#I know she’s not bluffing. she’s done it before | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tongue-like-a-razor · 6 months ago

Text

Brother's Best Friend - Part 13

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: mild angst, swearing, fluff

WC: 2800+

Part 1 | Masterlist

It’s nearly midnight on a Friday and Jake has already stated that he needs to leave at least six times. Bradley is due back any minute and if he finds Jake at the house with you, he’ll undoubtedly ask questions.

But, between his goodbyes, Jake continues to kiss you. On your lips, along your jawline, down your neck.

“I have to go,” he declares firmly, as though you’re keeping him hostage.

He proceeds to graze his teeth over your collarbone and flick his tongue at the base of your neck. You giggle. “No one is stopping you.”

Jake drops his head and nestles it under your chin with a groan. “Could you?” he asks, making you chuckle again.

His hand hovers uncertainly below your shoulder blades, over the clasp of your bra, while the other slips past the curve of your waist to your leg, noticeably avoiding your ass. Jake has done a remarkable job of keeping things PG since the two of you got together. This suits you just fine because, as much as you want him to touch you all over, you’re not overly keen on having to live up to every other girl Jake has ever been with.

You comb your fingers through his hair and he sighs blissfully into your chest. “Stay,” you say quietly, knowing full well what that would entail.

Jake lets out another groan and leans his weight into you, pushing you over onto your back on the couch. “Maybe I will,” he mutters defiantly, as though your offer had been a challenge.

You let out a soft laugh, certain that he’s bluffing. After all, staying would mean having to explain to your brother what he’s doing at your house past midnight while Bradley isn't home. “Do you really think he’s going to make you choose?” you ask as Jake settles himself behind you on the couch and drapes an arm over your shoulder.

He sighs and you feel his breath warm the back of your ear. “I wouldn’t blame him,” he replies.

You bite your lip anxiously. “We still have to tell him.”

Jake presses his mouth to the back of your head and mumbles, “I know,” into your hair.

You feel him shift behind you as he struggles to fit himself on the couch. He kicks the armrest by accident. “You want me to move?” you ask.

At these words, his hold on you tightens and he mutters, “Don’t you dare.”

You giggle. “You’re going to get us both in trouble.”

Jake moans into the throw pillow under your head and then reluctantly sits up. “I just want to spend the night with my girl!” he whines, repositioning himself so that he can rest his head on your chest when he lies back down.

You smile at him and pat his head sympathetically.

…

“I’ll be home late again tonight,” Bradley says, finally sitting down to eat his lunch after spending over half an hour building the perfect sandwich.

Jake, who’s just finished eating a second bowl of cereal, shoots a brief glance in your direction.

“Cool,” you say, ignoring Jake’s foot that’s currently creeping into your territory under the table. You kick him before he tries anything untoward and he winces in silence. “Have fun.”

Bradley looks at you suspiciously. “I haven’t even told you what I’m doing.”

You lift your eyebrows at him guiltily. “Well, I’m sure you wouldn’t be doing it if it weren’t fun.”

Bradley shrugs and goes back to his sandwich. You look over at Jake, who’s chuckling lightly into his bowl, and glide your bare foot up his calf. He freezes, blinking pointedly at the milk in his bowl. With a straight face, he lowers his hand and curls his fingers around your ankle. You panic, trying to yank it out of his grasp, but his grip is too strong. He eyes you mischievously, knowing he’s won this round. Meanwhile, Bradley bites into his sandwich, blissfully unaware.

“You should come, Seresin,” you brother suggests. “One of the bartenders told me she thinks you’re cute.”

Jake leans back in his seat and makes a face. “Nah.” You feel his thumb begin to stroke the top of your foot.

“Why not?” you ask him innocently. “Don’t you want to get laid?”

Jake throws you a smirk and squeezes your foot under the table. “Always,” he responds with a wink.

“Yes, dude!” Bradley exclaims happily, slamming the table. “Trust me, if you’re coming, you’re gonna get laid.”

Jake looks back over at Bradley uncomfortably. “Not tonight, man,” he says.

“Why?” Bradley slumps back in his seat, clearly disappointed. You can tell that he misses his days of debauchery with his best friend.

“You should go,” you tell Jake. “Maybe you’ll get lucky,” you add, shrugging, when Jake looks back at you, unamused.

“It’s got nothing to do with luck, little girl,” he says, leaning into the table to get closer to you.

You roll your eyes at him and finally pull your foot out of his grasp. “Please,” you say.

“Please, what?” Jake mutters, raising his eyebrows at you suggestively.

The insinuation makes your stomach leap into your throat.

Meanwhile, Bradley seems to miss the entire exchange. “Oh my good god, this is so fucking good!” he exclaims as he continues to devour his artisan creation of a sandwich. “What are you up to tonight?” he asks you between bites.

You gulp, suddenly unable to look Jake in the eye. “I kind of just want to make out with somebody.”

“Woah.” Bradley holds up a hand. “We did not need to know that.”

But Jake is staring at you unblinkingly. “Just with anybody?” he asks boldly as Bradley rises from the table.

You eye your brother as he makes his way to the kitchen sink, completely oblivious. You shake your head at your boyfriend's audacity. “Yes, Jake,” you retort. “Just with whoever walks into my face first.”

Jake snorts. “Good to know.”

…

That evening, about an hour after your brother leaves the house, there’s a knock on your front door.

“Since when do you not just barge in?” you ask, opening the door.

Jake, who’s got his hand behind his back, brings out a bouquet of flowers and holds it out for you. “Since I’m trying to make a good impression now.”

You snicker, taking the flowers from his hand and admiring the arrangement. “Well, so far so good, Seresin.”

“Good,” he says, stepping inside and putting his arm around your waist. “Because I’m here to walk into your face.”

You let out a laugh, letting him capture your lips in a kiss.

“So, listen,” he says. “I know you had your heart set on making out. But I thought that we could go somewhere first.”

“Go where?”

“It’s a surprise,” he says, winking at you.

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously. “If you say haunted house…”

He chuckles. “Good times.”

“For whom?” you exclaim as he ushers you out the door.

“For me, obviously. I got to hold your hand and everything.”

“Aww, you wanted to hold my hand?” You take his hand in yours as the two of you walk to his car.

“I wanted to do more than hold your hand,” he admits, bringing your hand to his lips and giving it a kiss as he opens the door for you.

“Like?” you ask playfully as you climb into the passenger seat.

Jake watches you with a smile as you buckle your seat belt. “Like walk into your face,” he says, kissing you on the mouth again.

…

“Uhh,” you utter, staring at the laundromat sign above the dingy door without stepping out of the car even as Jake pulls open your door. “So, when you said surprise… I didn’t realize we’d need to bring fabric softener.”

“Get out of the car, smartass,” he says, gesturing for you impatiently.

You climb out warily as Jake ducks into his backseat to grab a leather jacket and a pair of sunglasses.

“C’mon,” he says, ushering you toward the door.

“Seresin, what the fuck,” you say, eyeing the homeless encampment at the corner of the establishment.

He pulls open the door and a bell rings as you enter. There are several rows of washing machines and dryers inside and the fluorescent lights overhead flicker every few seconds like you’re in a post-apocalyptic movie. The laundromat is deserted.

Jake approaches the third machine on the far left and opens the top. Then he proceeds to dump in his jacket.

“Jake, you can’t wash leather in a machine!” you hiss, still rooted to the spot by the front door as you take in your surroundings.

“Relax,” he says, and then he tosses in his sunglasses and drops the door.

You eye him skeptically as he beckons you to follow him. “Jake, we said no more haunted houses,” you remind him, slipping your hand in his when he starts toward the back. The flickering of the lights seems to intensify.

Jake glances down at you with a smirk but doesn’t respond. He stops at a vending machine that’s stationed against the back wall. “Twizzlers?” he asks.

“No way!” you say. “Nerds, please.”

“You're so polite today,” Jake notes and you glance at his face just in time to catch a cheeky smirk.

The throwback to your conversation in the kitchen makes your heart convulse for a moment, but you decide to ignore his comment.

Jake slips a bill into the slot of the vending machine. He gets both Nerds and Twizzlers and then starts entering a third letter-number combination.

“What else are you getting?” you ask, scanning the offers for the code he’s entered, which, you quickly realize, doesn’t exist. “That’s not an option.”

But before Jake can respond, the entire vending machine starts to slide to the side, exposing a dimly lit staircase in behind, leading down to a metal door.

“Jake,” you croak, clutching his hand again. “I’m going to murder you. Assuming you don’t murder me first.”

Jake laughs. “Don’t worry, darlin’. If I was gonna murder you, I’d have done it already.” He leads the way down the stairs, although you hang onto his arm so tightly, he might as well be giving you a piggyback ride. When you get to the door, he pushes it open, revealing beyond it a scene unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed in your life.

You walk inside first, captivated by the warmth of the place; by the beauty. Jake follows, confirming his reservation with the host. The bar is like something out of a fairytale – if fairytales had bars. Low lights, glowing candles, a fireplace blazing in the middle of the room. You look up, wondering how you missed the chimney on your way in. Small tables with marble tops dot the floor. Elaborate sconces adorn the walls, and framed, faded photographs compliment the elegant wallpaper. “A speakeasy,” you breathe excitedly as Jake places a hand on your back and leads you to one of the tables.

“Thought we needed a place that was out of the way,” he said, pulling a velvety armchair out for you to sit on.

You give him a look as he walks around the table to sit across from you. “Well, it’s definitely out of the way.”

Jake grins. “It’s got darts,” he says, pointing at the corner to your right.

You give him a smile. “Of course it does.”

He chuckles. “It’s also got a bar that serves vintage cocktails. And their sliders are incredible.”

“How did you find this place?” you ask, perusing the extensive drink menu.

“I’ve uh, been here a few times,” he says vaguely, raising a couple of fingers to alert the server that the two of you were ready to order.

You look up at him questioningly as the waiter arrives. “I’ll have the Old Mule,” you say. Jake orders a whiskey sour and some sliders for the table. “Been here with whom?” you ask the moment the server departs.

Jake throws you a sheepish look. “Well, not with Bradley.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’ve taken another girl here?”

Jake scoffs. “I’ve never taken anybody anywhere.”

You nod, unsurprised. “Except to bed.”

He shakes his head at you with a smirk. “Wasn’t always in a bed.”

“Ew!” You cringe. “I don’t want to know that!”

“You started it.”

“You elaborated,” you retort. Then, after a moment, you press. “Come on, tell me. How did you know about this place?”

Jake sighs. “There was a girl –”

“I fucking knew it!” You shake your head.

“Just let me finish, woman!”

You raise your eyebrows cynically but allow him to continue.

“There was a girl in my squadron –”

“Whom you fucked,” you say nonchalantly, unable to contain yourself.

“No, I did not fuck her,” Jake says under his breath just as the server arrives with your drinks.

You and Jake each give him a polite – albeit uncomfortable – smile. “You didn’t?” you ask skeptically.

“No,” Jake restates. Then, he adds, “Her grandmother –”

“You didn’t,” you croak, horrified.

Jake fixes you with a glare. “I can wait,” he says.

You roll your eyes. “Fine.” You sigh. “Go on and tell me how you fucked her grandmother.”

Jake presses his lips together to hold back a laugh. “Her grandmother was a phenomenal baker. She’d always send us pastries and desserts and, let me tell you, an éclair tastes a hundred times better after a long day of flying. Anyway, I ran into her one day at a farmer’s market. She had about a million bags, so I helped her get to her car. She asked me to join her for a luncheon she was dreading. It was with her old classmates from college. Apparently, this joint’s been their hangout for over half a century.”

You watch Jake with knotted eyebrows and a small smile. “You were her date?”

Jake shrugged. “Not officially. I think she just needed some support because those little old ladies were ruthless. Asking her all kinds of questions she didn’t seem very eager to answer.”

“I wonder why she went at all.”

“They were the only friends she had left, she told me.”

“That’s sad,” you say.

Jake purses his lips. “Anyway, I figured she needs a new friend. So, I’ve been seeing Margaret for close to two years now. This is where we come.”

You blink at Jake in awe. “You’re cheating on me with a grandma?”

Jake laughs. “She knows all about you, actually.”

Your jaw drops. “She does not!”

“It was her idea to bring you here.”

You feel as though you could cry, inexplicably touched that Jake has told somebody about your relationship. “I love her,” you say.

Jake chuckles. “You should come out with us next time.”

You smile at him, relieved that this place wasn’t the setting of yet another one of his hookups. “I’m surprised you never showed Bradley this place.”

Jake shrugs. “Almost took you here a couple times,” he says, taking a sip of his drink.

“Really? Like, before we started dating?”

He nods, smiling sheepishly. “Before I realized why I wanted to take you here.”

You drink for a moment, then say, “I have to ask: what was with the machine upstairs? Your jacket?”

“It’s a donation. Kind of like a ‘pay what you can’ cover,” he responds, rubbing his hands together excitedly when the server arrives with the sliders.

“I love that,” you muse, picking up one of the little burgers and devouring half of it in one bite. “I love everything about this,” you add, covering your mouth as you chew on the most delicious slider you’ve ever tasted.

Jake grins at you proudly. “Now,” he says, changing the subject. “Why are you trying to pimp me out to your brother’s bartender friends?”

You meet his gaze with a smirk. “You know,” you respond casually. “Just trying to keep up the charade.”

Jake narrows his eyes. “I never asked you to do that,” he says.

You shrug. “Couldn’t hurt, right?”

Jake purses his lips in thought, studying you at length. You’re surprised that this doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable like it would have a few months ago. Now, you’re confident enough to maintain eye contact indefinitely if he so chooses. Unless, of course, he makes another suggestive remark.

He doesn't however, and you can't be sure whether you're relieved or disappointed by this. You spend the rest of the evening trying various cocktails and getting your ass handed to you at darts and, before you know it, the two of you are pulling up to your house at the end of the night, deciding which drinks you liked best, because neither of you wants to address the very real possibility that this might have been not only your very first but also your very last date ever.

“Bradley’s home,” you mutter, as though Jake can’t see Bradley’s Bronco in the driveway for himself.

Jake sighs heavily, pulling on the handbrake a little more aggressively than usual.

“You should go,” you say, because your brother would certainly be surprised to see you walk in past midnight with Jake, considering your original plans entailed walking into somebody’s face.

But Jake is already opening his door and stepping out of the car.

“Jake,” you begin, also climbing out of your seat and shutting your door.

But Jake doesn’t wait for you to finish. He walks around the front of the car determinedly and holds out his hand for you to take. “Let’s go,” he says.

You gape at him in alarm. “W-what?”

Jake takes your hand in his and starts for the front door.

“What are you doing?” you ask anxiously, running to keep up with his long strides.

“What I should’ve done in the very beginning,” he responds firmly. He reaches out to turn the doorknob, but the door opens before he even makes contact.

Read Part 14

Hangman Tag List:

A/N: The rest of the list will be in the comments. As always, let me know if you don't want to be tagged anymore.

@atarmychick007

@callsign-sunshine

@shanimallina87

@wkndwlff

@thefandomimagines

@lunamoonbby

@xoxabs88xox

@Elenavampire21

@desert-fern

@averyhotchner

@Topguncultleader

@teacupsandtopgun

@lilyevanswhore

@sarcasm-n-insomnia

@avengers-fixation

@malindacath

@maddievevo

@widemiffyhappy

@dempy

@djs8891

@pono-pura-vida

@phoenix1388

@teaminator

@rascallyrascals

@kmc1989

@drakelover78

@hangmanscoming

@topgun-imagines

@thedroneranger

@joaquinwhorres

@abaker74

@untoldshortsofthefandoms

@mygyn

@leigh70

@marriinachoo

@delicatetrashtree

@kembry107

@sydneejean

@alana4610

@misconceptionmistress

@hookslove1592

@itsmytimetoodream

@grxcisxhy-wp

@oliviasph

@buckysteveloki-me

@theweekndhistorybook

@books-are-escapes

@imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog

@maeleeme

@lynnevanss

984 notes · View notes

nsharks · 1 year ago

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part seventeen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 2.3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Ghost wasn't bluffing about the rain.

The next two days are spent with a punching bag under a neverending drizzle. Well, a duffle bag filled to the brim with who-knows-what, hanging from a tree as your skin smacks into it repeatedly and wet hair sticks to your neck. According to Ghost, you hit about as hard as Blue does, and there's no point in sparring until that changes.

He demonstrates before finding a comfortable tree to lean against and watch. The first few tries feel awkward until he reminds you to hold your stance. Once you dig your feet firmer into the mud, you start to catch on. You try to copy his movements. Knees, hands, elbows, feet. The rain soaks through the gauze on your hands, bunching it up, and the bag stings your unprotected fingers so much that your pinky starts to spasm.

You are struggling to hold the canister of water without wincing when Ghost appears behind you, grips your wrist, and says, "Why didn't you say anything?"

You pull away and tuck your hand to your breast. "It's not that bad."

His eyes sweep over the length of you before subtly narrowing. "You're bleeding. You should have said something."

When you glance at your fingers, you realize that he's right— the skin is split and oozing, but the rain waters the blood down to a light shade of pink. "Sorry, I guess. I didn't notice."

A callused finger reaches over to brush your knuckles before flipping your hand over, palm up, and tapping the heel of it. "Hit here from now on. It's less soft."

"Noted. Thanks."

Blue warms a bucket of water and soaks your hands that night. You listen to the sound of rain drumming against the plywood as you pray for it to stop by the morning, but of course, there's no one listening to you up there in the clouds because, by the time Ghost gets you up again, it's only gotten worse. Mist shrouds your ankles and the trees crackle and moan. He takes you back to the clearing and you know you won't be dealing with the duffle bag today.

"Let's see what you've learned."

He shucks off his jacket and you do the same despite the brisk temperature. Left in his shirt and sweatpants, the sheer size of him appears even more daunting. The black fabric soon becomes wet and sticks to his well-defined muscles, resembling a second skin. Ghost inclines his head and looks at you expectantly. Your heart races but you meet his stare, breathing deeply.

This time it's you who lunges first.

A swift kick to his ribs shoots the familiar burst of adrenaline through your veins.

The flicker of confidence makes you greedy and you try it again, but he wrenches your ankle away and twists you into submission, pulling you flush to his chest.

His breath hits your neck and warmth, not rain, prickles the skin. "She didn't hesitate. Good. But moves like that leave your stance vulnerable."

With a shove, you are released, and then he wipes the floor with you. Again. Everything turns into a blur of movement. The ground squelches beneath you. You try to focus more on offense, but the rain clumping your lashes and the way he darts so quickly makes that near impossible. Frustration builds in your chest the longer you two go at it. It is as if the past few days have done little to nothing.

A bruising blow to your stomach almost makes you slip, but he catches you by the sleeve and draws you close, leaving you face-to-face. His eyes burn a trail over your forehead down to your nose and lips as you pant heavily, then snap back up to yours.

"What happened to your confidence? Where is the girl who kneed my dick?"

You swallow and blink hard as you meet his thick gaze. "She's trying... but she's wet and can hardly see."

"Better than being dead." You place your hand atop his callused one and try to pry it off, but his grip tightens. "Stop holding back again."

Tension holds your teeth together. "Just because I wasn't a military sergeant like you doesn't mean I'm holding back."

"Lieutenant."

"What?"

"I was a lieutenant, not a sergeant."

"Does that change my point?"

His brow quirks and his hand drops. "You have quite the attitude when you're not scared of me."

The stinging air turns your cheeks pink. "I was never scared of you."

"Blue's next lesson should be teaching you to lie better.”

Something about his tone causes a twinge in your chest. You back up and ready your fists. "Oh... Is she good at that?"

He stalks you with slow steps that scuff over the mud. "Pretty good at it. Though, she forgets who her old man is sometimes."

"What do you mean?"

"You think I didn't notice?"

Your mouth runs dry. Unspoken truths hang in the air; the antiseptic, the food she snuck. "I don't know what you're talking about."

His eyes roll to the side. "Relax. I would've killed you the moment I noticed if I wanted to."

"Why didn't you, then?"

A glint of—something—passes through his eyes. "Perhaps I thought you could be useful. Turns out I was right. Now—" He changes the subject. "Don't hold back or you can enjoy the shed tonight."

All the color drains from your face. "What? You... you can't do that."

"Why not?"

Your voice sharpens. "Because you made a fucking promise to me, Ghost. You said you keep your word."

His broad shoulders give a lazy shrug. "I do, but you thrive when you feel threatened. Thought you could use the motivation."

Anger curls your lips. "That doesn't mean you can just—"

Mud. Mud everywhere. Freezing, sticky mud cushions your fall as he hits you without warning. You gasp. A flash of a memory shoots through your spine; the way he pushed you to the ground that first time you met. The crack of your bow. The helplessness.

You ignore the ache as you push yourself to wobbling feet. It as if every hit from him makes itself known. Your anger deepens and you launch at him without thought, snarling. Your ankles hook around his torso as you grab hold of his wet shirt and cling to his back. One of your arms clamps over his neck and squeezes while the other blindly scratches at any piece of him you can find; his collarbones, the bridge of his nose, his scalp.

A few heartbeats pound before he throws you back into the mud. This time, he joins you. Salty sweat and the taste of coppery soil brush the seam of your mouth as you wrestle beneath him. It turns messy, your hair tangling with knots and pine needles, but you don't have it in you to care. You spit in his face and dig the heel of your boot into his back, riding up his shirt.

"Ah. There she is." His voice is rougher and only the slightest bit winded.

The fight you give is silenced when he pins your hips down with his and grabs one of your wrists. The other you quickly slip under your back, out of reach. Again, he has you pinned, and that pisses you off even more.

"Fuck you," you snap breathlessly. "Get off of me."

"Bold choice of words to say to your landlord."

The rain seems to fade into the background and all you can see—feel—is him. It should terrify you, the pressure of his body, but your mouth opens again on its own accord. "Bold choice getting me into this position again. I guess you don't want any more kids."

A sharp exhale leaves his nose and you think it might be his version of a laugh. "Thanks for reminding me." He brackets your knees with his, rendering them immobile. "Now what?"

Now what. The mix of adrenaline and anger rushes between your ears and that thing you've relied on to survive for so long—instinct—decides for you. Your free hand scoops mud and smashes it into his eyes, stealing his vision. The time it takes for him to wipe it away gives you a shot at his face and you take it without abandon, slamming your hand hard into his nose. You can practically hear the crack. Blood blooms through the white of his mask.

Your irises unfurl. "Shit. Ghost. I—"

He sits up and you scramble away on your butt. Like a tide, your emotions wash away and leave your face flushed. When he peels the balaclava over his nose, a trail of blood trickles down his lips and chin. He pinches the tip and flicks a clot of it to the ground.

"Is it— Did it break?"

He touches the bridge. "Minor."

"I'm..."

The uncontrollable shaking returns to your hands, snapping his gaze to them. "Did they open up?"

Confused, you glance at the red skin across your knuckles before shaking your head. "No. I... I used the heel. Like you said."

"Good." A grumble of thunder brings his eyes to the sky before he stands up, mask still hiked over the bloody lower half of his face. He offers you a hand. "Smart use of the environment. Think we're done here."

