#I miss him every day (He sucked and was awful and the (second) worst man alive and I loved him sooooo much) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peepeepotter · 3 years

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Late Night Encounters Part 3

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT!! Female receiving oral, unprotected vaginal penetration

Word Count: 3.5K

A/N: It’s my birthday so I didn’t proofread this!! I’m sorry!!

Once again, Fred had a date. He woke up that morning and remembered every bit of what he had said, and stood by his words. He told Y/N he still wanted to see the ring on the table when he got home. He wanted her to think about it for at least 24 full hours before she made a decision.

Y/N and Fred had narrowly missed each other that morning. He was off running errands for the day and she had only just woken up. He was home for lunch and she was out with Hermione. Y/N felt her heart sink, feeling guilty for wanting to see him. Why guilt, though? She didn’t feel like she had a valid reason to feel guilty. After she got home from lunch Fred had already left for his date, so she fell asleep on the couch in the living room, figuring it was a good way to pass the time until she saw her new best friend again.

“Why was this on the kitchen table?” George asked, waking Y/N up out of her sweet, dreamless sleep on the couch. He was holding the ring.

“I can’t sleep with jewelry on.” She shrugged, getting up and going to grab the ring. He held it up higher. She almost laughed until she saw the look on his face.

“I’m serious.” She sighed heavily at this.

“I know, George.”

“You know what?” The audacity that men have.

“I know you’re sleeping with her again.”

“W-what?” He almost dropped the ring.

“I just don’t get it, George.”

“I w-wouldn’t do that again.”

“Except you are.”

“Why are you accusing me right now?”

“Because I’m not dumb! Just because I trust you doesn’t mean I’m dumb! I’m not naive. The first time, sure. This time, no! It’s the same as last time, but you thought I’d stay with you just because you proposed this time! Maybe I won’t, did you think about that? What if you get her pregnant? Did you just expect me to stay around and raise the kid? Or what if we both get pregnant, who are you leaving alone with their child?”

“I cannot believe this right now--”

“Stop that! Stop it! You’re gaslighting me! You know I’m right! Stop lying!”

“Fine!”

“How long?”

“A year.”

“So immediately after we got back to where we were.”

“Yes.”

“Why? What did I do? Why am I not enough for you?”

“Maybe if you--”

“Actually, no, fuck you. I’m enough for me. I’m enough for so many people. I gave you a second chance and you fucking blew it! I’ve done so much for you, for Fred, too!”

“I--” He sighed. He was speechless. It was the first time you’d really fully stood up for yourself. It was on him, he knew that. “I think...I’m going to spend the night at the Burrow, and we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

“No.”

“What?”

“Go, spend the night with her, but don’t lie to me and say you’re staying with your mom.” She spoke bluntly, tears streaming out of her eyes quietly. It was a silent cry, the only way Y/N ever allowed herself to cry in front of people. He hesitated, but he turned around and left the living room. Y/N entered the kitchen, starting to grease pans for baking.

Fred came home that night, mostly confused. Y/N wasn’t in the living room tonight, which didn’t make him feel great. That wasn’t the worst of it though. The date was great. She was perfect, but...he hated it. Something was missing. As she listed off interests, favorite movies, her favorite quidditch team...all he could think was that something was missing. When he got home, and Y/N was missing, it dawned on him. It was her. She was missing. The girl had listed off all of Y/N’s favorite movies, her favorite songs. She liked to bake. Her favorite quidditch team was the Holyhead Harpies, the team his little sister played on. Suddenly, Fred felt rather sick. He can’t have feelings for his brother's girlfriend--no, fiance!

With a pit in his stomach, he walked into the kitchen, where he opened his eyes wide. The entire kitchen table and window sill were covered in baked goods. There was one clean counter, where Y/N sat staring off into space, waiting for her next round of cookies to finish.

“Oh! I forgot! I’m sorry, how was the date?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh nothing--”

“Don’t, please don’t close yourself off. We’re close now, just let me in. What happened, what’s with the baked goods?” He asked, leaning with his arms crossed and his back against the island counter across from where she sat. He noticed the ring was missing, it wasn’t on Y/N’s finger, it wasn’t on the counter or the table where he’d seen it last.

“He admitted it. He’s cheating on me with her again.” She sighed, looking to the ceiling and holding back tears. “And it sucks so hard to know he wasted all this time of mine again. He proposed to me. I know he’s your brother, but that’s just so...crazy. Who does that?” She paused, and just as Fred was about to talk she kept going. “And the worst part is that I don’t...I don’t feel anything. The first time he cheated with Angelina it was like my whole world came crashing down. He was my best friend, my boyfriend, and my roommate. Now, it barely even feels like we’re roommates. I thought I could love him the same way after it all, and maybe he cheated because I couldn’t.”

“Don’t blame yourself. Cheating is always a decision. If he realized you didn’t love him the same way he should have communicated with you. Broken up. Not proposed and delayed this.” Fred sighed. Y/N wouldn’t make eye contact with Fred, assumingly because she was upset.

“I--” She paused, chest tight. She looked up at Fred, making blatant eye contact. “What if I’ve been emotionally cheating?” Fred’s eyes widened and his heart sank. He felt awful, like his feelings for her would just have to go away again. Right as they were getting close.

“W-what? With who?”

“You fucking idiot.” She sighed, pushing herself off the counter. She went to walk away, but Fred put his arms on either side of her on the counter, pinning her where she was.

“Don’t walk away.” He whispered, so close to her face. Her heart pounded.

“I--” She sighed. “Fred, I’ve felt more for you in the past five days than I’ve felt for George in the past year and a half. I waited all day for you to be here, and I kept feeling guilty for it. I’ve felt so guilty, and then I find out he’s cheating and I’m so numb to it because you’re all I can think about.” She paused to breathe before she continued her quick ramblings. “Also, the idea of having feelings for you is so weird, because we only just started to like each other, but you’re standing so close to me and all I can hear is my heart pounding in my ears. I can’t stop thinking about all the girls you used to bring home and how I don’t want to be just one of those girls you sleep with. But obviously I can’t just be with you because I think I just broke off my engagement with your brother and also because you haven’t said anything--” So Fred, in his overwhelmed state, pushed forward and pressed his lips against hers. She grabbed both sides of his face as he grabbed her hips. After a few moments, he quickly pulled apart, moving one of his hands to keep her hand on his face in place

“I couldn’t tell you the other night, but I had feelings for you that summer before the war, but you were with George. I couldn’t...I couldn’t just confess then, and besides you were so happy with him. Then we didn’t like each other, and the night before you got engaged I couldn’t stop thinking about you all over again. And...George made us spend all that time together and you’re the only thing I think about. The girl I went on the date with was so perfect, but I couldn’t get you off my mind and I realized she was just like you. But she wasn’t. She wasn’t you, no one will ever be you.” Fred spoke in a hushed tone with his eyes closed, as if speaking any louder or seeing her would make Y/N evaporate into thin air. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see her with tear tracks down her face.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said anything that nice to me before.” She whispered, taking the hand that wasn’t trapped by his and wiping her face. He giggled, letting go of her hand and using both of his hands to hold the sides of her face. He leaned forward and kissed the tear stains on Y/N’s face. “You’re like this perfect man, it’s so wildly different from George.” She mumbled.

“I can’t account for where he went wrong, and I haven’t always been great. But if you give me the chance, I will love you better than anyone else could dream of.” With tears streaming down her eyes she pulled him in to kiss her again, he smiled against her lips. He held the small of her waist as she rested one of her hands on his chest, the other sat at the back of his neck playing with his hair. He moaned when she pulled it gently, causing her to smile into their kiss. She almost missed being able to see him rolling his eyes at her smirk.

“Love me, please. Tonight, tomorrow, every day. Just--love me tonight.” She whispered against his lips as they panted for air.

He leaned down, kissing her again as he grabbed the back of her thighs and lifted her back to a sitting position on the counter. Y/N threaded her fingers through Fred’s hair, one of Fred’s hands was on her thigh, the other rested on her waist. Finally, she bit his bottom lip in an attempt to get him to do anything. In response, he gave a noise that sounded between a groan and a growl, moving to her neck to leave bite marks. He licked the shell of her ear and bit the lobe as he moved down to the length of her neck, sucking hard. She moaned softly, whimpering when he used he grazed his teeth over her neck.

She started grinding her hips against his in an attempt to get some friction. He grabbed her hips, pulling her closer to him to aid in her plight for friction. After he felt satisfied with the bruises he’d left on her neck he went back to her lips, sucking on her bottom lip briefly before licking it in a silent asking of permission to use it. She gracefully licked his tongue, granting his own tongue admission to her mouth. Their tongues wrestled messily, Y/N playing with Fred’s hair and occasionally pulling softly to hear him moan. She was starting to feel frustrated with just grinding, so she moved the hand that was on the side of Fred’s face to gracefully feel all the way down his body before she started palming him through his slacks. He gave a harsh groan this time, pulling apart from her mouth briefly.

“You’re so beautiful, so sexy.” His voice was deep with pleasure and she moaned at the sound alone. Her heart swelled, she hadn’t been praised like that sexually...ever. Fred took one of his hands off of her hips to thread into her hair, pulling gently to hear her moan. He swore to himself that he could hear that every minute of every day and never get tired of it. While Fred knew he was going to fuck her, his intentions were pure-- he wanted to make love to her. Y/N, however, was getting frustrated with his politeness. She started to unbutton his slacks and he broke off their kiss again. “Hold on, I want to take care of you.” He whispered, flush against her lips.

“I appreciate that, but I want you inside of me.” She whispered, her hand that had been unbuttoning his pants was now tangled in his shirt. Fred felt his heart drop to his cock when she said this, groaning at her lack of restraint. Y/N started unbuttoning his shirt as he separated her thighs and pulled her completely to the edge of the counter.

“You’ll just have to be patient, princess.” He grinned as he went to crouch, kissing her knee on the way down. He left kisses all over the inside of her thighs, leaving her soaked to the core before he had even really touched her. Both Fred and Y/N were thankful she was wearing a dress that day, making his access considerably easier as he rubbed her through only her thin panties. Kissing the inside of her thigh as he looked up into her eyes, he felt like the luckiest man alive. He almost grinned when he saw she was adorning another pair of fruit covered panties.

“You know, I wasn’t kidding when I said the cherry panties were sexy,” He smirked up at her, rubbing circles into her clit through peach covered cotton. “These are sexy too, but I think they’d look a lot better on the floor.” He grabbed the cotton on her hips and pulled them down, leaving them on the floor like he promised. Y/N’s thighs were shaking from all the teasing he had done already. He licked from her inner knee to where he promised to take care of her, latching his mouth onto her clit. She gasped at the feeling of his warm tongue, closing her eyes. He used his tongue to create figure-8’s against her clit, and slowly pushed one finger into her. At this, she threw her head back, resting the crown of her skull gently against the cabinet behind her. She laced her fingers through Fred’s hair, now pulling hard. He groaned in his own pleasure, creating vibrations against her clit which in turn made her moan. He pushed a second finger into her, slowly pumping them as he worked her clit. After adding a third finger, her legs were shaking violently, showing she was nearing the edge. He quickly swapped his fingers and tongue, using his thumb to rub circles against her clit and sticking his tongue as deep as he could inside of her warm pussy. He had his other arm wrapped around her thigh, one of her hands reaching to hold the hand there as she neared her end even faster than before.

“I want you to say my name when you cum, baby, can you do that for me?” He paused briefly, looking up at her, she nodded vigorously. His tongue returned to it’s warm reserve inside of her. The motions he made with his thumb against her clit became faster, and soon enough she was squeezing his hand and nearly screaming his name. Fred waited for her to stop squeezing his hand to stand up and kiss her on the lips again. “You did so good, baby.” He whispered against her lips.

“Freddy,” She whimpered against his lips. “You haven’t even fucked me yet and I don’t think I’ll be able to walk.” She almost laughed at the thought. He grinned, happy with his work so far. He tucked a strand of her behind her ear, kissing her ear as he spoke.

