But I didn’t feel bad. He’d treated me like a pile of shit, almost less than human, and I was over it. I was going to earn my respect from him one way or the other, and it was now up to him to decide. We were either going to be working friends, or working enemies.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

Spencer just sat there the rest of the plane ride home, not really being able to focus on the book in front of him. No one had ever snapped at him like that, or at least, not in the last few years, and definitely not from a teammate. But she was not their typical teammate. She was not their typical anything. He may have been in ‘Genius Stratosphere’ but she was in a whole new stratosphere of her own.

He didn’t know why she got to him so much. Well, he did, but he wasn’t willing to admit it. Not even to himself. Plus, he didn’t have to justify why he didn’t like a top-notch criminal. She’d killed people and that in itself was enough reason. But the fact that she seemed bothered by him not liking her, and her genuine confusion and interest as to what was going on struck a chord. Maybe he had been too harsh in his treatment of her.

Spencer was sitting there recounting all of their interactions, or lack thereof, and started to question himself. Especially once he got to their more recent interactions.

Reid was bewildered, which rarely ever happened, and it made him all the more annoyed. Why’d she step in to help me? Did she really mean everything she said? Why was her touch so calming? The last thought took him by surprise, and he tried to shake the feeling.

He could remember the way she just lightly brushed up against him, resting her hand on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. He could also tell that she was being as delicate and considerate of his ‘not-a-fan-of-touching’ thing as she could while also selling the illusion. He remembered how it felt to have his arm around her and that slight squeeze she gave him to let him know she was there to help…

He forced himself to snap out of it. He could hardly stand to be in the same room as her, yet having her right next to him was fine? It didn’t make any sense. But the one thought that was driving him crazier than the rest was why, out of all the people on the team, was she able to detect his discomfort better and faster than anyone else? Yes, like she said, she’d gotten quite used to seeing him uncomfortable, but so had the rest of the team. They’d known him for six years plus and she’d only known him for six weeks. How was it that they couldn’t pick up on it and she could? Had she really been paying that much attention to him?

No, he concluded, definitely not. Someone like Aundreya would not care enough to pay that much attention to me. She was probably just doing her job. She was very skilled, after all.

But he still felt weird.

Once the plane landed, Aundreya bolted like her life depended on it. She’d never been one for sticking around longer than necessary. It made sense, considering she had gotten used to avoiding the police and now she was constantly surrounded by, not just police, but FBI. The rest of the team slowly made their way to their cars, and Spencer decided to stop Derek and ask him about it.

“Hey Morgan,” he said. Derek turned around to face him.

“What’s up, pretty boy?”

“Have I really been that awful to her?” That caught Emily and JJ’s attention, who turned around to walk a few paces back to where Spencer and Derek were standing.

“Are you asking about Aundreya?” Derek asked. Spencer nodded. “I mean, I get where you’re coming from.”

“That wasn’t my question,” Reid pointed out. The three of them stared at him, but he waited for an answer.

“Maybe a little bit,” JJ said.

“Look, Reid, we all had reservations about her going into this. But Hotch was right, she’s had a troubled background but she’s not a horrible person. I think it would benefit both of you, and the team, if you just tried getting to know her,” Emily said. She was always so good at making sense out of every situation without seeming to take sides.

“I know. I just feel … weird about it,” Reid stated. It was hard for him to describe what he was feeling and what the issue was.

“I understand how you feel. I didn’t want to go to dinner either because I just kept telling myself that she’s a criminal and I didn’t want to get involved,” Derek said. Spencer was looking at him intently. “But it was actually kinda good. It helped me understand her, and it’s been a lot better coming to work now that I feel like I can at least somewhat rely on her to help us out.”

“I agree. Talking to each other will only help,” JJ reminded him. They were right. It would help him feel more comfortable at work if he felt more comfortable with her.

“Okay. Thank you,” he said to them. He turned to walk toward his car when Derek’s voice stopped him.

“Oh, and uh, Reid,” he said, “Clearly she’s willing to put in the effort to make it work. She did step in to help you out the other day. I don’t think a cold-hearted criminal would’ve done that.”

Spencer nodded at Derek and he nodded back. Spencer got into his car and started driving back to his apartment, trying to think of the best place he could, to meet Aundreya for dinner.

Part 2

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