It takes a long moment before you place your hand in his. The energy has swept through your body, leaving you numb, and there are no more sharp words left to share. With the grey sky, it is impossible to tell the time, but you figure it must still be early morning because Blue is not awake by the time you and Ghost return.

He is equally as filthy as you. Dark earth cakes the entirety of his body. He swipes his boots outside and you wordlessly do the same before following him into the quiet cabin. Everything is still except for your heart. It struggles to find a normal pace again.

"Let me look at it," you offer quietly.

He doesn't object, taking a seat at the table. The only evidence that the physical activity has affected him is the uptick in heat that rolls off his body. You move clinically to stand between his knees and ignore the awkward feeling that settles in the silence. You feel strange after getting so worked up. Like you don't know how to act. If you were confused around him before, you are more so now, so you focus on what you do understand— that his nose is most definitely broken.

For the first time, it is you looking down at him.

"I'm going to touch it."

You will the trembling in your hands to stop and brush a fingertip along the bridge. His nose is strong. So is his jaw. An old scar indents the left of his mouth, deeper than the one on your brow. This isn't the first time you've seen part of his face— he does, in fact, have human needs like food and water—but the first time you've touched it. His skin is as warm as you remember. The tender swell in the bridge of his nose makes his eyes close for a moment.

"How's it feel?"

He throws your words back at you. "Just peachy."

"Right. Um, have you broken it before?"

"Of course."

"I'm sorry," you finally say, but he seems far from interested in your apology.

"Don't be. I said not to worry about hurting me."

"I know, but that doesn't mean I enjoy doing it."

"Liar." He calls you out in a soft murmur. "It felt good, didn't it?"

It... did. Possibly even cathartic. The release of emotions is not something you allow often, but hitting Ghost in the face mimicked the exertion of chopping wood only tenfold. Carefully, you nod. "A bit."

"More than a bit."

"Fine," you concede breathily. You avoid his eyes and look over at the wall. "It felt really good." There is a pause before you look at his nose again, clearing your throat. "It's minor enough to just let heal, right?"

His brows lower. "I thought you were the nurse here."

"Nursing student," you remind him, teeth grazing your lip. "I don't remember getting to this lecture."

"Fucking hell." He inhales deeply through his mouth, lowering the fabric back down, before saying, "Just go bathe, Twix."

"What about you?"

"I'll go after."

You nod but linger for a moment in his presence. "Ghost." Your fingers curl at your sides. "Don't ever do that again. Don't ever threaten me with something I have earned."

Making a demand of him is so utterly foreign to you that the words taste strange. The whites of his eyes slide up to yours and something you don't recognize passes through them. "Duly noted." His brows lift. "Don't hold back again."

You exhale. "I won't."

It is at this moment you notice the appearance of Blue in the hallway, still dressed in an oversized shirt that acts as her pajamas. She looks between the two of you, rubbing her eyes, before narrowing them and pointing an accusatory finger. "I told you guys to tell me when things got more interesting."

You repel from between his knees like a magnet, facing her.

"It wasn't that interesting. Don't worry."

#simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #fanfiction #zombie apocolypse au

1K notes · View notes

lenaellsi · 2 years ago

Text

on aziraphale's insecurities in S2

i'm pretty sure one of the lines in the end scene where crowley shoots himself in the foot the most is "i think i understand a whole lot better than you do," and i don't even think he realizes how badly aziraphale takes it.

it's just a fact to him: he knows better than aziraphale what heaven is like. it's also a fact to the audience, who knows that the metatron is doing this for bad reasons and that aziraphale is walking into a trap. but it's not a fact to aziraphale. and that's the moment aziraphale goes from panicky and anxious to angry.

aziraphale's self-doubts and anxieties concerning his identity as an angel are shown frequently in s2. we start 2x01 with him deeply insecure in his 'retirement': crowley mentions that aziraphale frequently calls him to "tell him about something clever he did," and aziraphale confirms that he is essentially using these conversations as a stand-in for reporting to heaven. he misses being on The Good Team and doesn't know what to do with himself now that he's not.

so aziraphale doesn't know who he is if he's not an angel, but he also knows that he's a bad angel. he was frequently mocked and condescended to in heaven (by seemingly everyone, not just the archangels; even the quartermaster in s1 called him pathetic). he lied to heaven, he lied to god, he enjoys earthly pleasures, he loves works with a demon, and he doubts the Plan. he never fit in with them. lonely, remember?

and later in the season, we learn that shax, for all that she apparently is not great with sarcasm, is remarkably perceptive when picking up on insecurities. she mocks aziraphale twice, first in the car for his relationship with crowley (which, interestingly, doesn't faze him a bit--remember the eyebrow? he's not at all insecure in his knowledge that crowley loves him. crowley has always been the thing he's most sure of, even very early on--look at how much faith he has in him with job.) the second time she hits much harder: "crowley's emotional support angel," "shall we send in the sushi?" "the softest touch" etc. it hurts him, you can see it.

and there's another tiny moment in 2x05 I don't think I've ever seen anyone talk about, where crowley has just bluffed to the demon horde and is trying to get all the humans together to leave. crowley says, "I won't leave you on your own," and aziraphale says, "I know. But I have a suggestion--" and crowley brushes him off, saying "I got this." aziraphale looks very frustrated by this exchange, which--yeah! fair!

and over and over, we just--we see crowley be right. right about job and god, right about elspeth, right about the magic trick, the nazis, the arrangement, the apocalypse. "you were right, you were right, i was wrong, you were right." crowley's never done the dance before, he says. how many times has aziraphale had to?

and crowley's not just right, he's confident in it! he moves through the world and makes choices that fly in the face of everything aziraphale knows about Good and Evil, and it seems to come so easily to him. he's loud, and he's brave, and he's full of conviction, and aziraphale often feels overshadowed by that surety, because he's so often full of doubt. "you sound jealous, angel," is what crowley says at job's mansion, and i think he's more right than he knows.

all this to say: when crowley says "I think I understand a whole lot better than you do," what aziraphale hears is you idiot and how can somebody as clever as you be so stupid and I was right, I was right, you were wrong, I was right. and he's fucking sick of it.

and so he doubles down, and he gets in the stupid elevator, and he makes the worst mistake of his life, because he's sick of being treated as heaven's lackey or crowley's sidekick. the metatron knew exactly what to say to get him there, and crowley had no idea he was playing directly into it.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens meta #aziraphale #crowley #gos2 spoilers

2K notes · View notes

helluvapoison · 1 year ago

Note

Okay okay I think I got it!!

Imagine the Vees entering like a side room or something and finding cannibal! Reader (literally) tearing into some random person that was caught snooping around by them (reader). How would they react do you think?

No pressure to write this if you don't want too. Love your writing, your recent Zestial one was so cute!!!

-Cannibal Anon :))

Nice To Eat You

[i]

The Vees x Cannibal!Reader

warning: suggestive and dark themes ahead, blood and gore, violence, security shenanigans and, hello, cannibalism

Admittedly, you’d gotten rather careless with your beloved around. Who can blame you when they make you feel on top of the world? With you at their side they felt a bit untouchable too. More so than usual. However someone had broken into their dressing room and wrote something foul on the mirror. You saw red. This wouldn’t happen again.

Cannibals were rather good at sniffing out something rotten.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Velvette ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Witnessing crocs make a comeback in Hell was the worst sight she’s seen to date

• Blood doesn’t particularly bother her, though she hates the mess of it all

• Despite the jokes shared between the two of you, it was sort of unspoken that you would keep your dietary habits away from your girlfriend

• She couldn’t help the gasp when she looked up from her phone, seeing blood spilling from your mouth

• You stiffened, matching her wide eyed expression

• Fuck, you never wanted her to see you like this

• Whipping around, you spat out the flesh and began furiously wiping your face with your sleeve

• “Stop!” Velvette shouts, daring to rush over and grab your shoulder

• Suppressing a flinch, you freeze at her command but refuse to face her

• “Who’s this then?”

• Your reply is bitter like the taste on your tongue, “The rat.”

• “Good.” You feel her grip on your shoulder tighten, “Make Joanne clean up when you're done. Oh, and dollface? Brush your teeth before you come find me, yeah?”

˚✧₊⁎ Vox ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• He thought he meant it when he said he wouldn’t be grossed out by your food selection

• Though the meal was the same, seeing your entire front drenched in blood, red dripping down your chin was entirely different from date nights with fancy ambience and classy decor

• Shaking his head from side to side, he dials the shock out of his system and forces on a passive expression

• You two have already come so far! He can’t have his date mate tiptoeing around him now

• “Do I need a new assistant?” Vox asks, feigning a disinterested tone

• Your own surprise dilutes slowly, you were so sure Vox was bluffing when he said he could handle this

• He’s rather proud of himself that he was convincing enough to fool you

• “No. S’the bastard who wrote on your mirror.”

• “Excellent! Feed what’s left to Vark, let’s clean you up and go celebrate! Wash that shitty sinner taste out of your mouth with some wine, hm?”

˚✧₊⁎ Valentino ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Unbothered by blood, he likes making you dish out his punishments while he sits back and watches

• “Dinner and a show,” He’ll joke, “Like killing two birds with one stone!”

• As sadistic as he is, Val doesn’t have the patience to draw out torture

• If he wants results, he’ll get them immediately or kill someone in the process

• The two of you are similar in that regard or you would’ve brought the half eaten body to him when the sinner was still kicking and screaming

• Surprise hits his face when he opens the door and fades just as fast

• “Aw,” Val clicks his tongue, “You couldn’t have waited for me, monstruo? You know how much I like to see you eat.”

• You toss a bloodied grin in his direction, “Got hangry. This was the cynic that said your films were shit.”

• He chuckles darkly, leaning over to cup your face and wipe the corner of your mouth with his thumb, “What do they think now?”

• “Nothin’ much.” You join his amusement with a breathy laugh

• Stretching your neck up to meet him halfway, Val kisses you right on the lips. His tongue briefly taking over your mouth, swiping away the copper taste and replacing it with his own

• “Come. Let’s get you in the bath, monstrou.”

• You quirk a brow at him, “A real one or a cat bath?”

• Laughing, Valentino taps your nose with an extra finger, “Dealer’s choice.”

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ cannibal anon i love you!!! thanks again!!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #vox headcanons #vox imagine #vox x reader #velvette headcanons #velvette imagine #velvette headanons #valentino headcanons #valentino x reader #valentino imagine

920 notes · View notes

annwrites · 7 months ago

Text

⸻ tell me i'm your national anthem. part two. ⸻

· pairing: homelander x collegestudent!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you & john have dinner together again & you finally come to understand him a bit better. at the very least, what you think he wants. and he lets you in just once, wondering if you can be trusted after all. · word count: 2,736

You sleep fitfully that night.

It takes hours before your body manages to calm enough for you to find rest after having exhausted yourself from crying, hugging a pillow to your chest for comfort—utterly terrified that he’ll come back.

Every small noise you hear makes you shoot up in bed, staring at your now-curtained balcony doors, praying to God that he’s gone. That he hadn’t meant what he said about returning. He’d been bluffing, you’re sure.

You need for him to have not been serious.

You drag the next day during your classes.

You stay fairly to yourself, not wishing to talk to anyone. But, of course, all that any of them have on their minds, and seem able to discuss as you pass them in the halls is him. Including your best friend, Emma.

It only serves to turn your stomach. The fact that she worships the ground that his corrupting boots walk upon—that she has no idea that he’s a soulless monster. That he had so easily threatened your life before proceeding to humiliate you before stealing away your first sexual experience for his own benefit.

He’d done it to be cruel, you’re sure. To disrespect you like he’d felt you’d done toward him.

As if refusing to make eye contact while hundreds of others gazed upon him with admiration was anything like what he’d done to you.

Trying to wrap your mind around the incredible difference between who he is in front of a camera versus who he had turned into in your apartment last night… He’s a psychopath, clearly. All you can manage to return to time and again was him staring at you with red eyes, threatening your life. A threat that had rolled off his tongue as easily as asking you about the weather.

You wonder how many lives he’s taken that no one knows about, or that Vought has taken diligent measures to cover up. Wondering why they do it—why they would protect him—has a simple answer: he’s indestructible…right? A man with that much power, and with no remorse—with no weaknesses—is a terrifying thought.

You really fucking hope you never see him again. That whatever he was after he managed to get out of his system last evening. After all, what’re you compared to Queen Maeve, or a model, or fellow actress, or supe?

Thankfully, it’s a slow day at work. Usually it is, in truth. Not many people seem to have much of an appreciation for buying and collecting antiques anymore. Unless it’s Christmas time…the store is almost always dead. A fact you’re quite grateful for today as you arrange a shelf of Precious Moments figurines, avoiding the section of the store dedicated to superheros at all costs.

You ring up maybe half-a-dozen customers in not quite as many hours before heading home for the day, practically dead on your feet.

You take a long shower—the pleasant feel of the hot water nearly serves to put you to sleep—repeatedly telling yourself that you’re safe here. He’s not coming back. This is your home. You’re okay. Everything is okay. You’re sure he’s already forgotten about you by now, anyway.

When you emerge back into your bedroom dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of soft gray sweatpants—ready to just throw something in the microwave so you can go to bed straight after—you halt in your tracks when you see a silhouette with wide shoulders and a billowing cape on the other side of your closed curtains.

Your breath hitches in your throat.

You’re seeing things. He’s been on your mind all day and you’re exhausted on top of that, not to mention starving.

It’s not real. He’s not—

There’s a gentle knock against the glass. “I know you’re in there. I can hear your heart. So, you can either open the door, or I’ll just break a window and let myself in. But, then you’ll end up having to pay to replace the glass, and you’ll have to explain things to your landlord, and, well—”

You come over to the door then, frustrated tears stinging your eyes, and you flip the lock, heading in the direction of the kitchen without a word.

You know it’s useless to try and hide, or pretend like you’re not home.

He lets himself in, gently closing the door behind him.

“Honey, I’m home!” He says in a sing-song tune, following you into the kitchen, leaning against a counter with crossed arms and a smug look on his face.

“So, what’s for dinner?”

You open the freezer, throwing a microwavable dinner on the counter, refusing to even look at him.

And then he sighs, grabbing the meal away from you, throwing it back into the freezer.

He leans down toward you. “What? No home-cooked meal for your favorite superhero tonight? And after all that hard work I put into making a meal out of you just twenty-four hours ago.”

You grip the edges of the counter in each of your hands, dragging your nails across it. “I never asked for any of that. I begged you not to.”

He leans in closer, grabbing your hip painfully as he brings his lips to the shell of your ear. “You’re being very ungrateful right now.”

He pauses. “You’re hurting my feelings.”

Your chin wobbles and your stomach fills with lead.

“Now,” he starts again, sliding his gloved fingers into your hair, gently massaging your scalp. “You are going to be a good little girl and get to cooking. I’m not asking twice. I’ve been hard at work all day. It’s the least you can do for me after bothering to fly all the way here to keep you company.”

You bite your lower lip to try and keep your tears at bay. “What do you want from me?”

“I’ve already told you.”

You turn to the side, facing him, reluctantly looking up, meeting his empty blue eyes. “Thousands—no, millions—of women across the world would love nothing more than to throw themselves at you. To be at your beck and call. What the hell do you want with me?”

He gently caresses your chin between his fingers, smirking softly. “I’m no A-Train, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still love a good chase, sweetheart.”

He smacks your rear then, causing you to squeak in surprise. “Now, feed your man.”

You raid a brow at that. Your what?

You watch as he leans down, removing the milk jug from your fridge and you cross your arms. “I’m not doing all the work while you just sit there and watch.”

He looks at you with a displeased expression from your back-talk, but you don’t back down.

You remove a loaf of bread from the bread box, tossing it on the counter in front of him. “You’re in charge of making toast.”

Quite astonishingly, he doesn’t argue. Instead, he looks at you with a surprised look in his eyes and a gentle smile. “How many slices do you want?”

You have no idea that it gives him a sense of normalcy and home, even if just for a moment. Like you’re a mother instructing her child, giving them a small responsibility to see to at dinner time. You’re making him a part of the process, and he likes that. Appreciates it, even.

You’d begun giggling ridiculously from nerves in the middle of making spaghetti.

Homelander had looked at you with a raised brow and a sour look on his face, until you’d explained, with tears streaming down your own. “I’m cooking dinner with Homelander. You’re—”

You’d gasped for breath, doubling over. “You’re in my apartment! Making toast!”

And then you’d begun to actually cry—your exhaustion catching up to you all at once—hysterically, at that. He’d considered multiple courses of action. One: simply leaving. Two: threatening you to shut the hell up or he’d really give you something to cry about. He’d taken the third option with no fucking idea as to why.

He’d gathered you in his arms, ignored your tiny fists beating against his chest and your demands that he let you go, and held you until you calmed.

Once you did, and your breathing and heart-rate had both returned to normal—the smell of adrenaline no longer coming off of you in waves—he told you it was time to eat.

So, here you sit, slowly eating spaghetti and toast in silence with America’s poster boy.

He takes a long sip of milk, studying you.

“You’re very attractive,” he says, briefly pausing. “In an ordinary ‘girl-next-door’ sort of way, I suppose.”

Your eyes flit to his, swallowing your noodles. “T-thank you.”

He hums in response, a small smile on his lips, fingers splaying outward expectantly.

Your brows furrow for only a moment. “You’re…handsome.”

His smile fades at your unsure tone of empty platitudes. “Why don’t you like me?”

Oh God, not this again.

You shake your head, taking a bite of your toast. “You’re asking that after what you did to me?”

“You mean what I did for you? You seem to forget that I gave you an orgasm without so much as asking for anything in return.”

Bile rises in your throat. “You stole my first sexual experience away from me.”

“I think stolen is a nasty way to word it. I gifted it to you.”

You grip your fork tightly in your fist, having half-a-mind to drive it through the back of his hand. But you know you can’t. You don’t want to even imagine how such an action would end. Probably with your apartment becoming a bloody mess and your twenty-one-year-old life at an end before it ever got a chance to truly begin.

So you set the utensil down.

“You want me to like you?” You ask quietly, having no clue as to why your meaningless opinion of him should matter in the first place.

He shrugs lightly, brow twitching in response.

You fold your hands in your lap, leaning back, staring at him. “Tell me something, then. Something real and that no one else knows.”

He stays quiet, so you continue.

“Because the very opposite of that is why I dislike—no, scratch that—despise you: because you just look like an empty suit to me. Something manufactured by the media. A man unable to think for himself without a teleprompter in front of him instructing his every move.”

He grinds his teeth, his face twitching, his gloved hands now squeezed tightly into fists.

And you immediately fill with regret. Being exhausted typically left you one of three ways—all of which you’d experienced in one evening alone. Giggly and easily amused, emotional, or irritable.

The first two he’d tolerated. This one…you worry it ends with your landlord discovering your corpse the next time rent is due.

“You think they control me?” He asks with a sneer.

“I have yet to find a reason to think otherwise.”

“You think,” he says, leaning in toward you, his boot pressing against your foot beneath the table. “I’m just some puppet manufactured by Big Media? Hm?”

He stands abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the floor and you stand as well, your own toppling over in your panic as he backs you into a corner.

He must like doing this—intimidating. Invoking fear.

He chuckles, cupping your face in his hands. “I’ve done things… Things that would horrify you. Things that even Vought doesn’t know about.”

He shrugs. “They’re just the ones who sign my paychecks. See, they work for me. The whole fuckin’ world does. Including you, honey. I’m the real hero. My little tagline where I say otherwise? It’s bullshit. But the people eat it up. They swallow the garbage I feed them with a grateful smile. You think you’re so…different, though, don’t you?”

You brows furrow and you feel completely terrified, but quickly decide upon trying a new approach.

Aggression is getting you nowhere—it’s only begetting more on his part. And you worry how far you can push him before it ends in catastrophe.

And it’s then that you realize that he does have a weakness after all: he’s desperate for approval. Why the hell else would he be here yet again, demanding to know why he doesn’t yet have yours? Is he just that much of a narcissist, or is it something deeper?

You slowly reach up then, cupping his cheek, your other trembling hand coming to rest gently upon his chest.

Touching him in such a familiar fashion may end horribly for you, but something tells you it's well worth a try.

“What happened to you?” You ask in a whisper.

His features shift—softening—the look in his eyes that of…confusion. He even goes so far as to lean in slightly to your warm, comforting touch.

Your eyes flit between his, taken aback by his embracing your kind, physical gesture. “You haven’t always been like this, have you?”

You take a tiny step closer, bridging the gap between your bodies, since you think this attempt might just finally be getting you somewhere.

“You want me to like you? Trust you? Actually enjoy your company, and, much more, want it? Tell me something no one else knows, then. Something that will make me see past all of it.”

Your eyes trail along his suit, before meeting his own again. “Past this. I have no interest in getting to know Homelander. Because that’s not who you really are, even if you’ve forgotten it. There’s still a man in this costume. A human being.”

You watch with shock as tears gather in his eyes that continue to stare into your own, his lips pressed into a firm line as he remains silent.

You shoosh him softly. “It’s okay. It’s just the two of us. You may not want to believe it, but you can trust me. I haven’t even told anyone about you coming here last night, because I’m not the type to gossip. I have no interest in it.”

That’s not the reason whatsoever, but he can think whatever the hell he likes, so long as it gets him to calm down and give you a moment of vulnerability.

You brush a tear away as it slips down his cheek.

“You want to know what people have told me time and again since I was little? That they feel like they can trust me—even complete strangers. They’ll share things with me that they won’t even tell their closest friends and family. For the longest time I couldn’t understand why—what it was about me—and then I figured it out.”

You gently run your fingertips along his cheek. “I know what it feels like when someone betrays your trust repeatedly. When that one person in all the world you’re supposed to be able to rely and lean upon just…uses the things you tell them against you just to hurt you. Because they’re incapable of empathy. And I refuse to do that to others. Because I won’t be like her. I can’t. I just…I guess people can sense that about me. I hope so, at least. It’s the only explanation I have.”

You pause. “What I’m trying to get at is that you can, too: trust me. You’re safe here.”

He blinks, another tear slipping down his cheek, which you softly wipe away.

“John,” he whispers, finally speaking. “My name is John.”

You smile.

“John,” you repeat, and his chin wobbles at the sound of his name leaving your lips.

“Thank you for telling me. That’s all I wanted: to know something about you. Something that comes from you.”

His face shifts then, his vulnerability quickly vanishing. “If you tell anyone—”

You slip your fingers into his hair. “I won’t. I promise. You have nothing to worry about. It’s okay. Everything is okay.”

His eyes flit between yours, debating, considering.

And then he nods and you release a breath of relief.

He leans down then, pressing his lips to yours—tenderly. A wholly different sensation to how he’d been with you last night.

It’d worked.

You pull back slightly.

“Y/N,” you whisper against his lips.

His own twitches. “I already knew that.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Who was it? You said ‘her’.”

You swallow, chewing the inside of your cheek. “Can we talk about it tomorrow night?”

He likes that you want him back again. That you’re admitting it. That you’re planning on it.

He smirks. “Sounds like we’re finally on the same page, sweetheart.”