“You won’t need to, baby. I’ll fuck you right here,” He started licking and kissing her neck again, making her whine. “And I’ll take care of you so you don’t have to walk.” He whispered against her quickly bruising flesh. She whined again, reaching to finish her job unbuttoning his shirt and unzipping his already unbuttoned pants. He let her continue as he wrapped his hand in her hair once and pulled back, exposing the front of her neck to him where he continued his attack. When she finished unbuttoning his shirt he helped her pull it off his shoulders, exposing his freckled and scarred skin on his chest to her. She rubbed her hands against his chest, feeling every individual scar and wondering where each of them came from. He watched her eyes dart around, a small closed-lip smile adorning her face as she felt the raised white scars. He rubbed his thumb against her cheek softly, loving his own view. Using the same hand that was petting her cheek, he lifted her face to look up at his. He pulled her face close to his own and kissed her softly.

“I love you, Y/N.” He whispered against her lips with his eyes closed. She smiled, reaching her face up to kiss his eyelids. Angel kisses on his blonde eyelashes. It was a sweet moment, to remind them both that not only was there no going back after what they were about to do, but also to remind them that this wasn’t just fucking. This was real, unadulterated love. He opened his eyes, looking deeply into hers as she pushed his slacks and boxers down as far as she could with her hands, using her bare feet the rest of the way. He lifted her dress over her head, tossing it somewhere behind him, inevitably landing on some type of baked good. She rested one hand against his jaw, pulling his face close to hers, her other hand pumping his cock and gently rubbing the tip. He closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath at the feeling of her small hand around him. He rested one hand on her jaw, mirroring her. His other hand rested on the small of her back to push her closer to him. They kissed gently, feeling like this moment was fragile and could be broken. Y/N moved the hand that was on his cock and squeezed his bicep, quietly communicating that she was ready. He moved his hand from the small of her back to line himself up with her entrance, and as he pushed in the both gasped quietly at the feeling. Fred rested his forehead on Y/N’s shoulder, eyes closed as he waited quietly and politely for her to adjust to his size. After a few moments she tapped him to tell him to move, her eyes squeezed tightly closed for preparation of any pain that would come from his movements. He moved slowly, truly taking this moment to get to know Y/N’s body. He felt every groove inside of her, every dip and small raise in her skin, memorising her inside and out. As they both started to get used to this puzzle-piece moment in which it felt like the clicking of soul-mates finally coming together, they started kissing again. Fred’s tongue entered her mouth, exploring, dead set on memorising her entire body. Her hands found themselves resting on his back, nails digging in every so often. If this had been her sex dream, she would’ve been wondering how many girls had dug their nails into his back, but in person all she could think about was him. He filled her every sense, she could smell him, feel him everywhere, taste him, his freckled skin stuck on her eyes even when they closed, and their shared moans overwhelmed her ears. If this was what making love was, she definitely had never shared that with George.

Fred lowered his hand, rubbing her clit gently as his pace got faster. He wasn’t sure if he had ever felt so good so quickly, he was almost positive he hadn’t ever felt his high come so quickly. As he pounded into Y/N’s g-spot and rubbed her clit, she found herself loudly moaning. Her nails were now leaving deep marks into Fred’s back, and Fred hadn’t even noticed.

“Fred,” She moaned his name loudly, the sound of which made his own high come even faster. Set on finding their highs together, they were flush together. Y/N nor Fred had never been so close to someone, their entire bodies touching. Her legs were wrapped around him, her torso flush against his and her face buried into his chest. His face was buried into her neck, leaving occasional kisses to avoid his own moans. Quickly, they found their highs together. After hitting her g-spot so many times, she warned him. He quietly thanked Godric, his own high coming as well. So as they came together, panting, completely embraced, they felt loved. They’d both felt fucked-out before, but this felt different. This felt simultaneously heavy and weightless on their hearts, and they stayed together for a long time. They kissed quietly, Fred not really wanting to leave her, and she not wanting him to leave her either. Before he pulled out she spoke.

“I love you too, Freddy.”

Tag list: @fredshufflepuff @melonoptimist @phelps-weasley-twins @maybeisthemoon @groovynachos @katllol @manuosorioh @brownieparker @superblyspeedydragon @packmentalityx @missryerye @p0gue420 @hogwartshomiehopper @skarlettmikaelson @seppys-return-to-madness @fandomscombine @wzardweasley @eattheboat @mgchaser @borhap-boiiii @gabiconstellation @hardpartybasketballshepherd @superpowereddonut @sukunas-cult-leader @whysoseriousssssssss @skateb0red @urgingforyou @lookscutebutwillfight

permanent tag list: @potters-heart @0x0spunky-monkey0x0

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anothers-trash-my-treasure · 2 years

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Starving

Happy Easter! This is not an easter-themed story but nonetheless, we've got something new here. From the requests, 'sit on my face and I'll show you how much I missed you' and 'don't worry, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I'm between your legs" with some slight modification.

Pairing: Merriell Shelton / Female Reader

Warnings: Oral sex (female receiving) Facesitting. It's pretty tame, as far as some of my stories go.

Word Count: 1.6

Tags: @edteche2 @xmxisxforxmaybe @diasimar @txmel @paradoxicaltornado @404-not-found-xix @sherlollydramoine @itswormtrain @gloriousangelsdarkworld (I’m sorry I’m awful for keeping updated tag lists so pls lmk if you want to be added or taken off)

You loved coming home to him. Especially after you’ve been away for longer periods of time. God, there truly was nothing like it. Merriell Shelton was an amazing lover even on his worst days. But when he had gone days without you, the man was all but ravenous. You had gotten home while he was still at the shop, and while his lack of immediate presence was something you missed, you were grateful you had the time to freshen up and get started on dinner.

“She’s home!” He calls when he opens the door to your shared apartment, quick to shed his shoes and move to meet you in the kitchen, no doubt smelling the food warming on the stove, “And she made dinner.” His voice much closer now, a pair of arms are wrapping around your waist to pair with it.

“Hi baby,” You greet warmly, sinking back into his body as you tilt and turn your head to kiss him, slow and sweet, “How was your day?” You ask, enjoying the way he curls himself around you, nuzzling his face into your neck. You think distantly that if he were a cat, he’d be purring.

“Too long,” he sighs, following it up with a kiss on your neck, “Knowin’ I had ta’ wait all day ‘till I could see you.” Another kiss, “That smells good, by the way.” he adds.

You hum, pleased with his response. “Hungry?”

His lips then suck at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, slowly and so intensely that you have to grip the countertop in front of you for stabilization.

“Starving.”

You let out a shaky laugh, one hand coming up to cup the back of his head, encouraging him to keep kissingsuckingbiting at your skin, “Missed me then?”

“Come sit on my face and I’ll show you how much I missed you.” he breathes into your ear and in that moment, you feel every ounce of need in his body surge through yours. Not wasting another second you reach forward, turning the stove off before turning around and kissing him hard and passionate, hands tangling in his hair. Dinner completely forgotten.

Your lips meet in a frenzied kiss, both of you moaning softly into the kiss as your hands grab at each other, desperate after your time apart. His slide up your back and shoulders to keep you close, not letting you pull away from him for a second. His tongue slides against yours in the most delicious way and the only thought running through your brain is getting that tongue someplace else. His breathing is loud in your ears, every second feels like making up for lost time and it’s crazy because you were only gone for like five days. But you’ll be damned if it wasn’t the longest 5 days of your life.

“Sit on my face,” He all but begs against your lips, hands now pulling your hips against his, something hard at your hip, “Baby, please? Let me show you.”

You could never say no to him. You let him drag you down the hallway, never stopping kissing, touching, grabbing you. You giggle against his lips at the way he absolutely refuses to pull away from you to see properly, even when he accidentally backs into the corner of the wall between the hallway and your shared bedroom. Once you’re in the room, he’s sinking to his knees in front of you.

It’s not often you see him like this, and it always takes your breath away. All big eyes and natural seduction as he pops the button of your jeans and drags them down and off your legs. He sits back for a second, letting his hands run up your calves and thighs, letting one thumb rub against your clothed clit. Your eyes flutter, but you don’t break eye contact.

You watch in a daze as he rubs circles, he watches you back, upping the pressure until your mouth drops open on a gasp and your hips push forward. He hums, pleased, and leans forward, taking the fabric on your panties between his teeth, using his hands to assist the fabric down your legs to pool at your ankle.

Your whole body is vibrating with anticipation as he slowly gets back up on his feet. His eyes stay locked on yours as he walks past you and lays himself across your shared bed. Once settled, he smirks,

“Gonna make me wait all night?”

Your desire to wipe the insufferable smirk off his face is only a secondary reason for how fast you find yourself scrambling up the bed to straddle his face. He laughs at your urgency and your heart swells a little at how much you just missed him. Once you’re in position he turns his head, kissing sloppily at your inner thigh, trailing up and up and up until his lips are brushing against the junction between your thighs and your pelvis. His head settles back against the pillow and for a moment you think you’ll die if he doesn’t start doing something. And just when you think you can’t take any more of his intense stare and the building anticipation, he’s using his hands on your ass to tug you down, sitting you fully on his face.

His tongue immediately goes to work, lapping at your folds and using the hands on your body to make you rock against his face. Your hands fly to his hair, desperately needing something to hold on to as the pleasure zolts through your body.

“Oh shit,” You gasp, high pitched and breathy as your clit bumps and rubs against his nose. All at once, the room is too hot, and you're tugging at your shirt, practically ripping it from your body and working just as quickly to take your bra off.

He moans excitedly underneath you, eyes lighting up when your boobs bounce free, one hand sliding up your body to squeeze one, his fingers teasing and tugging at your nipples.

You work your hips up and down on his face, moaning with every hum and grunt he lets out against your pussy. You're moaning loudly, probably too loudly, but you couldn’t give less of a shit about that when his tongue dips into your entrance. He knows you love that, the feeling of him, warm and sofuckingwet wiggling inside of you. You can’t help to way your hips move to grind back on the movement, letting him fuck you with his tongue.

He’s making you feel so good, you wouldn’t be surprised if his chin and neck were drenched. And it’s that thought that sends heat through your, your orgasm starting to race towards you faster than you anticipated.

“Merriell, oh fuck, I’m-” You start to warn, fingers tugging on his hair hard to keep him where you need him. You’re riding that edge, between holding back and giving in, on the cusp of orgasm when your eyes meet his. You had expected him to look cocky beneath you, smug as he usually is when he gets you off. But the man beneath you is desperate. He looks like he’s getting just as much pleasure from this as you are, cheeks flushed, eyebrows pulled down in such a way that if you didn’t know any better you’d say he was in pain.

It’s the knowledge that he gets off on this that does it for you. His name tumbles off your lips and you can hear him moaning, borderline whining, beneath you, muffled by your thighs that threaten to cut off his oxygen completely. You collapse beside him, panting through the aftershocks of your orgasm as he catches his breath.

“Fuck, I missed you.” you sigh, turning to drape yourself over his still fully clothed body.

He laughs, capturing your mouth in a filthy kiss that tastes like you, “Not nearly as much as I missed you.”

You hum, agreeing to disagree. You then glance down his body, seeing if you could repay the favor only to find a wet spot at the front of his jeans. You look back up at him, heat once again rushing to the crux of your legs, “Did you...?”

He grins, not in the least bit embarrassed, “Ya looked so good baby, I couldn’ta stopped it if I tried.”

You grin back at him, letting your hands run through his hair as you gaze at each other, basking in the afterglow, “Sorry I pulled your hair so hard.” You say after a moment, becoming aware of the stiffness in your fingers from their grip.

“You know I don’t mind,” He quips, lips tugging into a small smirk, “use them reigns, girl.”

You both fall into an easy laughter, tangled up with each other on ruffled sheets. It felt almost like you had never left. Except for the persistent need between your legs.

“I could go again,” You admit, placing a wet kiss on his shoulder, letting your legs tangle further with his, “could you?”

You know he’s not hard, you’d be able to feel it. But the gleam in his eyes and how quickly he moves to lay between your legs on his stomach tells you that him not being hard isn’t going to stop you from getting another.