#fic: the boys (homelander x reader)#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #homelander x oc #the boys x reader #the boys x you

284 notes · View notes

brenwritesss · 3 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

⋆˚࿔Paige Bueckers x reader ❀˖°

Summary: Paige promised to come to your show, but you didn't believe her. You should have known better.

a/n: this chapter has not been edited, I just wanted to put something out so I apologize for any errors.

warnings: language and implied sex

You lived for nights like these. Where you could feel the music already flowing through your veins before you even hit the stage. Where you could hear the crowd screaming your name and chanting for you. Where the lights in the arena dimmed and the stage grew bright, signaling you were about to take to the stage. Before every show, you always went into your dressing room to sit in front of your mirror. As a child, you dreamt of just a sliver of moments like these. If only that little girl could see you now. See the artist you’ve become. How people would travel across the country just to see you perform.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, taking some time to adjust a few strands of hair and fix your bra strap. You hummed the notes of the first song on your set list to yourself as people scrambled behind you to get everything in place before your opener finished their set. Tonight, you were playing in Hartford, Connecticut with it being your tenth stop on your world tour. You had been dreading this show for the past couple months. And it was all because of one person. Paige Bueckers.

Yes, you did not listen to yourself and continued to text Paige. Almost every fucking day. To say you both were heading into a situationship was an understatement. Over these past couple of months, Paige had been proving herself to be more than a stereotypical college athlete and to be honest, you were here for it. She was actually very sweet to you and always woke you up with compliments. Your text messages had progressed to phone calls to FaceTimes and it felt so natural. You haven’t felt that comfortable with someone like that for a long time and it was refreshing. The only thing you hadn’t done was meet in person. It was talked about; quite a lot actually but you both just had such busy schedules that there was never any time. That was until tonight.

When you and Paige first started talking, you both had brought up the likelihood of her going to your show in Hartford. And you had always thought that she was bluffing about taking the time to come see you perform. Your phone buzzed beside you.

Paige

Can’t wait to see you tonight

You send her a quick winking emoji before getting rushed to your stage entrance. That is when it hit you that Paige was indeed not bluffing and had made plans to come see you tonight. Not only did this mean that Paige would be seeing you perform in front of thousands of people; but it also meant that there was a huge possibility that you would be meeting her for the first time outside of the late-night phone calls and text messages.

It wasn’t just meeting Paige that you were nervous about. It was about what would happen before and after you met. Would she enjoy your show? Would she think that you weren’t as good live? And once you met, would you instantly go into a hug? Or would it be an awkward handshake? Would the conversation flow as easily as it did over the phone? Only one way to find out.

You counted the beats until it was time for you to walk out on stage. Within your first few steps, the crowd grew wild and all you could hear was the screams and the clapping. You could see phones held up in the air throughout the entire arena and the lights emitting from them. You held your microphone up to your mouth, starting your first song.

Within seconds, you were back in your element. The crowd sang along with you and you kept up with the beats going through your ears. Suddenly, you got more nervous than earlier which threw you off considering you had done this so many times before. The performing. Just knowing that Paige was actually here in the arena made goosebumps form on your skin and made you suddenly self-conscious. Instead of flowing with the music like you normally did, you were now conscious and aware of every movement and step you took on stage.

Once you had been performing for a while and you could feel the support from your fans in the crowd, you fell back into your natural element and carried on the performance like normal, forgetting that Paige was even here. Your favorite part of the show happened towards the middle during one of your slower songs. The crowd would turn on their flashlights on their phone, mimicking a night sky in the arena. It made you feel alive.

The show was over in what felt like minutes, saying your farewells to the crowd as you walk off the stage. You spent the time after thanking your crew, band, and dancers for another amazing performance on your tour. After you had finally changed out of your performance outfit and put on a sweatsuit, you picked up your phone and saw that you had a message.

Paige

Holy Shit

When can I see you

You text back immediately. “Just finished up backstage. Meet me at the back entrance?”

I gotchu

Don’t make plans for the rest of the night. You’re mine tn

Your heart was pounding. In a few minutes you would be seeing the girl who had taken over your head face to face. You hoped desperately that the conversation would flow as easily in person as it did online. You headed in the direction of the back entrance, rubbing your hands on your hoodie to get rid of the nervous sweat.

You open the door, instantly getting hit with the cool air through your hoodie. At first you didn’t see her as you looked around, sliding your phone out of your pocket to text her. “Hey,” a voice spoke out as the familiar, tall blonde walked around the corner. She had her hands shoved into her hoodie, hair straight down past her shoulders. You could see her breaths in the cool air and you almost felt as if you were starstruck. She was hotter in person if that was even possible.

“Hey,” you respond, walking toward her slowly as if you forgot how to walk. “I um thought you wouldn-”

Paige smiled and shook her head. “Shut up,” she said, cutting you off as she grabbed your face and pulled you towards her, smashing her lips onto yours. You gasped at the unexpected move, reaching your hands up to grab her wrists as you kissed her back. The kiss was more than anything you could have pictured between the two of you and it made you want more.

She pulled away and you instantly missed the feeling of her lips on yours. You took a sharp breath. “Holy shit.”

Paige laughed, “never gotten kissed like that before or what?”

You playfully punch her shoulder, earning a low laugh from her. You shake your head, “try it again and see for yourself.”

You saw a mischievous spark in her eyes that lit a fire in you. How is it that you have only been standing in front of her for maybe three minutes and she could almost consume your soul just by looking at you with those gorgeous blue eyes. Paige let her hands travel from the base of your jawline to the curve of your waist and you instantly leaned into her touch. Her fingers were warm, contrasting to the cold air that gave you goosebumps. She tilted her head to the side. “I think you should come with me.”

“And where are we going?” you ask her, tilting your head to match her movements.

Paige rubbed small circles into your waist, the only chill you could feel coming from her silver rings that hugged her fingers. “Can’t just show you all my tricks right out the gate, princess.” The way she had said that almost into your ear made you forget how to breathe. The way she smiled after, biting her lip and looking down into your eyes answered all the questions you had been asking yourself before. Yes, the conversation would definitely be flowing easy in person. And that wouldn’t be the only thing flowing easily.

Paige tugged at your hand, moving your body with hers as she began walking towards her car. Your fingers fit perfectly between hers and you kept close, keeping that warmth between the two of you. You let out a small laugh, “not gonna kiss me again? Was it that bad?”

Paige shook her head, laughing, “nah,” she paused and leaned toward your ear. “Don’t want anyone seeing what I’m ‘bout to do to you.”

You swallowed. Hard. The way her words easily left her mouth and her perfect voice. It all just made you want to rip her clothes off. It seemed like Paige could tell because her grip on your hand grew tighter. “And what are you gonna do?” you ask her, almost challenging her.

And that challenge didn’t go unnoticed because even under the street lights, her eyes darkened and she wore a smirk across her lips. “You’re a dangerous one, you know.”

“Still didn’t answer my question.”

Paige opened the passenger door to her car, waiting for you to get in. “You’ll figure it out, don’t worry princess.”

You got into the car and she shut the door, walking over to her side. After getting in, you smiled at her, “you’re way cuter in person, you know that?”

A look of mock offense crossed her face. “Was I not over the phone?”

You laugh, “no you were. I just didn’t think you’d be this…” You trailed off, trying to find the word.

“This…” she repeated after you.

“Hot,” you reply.

“Again,” she says. “Was I not over the phone?”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I fucking mean, baby.”

Paige raised her eyebrows at you. “Baby?”

“What, I call you that over the phone all the time. Now you have a problem with it?”

“It’s hot when you get defensive,” she retorts, looking at you. She leans in closer to you. “And to be fair, out of some other things you’ve called me, that’s what you chose?”

You lean in closer to match her movements. “And what would you prefer?”

“I mean…” she said with her cocky tone. “I seem to remember this one night where you called me da-”

“OKAY,” you shout, cutting her off. “We can end this conversation right now.”

Paige bust out laughing, “no no, you had no problem calling me that over the phone. Scared to do it in person?”

“You’re fucking gross,” you respond, feeling lowkey embarrassed that she called you out like that.

“How am I gross when you were the one that said it in the first place?”

“Because,” you pause. “I’m not the one bringing it up now.”

“Right,” Paige smiles, bringing her hand up to the steering wheel. “We can get you bringin’ it up real quick if you want.”

Clocked. Cooked. And everything in between. “So, was your plan to come to my show and then fuck me after? No date, nothing?”

Paige rolls her eyes, turning the car on and giving you a look like she could either kiss you or strangle you in that moment. “So, I have been talking to you for months and have told you countless times that I was gonna take you out and you think I wanna fuck you right now?”

“Well do you?”

“Hell yeah but I’m taking you on a date first. Who do you think I am?”

You and Paige spent the next twenty minutes talking throughout the drive, her hand not leaving your thigh once. The conversation got deep quickly like they always did between the two of you. That was something you had never gotten from your previous relationship and it was refreshing. It was assuring knowing that your relationship with her wasn’t just built on those initial physical attractions towards each other and that it was becoming way more than that.

Paige pulled into an arcade parking lot and you couldn’t have been more excited. “Is this place even open?”

Paige shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I rented it out.”

Your eyes widen. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me, princess.”

And she wasn’t lying because you spent the next few hours competing against her in games. And you definitely lost to her in the basketball games.

Your head against her purple pillows, breaths hitched, fingers gripping her sheets. Paige’s fingers slowly slid up your thighs, blowing cool air on you. You gasped just at the contact of air on you and made eye contact with her as she massaged your thighs.

(You might be wondering how you wound up in this position…)

“You’re a world-touring superstar, let me treat you like one,” she whispered against your cunt and your back arched. “I’ll show you how good of a fan I can be.”

#paige bueckers #uconn #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #wcbb #paige bueckers x oc #uconn huskies #wlw #wlw post

274 notes · View notes

hotchscoffeecup · 11 months ago

Text

drunk dial

pairing: platonic aaron hotchner/reader

rating: t

word count: 8.1k

tags: implied sexual assault, referenced sexual assault

summary: when you drunk dial your boss in need of rescuing from a night club, aaron hotchner doesn’t hesitate to respond. the only problem? you thought you’d called emily. hotch insists on you letting him take care of you for the night as you’re in no state to be on your own. as the night progresses, you find that you’re finally able to disclose a trauma you’d kept buried for years.

“Hotchner,” he answers groggily.

A harsh sob echoes through the receiver and he sits up, bringing the phone down to view the caller ID. The dark slash of his brow furrows as he views your name and photo.

There’s concern in his voice as he says your name, but you don’t seem to hear it.

You heave another sob through the phone. “My friend left with some guy. And now this one, he won’t—” Your voice suddenly sounds far away the music pounding in the background overtakes your words. He’s missing information as your voice becomes clear once more. “He wants more than I’m willing to give Emily and I just want to go home.” Your words are slurred. “I just,” another choked sob, “I need he—” The line disconnects.

“Hello?” Hotch questions and tries your name again. He redials your number and curses as it goes to voicemail. Throwing back the sheets, he climbs out of bed and dials Prentiss’ number as he pulls a hoodie over his t-shirt.

She laughs as she answers, “Hotch, it’s past midnight. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

He cuts her off and curtly explains the call he’d just received. “Where is she?”

“Oh, um, The 930 Club. She’s—”

“Thanks, Prentiss.” He hangs up and shoves his phone in his pocket. He grabs his raincoat and keys and swiftly exits his apartment.

The club isn’t far from his complex, but with Saturday night traffic in the heart of DC combined with the summer storm raging on, it seems to take ages. He lays on the horn as someone cuts him off and curses as he slams on his brakes. Briefly, he considers throwing the red and blue lights on, but thinks better of it. He’s not far now and after making it through the next red light, the club comes into view. Disregarding the no parking signs out front, Hotch pulls up alongside the curb and throws the SUV into park.

Despite the rain, a line stretches out the door. Couples and groups of friends clad in leather, satin, high heels, and sleek accessories huddle under wide umbrellas to protect themselves from the storm. Hotch approaches the door and a bouncer stretches his arm across the way.

“There’s a line, old man.” The bouncer inclines his head toward the line of anxiously waiting club goers. “Get to the back before I put you there myself.”

Hotch is unfazed by the bouncer and the sense of power his job provides him. Standing toe to toe with the man, he stares him down, his eyes hard. He reaches into his pants pocket and retrieves his badge. With two fingers, he flips it open and pushes into the bouncer’s face. “Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,” he states flatly. “I’ve got an agent in trouble in there, so get the hell out of my way before I have you in handcuffs.” He’s bluffing, obviously, the bouncer has done nothing wrong. He doesn’t know that though, given how wide his eyes open in fear. He says nothing and steps aside, granting him entry.

“Thank you.” For good measure, Hotch drives his shoulder into the bouncer as he shoves his way into the noisy nightclub. His eyes dart around, scanning the scene. There are two long bars on opposite walls, a DJ against the short wall where dozens of people bump and grind against one another on the dance floor, and two levels of tall tables and booths for people to crowd around or sneak into to get away from the music.

On the phone, you’d sounded distressed. Your words were slurred and he could only hope and pray that you’d not been drugged by whatever “he” was with you at the time of the call. God, he could only hope that you were even still here. If he knew creeps as well as his job had accustomed him to, if a man was trying to procure a woman under the influence, he’d either leave immediately and attack her in a secondary location or he’d take her somewhere more private within the environment.

Pushing through the crowd, he shouldered past couples who shot dagger sharp glances at him and took the stairs two at a time up to the second floor. The music still pounded over the speakers up here, but this was clearly where people went to escape the bustle of the crowded dance floor and get away to drink or order food or conversate more

privately. He calls your name and begins scanning tables. Patrons dining or trying to steal a romantic moment glare at him. Some curse and tell him to fuck off. He pays them no mind. As he winds around tables, he begins losing hope despite there being much more of the club to explore. He has half a mind to shut the whole place down and call in the team, but that would be a gross overreaction. There is no evidence that you’re actually in danger or missing aside from a drunk misdial. Still though, his heart pounds erratically as he calls your name over the music.

He reaches the end of the second floor and at first doesn’t see that there are people in the booth they’re that far tucked into it. The man’s hulking frame blocks the girl from view and he knows it’s you.

“Hey!” he barks over the baseline.

“We don’t need anything,” the man says without looking back.

Fury floods his veins. Without a second thought, Hotch reaches for the man and grabs him by the back of the neck. He reels back, pulling the man to his feet. Catching his balance, the man pulls his fist back. As he aims to deliver a punch, Hotch ducks and sends his fist into the man’s gut. As the air vacates his lungs and he doubles over, Hotch fists his hands into his shirt and slams him back into the table. With the man immobilized, he looks up at you. A strap on your dress falls over one shoulder and your hair hangs limply, having fallen free of whatever style it had been in. You look at him from half hooded eyes, blinking slowly. The scene is spinning and your temples are throbbing.

“Are you okay?” Hotch asks. His knuckles blaze white as the man struggles beneath his grip.

“Stop moving!” he barks.

“Can somebody help me?” the man calls.

Someone is saying your name, asking if you’re ok. The music is loud and your ears feel like they’re plugged with cotton. Things seem to move quickly and slowly all at once. Where are you? You’ve not left the club yet, but where did Mariah go? There’s your name again. God, you’re really out of it. Mariah left, you remember. She left with Andrew’s friend and Andrew, God, he wouldn’t leave you alone. When was Emily going to get here? There’s your name again. You blink hard and try to get your bearings. Though things are hazy and tilted through your alcohol laden senses, a picture starts to form in front of you. Aaron Hotchner, your boss, has Andrew pinned against the table in front of you.

“Sir?” you question, though the word feels far away and unfamiliar on your tongue.

Hotch raises his eyes from Andrew, concern reflecting back at you in them. Your eyes widen as you take in Andrew’s form beneath him. You glance down at yourself and see your dress straps pulled down, exposing the lace of your bra. What the fuck had he been trying to do before Hotch got here?

Two bouncers approach as a crowd begins to gather, people are always hungry for drama after all.

“Is there a problem here?” the first bouncer asks. He’s tall, built, and wears sunglasses despite it being dark inside. His ginger beard is bushy and his brow is pierced. He looks pissed as all hell that he has to be up here breaking up a fight. Hotch recognizes the other bouncer from the door. When they make eye contact, his eyes widen.

“Yo, Liam, that’s that FBI agent I was telling you about.”

Liam arches a brow, but his expression softens. “What’s going on, officer? Or should I call you Agent?”

Hotch ignores him and pulls Andrew to his feet, pushing him toward the bouncers. “Get this guy out of here,” he orders. He looks toward you again, his eyes searching for signs of further harm. He turns his attention back to Andrew.

“Did you slip her something?”

Andrew’s face screws. “What? No!”

Hotch steps forward, his face inches from his, and repeats the question louder, “Did you give her something?”

Andrew flinches. “No! I don’t do that shit, man. She took a bunch of shots with her friend. Guys were buying them drinks all night. I just—”

“You just what?” Hotch questions, his voice low and dangerous. “Wait for a woman that can hardly stand, take her upstairs, hide away, and see just how far you can take it?”

“Hey, she was into it!”

Hotch grabs him by the jaw. “Look at her!” he says. “She can barely keep her eyes open! That’s not consent, idiot!”

Andrew swallows and he looks like he might wet himself.

“Hotch,” you say and try your best to sit up, the world spinning as you do so.

Hotch releases him, but first leans in close to his ear. “If you ever, and I mean ever try this again, with anyone. I will have you arrested and will personally make sure you never see the light of day ever again. I was a federal prosecutor, so I know how to make charges stick. Do I make myself clear?”

Andrew nods vigorously and a tear slips from his eyes. “Not so confident now, huh?” Hotch whispers, disdain dripping from his lips. “Get him out of here.”

He watches as the bouncers lead Andrew down the steps. Hotch immediately turns his attention on you. He slides into the booth beside you. “Did he hurt you?” he asks.

Your brow furrows as you try to make sense of what’s happening. The music is so loud. Hotch looks around and then back at you. “Let’s get you out of here, come on.” He stretches his hand out to you and you take it, letting him pull you out of the booth. When you find your feet, you stumble and he catches you, his arm bracing around your lower back.

“It’s raining,” Hotch says as he shrugs out of his jacket. “Take this.” He drapes it over your shoulders, his little finger curling under the strap of your dress and pulling it back into place as he does so. The smell of cedar and teakwood reaches your nose, a severe contrast to the club’s overarching scent of vodka, sweat, and the amalgamation of various perfumes and colognes sprayed in earnest.

The second you exit the club your head feels a fraction clearer. The air is muggy, the humidity amping up with the cold rain coming down after a week of intensely high temperatures.

Aaron reaches into his pocket and fishes out his car keys. He clicks the unlock button and the car beeps in response. He opens the door and helps you inside, his eyes lingering on you for a moment as you clumsily buckle your seatbelt to make sure you can get it on alright. Once secure, he gently shuts the door and jogs around to the driver’s side.

He slides into the driver’s seat and twists the key in the ignition. He places his hands on the wheel, but before shifting the car into gear, he looks at you, intensely. When he says your name, it’s gentle. It’s not the tone he uses in the office when he’s calling the team for a briefing or to review something you’d written in a report. There’s a warmth in his voice, and there’s real concern there too. “You don’t have to tell me,” he starts. “Just know that you can.”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut as the world tilts on its axis. Your stomach roils and for a moment you’re afraid you might be sick. You take a deep breath and manage to hold it down. Hotch tilts his head, regarding you. “Is there anyone at home that can take care of you?”

“No,” you answer and this time you don’t shake your head to avoid aggravating the nausea. “My roommate is out of town visiting her family,” you speak slowly but your words still come out slurred.

Hotch nods and shifts the car into gear. “You can stay with me then, tonight.”

“No, sir I can’t let you do that. You’ve got Jack and—”

A smile cracks his stern visage as he pulls out into traffic. If you had your wits about you, you would’ve taken a mental snapshot as you don’t think you’ve ever seen such a genuine expression of mirth cross his face. “Jack is at his aunt’s. I wouldn’t have exactly been able to come out like this if he wasn’t. Beth has an event for work this weekend, which is why I’ve stayed back in DC. It’s no trouble at all.”

You sink back into the seat, a part of you unable to believe that this is happening while the other part of you is still trying to fully process what all had transpired in the last fifteen minutes.

“Hotch, how did you know—”

His eyes are on the road as he speaks. “You thought you’d called Emily. You called me.”

“Oh my God,” you groan, drawing out the last letter. A scarlett heat creeps into your cheeks and you cover your face with your hands. “So you heard—Jesus Christ. Oh my God.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hotch says, his words genuine. “I’m glad I can help.”

The rest of the ride passes in silence. It’s not long by any stretch of the imagination, but the constant stop and go traffic of late night DC has your stomach doing somersaults. You squeeze your eyes shut and rest your head against the cool glass of the window hoping it’ll quell the churning in your belly.

A quiet groan escapes your lips as Hotch pulls into his designated parking spot at The Langham. It stopped raining. As soon as he shifts the car into park, your stomach feels as though it’s just been bounced around like. ping pong ball. “Oh god,” you moan and fumble with the door handle. Somehow you manage to undo the lock and fling open the door. As soon as your feet hit the pavement, you rush over to the nearest bush, the vomit you’d staved off finally forcing its way up and out of your body. It’s vile, the way the alcohol and stomach acid burns your throat.

Footsteps rapidly approach and there’s a hand at your neck, gathering your hair. “Alright, ok,” Hotch says soothingly, his other hand rubbing up and down your back. “Get it all out, oh yeah, yep. There you go.”

When your body stops purging itself, you gulp down a fresh breath of air before spitting the acrid taste of bile from your lips. You stay like that, hands on your knees, and take a few deep breaths. “Do you have your gun?”

Hotch releases your hair as you stand, but keeps a steadying hand on your arm. His expression is puzzled, his brow arched. “No, why?”

You roll your eyes and turn toward the sidewalk leading toward the front entrance to his building. “To kill me now so I don’t have to live with the embarrassment of knowing my boss just saw that happen.”

Something between a laugh and scoff escapes Hotch’s lips as he catches up to you in two long strides. Him and his long ass legs, you drunkenly muse.

The lights hurt your eyes and your temples continue to throb as you let Hotch navigate your way through his complex. The walk feels excessively long and you wonder if all apartment complexes are this maze-like. As he fishes his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door to his apartment you realize you’re actually at Aaron Hotchner’s apartment. You’ve never been to his apartment. You’ve been to Emily’s, Penelope’s, and Spencer’s apartments; Rossi and JJ’s houses, but Hotch? Definitely not. Suddenly you feel like you are about to encroach upon the shadowy place Mufasa warns Simba about in The Lion King.

You blink and that clears the weird image forming of Hotch as a cartoonish fatherly lion from your mind. You stumble through the threshold as he pushes the door open and curse as he catches you again. “These fucking heels,” you grumble. As you reach down to work out the straps your stomach flips and you groan.

Hotch’s eyes flare slightly. “Why don’t you stay up there?” he cautions. “Let me help you.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” you respond, voice tight as your stomach threatens revolution once more.

He bends down on one knee and begins to undo the straps from around your ankles. He holds the back of your calf as he pulls the heel off and places it against the wall. You have to catch yourself on his shoulder to keep from falling but as soon as your foot falls flat on the floor, a languid moan leaves your lips.

“Good God, that feels so much better.”

He helps you slide out of the other high heeled shoe and stands. Without the heels on, he has a decent amount of height on you. You have to look up to meet his eyes, those eyes still shining with concern.

“Let me take the coat,” he says, lifting his hands toward you. You turn and shrug out of it, your limbs feeling awkward and heavy as you do so. He hangs it on a hook on the back of the door and gestures down the length of the hallway.

“It’s just the one bedroom,” he explains as he leads the way toward the main room. “You can sleep in my room. I’ll take the couch.”

“No!” you blurt. “No, no, no you don’t have to do any of that oh my God.”

Hotch chuckles in response. “I think you’ll thank me in the morning if you do.” Wordlessly, you follow as he leads the way to the aforementioned bedroom. He flicks the light switch on and the lamp on his bedside table illuminates the room. It’s simply decorated with store bought abstract paintings and dark blue linens on the queen sized bed. A framed photo of Jack sits on the nightstand, angled toward the bed. The idea of Hotch lying there looking at the image of his son tugs your heartstrings. You move past Hotch and plop down on the bedspread before reaching for the photo. You smile as you look at Jack’s crooked smile.

“He’s so precious,” you muse and poke Jack’s nose through the flat plane of glass. You look up at Hotch from where he stands in the doorway. “He’s lucky to have a dad like you, sir.”

Hotch smiles softly and crosses the distance to sit beside you, the mattress sinking beneath your combined weight. “Thank you,” he says. “I’ll be honest, it's hard to feel like a good dad some days with our job.”

You bump him with your shoulder, or at least that’s your intention.You more or less use your entire arm to nudge him just barely. “You give him all the time you’re able, we all see that. If we do, Jack definitely does.”

You pass him the picture frame and smile. Hotch smiles in turn, his lips together. “Thank you,” he says as he places it back on the nightstand. “I hope he grows into a good man.”

“With you as his father, there’s no doubt. There ought to be more dads like you out there to teach their sons how to be men.” Your smile falters and your voice grows small. “Maybe then they wouldn’t try to see just how far they can push the envelope.”

Tears spring to your eyes and you use the back of your hand to clumsily wipe them away. Turn off the waterworks, you chide yourself. Your temples already throb from how much the alcohol, first round of tears, and vomiting dehydrated you, no need to compound it now with more tears.

Hotch says your name quietly. “You can talk to me, you know.” He pats your hand that rests atop the bedsheets. “I’m not your boss right now, I’m your friend.”

Your lip quivers as you stare blankly at the wall ahead. “If I talk about it, that means I let it happen. I’m a fucking FBI agent, Hotch. I should know better than to drink that much. I should—”

Hotch’s brow pinches. “Woah, woah, woah,” he starts, “where is this coming from? You know better than anyone that how much you drink doesn’t matter, that doesn’t entitle anyone else to you or your body. And fuck if you’re an agent, you’re allowed to go and enjoy drinks and a night out without worrying if some asshole is going to try and take advantage of you. I think I scared him within an inch of his life, too. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

But it’s not about Andrew. It’s not about tonight anymore. Tears slip over your lash line.They’re hot and fat and you hate how they have little minds of their own, dropping freely down your cheeks. You know what he says is true. Hell, you preach it to everyone, especially when you teach self defense at the local university. What you wear is never an excuse for someone to touch you. How you dance isn’t an excuse for someone to grope you. How much you drink isn’t an excuse for someone to lay claim to your flesh. The only thing that means yes is explicit, enthusiastic consent. You know this. You teach this.

But right now, it’s so hard to believe because that’s what you had to fight so hard to teach yourself when you first had to learn what happened wasn’t your fault.

You drop your head into your hands and stifle a sob. “God, it was nearly ten fucking years ago.”

“What was ten years ago?” Hotch asks, his voice soft and kind.

Oh God. You’d said that out loud.

You scrub your hands over your face and curse as you smear mascara into your eye. “Fuck!” you exclaim as your hand flies to your eye instinctively.

“I’ve got something I think can help,” Hotch says as he rises from the bed and darts out of the room. From your point of view, you can’t see anything but you hear bottles rummaging around from where you imagine is the bathroom out in the hall. When he returns he carries a small green package in his hand. He crouches in front of you and peels back the plastic film on the container. With two fingers he extracts a wipe and folds it in half. As he reaches for your face he hesitates, wipe paused in mid air above your cheek. “Is this alright?” he asks.

Sniffling, you nod. With one hand, Hotch gingerly wraps his fingers around your wrist. As he pulls it away, he uses his other hand to place the cool moist towelette against your eye. He holds it there for a moment before he begins to wipe and blot at the black swirls of mascara that had dried in tear stained patterns around your eyes and cheeks and whatever vestiges of eyeshadow remained. Once that wipe is fully soiled, he retrieves a fresh one; repeating the gesture on the other eye before moving on and clearing away what remained of your face and lip makeup. You don’t speak while he does this, and you don’t have to. You needed it. You needed that. You needed someone. You needed him. A friend. Someone that would ask no questions and just show up for you when you needed them most. No questions asked. And when he did ask questions, when Hotch did, there was no expectation to answer. But right now, in this strange moment, in Aaron Hotchner’s apartment, in his bed no less, you felt like you could finally tell someone.

“I was a teenager,” you say as he takes one final swipe at your cheek.

His hand freezes along your jawline and his eyes lock on yours. “You don’t have to do this,” he says gently, lowering his hand.

“If I don’t say it now on what courage the alcohol left in my system is giving me, I’m afraid I never will.”

Hotch sits back on his heels. “Alright.”

“I was dating an older guy at the time. I was a freshman in college. He was a senior; vice president of his fraternity. He came from a wealthy family, too. I was naive and so excited to be dating someone like that, someone with status. I grew up comfortably, but not that well off. He took me to nice dinners and bought me expensive gifts. We had a physical relationship, and it started out fine enough.” You pause and take a deep breath. “But we started fighting. He wouldn’t,” you pause. “I couldn’t get him to talk to me or communicate in any way that led to resolution when we did. He’d just keep apologizing and told me that he’d do better next time. He’d start kissing me to interrupt and then his hands would be in my pants and I just,” you stop and shake your head. “I thought if I could just deal with what he did physically, that things would be fine again if I just pretended I liked what was happening and got it over with. I thought that we’d go back to the fun, happy go lucky couple everyone knew us as. Until it happened again, and again, and again. When he graduated I finally felt safe enough to break things off once there was distance between us. I knew something had felt off about those experiences. It never occurred to me that that was assault.”

“You suffered through numerous unwanted physical advances because he emotionally manipulated you through stonewalling.” Hotch says quietly. It’s not an explanation, but validation of your experience.

A choked laugh escapes your lips. “I know that now. At the time, I thought assault was like what you see on TV. That it’s some stranger in an alley that blitz attacks you. I never thought it could be someone you knew, let alone someone you were in what you believed was a loving and committed relationship.” You shake your head again, a wry smile playing on your lips. “Imagine my surprise when I learned that the perpetrators were almost alway statistically someone the victim knows.”

A warm hand slips into yours. You look up and Hotch is looking at you intently. “What happened wasn’t your fault.” He says, squeezing your hand.

You lick your chapped lips and drop your eyes, nodding. “It took a long time for me to learn that.”

“I can’t imagine how hard that must have been,” Hotch says. “To have gone through that alone,” he shakes his head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” you reply, because what else was there to say? “I wasn’t completely alone. I did go to counseling throughout the remainder of my time in school, they had services for the students. There was a support group, too; one for people who’d experienced sexual violence. It was there I really learned that things weren’t my fault. Other people had experienced similar things. Without that, I don’t think I’d have made it through honestly. I definitely wouldn’t be here.”

His hand squeezes around yours once more. “I’m glad that you are.” He smiles and a dimple forms in his cheek. “I know I'm a better man for having known you. The team, hell, the impact you have on the lives of those going through the worst possible moments of their lives in these cases we work…you have touched so many lives for the better. Please never, ever forget that.”

You smile crookedly and it feels somewhat genuine. “What do you think gets me through the day?”

The throbbing in your temples intensifies suddenly and you screw your eyes shut, your hands moving instinctively to rub them. “God, I’m going to be so hungover in the morning.”

Hotch claps his hands together. “Let’s see if we can’t get ahead of that.”

He leaves the room and when he returns he has a glass of water. “Here,” he says and passes you the cup.

You graciously accept it and take a long drink, the cool water soothing your throat, raw from crying and vomiting. “Thank you,” you murmur.

“It would probably help if you got some sleep. Do you feel up to taking a shower?”

You scoff, “Ok, Hotch. I threw up and it helped a little bit, but I’m not that sober.”

He chuckles and puts his hands up in surrender. “Fair enough. Let me at least get you some clothes. I know sleeping in a cocktail dress won’t be too comfortable.”

“Do you know?” you tease.

He presses his lips together. “Let me go see what I can find.”

You exhale a short laugh as he disappears from view and you fall back onto the mattress, a dull thud echoing as your body hits the sheets. You heave out a big sigh and stare at the ceiling. “This is a weird fucking night.”

You close your eyes and behind closed lids, it feels like you’re spinning. Yep, definitely not sober. You open your eyes and lazily reach up to start pulling bobby pins from your hair.

“Alright, I’ve got a pair of sweats and an old academy hoodie that should fit you.”

At the sound of Hotch’s voice, you let your head loll to the side. “You look absurdly tall from this angle,” you muse.

Hotch chuckles, “Spoken like someone desperately in need of sleep.” He steps into the room and drops the clothes onto the bed.

“Hotch?” you question, ignoring his last comment.

You roll onto your side and push yourself back into a sitting position. He arches an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Why is it you’ve got makeup wipes in your apartment?” You inhale sharply. “Ooo, are you secretly a drag performer?”

Hotch laughs. “I am not a drag performer, though I do think Anderson does drag brunch on Saturday mornings if I remember right.”

You blink twice. “I’m sorry, and you’re only telling me this now?”

Hotch shrugs. “I’m surprised you don’t know about it. Garcia does.”

Your jaw drops. “Garcia knows?? Oh, when I get my hands on her—”

“To answer your question though,” Hotch butts in, an amused glint shining in his eyes. “They’re Beth’s.”

A smile pulls at your lips. “Beth keeps things at your apartment? What are we talking, like, a couple of things on the counter? A drawer?”

Hotch’s eyes drop to the floor as a scarlet blush creeps up his neck and spreads across his cheeks.

“Oh my God, this is serious isn’t it?” You feel the apples of your cheeks as your smile widens. “Spill, Hotch! Should I be looking at outfits for the wedding?”

To that, Hotch raises his hands as a smile splits his lips. “Calm down,” he laughs. “We’re not quite at wedding bells, but we do see each other almost every weekend. With the commute on the train, it is easy to have a drawer or two at one another’s apartments.”

You feel like kicking your feet, you’re so happy. If anyone deserved this kind of joy and love in their life, it was Hotchner. God knows he deserved it after all the hell he’d been through, all the trauma he survived.

“I’m really happy for you,” you say. “Beth is a remarkable woman”.

Hotch nods, a sheepish smile playing on his lips. “She is.”

You reach over and pull the clothes onto your lap. “Thanks, again, Hotch.” You toy with the sleeve of the hoodie in hand. “As horrified as I was when I realized I’d called you instead of Emily, I’m glad you came. I’m glad it was you.”

“We’re a team. We’re family,” Hotch replies. He leans against the doorframe. “Hell, I’m old enough to be your father. Maybe that’s why I’ve always felt a bit more protective of you, anyway. So, when I heard your voice on the line, there was no hesitation. I’d like to think if I had a daughter and she were in trouble, that someone in her life would do the same.”

You spring off of the bed, a little uncoordinated due to alcohol still gently buzzing in your veins at this point, and throw your arms around him. You bury your face in his neck and though, muffled, you say, “Thank you, Aaron. Thank you so much, for everything.” You don’t need to say what for, he knows. Your gratitude extends far beyond just rescuing you from the night club.

His arms snake around you, his palms pressed flat against the middle of your back as he squeezes you tightly.

“You’re so welcome,” he says into your hair. “I’m so proud of you, you know. Don’t ever forget that.” He pulls away just so and presses a fatherly kiss to your hairline, “I’ll be on the couch if you need anything. Don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

You nod and brush away a stubborn tear. God, you’d think you’d have nothing left in the tank at this point. You stifle a yawn as you close the door. The clothes Hotch left you fit well enough; the warmth and coziness of the fleece lined fabrics acting as security blanket as you tuck yourself in between the sheets. You barely remember to flick off the lamp on the bedside table before crashing onto the pillows where the heaviness of sleep finally drags you under to the sweet realm of nothingness.

Three things are incredibly clear the second you wake up: one, it’s too bright and you have to squint against the white rays of sunlight cutting through the slats in the blinds; two, your mouth feels like it’s stuffed full of cotton balls, you swallow but there’s not even an inkling of saliva to wet your dry throat; and three, it feels like someone has been slamming on a timpani inside of your skull.

You exude a long, slow groan into the pillow before rolling onto your side to get a glimpse of the alarm clock on Hotch’s nightstand. The red numbers blink back 10:23AM. There’s a fresh glass of water on the nightstand alongside two tablets and a folded piece of paper.

Your brow furrows as you prop yourself onto your elbow and reach for the note. You unfold it with one hand and in Hotch’s tight, neat scrawl it reads:

Ran out to grab a few things. I left some aspirin there on the table. You should probably take them.

-Hotch

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you mutter as you toss the paper onto the bed.

You try not to gag as the pills start dissolving on your tongue and quickly chase it with the glass of water. After washing them down, you make a rather unattractive display of gulping down the remaining water. You drink it so quickly that some spills over the glass and you have to use the sleeve of your sweater, well Hotch’s sweater oops, to wipe off your face.

It doesn’t sound like anyone else is home. Pushing back the sheets, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand and for the first time, the room isn’t spinning. Even though Hotch is out, you still walk on the balls of your feet as if you need to be quiet. It feels strange to be stepping out into the hallways and walking into his bathroom. Sure, you’d swung by his apartment a few times to drop off a file or other work necessities. You’d never been in his house though.

Walking in and using his bathroom feels so strange, like an invasion of privacy. Like his bedroom, it’s simply decorated. A shower curtain decorated with blue and green swirls lines one wall. Plush bath mats of a similar blue line the area in front of the shower and sink. His very few toiletries sit in a neat row to the left of the faucet on the sink. He’s a Gillette guy, interesting. You’d always taken him for an Old Spice sort of man. You hear the front door and stop profiling his bathroom, instead, quickly using it for its intended purposes. You can’t help yourself though as you dry off your hands. You pull open the two drawers beneath the sink and smile to yourself. The one holds all of Hotch’s things: razor, comb, toothpaste, the usual; the other is clearly Beth’s: makeup, hair elastics, and the green makeup wipes sit neatly inside among other items. You bump the drawers closed with your hips before making your way back out into the hallway.

“Hey, Hotch,” you say, “Thanks again so much for—” Words fail you as you look up and see JJ and Prentiss in his living room.

Wide smiles spread across their faces. JJ spreads her fingers and holds her hands in the air, “Surprise!”

Brow furrowed, you cross the room and let them pull you into quick hugs.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you all, but what’s going on? Where’s Hotch?”

Emily’s perfectly manicured eyebrows arc toward her hairline as she tilts her head, “He thought you could use a pick me up.”

“So, he called you guys?”

JJ nods. “We’ve all had rough nights, followed by even rougher mornings.” She inclines her head toward Emily. “Remember the morning Hotch ran that triathlon?”

Emily cringes. “God, don’t remind me!”

“Where is Hotch, anyway?” you ask, craning your neck around Emily and JJ.

“Oh,” Emily says, her lips forming the shape of the word. “He should be right behind us he—”

Just then, the front door swings open and it’s not Hotch.

“There she is!” exclaims Penelope. She waltzes into the apartment, adjusting the massive purse on her shoulder as she does so. Her knee length pink skirt swishes around her legs as she crosses the room to pull you into an embrace. The smell of jasmine clings to you as your face is buried in her chest and neck. She pulls away after a long moment, though her hands don’t drop from your shoulders. Her eyes scan your face. “Oh, sweetheart, look at you. Do not fret! Penelope is here to help get you feeling refreshed and revitalized!”

You look to JJ and Emily for help. “I look like shit, don’t I? Be honest.”

JJ shakes her head. “Noooo.”

Emily presses her lips together and tilts her head back and forth, “Well—”

JJ slaps a hand against her stomach and Emily winces. “What?!”

“Drink this,” Penelope says. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a bottle of yellow liquid. You take it and turn to read the label, Crisp Lemon Berry Pedialyte. “It’s got electrolytes. You need those!”

“Yes ma’am,” you say agreeably and crack open the bottle. The label makes it seem like it’ll be better than it is, but the taste is bearable. You need as much hydration as you can get at the moment, so you don’t complain.

“Sorry I took so long!” Hotch’s voice fills the room as he enters carrying a drink tray of coffees and an extra one in his free hand. “Line at the cafe was nearly out the door.”

“Oh my God, is that coffee?” you ask, salivating at the thought.

Penelope points a purple polished finger at you. “Finish that, then you can have coffee.”

He sets a cup down on the kitchen table before approaching them in the living room. “Non-fat, vanilla latte for you,” Hotch says, passing a cup to JJ. “London fog for Emily, can’t quite shake England there, can you?” he teases as Emily accepts the cup, not before flicking him off though with a cheeky grin playing on her berry red lips. Iced matcha green tea latte—”

“With soy?” Penelope questions, eyeing the cup suspiciously.

“With soy,” Hotch confirms and she accepts it happily.

“Last but not least, almond milk mocha for you.” He holds the cup out and smiles warmly. You hold his gaze for a moment, the exchange carrying more than a simple ‘thank you’ would allow for. He dips his chin just slightly in acknowledgment. As you reach for the cup, Penelope’s hand shoots out to intercept, her bangles jangling against her wrist.

“I’ll take that!” she chirps before taking a long sip of her own drink.

“Hey!” you whine.

Penelope gestures toward the Pedialyte with your coffee. “Finish!”

You roll your eyes and reluctantly chug the remaining liquid. “There,” you say and shake the empty bottle. “Happy?”

“Very!” pipes Penelope. “Oh! Here!” she reaches into her bag and withdraws a drawstring bag. Did she own the Mary Poppins bag? How did all of this fit inside of her purse? “I stopped by your apartment and grabbed a few things. Toothbrush, deodorant, change of clothes, the works.”

“Oh, Penelope Garcia, you are my angel!” You gratefully take the bag into your hands and disappear down the hall into the restroom.

The aspirin has started to kick in alongside what attempts you’ve made to rehydrate and the throbbing in your skull has dwindled to a soft drumming. Searching through the contents of the bag, you praise Garcia’s name as you find your skincare and toothbrush.

It takes all of ten minutes for you to brush your teeth, wash your face, and style your hair up and out of your face. Garcia had packed you two different styles of underwear, (leave it to her to give you the choice of thong or bikini styled undergarments. She’s probably also one of the only people you’d feel comfortable rummaging through your underwear drawer if you’re being honest) a pair of leggings, and a cropped Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. You change quickly and fold the sweats and sweater Hotch had lent you. You throw all of your toiletries into the bag and shrug it over shoulder before scooping Hotch’s clothes into your arms.

Hotch and the girls are sitting around the coffee table on the couch and recliner, enjoying their beverages. Penelope smiles widely when you emerge.

“There she is!” she exclaims. “I brought your Birkenstocks too. They’re by the door. Hotch said you’d worn heels out and I knew you definitely wouldn’t want to be in those.”

“Good call,” you say and take your coffee from Penelope. You take a slow sip of the warm mocha and moan.

Everyone laughs. Emily checks her watch and shoots up. “We better get going if we’re going to catch Anderson’s performance.”

Your eyes widen at that. “Wait.”

Emily smiles and nods. “Yep. He comes on in about an hour. We figured you’d need a nice greasy brunch after last night. The place he performs at makes a mean breakfast sandwich.”

“And potatoes with sausage gravy!” Penelope adds. “Though I’m more partial to mushroom gravy because precious baby piggies should not be slaughtered for my breakfast.”

“Okayyy, Penelope,” JJ teases as she loops an arm around her shoulders. “I’m pretty sure they added veggie sausage to their menu just for you.”

“Yeah,” Emily agrees. “They were probably afraid she’d hack their system and mess with their food shipments otherwise.”

Penelope looks over her shoulder as JJ guides her to the door. “I could do that!”

“Gonna pretend I didn’t hear that!” Hotch calls after them as JJ and Penelope leave the apartment.

“I wonder if they remember I’m the one with the car keys,” Emily says, her lips drawn into a warm smile. “Meet you downstairs?”

You nod. “Yes, I’ll be there in a second.”

Emily nods and leaves. You cross the living room toward the door where Hotch stands, one arm holding it open.

“Hotch I—

He shakes his head. “Don’t.”

“No, Hotch. I’m serious. What you did for me last night, I can’t even begin to thank you.”

“And you don’t have to,” he says, his tone firm. You look up and meet his unwavering gaze. “I would do it again without question. Like I said last night, we’re not just a team, we’re family. We look out for each other. We pull each other up when we’re at our lowest. In fact, I should be the one thanking you.”

You can’t help the quizzical expression that pinches your features. “For what? All I did was wake you up in the middle of the night, throw up in your bushes, and kick you out of your own bed on a Friday night.”

Hotch laughs and shakes his head. “Okay, well when you say it like that, it definitely doesn’t look good. What I was going to say though, is thank you for trusting me. I know that I wasn’t who you expected last night, but I’m glad I could be the one to help you when you needed it. Furthermore, I’m incredibly grateful that you felt as though you could trust me to tell me about your past. I know that can’t have been easy. And if you ever need someone to talk to, I hope it’s clear now that you’ll always have a listening ear with me.”

A surge of emotion courses through you in that moment and you can’t help but launch yourself at him. You loop an arm around his neck and awkwardly attempt to hug him with the other arm that stills holds his clothes, the bundle of fabric creating an odd wedge between your bodies. Hotch is taken aback by the gesture, but his arms comfortably fold around your back and he squeezes you gently.

“I could’ve used someone like you, you know.” You say after a moment. “I didn’t really have any older male figures I could talk to at the time it happened.”

“Well, I’m here now,” he assures you. “And I’m not going anywhere. That is, until Strauss gets sick of me.”

You pull back and scoff. “Yeah, like that’ll happen any time soon.” You hold the clothes out to him. “Here! Before I walk out with them.”

“It’s actually a bit breezy out there,” Hotch says as he takes the bundle and passes you back the sweater. “Why don’t you take this?”

You reach out and accept it, pulling it back into your chest. “I’ll bring it with me to the office on Monday.”

“Sounds good,” he says with a smile. “Oh! And you’ll probably want these.” He walks away and while he’s off grabbing whatever it is he’s talking about, you scoop your heels up off the floor and slide into your Birkenstocks.