“Think I’ve got a way to pass the time ‘til I can.” He bites at your thigh, enjoying the gasp that leaves your lips at the slight pain, your hands already finding their way to his hair again, “and don’t worry, you can pull my hair as much as you want while I’m down here.”

#merriell shelton x reader #merriell shelton #snafu shelton #snafu x reader #merriell shelton smut #smut

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midnight-dreamerness · 3 years

Text

Savior

Chapter 2: Finding Strength

(This is NOT my gif. Credit to the creator <3)

series summary: when your protector returns, he finds you broken and abused and helps you climb out of the darkness

chapter summary: you finally have had enough and you find the strength to escape

pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

warning: mentions of death, acts.mentions of abuse, mentions of self harm

word count: 2.1k

Quitting the job you love was really hard. After your brother died you got back together with Kade after a short break in the relationship, you moved in with him. You didn’t have the best relationship with your parents, and it only got worse when Danny, your brother, died while overseas.

You walked into the apartment, your head bowed trying to hide the tears threatened to spill down your cheeks. He’s already home, you saw his car in his usual spot in the parking garage when you pulled in. You could also make out the sound of the tv playing in the living room.

You headed towards the bedroom until he called your name, making you turn and slowly make your way into the living room.

“Did you do it?”

There are empty beer bottles everywhere along with a half empty bottle of whiskey sitting on the coffee table. You sighed but nodded nonetheless, playing with the hem of your blouse.

“Good. Start cleaning. This place is a mess.”

And you did what he said, all day. He made you scrub the floor down with a scrubbing brush. You had to clean every inch of the apartment, while picking up the trash he left behind him all day. When night came, you had officially cleaned everything and cooked him dinner. You sat down at the table, ready to eat after not having breakfast or lunch all day.

“What are you doing? You think you deserve to eat? No. You're going to sit there and think about what you did.”

With sad eyes and an ache in your stomach, you didn’t fuss. You didn’t even say a word. You didn’t want him to see you cry so you held it in as much as you could. You hold back sobs, it creates a burning feeling in your chest and throat.

After you got home yesterday, Kade had been enraged. Accused you of cheating, he didn’t even mention you telling Jay about the abuse. It was worse because it was Jay. He knew your background, and how you fell in love with him when you were younger. Last night's memories were fuzzy after that. All you can remember was the agonizing pain and the god awful headache you had after he slammed your head against the kitchen counter. Kade has made you quit your job, you weren’t sure why.

Kade wipes his mouth with a cloth once he’s finished eating. “I try to be nice to you. But you test me. Every single day, you test me.” He stands from his seat at the table, coming closer and closer to you. You look up at him pleading with your eyes.

“Worthless. Pathetic. Get up.”

You do as you're told and stand up. He roughly grabs your arms, dragging you down the hall. You think he’s heading towards the bedroom but he stops at the hallway bathroom. He opens it and tosses me inside.

“This is your new room now. You should get comfortable,” he snarls. You're on the ground now, groaning. He takes the chance and shoves his foot into your chest.

When will it stop! When is enough, enough for him? Why am I not good enough? What did I do that made him so violent?

These things run through your head as he continues his abuse. Pain and suffering, blood and tears are things you have gotten used to.

It’s an hour later when he stops, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he stares down at you in disgust. You look at him weakly and in pain. You're almost positive you need medical attention, but you say nothing.

“Cheating whore,” he spits. With one final look, he’s gone. The sound of the kick in the bathroom door clicking, only making more tears pool in your eyes.

What has my life come to? When did it get this bad? How did I let it get this bad?

The bathroom floor was ice cold, even with a towel laid underneath you, you were still freezing. You know he bumped the temperature down, torturing you even when he wasn’t at home. You twirled the card between your fingers. His name sticking out along with his number.

Deceive Hay Halstead.

You remember fourteen year old you, rushing into your brothers room where he and Jay were playing video games. You remember how excited you were when you told the both of them you got the lead role in your dance group.

“I’m so proud of you,” Jay had exclaimed.

You wondered if he would be proud of you now.

Would he?

There’s so much history between you and Jay, a lot of things your brother never knew about, and now he never will.

It’s been days since you saw him. You can still see his smile and his perfect white teeth as he spoke to you. You can still feel his body against yours from that day he had you against the wall.

You should’ve told him. You're filled with regret. He could’ve helped you get out.

I wouldn’t be in this stupid bathroom if I had agreed to let him help me.

You could’ve called him the day he made you quit your job. You could’ve driven off, anywhere. Somewhere, where Kade couldn’t find you.

Yet, here you are. You have a few - a lot - new bruises that have replaced the old ones. There’s still a harsh pain in your chest and your stomach from not having eaten in days. You know it’s been at least a week.

He comes and goes. Sometimes you can hear giggles pass down the hallway to your shared bedroom. Then…you can hear him pleasing other women in your bed. The ones he would love you on, on good days.

But no…he is with other women while the woman he should be with is withering away down the hall.

You didn’t scream, you should’ve. You know that now. You were scared he would kill you or those girls. You wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself if something happened to them because of you and your stupidity.

So you sucked it up.

It’s been two weeks. Yesterday had to be one of the worst days. You recall the rage burning like fire in his eyes. He was angry, more than usual. Something must’ve happened. Either way, there’s no excuse for what he did.

The cuts along your back sting like hell. You begged him to stop, and it was a mistake. You should’ve let him beat you till it was out of his system for the night. If it’s even possible, he got angrier. He threw you into the bathroom counter, your back crashing into the mirror, causing it to shatter agains you. Your thigh had hit the faucet, creating a huge bruise on the back of it, but nothing hurt worse than the pain in your heart.

“Pathetic slut,” he snapped before walking out, locking the door behind him.

You sit on the floor only a day later, staring at yourself through the glossy flooring. A large shard of glass sat next to you, your eyes wander to it ever so often. It tempts you. Taunts you like a clear voice in your head.

“Do it.” It would say.

Then you would hear the sound of his voice. Familiar, warm, and inviting. Your heart aches. You miss him.

You can see him at the elevator, waiting for it to open while he looks at you.

“You’re strong. Remember that.”

You wonder why you pushed him away. Why you don’t let yourself trust the one man, that still lives, that would never hurt you.

A sob racks through your body as you pick up the large piece of the mirror and throw it across the room. An aggravated scream leaves you as you stand up with trembling legs.

How could I let this happen? Why didn’t I ask for help? The abuse has gone on for three years.

Your throughts were only “why” and “what if’s.”

He’s taken everything from you. Ripped you from your friends, your old life. You didn’t even notice at the time. You just needed someone. You followed him blindly. He told you you only needed him. Nothing - no one else.

I lost myself trying to please him.

You decided you're done letting him win. You're done letting him control your life. Your choices were dying here in this bathroom helplessly, or die trying to get out. You chose the latter.

You searched around the room in a haste, looking for anything to break the doorknob off. Your eyes trained on the top of the toilet. You take it off, arms falling at the weight. You are weak from the two weeks with no food, but you still find it in yourself to raise it over your head and lm it down in the knob.

You weren’t sure the exact time, but Kade would be home soon. So you knew you had to hurry

One hit didn’t seem to do it, so you raise it again and with a grunt, you use all your strength to slam it back down again. Your mouth falls open in surprise when the knob falls to the floor with a loud clanking noise.

It took you a moment, but you dropped the lid and rushed out of the bathroom. You made your way to the home phone, picking it up with shaky hands.

You're hit with a wave of dizziness, but you still dial the number you now know by heart. You were filled with hope when he answered after a couple of rings.

“Halstead.”

“JJ?”

There was a silence on the other end of the phone for a second, but soon he repeats your name.

“I want out. P-Please help me,” you beg, tears streaming down your face as you pathetically spike.

“Address. I need an address.”

The sound of the front door unlocking catches your attention. Your body goes ridged, frozen in place.

Jay repeats your name a couple of times.

“No. No,” you mutter as you begin to back away.

“Hey! What’s going on? I need an address, sweetheart.”

You somehow manage to tell him the address with a, “please hurry,” at the end. You hang up, throwing the phone to the side. You're filled with dread as Kade stumbles into the room, pulling at his tie. You're starting to regret what you just did.

Kade narrows his eyes, ripping his tie from his neck.

“How the hell did you get out?”

He stalks towards you, and although your first instinct is to run, you stay put. You're done taking the abuse.

“I’m done, Kade. We’re done.” You stand your ground, head held high and a new found confidence in your words. He laughs. It’s evil and sickening.

“We’re done? I say when we’re done!” He exclaims, his hand rising and connecting with your face before you had the chance to move. You fall to the floor from the power of the slap. Although you act confident and strong, you're weak. Two weeks without food would be the cause. It didn’t help that you were still in pain from the most recent beating.

You let out a cry as he pulls your hair back with a huff. “When will you learn?” He asked, pulling your head back so you were facing him.

“You look pathetic,” he laughs. You're slapped in the face once more before being dragged towards the kitchen by your throat. You grabbed at him, your instincts kicking in.

“God, your stupid,” he spat, shoving you into the table. Your eyes widen as you feel your skirt, the same one you’ve worn for two weeks now, being pulled around your hips. You felt hopeless now. You only hoped Jay would be here soon.

“At least you're good for something.” You heard him mutter before the sound of his zipper being undone filled your ears. You clamped your legs together and attempted to move, but it was no use. He overpowered you easily. You cried softly as he moved closer and held you down with a deadly grip on your bruised and cut back.

There’s a knock on the door that paused Kade’s actions. He hissed and pulled away, fixing himself.

“Who the hell did you call? Did you call someone?”

The look of fury in his eyes was enough to have you cowering in fear. A scream rips from your throat as he grabs you by your hair again.

“CPD! Open up!” You heard his familiar voice. The same voice you heard as you laid on the bathroom floor.

Kade’s grip on you tightens. “I’m going to kill you, you little bitch.”

A/N: Small cliffhanger? Yep. Chapter 3 should be out Tusedsy! If you want added to the Saviors taglist let me know!

@miranada0102 @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @kelelas-life

(Not sure why some of these didn’t work.)

#chicago pd #chicago pd imagines #jay halstead #jay halstead imagines #jay halstead x reader #one chicago #detective jay halstead #jay halstead one shots #chicago pd x reader #dom jay halstead

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matsbarzal · 3 years

Note

Hi my dear!!! I’m here to request another fic/blurb bc I cannot get enough of all the ones you’ve written for me/others so far! 🤩💕

If it’s still available, could you please do random/au #4 the moment you look into their eyes... you just know. with Mat Barzal??? Thank you so much! 💙💙

au #4. the moment you look into their eyes... you just know.

pairing: mat barzal x reader word count: 1.2k

They always said, the day you found your soulmate… you just know. It was something in their eyes, they always said, like everything finally clicked in your soul, both halves finally complete after years of being separated by time and distance.

As the years went by, it seemed probable to you that you’d never meet your soulmate. There was never any twitch inside, never a pull or a need to go somewhere you weren’t. You had deduced it to the fact your soulmate wasn’t looking for you simultaneously, they didn’t care to find you, or they just didn’t care to find you yet.

Everyone had their examples of the worst way they’ve met their soulmate. Some while they were out for dinner with their significant other at the time, some in the middle of a rivalry high school football game, and some? Well, some apparently met in the middle of a National Hockey League game.

Number Thirteen’s eyes bore into yours from his spot on the bench, his entire body turned so he could stare at you, a look of confusion slowly fading into a look of understanding, and then he was shoving into number nineteen. Beauvillier, as his jersey said, whipped around to look over the crowd, his eyes eventually falling on you just rows back from their bench.

You could feel it, every time number thirteen looked at you, every time your eyes met for even a second. He was the person you had been waiting for, for so many years, and who was to even say you’d see him again after the game?

Both gazes were ripped off you when their line was told to get on the ice, number 13, or Mathew Barzal as your parents had told you the moment they realized what was going on. Mat had tried to keep his focus on the ice, on the puck on his stick, on the weaving players around him.

Everyone could see the distraction in his movements, the puck flying far left of the net, his speed not up to the caliber it usually was. After two periods of impeccable hockey from the Islanders’ forward, just to crash midway through the third, his teammates were confused and so were his fans.

The end of the game came quicker than you were hoping, Mat’s eyes attempting to never leave yours as he went down the tunnel. The tunnel walls cut through that almost immediately, disappointment settling in your stomach when you realized it was unlikely you’d be able to get a chance to see him again until God knows when.

“We could wait, darling? Maybe he’ll send someone to look for you?” shrugging your shoulders gently, you pursued your lips as you looked around, people eager to get out of the arena to miss the traffic that they were going to inevitably be stuck in regardless.

“No point, probably, like anyone’s even going to be able to make it through all these people. May as well just—”

Your words were cut off by the sound of something slamming against the glass behind you, all three pairs of eyes turning their bodies to look at the source. The puck didn’t leave a mark on the glass, but the person staring back at you through it sure left a mark on you.

He was yelling something, his voice illegible by the chatter throughout the arena. It was easy to read Mat’s lips when he was only saying two words multiple times in a row, hoping you’d eventually be able to hear him, or at least try to.

“Stay there,” you could even see the huff in his voice, the aggravation from the crowd taking forever to clear out, and not quietly at that.

You nodded your head back, a look of awe in your eyes as he grinned up at you cheekily. Winking at you, he quickly made his way back down the tunnel again, two of his teammates peering out around him to see what he was so eager to get to after the game.

“We’ll go wait in the car, hun. Give you some time to… acquaint yourself,” nodding at her, you watched both your parents follow the departing fans as you sat back in your seat, thumbing through your phone and eagerly looking around you every few seconds.

It was only minutes later when you heard footsteps slamming down the stairs next to you, most of the building cleared out. Turning to the sound, you were instantly met with the same eyes that had just… made it click inside of you. The pull was even stronger with you being so close to one another, even more eager to encourage you to get closer to the man now just steps away from you.

“Couldn’t have like… come to a game that wasn’t dire for our playoff push, huh? Already distracting me and I don’t even know your name?”

You couldn’t help the guffaw that fell from your lips at his words, a small grin taking over your face as you stood up and extended your hand towards him. “Y/N, sorry for distracting you. Fate works in funny ways, Barzal.”

Nodding his head with a laugh, his hand instantly engulfed yours and before you realized it, he was pulling you into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around your back as his chin gently placed itself on the top of your head. It didn’t take much thought to hug back. For the fact he had just played almost an hour of hockey, he didn’t even smell awful.

Pulling back, the grin never leaving his face as he looked down at you. “Never thought I’d meet my soulmate, to be honest with ya. Tito, Beau, Anthony Beauvillier, always told me to just wait it out, suck it up and eventually you’d come around. Em, his soulmate, showed up almost four months ago. Guess I had to top him by finding mine in the middle of a game, huh?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you just laughed and nodded your head. “Pretty sure it’s a double-whammy for him too, you’re beautiful, and our first look is ten times better than his story.”

“Oh, I’m sure his soulmate and their story are just as beautiful. Just maybe not as great as ours.”

Nodding his head, Mat just shrugged his shoulders as he gestured to the teammate that was now standing at the top of the stairs to your aisle.

“They met in a Walmart parking lot in the middle of a snowstorm back near his hometown, he almost ran her over with his car. Tito always says she came around swinging before they even made eye contact, you’ll love them, everyone does.”

“Are we going to keep talking about your teammates and their soulmates, or are you ever going to kiss yours?”

Surging forward at your words, all elements of the previous conversation now gone when Mat pressed his lips to yours. The fireworks in your brain set off immediately, the butterflies in your stomach jumping around the moment your lips made contact for the first time. It was definitely something you wouldn’t mind happening forever, his lips eagerly pressing against yours as his hand cupped your cheek, the smile pressed into your lips a clear sign that he was thinking the same.

note: im literally obsessed with you, thank you for being my biggest supporter always!! i hope this blurb is fit perfect to the request, and thank you for requesting, ily <3

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mcyt-imagines · 4 years

Note

hello! i am here to request a tommyinnit x reader! where the reader is a smaller streamer who accidentally befriends tommy while having no idea who he is??? they only find out when they see him streaming one day and lose their fucking marbles over how many people are watching him, and proceed to blow up his phone like??? hello what the fuck???? also, they/them pronouns please!

I love this request, mainly because I can totally see Tommy doing this to someone. Befriending them and just accidentally forgetting about his online popularity just to laugh as they freak out over it. I’ve used they/them pronouns as per requested as well, hope you enjoy! :D

Hidden In Plain Sight

You were worried you weren’t going to actually make any friends in your new classes, moving to a whole new school partway through the year wasn’t exactly common practice. So, you had braced yourself for the worst, mentally prepared to eat your lunch alone in the bathrooms even if it was gross, it was better than being eyeballed by your new peers. Approaching the common area with your food now in hand, you felt your stomach start to sink deeper and deeper, yet you kept up your pace determined to not look as downtrodden as you felt.

“Hey, new girl!” You turned quickly, giving yourself a bad case of whiplash that the boy who had called your name definitely noticed. “Uh, yeah?” You raised a singular eyebrow at him, the empty seats around him beckoning you closer. “Nice twitch patch. You stream?” He asked, gesturing to the small purple and white patch you had badly sewn onto your backpack.

You stood dumbly ahead of him, your food held tightly in your hands. “Uh, yeah. I do, I only started a few months ago though.” You grow sheepish wondering if admitting to that could just lead to you getting bullied quicker. The boy’s face suddenly lights up, “Me too! I’ve been streaming for a few years now though.” He boasts a little, obviously taking pride in his hobby. You nod along, “Cool.” A few moments of silence pass, “Are you gonna sit or what?”

The smile that graces your face leaves Tommy a little stunned, “Oh! Thanks.” You quickly sit, shoulders relaxing almost instantly. “I-It’s nothing, I’m Tommy by the way.” He holds out his hand, you warmly shake it giving him your own name with a soft blush. Partly from the embarrassment of your pointlessly spiralling thoughts and partly from how cute this boy next to you is. Tommy happily carries the conversation, cheeks a soft pink as you watch him with intrigue and interest drinking in his words with an attentiveness he wasn’t used to. Tommy listens eagerly when he asks you about your twitch channel, you shyly tell him a little about it.

You give him your channel name and he follows you, you follow back instantly Tommy speaking through the exchange partly to distract you from his profile. It works and you close the app without a second glance, happily listening to the rest of Tommy’s story without a care in the world. Tommy feels relief rush through him, he didn’t want to overwhelm you and he knew that his popularity was likely to have an impact on your friendship. He didn’t want that. He wanted someone to want to get to know him because they found him interesting not because of his following and the ‘clout’ they may receive from being his friend. You didn’t seem like the type to do that but he knew better than to assume, he’d learnt that lesson a few too many times before.

“You normally sit alone?” You breach the subject with little tact, knowing that surely, he’s a popular guy. He’s loud, extroverted and funny, there’s no way he was as much of a social outcast to be forced to sit alone. He sighs loudly, huffing air through his nose. “No! But my lame-o friends decided to join clubs this year and they meet during lunch for extra club time.” He grumbles, arms now gesturing widely around him as he articulates exaggeratedly. “But I know that they’re really just trying to suck up to the girls in the drama club.” He makes a loud gagging noise.

“So, I stay out here and study, that way I have more time to stream when I get home,” Tommy explains with a soft shrug, motioning to his binder nearby, notes scribbled in an illegible chicken scratch. “I might have to start doing that, the workload here is so much more than at my old school.” You groan, gesturing to your own binder chock-a-block with notes, textbooks and spiralled notebooks.

That’s when the two of you hear a distant ringing of bells, “Where’re you headed? I can lead you there, this place is a maze sometimes.” Tommy offers the smile soft on his face. You pull at your folder and point to your next class, “Uh, it’s-“ You begin, only for Tommy to exclaim. “We have the same class! C’mon, Miss will beat our asses if we’re late!” “Miss who!?” You look at him quizzically as Tommy quickly stands grabbing his things and motioning for you to follow. When you stand slowly and grab your things Tommy grabs your wrist, “She might excuse you for being late, but I’ve been late one too many times dude, you don’t even know.” His pace is faster than yours but his hold on your wrist is firm, forcing you to keep up with him.

Days of chatting and befriending Tommy turns to weeks and soon it’s been a few months. You had been happily keeping to yourself mid-stream, your regular viewers making light conversation with you through chat. “Oh woah, we got a raid!” You cry watching your chat, “Aw it’s from Tommy! Hey big man, thanks for the raid of- HOLY SHIT! 300,000!?” Your eyes grow to the size of saucers as you reread the notification several times before finally looking into your webcam looking like a deer in headlights. “U-Uh welcome guys! If you’re planning on sticking around please be polite in chat!” You try your best to gain control over your racing mind, heart beating rapidly against your chest.

A large number of Tommy’s viewers leave, but you try your best to entertain those that stay for another hour or so before you end stream with a significantly larger number of subs than what you started with. Your speed dialling Tommy’s number is unrivalled as you lay back in your chair, eyeing your stream set up across from you. He picks up, “Hey-“ You cut him off immediately.

“Um, so when were you going to tell me you’re some big twitch hot shot!? Or was I just supposed to find that one out for myself champ?” You hold back the urge to screech down the phone line as he laughs at you. “Hey! It just slipped my mind, okay!? A big man’s gotta lotta big things on his mind at the one time!” He cries out in futile defence, knowing you had every right to be at least a little bit furious at him for keeping this a secret.

“Wasn’t the raid fun though!?” He squawks after a couple of moments of silence, “It was… fun, but it was also the most stressed I think I’ve ever been Tommy. That’s a lot of people to just throw at someone.” You huff a little, “Sorry, I uh, I didn’t really think before doing it. I was just super excited to send them over to you, I just knew they would love you as much as I do.” He mumbles the last part of his sentence, but you hear it just fine. “Aw, I love you too Tommy.” A smile finds it’s way onto your face, “I can’t believe I’m actually considering forgiving you.” You throw a hand over your eyes, groaning. “Would a midnight trip to get some fast food accelerate the forgiveness process?”

You hum for a few moments, “Are you trying to bribe me, Tommy?” The blond stammers adorably before huffing, “Uhhh, no?” He offers, “Oh well if that’s the case, then yes.” You grin as his screeches of laughter reach your ears, your own laughter joining his within moments. “Talk later big man, got a midnight meal to plan for.” Tommy groans, “Oh no! You’re gonna spend all my money!” You scoff, “I’m sorry mister millionaire! You’re my walking talking money bags now, get used to it!” You giggle along with Tommy’s chuckles, his voice relaxed. Tommy knew his assumption was right, even on the first day he met you. He knew you were a good person, a good person for him. There’s no one he would rather spend his time and money on.

~Requests are currently open!~

#tommyinnit #tommyinnit x reader #tommy x reader #mcyt #mcyt x reader #x reader

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lowkeyorloki · 4 years

Text

lbd

After a fight with Loki, you wear the smallest dress you can to an Avengers press event...

(smut smut smut)

The party was awful.

Stark’s press events often were. It was interesting, how the media had changed over the past eight years. In 2012, you and the rest of the Avengers would only be seen on news stations. Now, it wasn’t out of the ordinary to for your names to be in tabloids next to celebrities like Taylor Swift or Noah Centineo. The team wasn’t just heroes anymore, you were public figures as well.

Hence the formal attire, the flashing cameras, the expensive wine. These events only happened about once a year- they were manageable. Just a pain. Besides, you always had Loki to endure them with.

Except, not tonight. And so, the party was awful, not just boring.

The argument you had with Loki last night carried over into today, and when you were asking him about the event, he gave you no answer. Never in a million years did you think he would ignore during this. The press, the world, had never really forgiven him for New York. He was hated by the general public. It didn’t help it was a well-known fact he was with you: you, the youngest Avenger. You, who had been America’s golden girl until Loki corrupted you.