Hotch returns with a pair of black Ray Bans. “If I know one thing about hangovers,” he says as he passes them to you. “It’s how horrible a sunny day can be on the eyes.”

He reaches for the door knob and pulls it open for you. “Enjoy your weekend. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

As you slide his sunglasses up the bridge of your nose, you curse. “Shit! The report on the McPherson case. I was going to work on it today. I’ll email it to you first thing tomorrow.”

“It’s already taken care of,” Hotch explains. “Emily and JJ took care of it for you before coming over this morning.” He’d orchestrated everything with them as soon as he’d woken up to make sure you had nothing to worry about today except for fighting your hangover. He’d not told them everything of course, he’d never betray your trust like that. Some things the team didn’t need to know, and that was okay. If you were ever ready to tell them, he knew you would in time. For now, he just told them that you’d had a tough night and would need some TLC from the girl gang. They hadn’t even bothered with follow up questions. The three girls were ready to drop what they were doing and change their plans to be able to bring comfort and fun to your Saturday morning. He’d have done the same thing for any of them if they’d been in your shoes.

Your lips quirk into a small smile knowing further words weren’t necessary to convey your gratitude and appreciation for all he’d done and continues to do. “I’ll see you, Monday.”

He smiles in turn, “See you, Monday.”

#aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #f!reader #aaron hotchner comfort #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #hotch #aaron hotchner x female reader

502 notes · View notes

kathlare · 1 month ago

Text

snowbound accord

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In a snow-dusted Finnish town, Lando and Amelie share a lighthearted moment that tests Lando's comfort zone in an unexpected way.

Wordcount: 1.4 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

January 15th, 2025 - Lapland, Finland

The crisp January air bit at Lando's cheeks as he sat in the driver's seat of their rented car, parked outside a modest supermarket in a small Finnish town. Snow blanketed the ground, and the faint glow of the streetlights reflected off the icy roads. Lando drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, glancing over at Amelie, who sat in the passenger seat with a mischievous grin playing on her lips.

—Why do I have to go in?— he asked, his voice tinged with both amusement and exasperation. —You’re the one who said we’re out.—

Amelie turned to him, her dark eyes twinkling with amusement. She adjusted her scarf, her curls falling over her shoulder. —Because, Lan, it’s your fault we ran out in the first place. You’re the one who couldn’t keep your hands off me.—

Lando groaned, his head falling back against the headrest. —Oh, come on! You’re just as guilty.—

—True,— she admitted with a shrug, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his cheek. —But I’m not the one who’s embarrassed to walk into a store and buy condoms. So… off you go.—

He turned to her with a pleading look. —Ames, it’s freezing out there. And you know people are going to recognize me. Do you have any idea how awkward that’s going to be?—

—Not my problem,— she said sweetly, folding her arms across her chest. —Unless you want to go without tonight.—

Lando’s eyes widened, and he sat up straighter. —You’re bluffing.—

—Try me,— Amelie said, raising an eyebrow. Her voice was calm, but the playful challenge in her expression made it clear she wasn’t kidding.

Lando stared at her, his mouth slightly open in disbelief. He knew Amelie well enough to realize she wasn’t bluffing. She leaned back in her seat, her lips twitching as she tried to hold back a smug smile, and he let out an exaggerated groan.

—Fine! You win. But if anyone asks me for a photo while I’m holding them, I’m blaming you.—

—Deal,— she said breezily, reaching over to pat his thigh. —Now go on, lover boy. The sooner you go, the sooner we can get back to the hotel.— Her voice dropped slightly, her tone suddenly more sultry. —And the sooner we can finish what we started.—

Lando shot her a look, a mix of irritation and amusement, as he unbuckled his seatbelt. —You’re impossible.—

—And yet you love me,— she called after him as he stepped out into the biting cold.

The snow crunched under his boots as Lando jogged toward the supermarket, tugging his hoodie tighter around himself. He shoved his hands into his pockets, the thought of walking into a store to buy condoms making him cringe. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done it before, but this time felt different. Maybe it was the thought of someone recognizing him or, worse, someone filming him.

The automatic doors slid open, and Lando stepped into the brightly lit supermarket, the warmth hitting him like a wave. He rubbed his hands together, muttering under his breath about how Amelie always managed to win their arguments. The store was small and mostly empty, with just a handful of locals wandering the aisles. Perfect—fewer chances of anyone noticing him.

He headed straight for the aisle he assumed would have what he needed, his head down and his hands jammed into his hoodie pocket. When he found the right section, he glanced around quickly, relieved to see no one nearby. His eyes scanned the shelves, and he spotted the boxes he was looking for.

Why do they have to put them so high up? Lando thought with a huff. He reached for a box, then hesitated. One box or two? He grimaced, knowing full well that Amelie would absolutely drag him back here if they ran out again. Sighing, he grabbed two boxes and quickly tucked them under his arm.

Just as he turned to leave the aisle, Lando caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A group of teenagers had wandered into the store, and one of them froze, their eyes widening in recognition. Lando could almost hear the gears turning in their heads as they nudged their friends, whispering furiously.

Shit.

Lando quickly looked around for something—anything—to mask what he was holding. He spotted a display of chips nearby and grabbed a large bag of sour cream and onion, awkwardly balancing it on top of the boxes. For good measure, he snatched a bottle of soda and a random pack of gum, piling them into his arms like he was prepping for a movie night.

As he tried to maneuver toward the checkout, one of the teenagers approached him, phone already out.

—Excuse me, are you Lando Norris?— they asked, their voice tinged with nervous excitement.

Lando forced a smile, shifting the items in his arms to make sure the condoms were well-hidden. —Uh, yeah, that’s me. Hi.—

—Oh my god, can we get a picture?— another one chimed in, already pulling their phone up for a selfie.

—Sure,— Lando said, trying to sound casual while internally screaming. He adjusted the chips and soda so they blocked the boxes completely, then leaned in for a quick photo.

—Thanks, man!— the first teen said, beaming. —Good luck this season!—

—Thanks, appreciate it,— Lando replied, already moving toward the self-checkout. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone else, praying that no one else in the store recognized him. The last thing he needed was a video of him holding condoms making the rounds on social media.

At the self-checkout, Lando quickly scanned the items, his fingers fumbling slightly as he tried to hurry. The machine beeped loudly as he scanned the boxes, and he winced, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention. He stuffed everything into a bag, paid, and bolted for the exit.

The cold air hit him like a slap as he stepped back outside, but he didn’t slow down until he reached the car. He yanked the door open, practically throwing himself into the driver’s seat.

Amelie looked up from her phone, her expression immediately shifting to amusement at the sight of his flushed cheeks and slightly frazzled demeanor. —Well? Mission accomplished?—

Lando dropped the bag onto her lap with a dramatic sigh. —You owe me. Big time.—

Amelie peeked into the bag, her lips twitching as she held up one of the boxes. —Two boxes? Someone’s feeling optimistic.—

—Don’t start,— Lando groaned, leaning back against the seat and running a hand through his curls. —Some kids recognized me. They wanted photos. Do you have any idea how hard it is to hold condoms and look casual at the same time?—

Amelie burst out laughing, her head tilting back as her shoulders shook with mirth. —Oh, poor baby. Did they catch you with your naughty little purchases?—

Lando glared at her, though the corners of his mouth twitched, betraying his amusement. —You think this is funny, don’t you?— he muttered, crossing his arms.

—Hilarious, actually,— Amelie said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. She leaned over, cupping his cheek with her warm hand, and kissed him softly on the lips. —Thank you for being such a good sport, Lan.—

—Yeah, yeah, you better make it worth it later,— Lando mumbled against her lips, though his tone was light and teasing. He couldn’t stay annoyed with her, not when she was looking at him like that, her eyes sparkling with laughter and something softer that always made his chest tighten.

She pulled back and opened the bag again, inspecting the rest of the items. —Chips? Soda? Gum? Wow, you really went all out.—

—I needed a cover, okay?— Lando said defensively. —I wasn’t about to walk around holding just condoms while people filmed me.—

Amelie laughed again, her laughter softening into a fond smile as she reached for his hand. —You’re so dramatic. It’s cute.—

—Not dramatic,— he shot back, though he laced his fingers with hers. —Practical. Big difference.—

—Right, practical,— Amelie teased, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. —Well, your practicality has saved the night, so I suppose I should thank you properly later.— She tilted her head, her lips quirking in that coy smile that drove him crazy.

Amelie’s fingers trailed lightly over the back of Lando’s hand, and her teasing smile deepened as she leaned closer. The small space of the car seemed to shrink even further, the air between them charged with that familiar heat they could never quite contain.

Lando's eyes darted down to her lips, his earlier embarrassment dissolving as he leaned forward. —You’re impossible, you know that?— he murmured, his voice low and husky.

—Mmhmm, but you love it,— Amelie whispered, her voice teasing yet soft. Her free hand reached up to toy with the strings of his hoodie, pulling him closer.

—Yeah, I do,— Lando admitted, and before she could fire back with another quip, his lips were on hers.

The kiss was slow at first, gentle and sweet, but it quickly deepened as Lando tilted his head, his hand cupping her cheek to pull her closer. Amelie’s fingers curled into the fabric of his hoodie, holding him firmly against her as the kiss grew more heated. He felt the familiar thrill rush through him, the way it always did when she touched him, kissed him, smiled at him.

Amelie shifted in her seat, angling herself toward him, and Lando couldn’t help but let out a low hum of approval as her lips moved against his. His hand slid down to her waist, tugging her slightly closer despite the awkward positioning in the cramped car. She let out a soft laugh against his mouth, the sound muffled and breathy, before returning the kiss with equal fervor.

—You know,— Lando murmured between kisses, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke, —we could just stay right here...—

Amelie pulled back slightly, her eyes half-lidded and her lips already swollen. She raised an eyebrow, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. —In the car? Really, Lan? You’re bold.—

—What can I say? You drive me crazy,— he shot back with a cheeky grin, leaning in to capture her lips again.

This time, Amelie let him linger for a moment longer before she pulled back, pressing her hands against his chest to keep some distance between them. Lando groaned softly in protest, his head dropping to rest against hers.

—Lando,— she said, her voice firm but still laced with laughter. —As much as I’d love to let this continue... we’re not doing this here. Not in the car. Not in front of a supermarket.—

He sighed dramatically, his forehead still against hers. —You’re killing me, Ames.—

Amelie smirked, brushing her nose against his in a playful gesture. —We’ve got a hotel room waiting for us, lover boy. And you went through all that trouble to get these,— she said, holding up one of the boxes of condoms with a raised eyebrow. —Wouldn’t want your efforts to go to waste, would we?—

Lando let out a low chuckle, finally leaning back against his seat as he raked a hand through his curls. —You’re right. Let’s go back.— Then he shot her a sly grin. —But once we’re there, no more teasing.—

Amelie laughed, patting his thigh before settling back into her seat. —No promises, Lan. You know I love teasing you.—

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he started the car. —You’re lucky I’m obsessed with you.—

—And you’re lucky you’re cute,— Amelie quipped, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his cheek before buckling her seatbelt.

As Lando pulled out of the parking lot, the grin on his face was impossible to hide. The memory of the awkward supermarket trip already felt distant, replaced by the anticipation of the night ahead. With Amelie beside him, even the most embarrassing moments somehow became worth it.

53 notes · View notes

rintarosluvr · 1 month ago

Text

𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊

• Sylus x Reader

Topics: flashbacks to your first kiss, Y/n being jealous, unspoken feelings and angst!

Note : none of :)

Word count: 4k

Chap.3

Chap.4

"Why does it smell like fire?" Vanessa asks, stepping out of her room, towel around her neck, her hair still damp from her shower

"Eydis is cooking" you mumble, your focus on your laptop as you sit at the kitchen island

"For how long?" she asks, her tone laced with concern

"Like an hour or two" you sigh, glancing at the trail of smoke still lingering in the air

"Alright, I give up!" Eydis suddenly announces, tossing the smoking pan into the sink

The sound of water hissing against hot metal fills the kitchen, accompanied by a fresh plume of smoke

"About time" you say, barely hiding your amusement "You could've just gone next door. Kaori made too many pancakes anyway"

"And you're telling me this now?" he gasp, turning to glare at you

"You told me and I quote 'Don't disturb me, I'm in my Gordon Ramsay era' Wish I was lying" you say with a shrug

"Whatever" Eydis grumbles, throwing a hand in the air before heading toward the door "I'm out"

"Finally" Vanessa mutters, watching him leave before turning to you "So, did you read the email?"

"Yeah" you say "It's pretty straightforward. We just have to film stuff that catches our interest while we're here"

She nods "That doesn't sound too bad. Think we can actually get it done?"

"If we remind each other about it, sure" you say

"Alright, I'm starving, so I'll be next door too" Vanessa says, already heading toward the door

"I'll join in a bit" you reply, turning your attention back to your laptop

You hear the door shut behind Vanessa and immediately switch tabs on your laptop

Pulling up your assignment, you double check the file before attaching it to the email

With a sigh of relief, you hit "Send" to submit it to your professor

You don't hear Sylus exit the bathroom, too focused on your laptop, until you suddenly feel his presence looming behind you

You tense up turning around to face him, your breath catching when you realize how close he is

His body is just inches from yours and he reaches behind you, his hand brushing against your side as he grabs something off the counter

Without thinking, you instinctively lean back until you feel the small counter against your back

Sylus pauses for a moment, his eyes meeting yours

"What are you doing?" you ask him

"Grabbing my watch" he says, You glance at his hand as it reaches past you, the faint sound of his watch clicking softly as he grabs it from the counter

The closeness of his body is undeniable and the space between you two feels charged, like the air itself is waiting for something to happen

You raise an eyebrow still trying to steady yourself "A bit close, don't you think?"

He smirks, not moving away "seems like you were bluffing yesterday" he says, his voice low, almost teasing

"I'm not b-" you cut yourself off, unsure of what to say

Sylus finally takes a step back, still holding his watch but the playful energy hasn't left his eyes "You sure?" he asks, as if daring you to react

You open your mouth to respond, but all you can do is look at him, Sylus notices your hesitation, the way your eyes flicker to his chest before quickly pulling away

His smirk deepens as he leans slightly closer, his voice low but deliberate "What's the matter? You seemed so sure yesterday"

You swallow, fighting to keep your composure "i wasn't bluffing" you mutter, trying to sound confident

Sylus tilts his head with a knowing smirk "Right" he says "seems like I won"

Him whispering send a rush of heat and before you can stop yourself, you place your hands on his chest and push him back, needing some space, You sit up straight

"I'm leaving" you mutter, your voice shaky despite your best efforts

You quickly stand and walk toward the door

but as you move, you feel your heart thumping loudly against your chest

You try to steady your breathing but the effect Sylus has on you lingers, making your skin tingle with each step

You know if you look back, you'll see that infuriatingly perfect smile of his, so you don't, you swing the door open and step outside, your mind is spinning from what just happened

You bury your face in your hands, trying to shake off the lingering tension

"You okay?" Kazuo's voice breaks through your thoughts and you look up to see him standing there, concerned

"I'm okay" you reply quickly, though you feel anything but

"You look exactly like when you kissed Sylus back in freshman year" Kazuo says

"Please don't remind me" you groan

Kazuo laughs softly, clearly amused "Wanna take a walk?"

You nod eagerly, relieved for the distraction. "Yeah, please"

"Alright, let's go" he says, gesturing for you to follow as you both walk off together, leaving the chaos behind for a moment of peace

[Flashback]

"Just do it!" Davina urges her eyes sparkling

"Just go up to some stranger and kiss them?" you ask her, eyebrows raised in disbelief

"Sure, why not?" she shrugs

"I don't know about this" you mumble, feeling the butterflies flutter nervously in your stomach

"Alright, try to kiss one of your friends then" she suggests with a sly grin

"Definitely not happening" you immediately say, the thought of it way too awkward

"Okay, fine, what about the tall guy that's been staring at you all night?" she says, pointing across the room

You raise an eyebrow and glance in the direction she's looking "Yeah, I don't know about that"

"What? Why not? He's definitely interested!" she insists

"Davi" you mumble

"I'll be right back" she says quickly, leaving your side and heading toward the crowd

"Told you she's a lot" Amari says, leaning in with a smirk as he watches her go

"And you were right" you sigh

"But you did tell her you wanted to kiss someone" Amari points out "And now she made it her mission. Good luck escaping that"

"I need a drink" you mutter, glancing back at the commotion Davina is causing

Amari chuckles "Saw Leroy at the bar, he can help you out"

You nod, already heading toward the bar to escape the chaos

"Y/n, what's up, how's your first college party treating you?" Leroy asks, leaning casually over the counter with a wide grin

"It's... a lot" you admit

He chuckles "Yeah, they can be overwhelming, so what can I get you?"

"Two shots" you say without hesitation, leaning against the bar

"Two? Jumping in quick, huh?" Leroy teases, already reaching for the bottles

"Desperate times" you mumble under your breath

Leroy chuckles as he fills the two shot glasses and slides them toward you, you down the first one quickly, feeling the burn slide down your throat

"Y/n" Davina's voice cuts through the music, and you glance over your shoulder to see her approaching with an excited grin

"Yeah?" you respond, reaching for the second shot

"I found someone, let's go" she says, practically bouncing on her feet

"Wait, let me take this one first" you mumble, lifting the second glass and downing it just as quickly, you place the empty glass on the counter before Davina grabs your wrist

"No time to waste" she says, dragging you away from the bar and deeper into the crowd

"Dav- wait!" you protest, but she doesn't stop, weaving through the party with a mission only she understands

"He's in there" Davina says, nodding toward the storage room she had shown you earlier, to your surprise, it had been quite spacious for a closet

You sigh, trying to steel your nerves "Okay, give me a mi-"

Before you can finish, she grabs the handle and swings the door open "Tell me how it goes, good luck" she chirps, giving you a smile before shoving you inside and closing the door behind you

The sound of the door clicking shut echoes in the room and you turn to see him standing there, leaning casually against the shelves, his gaze meets yours

"Well, this is unexpected" he says, his voice smooth, laced with amusement

"Why are you here?" you ask, your voice sharper than intended as you try to mask your nerves

Sylus raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips "Your friend said you wanted to see me"

You curse Davina out in your head, already plotting exactly how you'll do it in person later, of course, she'd pull something like this

"Oh" you say, trying to sound nonchalant "She was lying"

He chuckles softly, taking a step closer "Really? She seemed pretty convincing"

"She's good at that" you mutter, avoiding his gaze

"And yet, you're still here" Sylus leans against the shelf, his confidence only adding to your frustration and something else you refuse to name "So, what now?"

"Now, nothing, I don't know why she even asked you to come here, I definitely don't want you to be my first kiss" you mumble, leaning against the counter and placing your hands behind you

Sylus pauses, his head tilting slightly "Your first kiss?" he repeats, stepping closer "You never kissed your ex boyfriend?"

"No... we were thirteen, we didn't do anything but hold hands" you admit, your voice quieter now

He smirks, the confidence in his expression only growing, "And now, you want me to-" "Not you" you cut him off quickly, your words rushed "Just someone, if I knew that sh-"

"And I'm here" he interrupts, leaning in just slightly, his eyes locked on yours "You want it or not?"

You take a small step back but his question stops you in your tracks

"No?" he asks, his tone low, almost teasing

"I'm just nervous" you mumble, feeling hot all of a sudden

"Then I'll take the lead" he says

"You've kissed before?" you ask, your curiosity slipping out before you can stop yourself

"Yeah" he replies simply, his gaze unwavering

You nod, your nerves still there but quieter now as you watch him step closer, this time, you don't move back, your heart pounding as the space between you shrinks

He stops in front of you, his gaze steady and searching "Can I?" he asks, his voice soft but laced with certainty

You nod unable to find your voice, your throat suddenly dry

"Use your words, Y/n" he mumbles

"Yeah, you can" you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper

That's all the confirmation he needs, his hands move to your waist, firm but not forceful

and he effortlessly lifts you to sit on the counter

The cold surface contrasts with the warmth spreading through your body as he steps between your legs, closing the remaining space

His hands move up to cup your face, his touch surprisingly gentle, without thinking, you lean into it, the warmth of his palm grounding you in the moment

The simple action tugs at something deep within him, softening the smug edge he wore earlier

You let your hands find their way to his shoulders, wrapping around them as if instinctively pulling him closer

The tension between you two shifts, turning into something more intimate, more vulnerable, Sylus tilts his head slightly, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheekbones "Relax" he murmurs, his voice barely audible, as if afraid to break the moment

"I am" you reply softly, your voice steady but your heartbeat anything but

His eyes search yours for any hesitation

but instead of waiting, you close the distance, slowly, tentatively, you lean in and press your lips to his

The kiss is soft at first, almost shy

as you try to steady your racing heart, Sylus responds immediately, his hands still cradling your face

His lips move against yours with a confidence that makes your nerves melt away

You feel his grip on your waist tighten slightly, anchoring you in place as the kiss deepens. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, forgetting everything but the warmth and intensity of the moment

When Sylus pulls back, you barely give yourself a second to think. Instinct takes over and you lean forward, closing the distance again

This time, the kiss is bolder fueled by something you can't quite name. Your hands slip from his shoulders to his chest, fisting the fabric of his shirt as you press closer

He doesn't hesitate, one hand sliding from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him

You feel him smile against your lips but you don't stop, deepening the kiss as if trying to prove a point. If he's surprised by your sudden confidence, he doesn't show it

Instead, he matches your energy, his hands steadying you as your fingers explore his jawline, his neck, anywhere you can reach

When you finally break apart, your breaths mingle in the small space between you, Sylus's eyes are darker now, filled with a mix of amusement and something deeper

"So... nervous, huh?" he says, his voice teasing but low enough to send shivers down your spine

You narrow your eyes, trying to mask how flustered you feel "Shut up"

[Present time]

"Okay, how do I look?" you ask, stepping out of the room with a little flourish

Vanessa looks up from her phone but her eyes dart straight to Sylus almost immediately, her lips twitch as if she's holding back a knowing smile

You follow her gaze and meet Sylus's eyes. He's leaning back in his chair, his phone forgotten in his hand, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth quirks up

You raise your eyebrows "Well?"

He takes his time, letting his eyes sweep over you in a way that feels both deliberate and teasing "You look... decent" he says finally

"Decent!?" you repeat, narrowing your eyes

Vanessa snorts "Don't mind him. You look beautiful"

Sylus shrugs the playful glint in his eye betraying his tone "I mean, if you're aiming to just impress random people, sure it's decent"

You roll your eyes, fighting the warmth creeping up your neck "You're impossible"

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he grins up at you "You asked for my opinion. Next time be more specific"

Vanessa groans standing up "Alright, I'm out. Let me know when you two are done being weirdly flirty"

You glare at her leaving through the door before turning to Sylus "You're lucky I don't change just to spite you"

He chuckles as she stand up "Wouldn't matter. You'd still look beautiful"

For a second, you freeze, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice, before you can respond, the door swings open and Eydis strolls in "Yo, everyone's ready" he announces casually, leaning against the doorframe

You blink snapping out of the moment and turning to Eydis "Alright, let's go"

Eydis raises an eyebrow, glancing between you and Sylus "Am I interrupting something?"