That was what everyone liked to say. Really, you just got older. And cynical. You couldn’t fight the worst of the worst throughout the universe and remain idealistic.

You and Loki had to stick together for public appearances. The reporters tore you to shreds if you didn’t. And besides that... You didn’t like not being around the god. It was so much better to face things with him. You were together. Even when things were tense, the two of you could always lean on each other. That was the nature of your relationship.

And yet, here you were, halfway through your third glass of champagne, giving Steve a half-hearted smile as he spoke. Every so often, your eyes scanned the large hall, eventually falling on Loki. He avoided your gaze each time.

You wanted to be angry, or bitter. That’s what you felt earlier today when he wouldn’t speak to you. Loki wordlessly dressed in his suit, looked you up and down in your floor length dress, and left your shared room. In a fit of rage, you had dug through your closet for something that would anger him. No, not anger. That wasn’t the right word.

Entice him. Make him protective. Despite your life with him, you were still seen as the innocent Avenger. The normal girl who stumbled into justice. You never wore short or form fitting clothes anywhere there would be cameras. You were modest. That was the role you were pidgeonholed into. Social media, combined with constant interest and exposure, ensured that. In 2020, half of being an Avenger was perception. Every team member was an archetype. Every team member adhered to that. Outwardly, at least.

So when nothing in your closet would accomplish what you wanted, you raided Natasha’s. She helped you pick out something no one would expect you to wear: A silky black body con dress. When you tried it on, it barely came halfway down your thighs. There was little left to the imagination, considering its length and low neckline.

You paired it with heels, and painted your nails Loki’s shade of green. Natasha gathered your hair into a messy bun, leaving your neck exposed. Even Wanda joined in, brushing sparkles over your collarbone. You looked unlike you ever had before.

Honestly, you looked like Natasha did on a daily basis. That brought you some amount of comfort, knowing you wouldn’t be sticking out. But it went without saying you didn’t look like yourself, and no one had ever seen you like this. The press would have a field day.

But it wasn’t them you cared about. The only person you were thinking about was Loki.

And he didn’t even do a double take. When you first walked into the room, his eyes rested on you just a second. Then he turned away.

So you didn’t find yourself angry like you were just a few hours before this. When Loki ignored you, you only felt... Sad. Empty, almost. You had been upset with each other for less than a full day, but you missed him. If there was no animosity between you two, Loki’s hand would be on the small of your back right now, and he would be whispering into your ear. Sharing jokes about everyone at the party, wrapped up in each other.

You fought so little. It was something you weren’t used to.

“Hey.” Steve sticks an elbow into your ribs, pulling you from your thoughts. Next to him, Bucky wears a worried expression. “You okay?”

You sigh. Tipping your head back, you drain the rest of your drink and then nod.

“I’m fine, Steve.” he looks uncertain. “I mean it. I can last one night without him. Just because I’m in a relationship doesn’t mean I’m any less independent.”

“I believe that.” Steve agrees.

“You only believe her because that’s how you are.” Bucky grins at Steve, leaning over to steal a quick kiss from Captain America. Steve smiles, just barely, and holds Bucky’s hand in his own after the dark-haired man pulls back. Your eyes flicker away, but a genuine smile grows on your lips. You love to see your friends happy. They deserve it, your whole team does.

It’s moments like these, when Steve is focused on Bucky and you on Loki, you remember you and Steve used to date. It seems like a completely different time, but it wasn’t even ten years ago.

You were with Steve when Loki attacked New York.

“I’m going for a refill.” you state. Both men look uncertain. You pay it no mind. “Do either of you want anything?”

They shake their heads in response, so you make your way over to the bar. There’s no one there, not even the bartender, which bothers you at first. Then you realize it’s exactly what you need. Just a few minutes alone to clear your head. The bar is in same room as everyone else, so classical music and conversation are all around you. Still, you manage to find solace.

It’s quickly interrupted.

“Hello, darling.”

Loki.

His breath tickles the back of your neck as he speaks. As soon as you’re aware of his presence, his smell envelops you. You shiver, noticing how close he must be to you.

You don’t turn around.

“Hi Loki.” you greet him back, eyes forward. You voice almost shakes, and you exhale, willing yourself to keep cool. Loki was always so calm and collected, something he used as a weapon. Clearly, even against you.

Loki hums, and his fingers softly begin to dance over your bare shoulder.

“You look different,” he states. “With those shoes, you almost reach my height. But darling, you have never looked so small.” Loki’s voice drops on that last word, and a wave of heat flashes through your body. You set your glass down on the counter next to you, worried whatever Loki does next will cause you to drop it.

“Funny.” you say. “I don’t feel small.” You know Loki, know what the word small is code for. “Or weak.”

Loki tuts, and his large hands slide from your shoulders to your hips. Your dress is so short that his pinkies lay on your bare skin.

“No, I suppose you don’t.” Loki leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he talks. You can’t help it, you tremble, your surroundings beginning to fade away as you focus on the god. “I bet you felt quite powerful, teasing me in this dress. Talking to Steve Rogers.” Suddenly, Loki pulls you into him, and you gasp. His length presses completely against your ass, and you are barely able to bite back a moan.

This is harder than you’ve ever felt him. Your breathing becomes hitched, but Loki’s strong grip keeps you glued to him. His fingers dig into your hips, and you’re sure there will be bruises tomorrow.

“Did you think,” Loki rolls his hips against you, causing a mewl to escape your lips. “...that I would forget your past with Rogers? That it had just, slipped my mind that he is the only man you have ever laid with besides myself?” Loki’s lips connect with the crook of your neck, pressing wet kisses there that are anything but gentle. “Or was that the point? To make me jealous?” Loki’s next words shake you the most. “Can you even count the amount of times I have been inside you?”

Just like that, his hands relax, and you begin to catch your breath.

“Smile.” Loki points, and you notice the groups of reporters making their way to you, cameras flashing. Loki pivots, turning both of you so you face the them. He drops one hand to his side, but the other snakes around your waist. It won’t be obvious in the photos, but his fingers are dangerously close to your heat, filling you to the brim with want.

Just as you manage to get yourself under control, the cameras begin flashing. You force a smile, and when you look at Loki, he’s staring straight ahead, expressionless.

You hated getting photos taken, knowing the headlines they would be paired with. But Loki hates it even more. You were always the victim in the media’s eyes, but Loki had never outgrown the villain. He worked so hard to be good, so hard to change. And for what? No one believed him, save for you and his brother.

Your heart grows heavy, and despite the fight, despite the teasing that left you melting in his arms, you want Loki to know you appreciate him.

You tug on the front of his suit jacket, capturing his attention. Loki looks down at you, confusion in his eyes. You reach forward, placing your hand on the back of his neck and tugging him down so his lips met yours.

It was filthy, the way he kissed you in front of the press. Loki once again pulled you to him, your chests pressed together. He laid his hand on your back, and thank god he did, because it kept you grounded. Your teeth clacked together more than once, and Loki gave you no opportunity to gather yourself before he sucked on your bottom lip. Your were eyes closed, but you still heard as the reporters went wild, cameras snapping as they each tried to get the juiciest shot.

Loki was the one who ended the kiss, tugging away from you. He took your hand in his, waving with the other. In the crowd, you could see Steve standing in shock, arm around Bucky’s waist. Stark was next to them, looking furious.

Loki makes eye contact with you before he briskly walks away, tugging you with him. You have no time to ask where it is he’s taking you before you somehow slip into the kitchen unnoticed.

The kitchen staff stops, and you realize what this must look like to them. Loki, with a hungry look in his eyes, and you, swollen lips and practically half-naked. Jesus, was this where you thought the night was going?

“Get out.” Loki addresses the staff. They share glances, unsure of whether to listen. Loki sighs. “We are two hours into a four hour party. No one ever comes for food, they just want to drink. You are no longer needed. Now, get,” Loki’s irises flash green. “...out.”

They listen then, rushing out of the doors and through the backroom that will lead them from the building. The locks on each door click shut, surely a result of Loki’s magic.

“You.” you squirm under the god’s harsh gaze. “Are a very. Stupid. Girl.” with each step Loki takes forward, you take one backwards, until your back is against the tiled wall. Your heart begins beating fast. You look to Loki’s pants, taking in the tent. Your heart rate accelerates even more.

He places his hands on the wall, one on either side of your face, trapping you with him. Wordlessly, Loki begins sucking on your collarbone, his lips moving down your breasts until they hit the neckline on your dress. Your eyes roll back, and you grip Loki’s hair tight. He rams his knee in between your thighs, and you cry out.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he rolls his hips, and now that you’re alone, you can feel and experience it to the fullest expense. Your mouth falls open as Loki presses his clothed length against your clothed sex, moaning and letting out a string of curses. “Look at me, darling.” You listen, obeying Loki as he removes his knee.

Loki makes full eye contact as he takes your left breast in his hands, kneading and massaging you as he gauges your reactions. You begin panting, and soon enough, Loki grabs the front of your dress with both hands and rips it, exposing your bare breasts.

You hiss at the sudden cold, but it doesn’t last long as Loki sucks on your nipple, running his calloused thumb other the other. Loki swirls his tongue, and you whimper, arching your back. As the sensation builds inside you, Loki takes a steps back, drinking in the sight of you.

“The media won’t soon forget this. Until now, the worst they had caught us doing was holding hands.” he growls. His lips are redder than usual, and his hair was messy because of your fingers in it. “I can imagine the scolding from Stark.”

“Who cares about Stark? You just ruined Natasha’s dress.” you say, your voice strained. His absence is noticeable, and your body aches for Loki’s touch. He raises an eyebrow.

“Sweet girl, whose fault is that? None of this would ever have happened if you simply dressed appropriately.” the hair on your arms stands up. Loki hums. “I think you should make it up to me. You got us into this mess, did you not?” Loki smirks.

The feeling in your stomach builds up again, lust taking over you. You take off you heels, and sink to your knees. Loki’s pupils dilate as you move closer to him.

You unbuckle his belt, sliding it off and discarding it on the floor next to you. Slowly, you unbutton Loki’s dress pants, your fingers catching on the tip of his underwear as you do.

You want to draw this out, to tease Loki as he teased you. But when you see his hard length, and the damp spot on the cloth holding it, you can’t bring yourself to. Loki is a god, much stronger and faster than you. When you turn to dust, Loki will be as young and full of life as he is now.

But his needs are the same as any other man’s. You’re determined to fulfill them.

You brush your mouth over him, causing Loki’s eyes to close momentarily. When they do, you waste no time exposing him. Loki fingers run through your hair immediately, grasping tightly. You can hear his breathing become just a bit irregular.

You keep your eyes on Loki’s as you lick him, from shaft to head. You lap at the precum there, then slowly take him into your mouth.

Loki lets out a sigh, his lips parting, and you rub circles onto his hipbones with your thumbs. You bring your arms against your chest, pushing your bare breasts up to make them appear bigger. You want to give Loki the best view possible.

It must have worked, because Loki’s hips buck forward. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, and you almost gag. Instead, you moan around him. setting a slow pace. Every so often, you flick your tongue across his head, and Loki tugs on your hair when you do.

Loki quivers, and he’s thrown his head back now. His eyes are squeezed shut, his mouth open, and he looks so pleased. Pride washes over you at the thought of you making him feel this way.

You bring your hand up, taking the parts of Loki that your mouth just can’t reach. With the added freedom, you circle his tip, switching up the pressure and surrounding him with your warmth. Carefully, you cup his balls, making sure every part of him is paid attention to.

Loki groaned as you fucked him with your mouth, cheeks hallowed. He begins panting, holding your head even tighter. His shirt has ridden up over his navel, and the sight nearly drives you crazy.

“I’m going to-” you don’t let him finish, picking up the pace until Loki jerks forward, spilling his seed with a curse.

There’s so much, some dribbles out the corners of your mouth before you can swallow it all. Your chests warms at the idea of part of Loki being inside you. You’ve barely leaned back to catch your breath before he’s pulled you up and into a kiss, groaning as he tastes himself on you. Your body becomes slack, relying entirely on Loki’s for support.

“You’re insatiable.” he says into your mouth. He picks you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. Loki carries you to a nearby counter and sets you atop it.

Your dress is hiked up to your hips now, leaving you covered in just a g-string. As Loki begins to take it off, you stop him.

“Wait.” you say. He stops, giving you a surprisingly soft look. “I just...” you splay your hands across Loki’s strong chest. “I want to see you too.” your voice is quiet.

Loki places his hands over yours as you unbutton his shirt. You slide it down his shoulders, then trace his collarbones and curve of his abs. Under the fluorescent lights of the kitchen, Loki looks even more pale than usual, the sharp contours of his body illuminated and exposed.

You never grow bored of the sight of him.

Now fittingly bare, Loki’s fingers travel up your thigh and stop at your sex. Similar to you, his gives you a few strokes over your thong before he rids you of it in one fluid motion. He angles himself to you, his tip teasing your entrance as he smirks at your noises.

He enters you all at once. You bite down on his shoulder, nails raking down his back. You hold tight to Loki as he sinks into you, moving in a slow and almost tantalizing way. There’s sweat on both of your bodies, and despite your exposed state, you feel yourself heat up.

Loki’s rhythm increases as you adjust to him. His hips move back and forth, and your bodies move in tandem, made for each other. You coo into Loki’s ears, moaning about how good he felt. How breathless he made you, how only he knew how to make you feel this way. No one knew your body like Loki.

The coil inside you finally snaps as Loki hits a pleasure spot deep inside you, and you let out a cry into his shoulder. Loki cums not long after, his body going tense as he rides out the wave of pleasure.

He holds you, rubbing your back as the aftershock rocks through your body. You shake, exhausted and satisfied as you close your eyes for a moment of rest.

Eventually, Loki sets you back down on the floor. He tugs your dress down over your legs, and tucks stray pieces of hair behind your ears. You watch him wordlessly, allowing him to take of you.

After Loki is dressed himself, he gives you the jacket of his suit to wear.

“Oh.” you look down, remembering he ripped your dress. You slip the jacket on, buttoning it to protect the little modesty you have left.

He takes your hand, leading you to the door and back into the party. Before he does, you stop.

“I’m sorry about our fight.” you say. Loki lets out a chuckle, making you feel silly.

“Oh, sweet girl. After a tryst like this, I can assure you all is forgiven.”

4K notes · View notes

winterscaptain · 4 years

Text

berry hill.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: i am so excited to share this one with you. the tropes are PACKED in here, and it was a blast to write. i also realized some time ago that i keep forgetting summaries on my works, so i’m gonna do my best to add those from now on. as always, let me know if there are any mistakes in here! thanks to @writefasttalkevenfaster for helping me today <3 intended for the ‘a joyful future universe,’ but does not require context. takes place in 2011, early season six, prior to the valhalla arc. words: 12k warnings: language, some vague mention of aaron’s anatomy, alcohol use, when i say slow burn i mean s l o w burn.

summary: "...and there was only one bed." - old fanfiction proverb

waldosia (part 2) | absence (part 3) | mean it (part 4)

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | requests closed! updated: january 5th, 2021

It’s way too late and you know it, but Jack is still on his annual winter vacation with Aunt Jess and the rest of the Brooks clan, so there’s simply no incentive to leave. You’re with Hotch at his desk, kicked back like you own the place, while he sits back in his chair with his hands laced behind his head.

The Montana case wrapped up neatly, and any remaining or incoming paperwork this week is light. Though it is admittedly weird without JJ, Seaver seems to be settling in alright. You’re glad that the team decided to take a chance on her like they did with you.

“What do you mean he drew on the wall?” You say through a laugh, popping a grape in your mouth. “Are we talking like a crayon mark here and there or a full-on mural.”

“Multi-media mural - glue, paper mache, markers, crayons, you name it and it was there.” He laughs and he takes a grape from your bowl, kicking his feet up on the desk - mirroring you. “I have no idea how he managed it. I was in the house the whole time.”

“Oh my God, he’s a terror!” Before Aaron can agree, your phone starts ringing. You pick it up, smiling as you see the caller ID.

“Hey Dean!” You stand and give Aaron a ‘sorry, just a second’ finger and step out of the office, leaving the door open behind you. You stay where Aaron can see you, leaning on the rail next to the stairs. You don’t really mean to stay within his eyeline, but it’s habit at this point.

“Hey babe, I hope I’m not calling too late.”

“Oh not at all. I’m still in the office with Hotch getting some work done.”

You catch Hotch’s eye and he mouths ‘Work?’ and you shrug as if to say ‘It’s a loose term.’ He rolls his eyes and steals another one of your grapes.

“Ah, I see. Late-night work with the hot boss-man.”

You don’t dignify that with a response. “So what’s up?”

He sighs, and you already know what’s coming before he says it. “Something came up at work and I won’t be able to make it to the wedding next week. We’re closing on this huge property in Georgetown and it’s really big for the firm and -“

“It’s okay. I get work stuff, trust me.” And you do. It just fucking sucks.

“I’m so so sorry to leave you hanging. I know it’s going to be super rough. Maybe one of your work friends can go with you? Maybe boss man? His name’s Aaron, right? Hopscotch or something?” His humor doesn’t make you feel any better, but you promise to keep ‘Hopscotch’ for later.

You tip your head up to stare at the ceiling and will the tears away from your eyes, blinking them back. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out. None of them knew to ask off work, so if we have a case I’ll be on my own regardless.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Two tears fall out of the corner of your eyes, and you turn around, wiping them away. “It’s okay.”

“I’ll call you day-of to check in, okay?”

Hotch watches you carefully, doing your best to hide your tears from him. Bad news, certainly, but he wishes you wouldn’t hide from him like you do. Or rather, he wishes you wouldn’t try to hide from him like you do.

He can’t hear the entire conversation, obviously, but he resolves to do what he can to return at least a little of the care you always show him without hesitation,

“Okay.” You heave an uneven sigh. “I’ll talk to you then... Really - don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” You hang up before he can respond and rest your forearms on the railing. You let your head hang for a second, collecting yourself before you have to face Hotch again.

You take a deep breath and turn, sitting across from him again. Attempting to restore your good spirits, you kick your feet back up and have another grape.

Hotch’s voice is quiet. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” but your voice breaks. You clear your throat and blink a few more times.

You can feel him squint at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, you know.” You sniff, and gesture vaguely as you continue. “My best friend from college was supposed to be my date to a friend’s wedding next week, and the friend getting married also happens to be someone I dated in college so I was really hoping Dean could come with me, and now…” You trail off, realizing you’re rambling.

He’s quiet for a little while, and you shove some more grapes in your mouth to make up for the silence. You know each other so well, but it still feels a little weird to explicitly talk about your personal life in the office. Sure, you spend a fair few weekends together with Jack, but the whole thing is a little embarrassing - and you’re not sure if the worst part is admitting you have an ex-boyfriend from college or you now have to go stag to his wedding.

“Do you want someone to go with you?” He watches you chew on your lower lip. A long time ago, he decided there was nothing worse than seeing you upset.

This is the least you can do, Hotchner. First personal weekend in nearly four years, you can at least do what you can to make it suck less. He reasons with himself, but he can’t help the sly thought that sneaks in on the tail end. Being a backup is better than being nothing at all.

That’s enough.

You scoff. “Well, yeah. Obviously.”

He smiles a little, knowing you completely missed his point. “If you wanted…” He clears his throat and looks out the window, and you reply before he can continue.

“Oh, God, Hotch.” You cover your face with your hands. “Please don’t feel like I’m trying to guilt you into anything. I’ll be fine.” You try to laugh it off, but can’t hide the anxiety in your voice.

His laugh warms you. “You’re not guilting me into anything. I’m offering.”

You remove your hands from your face and look at him. There’s an earnest sort of kindness in his eyes, and you find yourself a little short of breath. “Really?”

“Really. I can get the weekend off - things are pretty slow around here. Where is it?” You had trouble reading his tone. Really, he’s just treading carefully. He doesn’t want you to feel pressured, or give away his own selfish motivations.

“It’s, ah,” you stutter for a second, getting your metaphorical feet back under you. “It’s down at Berry Hill Resort, right by the North Carolina border.” Your lip disappears between your teeth again. “It’s about a three and a half hour drive.”

He opens his phone, and you know he’s checking the map. “It’d be easy enough if we left early and switched in Richmond. I’ll start, if you’d like.”

You smile at him, wide and genuine. “Hotch, you’re the best.”

+++

Hotch calls you up to his office, and you swing in, your hand gripping the doorframe. You bite back your greeting as you find him on the phone.

He beckons you in and you step inside, closing the door behind you.

“...Thank you, sir. I’ll be sure to pass that along to the rest of the unit...You too, sir.” He hangs up and laces his fingers, addressing you. “Question.”

You sit, resting your elbows on his desk. “Answer.”

“Funny.”

You smirk, and he continues. “I’m not sure if it matters to you, but I have an absurd number of ties. Color preference?”

A huff of laughter leaves you in disbelief. “You called me in here to ask whether or not I want to have a color scheme?”

“Yes,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “A united front, or at least a coordinated one, seems like the best strategy, right?”

+++

Aaron walks down from his office, his phone to his ear. You’re helping Ashley with a consult, walking her through your process just like Emily used to do with you.

“Hotch usually likes to approach the profile starting with a demographic consideration, but I usually start from physical evidence and -”

A hand falls onto your shoulder, and you look up. “Yeah?”

He pulls the receiver away from his mouth. “Jack wants to talk to you.”

With a shake of your head and a fond smile for Hotch and an apologetic one for Ashley, you put the phone to your ear. “Hey, bud! How’s Grandpa’s house?”

“So fun,” Jack says, almost yelling into the phone. “Aunt Jess has let me play in the snow every day.”

You laugh. “I am so glad.”

“Dad says you’re busy at work, but I miss you.”

“Aw, bubba, I miss you, too. You’ll be home really soon, and when you get back we’ll go out to ice cream and you can tell me all about your visit.” You, for just a moment, forget where you are, and you lean back in your seat as if you’re leaning into Jack himself. “Does that sound okay?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I love you.”

Your breath catches, and you keep our eyes firmly planted on your consult as you reply. “I love you too, bub. Here’s your dad.” Placing the phone in Hotch’s hand, you return your attention to Ashley and do your best not to acknowledge Aaron as he walks back up the stairs. “So, like I said, Hotch prefers to -”

“Hey.” Ashley stops you with a hand on your arm. “You’re really good at your job.”

A confused smile pulls at your lips. There’s a question in your eyes, and she answers it.

“Oh, I just...You’re a good teacher and a good friend, that’s all.”

“Thanks, Seaver.”

+++

On a rare weeknight off, Emily and you gather at Penelope’s apartment. You’re all sitting on the floor, bottles of wine making an occasional rotation, and a pile of snacks on the floor taking up the space in the loose circle you’ve created.

“You’re taking time off this weekend?” Penelope sounds almost insultingly surprised, as if the concept never occurred to her.

You nod. “Yep. First time in four years, so I think I’m about due.”

Emily laughs and asks. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve been inexplicably invited to an ex-boyfriends wedding - he’s a friend from college and we were friends before we dated etc. etc.” You wave your hand as you speak, outlining the tedium of it all. “His mom loves me, and I suspect she was the one who added me to the list.”

“Are you going with anyone? Penelope’s concern is touching.

“Yeah. One of my college friends was supposed to be my date, but he bailed for a work thing.” All the girls roll their eyes and nod. They get it. “So, Ho - someone else - is going with me.”

“Who?” Emily narrows her eyes and searches you.

“Oh come on, profiling is against the rules.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay, sure.”

“Spill it.” Penelope throws a goldfish cracker at you to emphasize her point.

You take a deep, long-suffering breath, suddenly missing JJ and her powers of redirection. “Fine. Hotch is coming with me -” you intercept their eager questions “- only as a favor.”

“That’s very...thoughtful of him.” Emily’s chin tips up suggestively, and you throw Penelope’s goldfish at her. “Who’s idea was that?”