"No" you say quickly, brushing past him but you can feel Sylus's amused gaze on your back, you walk out

"Sure doesn't look like it" Eydis mutters just loud enough for you to hear

"Mind your business!" you shoot back, not daring to glance over your shoulder at Sylus

The smirk you can practically feel on his face lingers in your thoughts all the way to the others

"Looking gorgeous as usual" Amari says, giving you an approving nod

"Thanks Mar" you reply with a smile, smoothing out your dress

"Where's my thank you?" comes a voice beside you

You glance over to see Sylus walking just a step closer than necessary

"You won't be getting any" you say flatly,

Sylus chuckles, effortlessly keeping stride with you "That's fine. Actions speak louder than words anyway"

You roll your eyes, refusing to dignify his response. Instead, you focus ahead, where the grand double doors of the gala venue loom closer

The group continues down the hall, the air buzzing with excitement for the Academy's event

As you step inside, the dazzling glow of chandeliers and the soft hum of conversation fill the room, momentarily distracting you from Sylus

[One Hour Later]

You were officially over this event. Sitting in clear view of Sylus as some random girl flirted shamelessly with him was enough to drive you up the wall

"Don't be jealous," Kaori murmurs, leaning in close

"I'm not," you say slowly, narrowing your eyes as the girl reaches up to adjust Sylus's tie, her laugh loud enough to grate your nerves

"Liar" Kaori mumbles, clearly unimpressed "You hate whatever's going on, admit it"

You stay silent, your nails drumming lightly against your glass as the minutes drag by

Suddenly, a pair of hands settle on your shoulders. You glance up to see Leroy grinning down at you

"Wanna smoke?" he asks casually

"Yes, please" you sigh, standing up without hesitation

Amari and Davina catch your movement and follow, the three of you heading for the exit with Leroy leading the way

What you don't notice is Sylus, his focus shifting entirely as he watches you leave.

"Where are they going?" he asks Kazuo, his tone sharper than intended.

"Probably smoking," Kazuo answers nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink. Sylus frowns, his eyes lingering on the door you just walked through

"The after party better be worth it" Davina sighs, leaning against the wall as she rubs her temples

"It's just people talking and talking and talking" Amari grumbles, pulling out his phone to check the time

You chuckle softly, the flick of your lighter echoing in the quiet as you light the joint, taking a slow drag, you let the smoke curl lazily in the air

"Can't believe they thought this would be fun" Leroy shakes his head, taking the joint from you "It's like they forgot we're not fifty"

Davina laughs "Honestly. If I hear one more speech about legacy or whatever, I might scream"

"Same" you mutter, leaning back against the wall "I'd rather be anywhere else right now"

Amari smirks "Well, here's to skipping the boring stuff. Cheers to bad decisions and good company"

You all laugh softly, the tension from the night slowly easing away as you all pass the joint around

"So you and Sylus?" Davina teases as she nudges your arm

"Don't start" you sigh, exhaling a thin stream of smoke before passing the joint to Amari

"What? I'm just saying" she continues "The way he's been looking at you all night? It's like he's got a radar or something"

Leroy chuckles "She's not wrong, Dude's eyes practically follow you around the room"

You roll your eyes leaning your head back against the wall "It's not like that. He can do whatever he wants"

"Sure" Amari says, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he takes a drag "And that's why you've been glaring at that girl all night"

"I wasn't glaring" you mutter

"Uh huh" Davina chuckles "You're lucky she didn't burst into flames from the heat of your death stares"

You groan shaking your head "I hate all of you"

"Love you too" Leroy laughs, passing the joint back to you "But seriously, what do you think? About him?"

You take a drag and shrug "It's just Sylus being Sylus. If he was in love with me like you guys keep saying, why not just confess like yeah, I know he flirts with me but who says it's more than that?”

"So, you're saying you need him to confess for you to believe he feels something?" Davina asks, with a raised eyebrow

"I mean yeah" you mumble exhaling the smoke "If that's the case, then sure"

"I get her, though" Amari spoke up "If a girl kept flirting with me, I'd just think she wants to fuck. That's all"

"Thank you, Mar" you say, passing the joint back to him

"For once he be making sense" Davina says

You chuckle "Don't get used to it, it's a rare moment" you reply glancing at Amari

"Right? Gotta appreciate the rare moments when he makes sense" Davina adds with a smile

Amari shrugs "I make sense all the time, y'all just don't listen"

"sure" you mumble, rolling your eyes "Keep telling yourself that"

You mull over their words "it's gonna take more than flirting and jokes to get me to believe Sylus is serious about anything"

"Fair enough" Leroy nods

You stay behind as the others head inside, answering the call from your mother

"So you'll be able to be back on time?" she asks on the other end

"Yeah, it's a week after the trip why?" you reply, glancing around

"Xiu has this huge opportunity for you but she won't tell me exactly what it is" she explains referring to Mrs.Qin

"Alright, tell her I'll be back by then" you respond, feeling intrigued over the news

"Okay, bye Y/n" she says

"Bye mom" you reply before hanging up

As you slip your phone back into your pocket, you hear the door open and close behind you

"You okay?" a familiar voice asks

You turn, not surprised to find Sylus standing there, his tie halfway undone

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" you ask, trying to hide the sudden annoyance in your chest

"You've been quiet" Sylus says

You frown, trying to brush it off "How would you possibly know when you're sitting at a whole other table?"

"I know you for too long to not notice" he admits, his eyes never leaving you

You hum softly, breaking eye contact to gaze out at the city

The bustling crowd, the steady flow of people walking in groups, cars passing by and the laughter drifting from some of the strangers, felt so different from the island

You can't help but feel a strange mix of appreciation and longing for it all, a contrast to the calm, familiar serenity of the island life

The noise felt almost comforting in its own way, a reminder of a world so different from what you're used to

But you quickly shift your attention back to Sylus, avoiding the tension hanging in the air between you two

"Shouldn't you be busy with the girl from earlier?" you ask, your voice laced with indifference

"Do you want me to?" he responds, his tone laced with something you can't quite place

You chuckle softly, shaking your head "Why would I care? Whatever you do is none of my business"

There's a long silence as Sylus doesn't respond, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you

"What?" you ask, finally breaking the quiet, your voice a bit sharper now

"Is that really what you think?" he asks, his voice quieter almost vulnerable

You pause meeting his eyes and shrug "Yeah, I mean, you do piss me off sometimes but I guess we're friends in one way or another, and I doubt your future girlfriend would be too thrilled seeing you flirt with me"

Sylus's chest tightens at your words. There's something about them, the way you said them, that leaves him momentarily speechless

"You don't think so?" you ask, noticing the silence dragging on longer than usual

"I guess" he shrugs, his voice distant

You furrow your brows, surprised by the uncertainty in his tone, something you've never heard from him before "Are you okay?" you ask, genuinely concerned

Before he can answer, the door opens once again, cutting off the moment

"Hey Sylus, you coming?" The girl who was sitting next to him earlier asks, her voice bright as she looks at you, a polite smile on her lips

You push yourself off the wall, stepping back slightly "She seems nice" you murmur to Sylus, before offering her a nod and turning to walk inside, the weight of the conversation still lingering in the air

Chap.5>

#sylus #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus qin #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus x black reader #moonstruck

51 notes · View notes

that-one-ostrich-friend · 2 months ago

Text

Delicate Part VIII

sirius black x reader - delicate part viii

word count: 2.5 k

part ix

summary: this is part viii of a sirius black x ravenclaw!reader series. a slow burn romance with platonic remus x reader and maybe some flirtatious remus x reader if you squint a lot lol

warnings: y/n is from ravenclaw (not sure if that’s even a needed warning) so sorry if that’s not your house, allusion to divorced parents, kissing, cuddling

a/n: i’m done with finals bitches!!!! i can’t wait to write the next chapters and i cannot believe how long this has gotten lol… lots of of love to all of my supporters <3

The snow outside the Potters' house had thickened over the course of a few days, muffling the world in a pristine silence. Inside, however, warmth and laughter abounded. The fire in the hearth crackled merrily. It was Christmas Eve, and the house felt alive, as though it were stretching to accommodate the noise and joy of its many guests.

Y/n sat cross-legged on the rug near the fireplace, watching Lily and James duel over a game of wizard chess. Lily had already lost three pawns, much to her annoyance, while James lounged back with the self-satisfied air of someone who thought victory was inevitable.

“You’re terrible at bluffing, Evans,” James teased, resting his chin on his hand.

Lily narrowed her eyes at him. “And you’re terrible at being humble, Potter.”

“Touché,” James said, grinning as he moved his knight forward.

Y/n smiled faintly, her gaze drifting to the plate of half-eaten cookies on the coffee table. She reached for one absentmindedly, the warmth of the room seeping into her as the others chatted around her.

On the armchair beside her, Sirius was sprawled in his usual fashion, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His dark hair was slightly mussed, falling into his eyes as he leaned forward to watch the chessboard. His focus wasn’t on the game, though—every so often, his gaze would flicker toward Y/n.

He looked at ease here, his arm draped along the back of the chair. His smile was small but genuine, a quiet contrast to his usual bravado.

Sirius seemed to sense her watching, and his gaze flickered down to hers. His smile softened, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like the rest of the room faded into the background. Then he tilted his head toward her slightly.

“Bored already?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Y/n replied, heat rising to her cheeks. “I’m enjoying the show.”

“Watching James pretend he has a chance?” Sirius teased, though his eyes lingered on her a moment longer than necessary before returning to the chessboard.

Remus didn’t miss the exchange. “You know,” he began, leaning back on the couch and crossing his arms, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this invested in a game you’re not even playing, Sirius.”

Sirius gave him a sidelong glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Remus shrugged, his expression innocently mischievous. “Nothing. Just saying you seem... very interested in the atmosphere tonight.”

James snorted. “Subtle, Moony.”

Remus only smiled as he moved to sit on the floor beside y/n. “How about a game of cards, then? Peter’s been hoarding the Exploding Snap deck like it’s gold.”

Peter looked up from the couch where he was attempting to balance a cookie on his nose. “I wasn’t hoarding it. I was safeguarding it.”

“From what?” Lily asked, not looking up from the chessboard as she finally managed to take one of James’s rooks.

“From Sirius,” Peter said matter-of-factly. “Last time he blew up half the deck trying to win.”

Sirius feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. “I’ll have you know, it was a strategic maneuver.”

“You nearly set the curtains on fire,” James pointed out.

“That’s the mark of a true Gryffindor,” Sirius replied with a grin.

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. There was something infectious about Sirius’s energy tonight, something lighter than usual. Even the tension that had hung between them for weeks felt softer now, like an old wound that had started to heal.

As the group settled into another round of friendly banter, Mrs. Potter appeared in the doorway, her smile warm and welcoming as always. “Dinner will be ready soon,” she announced, her gaze sweeping over the group. “But if any of you dare spoil your appetites with more cookies, I’ll have words.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the group chorused, though Peter snuck another bite of his cookie anyway.

Y/n couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly the Potters made everyone feel at home. Their hospitality wasn’t forced or overly grand; it was in the little things—the warmth of the fire, the never-ending supply of sweets, the way Mrs. Potter smiled as if she were truly happy to have them all there.

Sirius stood, stretching lazily. “I’ll help set the table,” he said, surprising everyone.

James raised an eyebrow. “Feeling particularly charitable tonight, are we?”

Sirius shrugged, glancing briefly at Y/n before heading toward the kitchen. “Maybe it’s the Christmas spirit.”

"Checkmate," Lily declared, her tone smug but not unkind.

James groaned, “Unbelievable!”

Lily snorted, standing and brushing imaginary dust off her skirt. “Well, I suppose this is as good a time as any for us to freshen up. Dinner’s going to start soon.”

Y/n followed Lily toward the staircase, glancing back at the cozy living room one last time. The fire crackled softly, the warmth of the Potters’ hospitality lingering in every corner. As chaotic as the house was, it carried a charm that made her feel truly at home.

The faint sound of Sirius’s voice carried from the kitchen as he spoke with Mrs. Potter, his tone light and teasing. Y/n hesitated for a brief second, then turned back to the staircase, her cheeks warming at the thought of him.

━━━━━━━•✧°•°𓅦°•°✧•━━━━━━━

The house was still, wrapped in the quiet hush of the late hour. Christmas Eve had slipped into Christmas morning, and Y/n, unable to sleep, quietly slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Lily. The air in the hall was cool, but the warmth from the kitchen drew her in like a soft embrace.

She padded into the kitchen, filling a glass of water from the tap. The sound of the water filling the glass was the only noise, and Y/n let the quiet soothe her. She drank slowly, leaning against the counter, her eyes wandering to the family photo on the wall.

It was a snapshot of the Potters—Mr. and Mrs. Potter, smiling warmly, and a young James beaming at the camera, his hair untamed. It was the kind of picture that spoke of love, familiarity, and closeness. It was a family bond Y/n couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy for. Her own family wasn’t like this—there was no warmth, no shared moments like this. There was always a distance, something unspoken, that left her feeling like an outsider.

Y/n sighed softly, her fingers tracing the edge of the counter, lost in her thoughts.

“Couldn’t sleep?” a voice asked from the doorway, making her jump. She turned to find Sirius leaning casually against the frame, his arms crossed and a slight smirk on his face.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Y/n said, feeling a bit guilty. “Just needed a glass of water.”

Sirius chuckled, stepping into the kitchen. “You didn’t wake me. I was already awake.” He leaned against the counter beside her, glancing at the family photo on the wall. “It’s a nice picture, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Y/n replied, her voice quieter now. “It’s... it’s perfect.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Perfect?”

Y/n shrugged, the weight of her thoughts creeping into her tone. “I don’t know. My family’s not like that. We’re... not really close.”

Sirius was silent for a moment, studying her. “I get that,” he said softly, his voice losing its usual teasing edge. “My family’s... well, a bit of a mess.”

Y/n smiled faintly, appreciating the unexpected vulnerability in his words. “Yeah, but at least you’ve got friends who feel like family.”

Sirius grinned, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “True. But I’m pretty sure I’m the best one of them all.”

Y/n laughed lightly, turning her attention back to the photo, though her smile lingered. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Sirius studied her for a moment longer before glancing at the clock on the wall. “You know, it’s Christmas now,” he said, his tone shifting slightly.

She looked over at the clock and saw it was past midnight. “Oh, right. I guess it’s official now.”

Slyly Sirius moved back so he stood under the mistletoe hanging above the doorway, his gaze flicking up to it. “Yeah, seems like it.”

Y/n noticed it, her eyes moving up to the greenery. She raised an eyebrow, a playful glint entering her eyes. Slowly she crossed the kitchen until she was just a few inches away from him.

“Well, it is tradition, isn’t it?” she said softly.

Before he could respond, she reached up, brushing her fingers lightly against his cheek. She leaned in, pressing a quick, soft kiss there—nothing too much, just a gentle, fleeting touch of affection.

Sirius froze for a split second, his eyes widening slightly before a mischievous grin spread across his face. He chuckled softly. “Well, happy Christmas to me,” he said, his voice low and a little more heated than before.

Y/n pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, her heart fluttering in her chest. The air between them hung thick with something unspoken.

He stepped closer to her and his hand found her cheek, gently cupping it. Y/n’s breath hitched in her throat as she looked up at him, feeling an undeniable pull.

“Y/n,” he whispered.

“Yes?” Her thoughts were a blur as he leaned even closer. His eyes were fixed on her lips.

“Is this ok?”

She nodded slowly and before she could second-guess herself, Sirius leaned down and kissed her.

It wasn’t a soft, lingering kiss like before. It was sudden, passionate, and it consumed her entirely. His lips were warm and insistent, the weight of the moment pressing in on them both. For a heartbeat, everything else faded—the quiet kitchen, the family portrait, even the noise of her own thoughts. There was just him, just them, caught in the shared heat of the kiss.

When they pulled away, Y/n’s breath was shaky, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch her lips as though she could still feel the imprint of his kiss. Sirius’s eyes were full of something unreadable, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“A very happy Christmas to me,” he repeated softly, his voice a little raspier than before.

Y/n’s heart skipped, her mind racing to catch up with the sudden shift between them. She didn’t know what to say, but the smile that spread across her face was warm, genuine.

“God,” his thumb brushed across her cheek, “you’re gorgeous.”

The faint blush that had dusted her cheeks spread throughout her entire face. She ducked her head in embarrassment.

Sirius’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he broke the silence. “I think we should... go to the living room,” Sirius said, his voice still carrying that slightly raspy edge, his thumb brushing along Y/n’s cheek one last time before stepping back.

Y/n nodded, her lips still tingling from their kiss. Without a word, Sirius gently took her hand, guiding her out of the kitchen. The quiet of the house felt heavier now, more intimate, as though the entire world had retreated to leave them alone in this moment.

The living room was dimly lit, the embers of the fire casting a soft, flickering glow. Sirius let go of her hand only long enough to grab the throw blanket from the armchair, tossing it onto the couch before sinking into the cushions. He patted the space beside him with a grin that made Y/n’s heart skip a beat.

“Come on,” he said, his voice low and inviting.

She didn’t hesitate, settling beside him on the couch. The warmth of the room, combined with his presence so close, made her feel almost dizzy. Sirius shifted closer, his hand finding hers again.

“You know,” he murmured, his tone soft but teasing, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you planned this.”

Y/n laughed quietly, rolling her eyes. “Oh, of course. My grand scheme was to wander into the kitchen for water and somehow end up here with you.”

Sirius smirked, his free hand reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair from her face. “Well, I’m not complaining.”

And before she could reply, he kissed her again.

This kiss was slower, deeper than the one in the kitchen. His lips moved against hers with a quiet urgency, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck as he leaned into her. Y/n felt herself melting under his touch, her own hands tentatively finding their way to his shoulders, then sliding down to rest against his chest.

Sirius shifted slightly, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. The soft glow of the fire painted them in gold and amber, the rest of the world forgotten as they lost themselves in each other.

His kisses grew more fervent, his hand trailing down her back, but there was nothing hurried or reckless about it—it was as though he was savoring every second. Y/n’s fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

Eventually, Sirius pulled back, his forehead resting against hers as they both caught their breath. His gray eyes, darkened with emotion, searched hers, and for a moment, he looked almost vulnerable.

“Y/n,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” she replied, her own voice unsteady.

His lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. “You’re dangerous, you know that?”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard. “Dangerous?”

Sirius chuckled, leaning in to press a quick, teasing kiss to her nose. “Yeah. You make it impossible for me to keep my guard up.”

She smiled, her heart swelling at his words. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”

“Maybe,” he agreed, his voice growing softer. He leaned back slightly, pulling her down with him until they were lying on the couch.

To her surprise, Sirius didn’t try to kiss her again. Instead, he buried his face against her chest, letting out a contented sigh as he wrapped an arm around her waist. The shift in his demeanor was almost startling—from the confident, teasing man who always seemed larger than life, to someone who now clung to her like he was afraid to let go.

Y/n’s hand instinctively found its way into his hair, her fingers threading through the dark strands as she held him close. “Comfy?” she asked softly, her lips quirking into a small smile.

Sirius mumbled something unintelligible against her chest, and she felt his lips curve into a smile. “You’re too good at this,” he murmured, his voice muffled but full of affection.

“At what?”

“At being... warm,” he said sleepily. “And soft. And perfect.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t say anything, instead letting her fingers continue their soothing motions through his hair. His breathing began to slow, the tension in his body melting away as he relaxed completely against her.

“Happy Christmas, Sirius,” she whispered, her own voice barely audible.

“Happy Christmas,” he murmured back, his voice trailing off as sleep overtook him.

Y/n stayed like that, cradling him in her arms as the fire crackled softly in the hearth. The world outside was cold and quiet, but here, in the warmth of the Potters’ living room, she felt something she hadn’t in a long time: peace.

And as Sirius’s even breathing filled the silence, Y/n let her eyes drift shut, the weight of the moment settling over her like the softest of blankets.

46 notes · View notes

s4svnn · 15 days ago

Text

Out of bounds . JJK

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; his love subjected you to the true extent of deception, a merciless lie wrapped in the illusion of paradise, until the truth tore it apart - he was always out of bounds.

↳ Jungkook x reader

↳ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: ongoing

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

Chapter Forty Four

Aylah’s POV:

I sat on my bed, staring at the floor, my arms wrapped around my knees as if holding myself together would stop me from falling apart. The room was dimly lit, just the glow of my bedside lamp casting long shadows on the walls. I hadn't moved in what felt like hours. I didn't want to. I couldn't.

“AJ, talk to me.” Kayla’s voice was gentle, pleading.

I stayed quiet, my throat tight, my body frozen in place.

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

“I know the situation is horrible,” she said after a moment, her voice laced with that mix of pain and forced optimism. “But all we can do is sit here and hope for the best. Don’t do this to yourself.”

I buried my face in my hands, hot tears spilling onto my palms, but I made no sound. I couldn’t let see me like this. I didn’t want her to know just how broken I felt.

Kayla sighed softly on the other side of the door. “I’ll be in the living room if you want to talk.”

She paused for a moment and then spoke again.

“Just hang in there, babe,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s going to be okay.”

I clenched my fists, pressing them against my forehead, trying to steady my breathing. The weight in my chest was unbearable, pressing down like a vice, making every breath feel forced. I lifted my head, blinking through the haze of my tears, staring at the closed door. The room felt colder, emptier now that Kayla had walked away. But I still couldn’t bring myself to open that door.

I pulled the blanket tighter around me, but it did nothing to stop the cold sinking into my bones. My mind wouldn’t shut off, no matter how much I wanted it to. No matter how much I tried to push the thoughts away, they came crashing back—louder, heavier.

Jade’s voice echoed in my head, sharp and unforgiving. I squeezed my eyes shut, my nails digging into my palms. The memory of her words sent a fresh wave of fear through me, making my stomach twist painfully. She wasn’t bluffing. I knew that.

Jade wasn’t the kind of person to make empty threats. She had looked me dead in the eye when she spoke, her expression unreadable, her voice eerily calm—like she was stating a fact rather than threatening my life.

And the worst part? I believed her. Every word.

I should’ve listened. I should’ve walked away, done what she wanted the first time, and put as much distance between myself and Jungkook as possible.

But I hadn’t. I couldn’t.

And now, he was paying the price.

I was deep in thought when a loud noise from outside echoed in my room causing me to flinch at the suddeness. It was the sound of a car engine. My body tensed, as it grew louder and louder. Slowly, I lifted my head, my ears straining for any sign of what—who—it could be. My heartbeat thudded against my ribs, but I forced myself to move. Slipping off the bed, I crept toward my window, pushing the curtain aside just enough to peek through.

A black car idled across the street, its headlights cutting through the darkness. I swallowed hard. It wasn’t familiar. The engine hummed for a moment longer before, finally, the car pulled away, disappearing down the road.

I let out a shaky breath, but the unease didn’t leave me. Was I being paranoid? Was it her? Or was it someone else?