There’s a moment here somewhere, where you realize you’ve just dug yourself a hole you’ll be hard-pressed to get out of. “He overheard Dean bail, and offered. I’m sure he’s just doing it because he feels bad and -”

“Oh, don’t be stupid!” Penelope nearly falls into Emily, giggling. “I can’t believe you two.”

You throw your hands in the air. “What?”

Both women share a look before looking back at you with identical disbelief. Emily speaks first. “You can’t be serious.”

Take a deep breath. You’re not that obvious.

Maybe you are. You’ve only been half-or-completely in love with him for five years.��

Shut up.

“Serious about what?”

Emily rolls her eyes and finishes her second glass of wine, reaching to refill it immediately. “Nevermind. You’ll figure it out eventually.”

+++

You’re finishing your last bit of packing, leaving your toothbrush and toothpaste out for the morning, when your phone rings.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s Aaron.”

“Ah, my saving grace,” you say with a laugh. “Calling to cancel on me, after all?”

His laugh just isn’t as good over the phone, but it’ll do. “Not even close. Is 6am still good to come get you?”

“It’s so early.” There’s absolutely no shame in your whine, and you’re rewarded with another laugh. “But yes, that’s fine. That gives us enough time even if we hit some traffic out of the District and into Richmond.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

You look at your suitcase, resting open on your bed. “You’re still okay with this, right? I know I couldn’t grab that extra hotel room for you and I don’t want you to feel pressured or -”

He cuts you off, calling you out by name. “Enough. I offered, remember? I’ll see you at 6. Bring a pillow so you can sleep in the car.”

Your lips pinch, holding back a smile. “Thanks, Aaron.” And he knows you don’t just mean it for the pillow reminder. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Of course. Sleep well.”

You don’t, but are nevertheless ready with bells on, pillow tucked under your arm, and coffee in-hand at 5:55am the following morning. He looks surprised when he pulls into the driveway and sees you standing on your porch, looking only a little worse for wear. At least your teeth are brushed.

“Thought you might want this.” You hold out the travel mug to him as he approaches, and he takes it (and your suitcase) from you.

“Thank you. Jump in.”

You follow instructions and immediately stuff your pillow between your head and the window as he throws your suitcase in the trunk. You’re forever grateful Aaron drives the same SUVs you all have at the bureau. He claims it’s easier to not think about different car specs, but at this moment you only care about the temperature control and familiar, soft leather seats. Your eyes shut on their own accord, still heavy even after your abbreviated morning routine.

He slips into the driver’s seat and, with your eyes closed, you miss the way he looks over at you with a barely-there, fond smile. Your sweatshirt is too big for you and your face is adorably smushed into the pillow.

With a sigh and shake of his head, he places his hand on the back of your seat, backs out of the driveway, and gets on the road.

The silence gives him plenty of time to think about things he’d rather not address. This favor, for one, is something he’s still trying to reconcile.

Would I have offered to Emily? JJ? Hell, Dave?

If any other member of the team had a friend bail out of their role as a wedding date, he’d like to think he’d drop everything and take the weekend to make them feel better, but he knows that probably wouldn’t be the case in reality. He knew you were different, and it frustrated and confused him.

As often as he acknowledges his love for you - he wishes it would just stop.

Only a year and change had passed since Haley’s death, and there were still some mornings where he woke up and couldn’t breathe. Jack still had some nightmares too. Those broke his heart more than anything in the world, but he knew you would always pick up if he called - no matter the hour.

It happened more often than he’d like to admit.

“Hotch? Aaron? What’s up?”

“I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

You’d always talk to him about something or nothing at all, sometimes turning on your bedside lamp and reading from whatever book you were perusing before bed.

He knows you understand. You were the only one there with him, when he found her body. You were there to take his son out of his bloodied hands. You were there when he was afraid of himself.

The nightmares still come for you, too, sometimes. There are nights where Haley’s dark blue eyes stare into you, whether your eyes are open or closed. You told him that, once, and he was grateful - grateful that he wasn’t the only one.

You murmur something in your sleep, about twenty minutes outside of the city. You’re still an hour or more away from Richmond, and Hotch figures he’ll let you sleep if you don’t wake up between now and then. It’s not a hard drive to Berry Hill, and you need the rest.

Might be good to pick up some food on the way...

He turns the music off, letting the sounds of your breathing and the road wash over him.

“Aaron.”

He turns, expecting your watchful eyes, but finds you burrowing further into the pillow, a little smile on your face as you remain blissfully unaware of your surroundings. Something warm starts to radiate in his chest as he looks back out at the road, the Virginia countryside stretching out in front of him, around him, and in every direction he can see. The warmth vibrates into his fingertips. He flexes his hands around the wheel, trying to shake it.

He fails.

You’re not sure how you manage to sleep so soundly in the car. You had tossed and turned all night, thinking only of facing a part of your life you hoped you’d never address head-on ever again. Why you accepted the invitation at all (or why you even received one) was beyond you.

It must be his mother’s doing. She always loved you, and she did her best to keep your friendship alive much longer than its natural death.

Exercising control over her child’s life due to an exceptional lack of control and consistency during her upbringing. Relating to her son’s partners to achieve some semblance of intimacy without facing the root of her insecurity that she’s failed as a parent.

The profiling never stopped, it seemed.

It wasn’t just the wedding keeping you up last night. The thought of spending the weekend with Aaron in an environment where you will inevitably feel (if not look and act) distraught close to the whole time still wears on you. Spending weekends at home, where you sit together with a glass of wine and leftover popcorn after Jack gets tucked in feels different.

That’s comfortable. That’s safe. This? This is scary. Vulnerable. Burdensome.

Even then, there’s nobody you’d rather have at your side while you face friends you haven’t seen in ages. He’s charismatic, almost entirely unapproachable (when he wants to be), and tall. All those factors should be enough to keep anyone from trifling with you for the duration of the weekend.

But now, in the car, all those thoughts are far from your mind. Your mind is blissfully dark and blank, your body soothed by the low hum of the car and the smell that follows Hotch wherever he goes - spicy, earthy, and something that reminds you of the air right before lightning strikes.

The car slows, and the subtle change in ambiance wakes you. You lift your head, finding Hotch turning on an offramp.

“Are we in Richmond already?” You ask, bleary.

He smiles. His sunglasses are resting on his nose to combat the rapidly-rising morning sun. “Not yet, but I figured you hadn’t eaten yet.”

You tip your head. He’s right. “I could eat.”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “You should eat.”

+++

After food and a top-off for the gas tank, you offer to drive.

Aaron refuses. “If you drive, I don’t get to pick the music.”

“I thought shotgun picks the music.” You frown at him, admittedly still a little tired. You’ve shoved your pillow behind your seat and start to sit like an actual human being for the first time that morning.

“Those are Morgan’s house rules, not mine.”

“Ah,” you say, sagely. “I see. What are your house rules?”

There’s a smile behind his sunglasses. “Driver picks the music and critically considers any suggestions made by shotgun.”

Thus, the Beatles’ White Album starts from the top. You can’t say you’re surprised - it is his favorite. You’ve grown rather fond of it yourself, if you’re honest, Though, you’re not sure if you fondness for the album has anything to do with the man beside you - the one who’s hair is soft and floppy in the morning light, the one wearing an uncharacteristically casual ensemble of jeans, sneakers, and a black t-shirt, the one singing along under his breath.

“Why is this one your favorite?” You hear yourself ask.

He’s quiet for a minute, as if you are the first to ask that question. Maybe you are. “I’m...not sure. I think it might have something to do with my mom. She bought the record a couple of weeks after I was born in late ‘68, and made sure I had a copy when I got my own record player in my first college apartment.” He shrugs. “It’s been around just as long as I have, and there’s something a little - I don’t know - comforting about that?”

You nod. “I get that.” You’re quiet for a moment, considering all the things that happened in 1982. “Grease 2 came out the year I was born, so I can’t say I share a similar affinity for the pop culture phenomena of my birth year.”

Hotch lets out a low whistle and a grimace. “That film really was awful.” He waits for your laugh and is rewarded before continuing. “I saw The Who on their final tour that year.”

You furrow your brow. “Weren’t you like, barely in high school?”

He nods. “We snuck out, a couple of friends and me. It was really stupid and we got in a lot of trouble, but it was fun.” There’s a nostalgic smile on his face. “I have no idea how we managed to get all the way into the District, let alone find tickets, but everything was a little less complicated back then. Buses ran on time, people read maps, and parents didn’t all have cell phones.” He shrugs and shoots you a smirk. “But of course, that’s before your time.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh c’mon. I’m not that young. I remember the world before the mainstream internet and 9/11 and all that pre-Patriot Act shit. I remember when the Berlin Wall came down, at least.”

That gets a laugh out of him. “Fair enough.”

You lapse into silence for a little while, handing him fries from the drive-thru bag when he puts his open palm over the center console. You notice his left hand shift slightly in time with the music, and you watch a little more carefully.

And I see it needs sweeping Still my guitar gently weeps

I don’t know why Nobody told you How to unfold your love I don’t know how Someone controlled you They bought and sold you…

“Hotch, do you play guitar?” There’s a touch of disbelief in your tone, but you try to hide it for the sake of his pride. It’s not that you think he doesn’t have a musical or creative bone in his body, but you’re rather surprised by the relaxed subtlety of his movement. It was your impression he never did anything without thinking about it, and to see the slight, almost unconscious action sparks a pleasant little flicker of warmth in your chest.

He shrugs. “I played a little when I was younger. I guess you could say I know how to play, but I don’t claim to be decent at it in the slightest.” His head tips, and you could swear you see an eye roll. “Sean’s always been better at those kinds of pursuits.”

As usual, he doesn’t seem thrown or surprised by your question and doesn’t hesitate to answer them. After almost five years, he’s used to your keen observations. He’d never admit it, but he expects them - maybe he’s not able to guess at the content of the questions themselves, but he always knows there will be one eventually.

“Have you and Sean always butted heads?”

Aaron snorts, and gives you a simple, “Yes.”

You’d never met the younger Hotchner, but you’d seen photos and heard tell. From what you understand, he’s a little wilder than his older brother, a little more idealistic and far less practical. Sean seems like someone you would like, but you doubt he would rise to the top of your Favorite Hotchners List - a list with only two names so far, tied for first.

It’s safe to say Jack and Aaron are hard acts to follow.

+++

You talk about everything and nothing, when finally, he asks. “So, who is this guy?”

“Ugh.” You tip your head against the seat. “You really want to know?”

“Of course. Isn’t it protocol to brief the team before arrival?”

You snort, immediately regretting your decision to make fun of Strauss over drinks last week. “Yes, sir.”

He laughs, and you tell him.

You tell him about Austin and how you met in a random general education class and became fast friends and started dating, talked about marriage and kids and the whole nine yards. You told him about your semester abroad, your traveling, and returning home to find he’d been dating someone else while you were away, without your knowledge.

“It’s kind of cliche, I know, but it broke my heart in half.” You laugh a little to cover the truth of it. Hotch keeps his eyes on the road, letting you go at your own pace the same way you let him the entire time he’s known you. “I was really close to his family, and we did our best to remain civil and friendly for everyone else’s sake, but we’ve only kept in touch through other people the last few years.

“I think his mom sent the invitation. I mostly accepted because I’d love to see her and Austin’s little sister - I miss them the most.”

“What are they like?”

There’s a smile on your face as you tell him about them - how Allison likes more cream than actual coffee in her mug, how their mom has the best taste in books and still sends you worn copies of her favorites every once and awhile.

“It’s good of you to keep in touch.”

You shrug. “I guess. I mean, I know it’s different, but you have Jess.”

The difference, he decides, is that you are kinder, more patient than he is. Jess would hardly be in his life at all if Haley was still here. He had a hard enough time keeping up with Haley’s family when they were married. Keeping up with them after the divorce?

There was no way to know, but he can’t remember much affection between them even before Haley’s father decided to hold him personally responsible for her death.

You notice his preoccupation, and reach out. Your thumb traces back and forth over the skin of his bare forearm. “It’s different now, and it would be different then. There’s no right way to do anything.”