I stepped back from the window, my arms wrapping around myself. The house felt too quiet now, the kind of quiet that made my skin crawl. Forcing myself to move, I opened my door just enough to hear Kayla’s soft movements in the living room—the faint rustle of a blanket, the occasional click of her phone. She was still here.

I wasn’t alone. But then why did I feel like I was being watched?

A sudden, piercing ring shattered the heavy silence of my room, making me gasp as my heart jolted violently against my ribs. The unexpected sound sent a ripple of unease through me, my body tensing instinctively. My eyes snapped toward the phone resting beside me, its screen glowing in the dim light. For a split second, I hesitated before glancing at the name displayed on the screen.

Adam.

I froze. It had been ages since we last spoke. Ages since everything between us shifted. The last conversation we had was anything but pleasant—his voice had been laced with anger, his words cutting and filled with disappointment when he found out about me and Jungkook. I still remembered the bitterness in his tone, the frustration that practically radiated from him.

So why was he calling me now? And more importantly, why at this hour?

My thumb hovered uncertainly over the answer button, hesitation tightening my chest. A part of me wanted to ignore it, let the call ring out until it eventually stopped. Avoiding this conversation seemed like the easier choice. But at the same time, curiosity gnawed at me, a restless pull in my gut that wouldn’t let me ignore the strange timing of it all.

After a brief internal battle, I inhaled deeply, steadying myself before finally pressing the button.

Bringing the phone to my ear, I forced my voice to stay neutral. “Hello?”

“Hey, AJ.” His voice came through smooth, casual—too casual. “You home?”

I frowned, confusion settling into my expression. That wasn’t the question I expected. My grip on the phone tightened slightly as I hesitated before answering.

“Yeah…” I trailed off, my tone cautious. “Why?”

Adam didn’t answer right away. When he finally did, his voice was light, almost too nonchalant. “Just wanted to know how you were doing. I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

I swallowed, my fingers gripping the edge of my blanket as I shifted uncomfortably.

“Yeah… sorry about that,” I muttered, my voice quieter now. “I haven’t been feeling my best lately.”

“What’s wrong?” His tone changed slightly, the curiosity giving way to what sounded like genuine concern.

I parted my lips, ready to say it—to tell him the truth. That Jungkook had been in an accident. That I had barely been able to function, weighed down by the fear and guilt pressing heavily on my chest. That I felt like my world was crumbling, and I didn’t know how to stop it.

But then, just as quickly as the words formed, I swallowed them back down. Something held me back. I didn’t know what it was—maybe instinct, maybe hesitation, or maybe just the simple fact that I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear Adam’s reaction if I did tell him.

So instead, I forced out a shallow exhale and settled for something vague. “You know… just life.”

Adam let out a small chuckle on the other end of the line. “Yeah, I get what you mean. The world’s a cruel place.”

I rubbed my temple, my voice quieter when I replied. “It really is.”

“I guess only the rich get to be happy,” he continued, his tone almost reflective. “Peasants like us have to deal with the harsh realities of the world.”

I let out a forced laugh, hoping to smooth over the awkwardness that had started to settle into the conversation. “Yeah…”

There was a brief pause before Adam spoke again, his voice almost thoughtful now. “If I was rich, I’d have no problems at all. After all, money is power.”

I stilled. Something about that phrase sent a sharp, unexpected wave of unease rolling through me. It wasn’t just the words themselves—it was the way they sounded, the way they rang in my ears as if I had heard them before, spoken in a different voice, in a different moment.

For a second, I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The feeling of recognition was there, hovering just beneath the surface, but I couldn’t quite grasp where it was coming from.

“…What did you just say?” I asked, my voice quieter this time, cautious.

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and when Adam finally responded, he sounded slightly confused, as if he wasn’t sure why I was reacting this way.

“Uh… money is power?” he repeated, his tone uncertain.

The moment he said it again, the uneasy feeling in my chest intensified. I knew I had heard that phrase before. Not just in passing, not in some generic conversation about wealth and status—but somewhere specific, somewhere important. My mind raced, sifting through my memories, trying to find the missing piece that would explain why those three words sent a chill down my spine.

I couldn’t let Adam pick up on the shift in my tone, though. If I kept dwelling on it, he’d notice something was off. So I forced a small laugh, trying to make my voice sound lighthearted, as if I hadn’t just been thrown into a spiral of deep thought.

“You’re right,” I said, gripping the phone a little tighter. “The rich can throw money at their problems to make them disappear, while the rest of us actually have to work through them to overcome anything.”

Adam let out a short laugh in response. “Exactly. Anyways, hang in there, AJ. I hope to see you on Monday.”

“Yeah…” I murmured, still distracted. “See you.”

The call ended, but the tension in my body remained. I sat there for a long moment, staring blankly at my phone screen, my thumb hovering over the home button. Money is power. Those words refused to leave my mind, circling like a vulture, picking apart every other thought I tried to focus on. Why did that phrase feel so significant? Why did it feel like a warning rather than just an observation?

Slowly, I pushed myself off my bed and began pacing the room, my bare feet moving in small, controlled circles against the hardwood floor. I ran my fingers through my hair, my brows furrowed as I dug deeper, searching for the connection my brain was trying to make.

And then it hit me.

Jade.

She had said that.

I stopped pacing, my breath catching in my throat as the realization crashed down on me.

The last time I had seen her, when she warned me to stay away from Jungkook—she had looked me dead in the eye, her voice smooth yet laced with something dark, and she had said it. Money is power.

I slowly sat back on my bed, my mind now spinning with an entirely different kind of confusion. Why would Adam say something like that out of nowhere? We had been talking about problems, about how unfair life was, and then suddenly, he brought up wealth and power as if it was the most natural transition in the world. But it wasn’t. It didn’t fit.

There was no reason for him to be talking about something like that. Unless it wasn’t just a passing thought, some random musing about wealth and privilege. Unless, somehow, Adam knew more than he was letting on. A lump formed in my throat as I swallowed hard, my grip tightening around my phone. A creeping sense of unease slithered through me, my thoughts racing in circles. I hadn’t told him about Jungkook’s accident. He had no way of knowing, no reason to bring up the idea that the rich could easily overcome their problems, and yet… it almost felt like he was referencing it directly.

As if, in his mind, Jungkook’s wealth meant his injuries didn’t matter. As if money would guarantee his survival, rendering the accident insignificant. As if the pain, the fear, the uncertainty I had been drowning in was nothing more than an inconvenience that could be bought away.

The realization sent a cold shiver down my spine. Adam had caused the accident.

My fingers trembled as I frantically scrolled through my phone contacts, my pulse pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. Damian, Damian, Damian—where the hell is Damian? My breath was uneven, coming in sharp, ragged gasps as my vision blurred with panic. My hands felt unsteady, almost disconnected from my body as I finally landed on his name and pressed Call, shoving the phone against my ear with so much force it nearly hurt.

The line rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Come on. Pick up. Please, pick up.

The ringing continued, each second stretching longer than the last, my heart hammering so violently I thought it might burst out of my chest.

"Come on, come on," I muttered under my breath, my other hand curling into a fist at my side, nails digging into my palm.

The call went to voicemail.

"No, no, no," I whispered, barely able to process the rejection as I yanked the phone away from my ear and stared down at the screen in disbelief. My chest tightened, frustration and fear tangling together into a suffocating knot. I didn't have time for this. I couldn't afford to wait.

Without another second of hesitation, I bolted toward my bedroom door, yanking it open so violently that it slammed against the wall with a deafening bang. "Kayla, we need to go. Now!" I shouted, my voice sharp and urgent as I rushed into the living room, my heart threatening to beat out of my ribcage.

Kayla, who had been curled up on the couch, nearly jumped out of her skin. Her phone slipped from her hands onto the cushion beside her as she shot up, her wide, startled eyes locking onto mine. "W-What? Go where? What’s happening?" she stammered, her voice thick with confusion.

“The hospital! Quickly—grab your jacket!” The words flew out of my mouth so fast they barely sounded coherent, but I didn’t have time to explain. My hands were already fumbling with my sneakers, fingers shaking so badly I could barely shove my feet inside.

Kayla didn’t waste a second pressing for details. Something in my tone must have told her this was serious, because she immediately grabbed her jacket, threw it over her shoulders, and rushed after me as I flung the front door open. The cold night air hit my skin like a slap, but I barely registered it.

We practically threw ourselves into Kayla’s car, and as she jammed the key into the ignition with slightly unsteady hands, she turned to me, her brows furrowed with concern. “AJ, you still haven’t told me what’s going on. Did something happen to Jungkook?”

“There’s no time,” I said, my voice clipped, my stomach twisting into a mess of nerves. “Just drive. Get there as fast as you can.”

Kayla’s lips parted like she wanted to argue, but she must have sensed the sheer urgency rolling off of me because she didn't push it. Instead, she slammed her foot onto the gas pedal, and the tires screeched against the pavement as we lurched forward.

The city blurred past us in a chaotic mess of streetlights and neon signs, the roads almost empty at this hour. Kayla didn’t hold back. She weaved through the streets at a reckless speed, pushing past the limits, her hands gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. The highway stretched before us in a tunnel of glowing lights, the colors blending together as we shot past them.

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. My mind was racing too fast, tangled in a million possibilities, each one worse than the last. Twenty agonizing minutes later, Kayla swerved into the hospital parking lot, barely bothering to park properly before I was already throwing open the door and sprinting toward the entrance.

I shoved past the front desk without so much as a glance, my only focus on one thing—finding Damian. The waiting room was dimly lit, eerily quiet except for the occasional cough or the low murmur of voices. My frantic gaze darted across the chairs, scanning each figure until—

There. Damian was slumped over in the farthest corner, his arms crossed, head tilted back, fast asleep. I rushed toward him and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him so hard his head snapped forward. “Damian! Wake up!”

He jolted upright with a startled gasp, blinking rapidly as his unfocused eyes darted around. “W-What? What happened?” he mumbled, still groggy.

I barely gave him a second to reorient himself before leaning in, my breath still ragged. “Where’s Jungkook’s room?”

Damian rubbed his eyes, still half-asleep. “What? Why—”

“Just tell me where it is!” My voice cracked, raw with desperation.

His grogginess instantly vanished, replaced by concern. “I’ll take you—what’s going on? Is something wrong?”

“Yes! We need to go now!”

At the sheer panic in my voice, Damian didn’t hesitate. He shot up from his seat and bolted down the hallway, and I followed, my legs burning from the effort of keeping up.

When we reached Jungkook’s room, I nearly slammed into him as he stopped abruptly. I grabbed the door handle and twisted. Locked. My stomach dropped. I pressed my forehead against the door’s small window, trying to peer inside, but the dim lighting and drawn curtains made it impossible to see anything clearly.

“We need to get inside,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, my throat tightening with fear.

Damian hesitated. “AJ… we can’t. The doctors won’t let us in. His condition—”

I turned on him so fast he flinched. “Damian, if we don’t get this door open right now, Jungkook isn’t going to make it.”

His face paled. “What? What do you mean—”

I sucked in a shaky breath, my voice barely holding steady. “I think I know who caused the accident… and if I’m right, they’re going to make sure Jungkook never makes it out of this hospital alive.”

For a moment, Damian just stared at me, his face frozen in shock. Then, as if breaking out of a trance, he stammered, “O-Okay! I’ll go get a doctor—stay here!”

He turned and ran. But I wasn’t waiting. My eyes darted around the hall before landing on a heavy wooden chair against the wall. Without thinking, I grabbed it, lifted it, and swung it full force into the glass panel of the door.

A deafening CRASH echoed through the corridor as shards exploded onto the floor. Ignoring the sharp sting of glass cutting my hands, I reached through the jagged hole, twisted the handle from the inside, and pushed the door open.

I rushed inside—and froze. Jungkook lay motionless on the hospital bed. His body was wrapped in thick, bloodied bandages, deep gashes slashing across his face, his lips cracked and bruised beyond recognition. His arm was hooked up to an IV, his chest rising and falling so weakly it was almost imperceptible.

Then, out of nowhere, a cold breeze ghosted across my skin, sending an involuntary shudder through my body. My breath hitched as a deep, uneasy feeling settled in my chest.I turned sharply, my pulse spiking. The window was open. My stomach twisted. Slowly, I stepped toward it, each movement careful, my heartbeat hammering louder with every inch I closed between myself and the dark abyss beyond the glass. When I reached it, I hesitated, then leaned forward, peering outside.

Nothing. No figures lurking in the shadows. No signs of movement. Just the eerie silence of the night. And yet, the question clawed at the edges of my mind, relentless and suffocating.

Who opened it?

Damian’s panting breaths filled the tense silence as he finally reached the door.

"I couldn’t find any doctors—oh, you opened the door," he said, his voice still uneven from running.

I didn’t waste a second. "Did the doctor open the window of this room?"

Damian’s brows knitted together in confusion. "No. As far as I’m concerned, all the windows were closed when I was last here."

A shaky exhale left my lips, my thoughts spiraling as dread settled deep in my chest.

Damian stepped closer, concern etching itself onto his face. "What’s wrong?"

I swallowed hard before answering. "The window was open… wide enough for someone to get in."

His expression shifted instantly, his body tensing. "What? But there’s no way the doctors would’ve done that. And even if they had they always make sure to shut them at night—just in case something happens to the patient." He paused, his mind catching up to what I was implying. His lips parted slightly before he hesitantly asked, "Do you think—"

"Yeah," I cut him off, my voice low but firm. "Someone was trying to get in."

Damian’s jaw clenched. "You said you knew who caused the accident, do you think it was them?"

I hesitated, the weight of my own suspicions pressing down on me. I had a name. But was I truly ready to say it?

"I'm not sure yet," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But… I think it was Adam."

Damian’s entire body stiffened. "Adam? As in your boss, Adam?"

I nodded. "Yeah. He said some weird things on the phone earlier. Things that didn’t sit right with me."

Damian’s frown deepened. "What did he say?"

I hesitated again, my thoughts flickering back to her—to Jade. To the threat she had made.

For a moment, I considered keeping quiet, shielding Damian from the truth like I had been trying to shield myself. But then I thought of Jungkook, battered and broken in that hospital bed, completely vulnerable. If I had to risk my own life to protect him, then so be it. I refused to cower any longer.

Taking a steadying breath, I finally spoke. "I saw Jade."

Damian’s entire demeanor shifted. His eyes darkened, his shoulders tensing.

"Wait, jade’s in London?"

"Yeah, I saw her in the car park of the hospital earlier rtoday and she admitted it. She said she orchestrated the crash. She wanted to bring him back to her, and this was her way of doing it." My fingers curled into fists at my sides. "But she also hinted at something—something I didn’t catch at first. It wasn’t her who was driving, it was someone else."

Damian inhaled sharply, realization beginning to dawn on him.

I pushed forward. "Then I got that call from Adam. And at first, it just seemed like a normal conversation. But then… he said something that stuck with me. Something Jade said to me just hours before."

Damian stared at me, waiting.

"Money is power," I whispered.

Damian’s eyes widened slightly.

"Adam’s always hated Jungkook," I said. "He never liked that I was around him, and when he found out I was giving him a chance, he was furious. But tonight, when he called me, he started talking about how the rich can overcome their problems easily—how money solidifies their power." I clenched my jaw. "It was the exact same thing Jade said to me. Almost word for word."

Damian let out a sharp exhale, rubbing a hand over his face. "So you think it’s them? That they worked together?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah. I think so."

A tense silence filled the room before Damian muttered, "Fuck. This is worse than I thought."

I turned to look at him, my vision blurring with unshed tears. My voice wavered as I asked, "What do we do? We can’t just leave him here."

Damian placed a firm hand on my shoulder, grounding me. "We won’t. Don’t worry. I’ll hire a private doctor, get them to tend to him in his hotel room so we can stay with him."

I nodded, watching as Damian pulled out his phone and made the call. He spoke quickly, his tone sharp with urgency. When he finally ended the call, his expression hardened.

"We need to put an end to this," he said, his voice filled with a quiet rage. "Jade’s made us all suffer far too much. That bitch deserves to rot in hell for what she did to you, me and Jungkook."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked at him, my heart pounding. "You told me that Jungkook would tell me whatever it was that Jade did to him—that thing that tore you two apart. But now look at him." My voice broke. "I don’t even know if he’s going to make it out of this alive. So, Damian, I need you to tell me what happened. I need to know what that bitch did to him so we can put her down once and for all."

Damian’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his hesitation palpable. He shifted on his feet, as if debating whether to say the words aloud.

"I—I…"

"Damian, please," I pleaded, my voice trembling. "I spent so long hating him. So long blaming him for everything that happened. And now I’m finally seeing the truth. But I can’t see all of it unless you tell me what happened. I need to know that he’s the person I think he is. That this time, I’m seeing the real him—not some version I convinced myself was real. So please, tell me."

Damian inhaled deeply, his hands running through his hair in frustration before he finally exhaled.

And then, in a hushed voice, he said, "The contract she put you into, she’s had him in the same one since he was fourteen."

The world around me tilted.

My lips parted, but no words came out. My throat was tight, my breathing shallow. The room around me blurred, my body swaying slightly as if the air had been knocked out of me.

No. No, that couldn’t be right.

I stumbled back, gripping the edge of the hospital bed to steady myself. Jungkook lay there, motionless, his face bruised and cut beyond recognition. He had been through hell, and now I was beginning to understand why.

How had I not known? How had I spent all this time thinking he was the villain—believing he was just another selfish, power-hungry bastard—when all this time, he had been just as trapped as I was?

"AJ." Damian’s voice was softer now, but it barely registered in my ears.

I forced myself to speak, but my voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Why… why didn’t he tell me?"

Damian sighed, his expression dark. "Because he couldn’t."

I shook my head. "No. He could’ve. He—" My voice broke, and I swallowed hard, trying to keep the storm raging inside me from completely unraveling. "He should’ve told me. He should’ve told me!"

Damian clenched his jaw. "And what would you have done, AJ? You think you could’ve saved him when you couldn’t even save yourself?"

His words stung, but he wasn’t wrong.

I had barely escaped Jade’s grasp myself. I had spent months completely unaware that I was under her control, manipulated and used, my life dictated by her twisted rules. And if Jungkook had been suffering too—if he had been living the same nightmare since he was fourteen—then how much had he endured?

How many times had he tried to fight back? How many times had he failed?

I looked back at Jungkook, at the blood seeping through his bandages, at the deep gash along his cheek, at his hands—hands that had once held me with warmth but were now limp and lifeless at his sides.

I had spent so long hating him. So long blaming him. And now I realized—I had been blind.

I clenched my fists. "What else do you know?"

Damian hesitated. "AJ, maybe we should—"

"No," I cut him off sharply, my voice steadier now. Stronger. "No more secrets. No more half-truths. Tell me everything."

Damian exhaled, running a hand through his hair before nodding. "Fine." His eyes locked onto mine, his expression unreadable.

Damian took a deep breath, his jaw tightening as he ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. His hesitation only made my stomach churn harder. Whatever he was about to tell me—I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear it. But I had to.

I needed to. I glanced back at Jungkook’s unconscious body, at the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath the hospital sheets. I needed to know the truth, his truth—because for far too long, I had only seen him through the lies and manipulation that Jade had wrapped around us both.

Damian exhaled slowly. "She owned him, AJ." His voice was quiet but sharp, slicing through the thick tension in the room.

I swallowed, my throat dry. "What do you mean?"

Damian looked away for a second, as if the memories alone were too much for him to handle. Then he met my gaze again, his expression unreadable. "You already know what she does to people like us—how she traps us, controls us. But with Jungkook… it wasn’t just a contract. It was his whole damn life."

A shiver ran through me.

"What?" I whispered.

"He didn’t have a choice, AJ. She made sure of that." Damian let out a humorless chuckle, but there was something dark in his eyes, something bitter. "You and I… we had lives before Jade. We had choices, even if they were limited. But Jungkook? He had nothing before her. No family. No home. He was just some kid scraping by on his own, fighting to survive. And she knew that. She took him in, gave him everything he never had—but at a cost."

My chest tightened, a sick feeling twisting in my gut.

Jungkook had always been reckless. Always cold. Always impossible to read. But if this was true, if he had been under Jade’s control since he was fourteen, then maybe it wasn’t recklessness at all. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe he had never truly been free.

"She built him into what she wanted—trained him, conditioned him. And by the time he was old enough to fight back, it was too late. He belonged to her."

I felt like I was going to be sick.

But Damian kept going, his voice lower now, as if saying the words out loud made them more dangerous. "Jade always knew how to break people, but with Jungkook… she made sure he never even knew what it was like to not be broken, s-she had sex with him to solidify the terms of the contract, s-she made him think that the only person he could ever rely on was her and t-that her sexual advances on him was love."

I shook my head, my mind refusing to accept the weight of Damian’s words. My pulse pounded against my skull, each beat drumming louder than the last. "She couldn’t have," I whispered, my voice breaking under the sheer disbelief clawing its way through me. "Damian, he was just a kid. He was fourteen. She couldn’t have done that—"

But even as I said it, the words felt hollow. A weak attempt to deny the undeniable.

Damian exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face as if trying to wipe away the memories. His jaw was tight, his expression dark with something dangerously close to rage. "She did, AJ. That fucking bitch didn’t just manipulate him—she rewired him. She took a lonely, desperate kid and made him believe that the only way to survive was to belong to her."

My stomach twisted.

"She distorted his understanding of love," Damian continued, his voice laced with barely contained fury. "Made him think that what she was doing was okay. That an older woman acting like that with him was normal.Because she was the only one who ‘cared’ about him. The only one who ‘understood’ him." He spat the words like poison. "She groomed him, AJ."

A sickening wave of nausea crashed over me.

Jungkook never talked about his past. Not in detail. I had always thought it was just his nature—his unwillingness to open up, his need to keep people at a distance. But what if it wasn’t that at all? What if he had spent so long under Jade’s control that he didn’t even know how to talk about it?

What if he thought there was nothing wrong with it?

I felt my chest tighten, my breaths coming quicker. "He never told me." The words barely made it past my lips. "He never said—"

"Because he didn’t see it the way we do," Damian cut in, shaking his head. "Jade didn’t just use him, AJ. She created him. Made sure he never even questioned it. She made herself his entire world before he ever got the chance to build one of his own, that’s why he didnt think twice when she told him to do the same with you, he thought it was normal."

My hands clenched into fists at my sides.

A cold shiver ran down my spine as Damian’s words settled deep into my bones. My nails dug into my palms, the sting barely registering against the storm raging inside me.

"She told him to do the same with me."

The realization sent a sharp pang through my chest, twisting something inside me that I wasn’t ready to confront.

Jungkook hadn’t just hurt me because he was reckless. He hadn’t just manipulated me because he was cruel. He had done it because he had been taught to. Because, to him, it wasn’t manipulation—it was just the way things were.

That’s what Jade had done to him. She had broken him so thoroughly that he couldn’t even see the cracks.

My breath hitched as memories flooded in, ones I had buried under layers of anger and resentment. The way Jungkook had reeled me in, the way he had made me feel like the only person in the world—only to push me away just as easily. The way he had controlled every situation, how he had known exactly what to say to keep me tethered to him, even when I swore I wouldn’t fall for it again.

It had all been learned behavior. A survival instinct, ingrained into him since he was fourteen.

I took a shaky breath, my voice barely above a whisper. "He didn’t know any different."

Damian nodded, his expression grim. "He thought that was what love was supposed to be. Because that’s what Jade made him believe."

The weight of it all was suffocating. I had spent so long hating Jungkook. Hating him for everything he had put me through, for every scar he had left behind. But now… now I wasn’t sure who I was supposed to be angry at anymore.

"I should have seen it," I muttered, my throat tightening. "I should have realized—"

"No," Damian interrupted, stepping closer. "AJ, listen to me. None of us saw it. Not you, not me. Not even him. Because that’s how she wanted it. That’s how she’s always worked. She made sure we were too caught up in the damage to ever question where it was coming from."

I bit my lip, my chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

Jungkook never stood a chance.

My hands trembled at my sides as I turned back to Damian. "She won’t stop," I whispered, my voice hollow. "Not until she has him back under her control. Or until he’s dead."

Damian nodded. "I know."

The realization was suffocating. Jade had nearly destroyed me. But Jungkook? She had built him from the ground up. He wasn’t just another pawn to her—he was her creation.

And she wasn’t going to let that go. My mind reeled, thoughts racing too fast to hold onto. Adam. The accident. The open window. It was all starting to connect in a way that made my skin crawl. If I was right—if Adam was working with Jade—then she wasn’t just trying to control Jungkook.

She was trying to finish him.

I inhaled shakily, pushing down the fear clawing at my throat. "We need to get him out of here. Now."

Damian nodded. "The private doctor’s on his way. We’ll move him as soon as he gets here. But AJ…" He hesitated, his voice dropping lower. "If we do this, if we take Jungkook out of here… we’ll be making ourselves targets. You realize that, right?"

I looked down at Jungkook, at the way his fingers twitched slightly in his sleep, as if even unconscious, his body was still fighting against something. I reached out, hesitating for a brief second before carefully wrapping my fingers around his hand. It was cold. Too cold.

I squeezed gently, my voice steady.

"I don’t care what happens to me," I said. "As long as we keep him alive."

Damian exhaled, then gave a short nod. "Then let’s end this."

32 notes · View notes

pedriscroquettes · 2 years ago

Text

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄. PEDRI

summary. you’d always claimed pedri as yours while he always found you as a disturbance to his life. here’s the timeline of your relationship.

warnings. angst, fluff, asshole!pedri, kind of annoying reader(?), virginity mentions, and a love triangle?

a/n. this goes out to all the delusional girlies like me. gif by pedripics

september 2007

the look of horror on your teacher’s face contrasted your calm demeanor. you thought she was overreacting when in truth she was not. you were too calm for what had just happened to you. doña rosy’s son had just cut off a huge chunk of your hair and was currently running around the class displaying it like a prize. the fact that you weren’t as upset as you should’ve been shocked your teacher.

the reality of it is that you thought pedro was cute and somehow instead of crying about your loss of hair you were rather flattered about it. you were quite literally insane for thinking that somehow this demonstrated that pedro liked you. at least that’s what your older cousin would say.

“boys are mean because they like you.” her words echoed in your mind.

soon the two of you along with your parents and pedro’s older brother fer were in the principals office. your mother was in shock and couldn’t believe that you’d have to start your hair growth process all over again. meanwhile, pedro’s mom was full of embarrassment and of course both father’s couldn’t help but laugh at the scene in front of them. after all you were both just kids who didn’t know better.

“well it seems your daughter isn’t too upset about the events that occurred therefore i have no reason to suspend pedro.” the principal decided.

“what? he cut off a chunk of my daughters hair! it will take months for it to grow back! surely there’s got to be some form of punishment for him?” your mother yelled.

“but mom i’m not mad at him.” you tried to tell her but she wouldn’t listen to you.

“fine. pedro is designated table cleaner after lunch for the rest of the month and no recess for a week.” the principal sighed.

“but mrs. dominguez we play football during recess hour i can’t miss it!” pedro whined.

“you should’ve thought about that before chasing your classmate with scissors and almost leaving her hairless.” she scolded him.

on the way out of mrs. dominguez’s office pedro’s parents couldn’t stop apologizing for what he had done. meanwhile, all you could do was stare at him. he was the cutest boy you had ever seen, given that you were only six and didn’t know any better obviously. it didn’t take long for him to notice your glare and he began to approach you slowly. you lifted your shoulders thinking this was finally going to be the moment he declared his undying love for you like men did in the movies. you stood there stupidly with a smile plastered on your face.

“i should’ve cut off the other side of your hair if i knew you’d stop me from playing football. i hate you.” he told you before chasing after his older brother.

any other girl would’ve started crying, well more like any other smart girl. they would’ve realized he meant what he said but not you. you simply thought he was bluffing that he still wasn’t ready to confess his feelings. so, you simply brushed it off and picked up your book bag. you couldn’t wait for saturday, the day your family always went to his parents restaurant to have dinner. maybe he’d confess then.

october 2013

the humid hot air of the island almost made you turn around and go back home but your foolishness made you continue your walk. it took you almost fifteen minutes to make it to the local football field but alas you had arrived on time for kickoff. you sat next to fer, someone you had somehow gotten close with the last few years. it also helped that he was pedro’s brother and allowed for you to be close to him.

“why are you here?” fer turned around to face you.

“geez, didn’t know i was such a bother to you.” you joked.

“oh, come on! i like you my brother hates you which is why i’m so surprised as to why you’re here.” he looks back onto the field spotting his brother.

“pedro doesn’t hate me he’s just too scared to confess his feelings for me.” you playfully hit fer on the shoulder.

“yeah, okay. just don’t give him too many children i don’t want to take care of too many kids in the future.” he jokes.

the both of you chat for a bit catching up on your day to day when all of a sudden the ball hits the back of the net and the local crowd, which consists purely of parents and siblings, goes wild. you notice it’s pedro who has scored as he starts running towards the area you and fer are located and blows a kiss to the crowd. like the delusional girl you are you pretend it’s meant for you. no, you know it is because you’re still stuck on the idea that pedro is devotedly in love with you.

the referee blows the whistle and tegueste takes the win with a score of 4-1. you immediately follow fer onto the pitch to congratulate his younger brother and find him chatting with his teammates. pedro immediately goes up to his brother and starts thanking him for coming as their parents couldn’t since it was a busy night at the restaurant. you get ready to tell him how well he played but as soon as he sees you he walks away.

you’re supposed to be embarrassed but somehow you think he’s the one who is. you think that he’s too nervous to be around you and that’s why he left so suddenly. you’re about to walk back home when one of his teammates stops you.

“hey!” he seems excited to talk to you.

“hi.” you greet him back.

“i’m xabi, does your brother play here?” he asks curiously.

“uh no. my friend does. pedro.” you explain.

“oh! pedro! he’s great! he’s going to be good i think. do you go to-” he’s interrupted by pedro himself.

pedro is too quick and silent you don’t even notice that he’s been sneaking up on you until he’s standing right in front of you. he’s staring at you with a devious smile on his face and you wish you knew what he was thinking.

“you know what we usually do after a win?” pedro asks you.

“we grab the buck-” xabi is once again interrupted.

“shut up xabi.” pedro turns around to shut xabi up.

“we usually grab the bucket of water and pour it on all the scorers but today i proposed that we do something differently. i think you were our lucky charm and that’s why we should pour it on you.” his smile somehow grows wider.

you’re flattered at first but then realization hits you. the dress you’re wearing is too cute to end up drenched. most importantly you didn’t want to get sick. your smile falters when you see his teammates approaching you with the large bucket of ice cold water.

“no, pedro please.” you beg.

he tries to hold you still but your instincts kick in and you immediately kick his ankle. he lets go and you immediately start running. you don’t realize it but he starts chasing after you. you’re about to cross the street when he grabs you from behind and pushes you against the wall. he has a smirk on his face again. you panic not wanting to get soaked. you try to kick him again but this time he doesn’t budge and you’re about to give up when suddenly an idea pops up in your mind.

you grab his cheeks and kiss him.

“what?” he’s confused.

you can’t help but smile at the way his cheeks turn pink but you don’t have a lot of time so as soon as his grip on you loose a you take a run for it. you arrive home exhausted and out of breath. you dramatically fall on your bed with a smile on your face excited that at your wedding you’ll be able to tell all your guests about today.

november 2019

it had been around a year since pedri, as they now called him, left the island in pursuit of a football career. it had also been six months since you gave up on the relationship you had hoped to have with him and it had been approximately three weeks since you had started seeing xabi. something you would’ve only thought would happen if pedri had stopped existing. fer told you to be more optimistic about xabi and that he actually liked you because he would’ve never pranked called the local pizzeria and sent forty pizzas to your house.

the three of you were currently gathered at the beach alongside some of pedri’s friends patiently waiting for him. fer had told you that he would be staying for a week before going back to preseason with las palmas. being the kind person you were you had organized a welcome back party for him with the help of fer. you’d paid for the food, drinks, and the cake that would be delivered later that night.

fer watched you carefully decorate one of the wooden tables with all the snacks and drinks. it was so obvious you still cared about his brother and it somehow made him mad that his brother never reciprocated your feelings. even though pedri didn’t owe it to you to feel the same way it just made him mad that he had always treated you bad for no reason. you had never done anything wrong to pedri prior to his teasing so fer always wondered where his brother’s hatred for you came from.

fer doesn’t have much time to wonder about his brother because said person was already making his way towards him. he’s about to run towards him when he notices somebody else behind him, a girl. he quickly turns around to look for you but you’re too distracted with making sure everything looks nice that you don’t notice pedri or the girl with him. it’s not until everyone starts greeting him that you notice his presence. you don’t expect him to talk to you so you stay back with xabi and that’s when you notice the girl next to him.

you’re surprised at yourself for feeling jealous and hurt because you thought you had finally moved on from your stupid childhood crush. xabi’s arm wraps around your waist at the sight of pedri as if the midfielder’s presence threatened him. you turn around facing the beach not wanting to see pedri and his girlfriend, you assumed that’s who she was. you’re too entranced by the waves to see the look he sends your way and more specifically the way he glared at xabi’s arm around your waist.

who did he think he was? just because he was named after one of the greatest spanish players of all time he was some hotshot? pedri mentally scoffs at the fact that his old teammate had finally been able to ask you out. he had practically drooled over year since the first time you showed up to his games. he grabs alba’s hand in spite. alba was just his friend but felt the urge to rub her in front of your face. he didn’t know why he felt so mad at seeing you with xabi or why he was also upset that you weren’t looking at him in admiration anymore.

“xabi! it’s been so long.” he greets your boyfriend.

you can smell his cologne, the one fer had bought for him last minute when he had visited his younger brother in las palmas. it was intoxicating. you finally turn around to face him and it’s like primary school all over again. you mentally slap yourself for still feeling flustered around him especially after all the damage he’d done to you. the girl he brought offers you a smile and you can only giver her a weak one back not knowing how to feel. xabi treated you so well yet he wasn’t pedri.

as soon as he’s done speaking with your boyfriend he walks away as expected. you don’t feel embarrassed nor angry anymore but rather relieved you don’t have to face the feelings you thought you didn’t have anymore. you took a step back fixing your skirt and making sure your appearance was okay. xabi notices how you fidget. he always does. he notices the smallest things and you hate that you can’t reciprocate how he feels to the max.

“he’s an asshole.” he whispers making sure the two of you are the only ones who hear.

“xabi, come on.” you whine not wanting anything to break out tonight.

“what? it’s true! he’s treated you like shit since we were kids and he still does it now. he didn’t even say hi to you when you planned this whole thing.” your boyfriend claims.

he’s right but you’d never stop making up excuses for the man you’d probably love for the rest of your life.

“i mean i did annoy him every single day of his life until he left. he doesn’t owe me anything.” you replied.

“yeah, you were like 10 with a little girl crush on him so it doesn’t give him the right to act like that. he should just tell you that he doesn’t like you and leave it at that. he probably doesn’t even know that you help out doña rosy at the restaurant, or that you helped fer with his exams, or that you had convinced the principal to not take away his recess time to play football! it’s not fair to you!” xabi exclaims.

“you’re right but i just don’t want to fight him. not today. so promise me you won’t start anything?” you beg him.

he scoffs but then offers you a weak smile himself.

“yeah, okay but if he pulls some messed up shit tonight i can’t promise i won’t beat him up.” you both laugh at his words.

the two of you are unaware that you’re being watched by said asshole and that he’s gripping his cup to the point that the sofa starts dripping out of it. he starts looking for his brother leaving alba alone. in fact he completely forgets about alba when he can only notice how infatuated you are by xabi. what did xabi have that he didn’t? besides compassion and kindness since pedri clearly had the looks.

“when did they start dating?” is the first thing he asks his brother.

“wow, not even a i missed you or how have you been?” his brother scoffs.

“i missed you so much.” pedri pretends to care. “now answer my question.”

“why does it matter? you hate her?” fer continues to pour himself a drink oblivious to the fact that his younger brother is completely losing it.

“so? doesn’t mean i can’t ask about her?” pedri scoffs. “plus, look at him he’s such a loser. she could do better i guess.”

“better like who? you? please, don’t make me laugh. you’ve treated her like shit your entire life just because you knew how madly in love she is with you and now you’re interested? now, that’s she moved on with someone who cares about her? she is doing better. now go attend the guest you brought. it’s bad manners to leave her alone.” fer taunts his younger brother.

“fuck you.” pedri was always determined on having the last word.

on the way back towards alba an idea forms in his mind. it doesn’t take long for him to get everyone together. he brings an empty bottle and places it in the middle of the circle everyone had formed. the midfielder had decided to play spin the bottle with his old friends.

“so, here are the rules!” he speaks up. “when it’s your turn you spin the bottle and you get to ask them truth or dare. but if you ask a stupid question for truth i’ll skip your turn. now, who wants to go first?”

the game starts out light and fun but as the game goes on it becomes more intense and interesting. fer had somehow ended up skinny dipping with the girl next to him and an old friend of yours had confessed that she was the one who gave your old principal food poisoning with the cupcakes she had made. before you know it, it’s pedri’s turn. you stare at the bottle intently hoping it doesn’t land on you but as if the universe heard you it lands on you. the smirk he has on his face reminds you of the one who always had when he was about to do something to you.

“truth or dare?” he asks.

“truth.” you decided to go for the lighter option.

“is it true that you lost your virginity to xabi?” his first question takes you by surprise.

“what the fuck pedri?” xabi yells at him.

“shut up xabi and let her answer.” pedri glares at him.

“i don’t understand why that’s any of your concern-” you start.

“just answer the question and we’ll move on.” he urges.

“no.” you reply simply wanting to get this over with and go home.

fer is about to spin the bottle before pedri stops him. he looks back at you with a sly grin. your stomach churns and you start getting a bad feeling.

“wait, i’m not done. is it also true that you’ve had a crush on me since you were five and thought we would end up together even though i find you repulsive?” pedri started ranting.

you feel everyone’s eyes on you and soon you feel your eyes brim with tears. you don’t know why he’s suddenly putting you on the spot when you hadn’t spoken to him in a year. you’d thought he would’ve left you alone now that you were with xabi.

“well, don’t be shy now. come on? do you think about me when xabi kisses you or touc-” you don’t let him finish because you slap him, hard.

“maybe i was a pathetic little girl then who had no self respect but i do now so don’t ever talk to me like that again. i don’t care if you’re a future football star or the future prince of spain you have no right to speak to me like that. go to hell pedro.” you pick up your things getting ready to leave.

you take out thirty euros and hand them to fer.

“for the cake delivery. he should be here at 9.” is the last thing you say before you walk away with xabi closely following behind.

“what the fuck is your problem? did you just come back here to say all that bullshit to her?” fer confronts his younger brother.

“she shouldn’t have been here in the first place. she’s like a parasite.” pedri scoffs.

“without her i wouldn’t have planned this! she paid for everything and spent the whole day decorating this for you! she helps mom and dad out at the restaurant now that we get tourists there almost everyday. she helped me pass my exams and most importantly all those gifts i gave you when i visited where picked out by her. so, go to hell. i don’t wanna see you for the rest of the night so go home.” fer let’s him know.

pedri stands there in shock not knowing what to say. suddenly he feels horrible but he doesn’t want everyone else to notice so he picks up his shoulders ready to go home.

“oh and stay away from her. she finally found someone who cares about her and i don’t need your jealousy ruining that. xabi is going to play for girona next year and he’ll take care of her. i don’t need you fucking up anything else.” is the last thing his brother tells him.

you wake up to loud knocks on your door. you notice xabi isn’t next to you anymore meaning he’d probably left for training already. you yawn before slowly making your way towards the door. you don’t even check before opening the door something you regret when you see who’s on the other side. it’s pedri but now he’s rocking a black eye.

“your boyfriend paid me a visit last night.” is the first thing he says to you.

“shame.” you reply.

“huh?” he questions

“shame he didn’t get the other one as well.” you cross your arms.

“okay, i deserve that.”

“look pedri you have five minutes to tell me why you’re here before i call your parents and tell them you’re harassing me.” you say.

“i came to apologize. i was out of line last night and i fucked up. in truth i think i realized that i was jealo-”

“don’t pedri. you’ve had twelve years to tell me that you liked me or had a crush on me and instead you spent every single one of those humiliating me. maybe i was annoying but i have never disrespected you. now, leave. i’m happy with xabi and you’re not going to ruin that.” you interrupt him.

“but-”

“leave. we were never meant to happen. xabi is my person and i hope you find yours. hopefully someone nice and not full of hatred like you.” you slammed the door closed in front of him.

that day you call in sick for work and the day after that and so on until you heard news that pedri had gone back. his parents didn’t even question your absence after fer had told them what happened. you cried the first two days and then spent the next few days with xabi. in the span of those days he had asked you to move with him to girona and you didn’t even hesitate before accepting. maybe if you moved you’d loose all memories of the brown eyed boy you had once worshipped.

present day

the adjustment to barcelona wasn’t hard. the few years you were in girona were enough to learn catalan easily so you could communicate with almost anyone. the only problem was getting used to your new job at fc barcelona as a physical therapist. most of the players at girona barely stopped by opting to have surgery and recovering with their own staff. but at barça it was different, you were always busy with injured players as well as recovering players.

xabi and you had parted ways roughly six months ago when he transferred to roma. you couldn’t make the move not wanting to be too far from your home and you were surprised that he understood and took it likely. it was a rough breakup but not because he treated you bad or anything but because he had cared so much and now you felt alone. like you were missing your best friend.

you had stopped keeping up with pedri so you had no idea where he was now and had even stopped talking to fer to which he understood why. he wasn’t mad but he was upset that your friendship had failed because of his asshole brother. alas you shake your thoughts away when a knock on your office door interrupts you.

“come in!” you pick up the file that had been dropped off earlier about the player you’d be seeing today.

the door opens but you’re too engrossed by the files to notice who it is. you’re halfway into the summary of his injury until you notice you don’t even know who you’re treating. when you see the name up top your mind goes blank. you almost walk out the door at the sight of pedro’s name. you spend a few minutes panicking before remembering you’re being paid to be a professional so you gently get back into that mindset and set the file down.

“so the process of your recovery will include-”

“so, you’re just going to pretend that we don’t know each other?” pedri asks you.

“for the remainder of the time that i will work here? yes. now shut up and let me explain how your recovery process will go if you want to play again this season.” you scold him.

he just scoffs and shuts up.

“i assume the medical staff has already told you that you need to apply ice packs to the injured area several times a day as well as taking pain medicine?” you ask him.

“yeah.” he replies staring at the roof wanting to avoid your glare.

“okay so, as part of the healing process i’ll advise you certain gentle hamstring stretches to strengthen you and when the pain begins to subside we’ll move on to harder strengthening exercises. we’ll start working on them on tuesday. i believe that’s all so unless you have any other muscular issues or problems please let me know now.” you reply as stiffly as possible.

“are you and xabi still dating? i mean i assume you’re not or else you’d be in roma. unless you’re doing long distance but i doubt it, it never works out. he’s probably cheated on you by now.” pedri simply starts blabbering nonsense.

“don’t really understand why any of that concerns you.” you turn around to type up his file to the database.

“because you’re too good for him and quite frankly i don’t think you should be with him.” he stands near your desk.

“who should i be with? the asshole that let everyone back home know i was a virgin? don’t make me laugh pedro.” you look up at him to meet that same mischievous smirk from twelve years ago.

“i’ve changed.” he admits.

“good for you pedro. there are plenty of other people in the sea that you could go after. unfortunately for you i’m not one of them. so please be professional and leave me alone. i have to see gavi in an hour so i have to get ready for that.” you urge him to leave.

“please, gavi isn’t even in need of physical therapy he just thinks you’re cute.” pedri laughs.

“like you? at least he’s professional and doesn’t throw soup all over me when i approach him for lunch.” you give him a smile.

pedri steps back realizing how much of a bad person he had been to you. he couldn’t even remember all the things you were accusing him of. he suddenly feels bad for that night at the beach where he had humiliated you in front of everyone just because he thought you were too good for xabi. when in reality he was perfect for you.

“look i’m really sorry for what i did to you. for all of it. i’m not the same person i was at the beach four years ago. and you don’t owe me anything but i’d really like to take you out to dinner and make it up to you.” he begs.

“pedri, you constantly made me feel insecure about myself, humiliated me, made me wear a bob cut so short i might as well have gone bald, and bullied me for my whole childhood so a simple i’m sorry isn’t going to cut it. now, get out of my office please.” you point towards the door.

pedri simply sighs in defeat before making his way out of your office. but he doesn’t give up because as soon as your sessions with him start you’re met with flowers on your desk, links to random memes he finds on the internet, and invitations to all the fancy and expensive restaurants in the vicinity. although what finally makes you give in are the coldplay tickets he offers you.

“what the fuck, pedri?” you jump up at the envelope on your desk. “i can’t possibly accept these? they’re like the best seats as well? oh my god.”

“yes, you can and you will. my recovering process is going much faster than expected because of you and you always mentioned how much you loved the band growing up. please take them.” he urges you.

you don’t know what comes over but you’re suddenly that little girl trying to cross the street and you grab him by the cheeks. you kiss him without a second thought but this time he kisses you back. it’s a short but meaningful kiss.

“i should buy you coldplay tickets more often, huh?” he teases you.

“oh, shut up.” you blush.

he slowly creeps up next to you and wraps his arms around you before removing a strand of hair from your ear.

“in five years when we get married i’ll tell our guests about this.” he whispers into your ears.

a sudden rush of heat is felt near your cheeks and you can’t believe that six year old girl inside of you has won. you stare in awe at the midfielder, not the one you hate and despise but the one you’ve learned to love. the one who will cherish you for the rest of his life. he kisses you with so much fervor and passion you forget to breathe. his hatred for you the hatred that had never existed is now replaced by adoration and love. and you smile once again at the thought of telling this lifelong story to your wedding guests.

#pedri imagine #pedri x reader #pedri fic #pedri fanfic #football imagine #football fic #football fanfic #ash writes

778 notes · View notes