He exhales in a huff, and you bring your hand back into your lap. “I spent almost twenty-five years knowing Haley. You know that?”

“I do. I also know you spent longer than twenty-five loving her, and probably won’t ever stop.”

There’s a sigh, and then an elbow on the center console. He leans heavily on it, and you do your best to keep your hands to yourself. “How do you know everything?” He asks.

You rest your head against the seat and adjust so your body is angled toward him. A small smile crosses your face as you take in his profile - relaxed, his wrist hanging loosely on the wheel, sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. “I dunno. I guess I just pay attention.”

+++

You let out an exhausted exhale upon reaching the room you will share with Aaron for the weekend. One king size bed dominates the room, instead of the two doubles you halfway expected. He recovers faster than you do, shrugging and setting his things down on the left side of the bed, closest to the door.

Instinctively and completely without previous confirmation, you kind of figured he sleeps on the left side. The realization of that fact is a little unsettling, but you follow his lead and set your suitcase on the stand opposite his, unzipping it and unfolding your garment bag.

There’s a small part of you that’s pleased by this arrangement. Another part of you shames that part.

He’s going to think you’re taking advantage of him.

Are you kidding? He’s a SWAT-trained senior FBI agent. And a lawyer. It’s impossible to take advantage of him.

Yeah, of course that’s what he wants you to think.

Do you ever shut up?

Your outfits for the cocktail hour and the ceremony day are all set. So are Hotch’s, apparently. You look over to find him hanging a grey pinstripe suit in the closet you’d never seen before. It looks beautifully tailored, and expensive.

“Mind if I take up some real estate?” You ask, holding up your handful of hangers. He shakes his head and makes some space for you.

When you’re all settled, you sit on the bed, still tired. It doesn’t make any sense, seeing as Aaron insisted on driving the entire way.

“What time is our first obligation?”

You huff a laugh at his rhetoric. “5pm. Cocktails at the hotel bar. Rehearsal dinner after that is wedding-party-only, thank God.” Glancing at the clock, you confirm, “We basically have the day to ourselves until then.”

He nods thoughtfully before meeting your eyes over your shoulder. “How do you feel about a nap?”

I love you.

Shut up.

You can’t imagine how tired he is - working off minimal sleep and coming off a drive just shy of four hours long. “I feel great about a nap.”

Aaron’s lips quirk up in a smile, and he picks up a pair of flannel pajama pants from his bag and shuts himself into the bathroom.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

You quickly shuck your sweatshirt, suddenly too warm. Standing, you cross to the window and draw the blinds, covering the room in a kind of gentle shade that isn’t quite darkness. You toe off your shoes and slip under the covers, thankful you never really changed out of your pajamas. Curling up facing the bathroom door, you try to stay awake until Hotch returns, but your eyes close of their own accord.

Hotch leaves the bathroom to find the room darkened and you under the covers, dead to the world. He takes another moment to look at you, the way your brow sits smooth and relaxed above your closed eyes, your hands curled loosely in front of your face, the way your breath evenly comes and goes past the curve of your lips.

Taking the risk, he places his jeans back into his duffle bag and gingerly stretches out on top of the covers beside you. His eyes close eventually, but he can’t remember falling asleep - entirely preoccupied by the phenomenon before him.

+++

When you stir again, your hands are warm. You take a deep breath and your eyes crack open, finding a sight that steals your breath. Hotch is on his side in front of you, ramrod straight, with your hands clasped between his. Your heads are bowed together - not touching, but close.

There’s no memory of him joining you in the massive bed, nor any recollection of contact, so he either held your hands on his own, or you found each other in sleep.

You’re not sure which one makes your heart flutter faster.

Resolving to get a little more sleep, you close your eyes. Only moments later, you feel him stir beside you. You know he’s watching you, and you endeavor to keep your breath even and slow, hoping he can’t hear the racing of your heart.

He releases one of your hands, and you let it drop down to the cover, praying your fingers don’t twitch.

You’re proud of yourself when you don’t flinch as his fingers brush butterfly-soft against your cheek, tracing from your brow bone, down your nose and across your lips. Impossibly gentle touches find their way down your temple to your jaw before disappearing.

His hand closes around yours again and it takes everything you have to keep your breath steady as he presses his lips to your fingers before tucking them back to his chest. When his breath evens out again, you know he’s asleep.

You open your eyes, thinking it's more than high time to study him for a change.

He looks years younger in his sleep, closer to your age than his. Even awake, he hardly looks the picture of a father in his mid-forties. His graceful aging is more obvious when his face isn’t drawn up in stress or that aching kind of sadness that lingers around him.

Curious about what he saw and felt on your face, you follow his path, slipping your hand out from under his, tracing his jaw, his cheek and brow bones, his handsome, straight nose.

Your finger rests lightly on his cupid’s bow for a moment, his breath rushing slow and warm over your hand. The feeling of his breath stalls yours, and you swallow. The next breath you take is almost a sob, and you press your lips into a thin line. Light fingers brush through the hair at his temples, the sparse, soft silver strands seeming to glow in the low light.

What you don’t know, however, is that he has taken a page out of your book. Though his eyes are closed and his breath even, he is very much awake, heart pounding. He’s sure you can hear it, or even feel it, with your remaining hand still trapped between his.

The catch in your breath makes his chest ache. Even then, his eyes remain closed, and he’s mindful of his breath. With the route you take, tracing his features, he realizes with a shock of adrenaline and cold panic that you were probably awake, playing at sleep then as he was now.

If that was the case, you know how he feels about you. He knows how you feel about him.

But you can’t. You don’t want to take up space in his life he doesn’t have, space better used to heal, space reserved for his son.

He can’t. It's too soon. He can’t subject you to the ghosts, the baggage, the long journey to wholeness he’s endeavored to embark upon with only his son at his side.

The new normal, his therapist had told him, is the hardest thing to find.

He was sure, then, that it would be easier to find the new normal on his own, but he wasn’t so sure, now.

You slip your hands away from him entirely and roll over, making play at rising. You check the time on your phone, finding the early afternoon awaiting you.

There’s a deep breath and a stretching noise, and you turn to find Aaron rolled over on his back, his hands laced behind his head.

“Good afternoon,” you say, and you’re proud of yourself for sounding normal.

A smile plays at his lips. He looks like he knows something. “Good afternoon.”

“So, tonight.” You decide it’s best to move on before anyone admits anything they don’t mean to share. “Do you just want to be ‘work friends’ or do we want to lean into the whole ‘let’s ruin Austin’s life’ thing?”

He laughs a little. “I’m comfortable leaning in if you are.”

+++

The cocktail hour isn’t as horrible as you thought it would be. Aaron sticks to your side like glue, your right hand firmly placed in the crook of his arm while your left babysits a small glass of wine, more for show than for anything else.

You hear your name from across the room, and you see a huddle of some old friends and their respective dates. Aaron tips his head down to get the briefing, and you tell him names, relationships, and brief histories as you approach.

As you expected, he’s warm and charming, taking cues from you as you navigate eight years of catch-up with classmates you remember well and alleged classmates you don’t recognize at all.

“How did you two meet?” The woman asks (You’re certain she’s someone’s sister - Hotch caught her name while you missed it. Oops.).

You glance up at Aaron for a second before answering. “We’re in the same department at work.”

The man with her takes a sip of his drink. Him, you kind of recognize. Casey? Carson? Maybe. “Where is that, again? I can’t remember where you landed after your internship.”

“DoJ, in Quantico.”

Leslie, who you met in guided research your senior year, rolls her eyes. “They work for the FBI, Carson, keep up.”

Carson, that’s it.

“No shit!”

A small group has gathered around you, and you shuffle closer to Aaron. He wraps his arm around your waist and steps a little behind you, protective and secure.

“Shit,” you reply, jostling Aaron with your shoulder. “We don’t have our creds on us tonight, so if you get arrested you’ll have to bail yourselves out.”

“We also don’t have jurisdiction even if we did, so keep it high and tight and we’ll all do just fine.” Aaron’s voice rumbles through you with a laugh, and you take an overlarge sip of wine.

He really shouldn’t say things like high and tight with his hand where it is.

And his hand isn’t really in any kind of questionable location, just resting above your hip with his chest to your back, but it's still more contact than you’re used to. He wasn’t joking about leaning in.

“There he is!” Carson crows, and your head whips around. You almost lose your balance, but Hotch keeps his feet. A warm hand presses to your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you whisper. You know he can hear you, and he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Always.”

It’s just an act. He doesn't mean it. He can’t mean it.

Austin approaches with his drop-dead gorgeous fiancee and a smile.

Aaron releases you as Austin gives you a warmer hug than you were expecting, and examines Hotch over your shoulder. He introduces you to his fiancee (Madeline), and you introduce them both to Aaron.

“Austin, this is my…” you pause, realizing you never actually established a cover story, letting the implication speak for itself. “Aaron.” You recover with a light laugh, and Aaron pulls you to him with one hand while he shakes Austin’s with the other.

You try not to smirk at the grimace that flashes across Austin’s face when Aaron’s hand closes around his in a very firm and assertive handshake. “Pleasure. Congratulations.”

Austin laughs, a little uncomfortable, and stretches his hand once it reaches his side again. “Thanks. We’re really glad you both could make it. Mom will be really happy to see you.”

+++

“That could have been so much worse.” You shuck Aaron’s blazer off your shoulders and hang it in the closet as he passes behind you. He’d passed it to you when you shivered slightly at the bar and it wasn’t even a point of conversation. It had been second nature to him, draping it over you and placing a hand on your back. The memory pulls a smile from your lips. “Thank you for enduring the mayhem down there.”

Aaron sits on the bed and slips off his boots. “I can’t remember the last time I went to a social event that didn’t directly affect my career trajectory.” He looks up at you, and his grin makes your heart skip around in your chest.

You shake your head, walking past him to retrieve your pajamas and toothbrush. “Do you ever want to move up the chain at all?”

“Not really. Something big would have to change to get me to leave the BAU.” He looks at you over his shoulder. “We tried that, remember?”

“I do, actually.” At his chuckle, you continue. “I can’t say that’s something I’d like to relive anytime soon.”

You move easily around each other, changing into pajamas and brushing your teeth and getting otherwise ready for bed. He’s cute at night, with his pajamas and floppy hair and big yawns. It’s not like you haven’t seen this side of him before, what with all the late nights watching movies with Jack, but it is significant that it’s just the two of you. He’s not Jack’s Dad right now, or Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner who won’t go to bed until The Case Is Solved, but Aaron.

Sleepy, charming, funny Aaron.

Eventually, you throw back the covers and crawl in without thinking about it too much, while Aaron lingers in the bathroom doorway.

“I really can take the couch.”

You look at him and pointedly turn off the lamp resting on your side table. “We’re adults. I don’t mind it if you don’t. And for that matter, if either one of us is sleeping on the couch it’s me.”

“Oh?” He asks. “Why’s that?”

“Because as you so astutely pointed out earlier, I am significantly younger than you, and I think my back will fare better than yours after a night of lumpy cushions.”

The bathroom light flips off, and you hear a scoff in the dark. “Never once did I say significantly younger.”

“Well, Aaron, ‘before your time’ is rife with implication.”

The mattress dips beside you, and his form takes shape in the darkness, facing you. Before he can speak again, you cut him off.

“You know what? Nevermind. I forgot who I was talking to, and I would hate for you to go full-tilt lawyer on me.” You curl up, bringing the covers to your chin. He laughs, and you can almost pretend that this is your life, that you get to fall asleep beside Aaron every night.

Don’t get comfortable.

Why not? He’s here, isn’t he?

He is, but not like that. This is a favor for a friend, nothing more.

You’re both quiet for a little while, listening to each other breathe in the dark. There’s a sigh, and you belatedly realize it came from you.

“Are you okay?” Aaron’s voice floats to you in the dark, and you nod. “I know this isn’t easy for you.”

You think for a moment, trying to articulate your thoughts. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just - I really can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re here with me this weekend.” A hand reaches out, and you find it.

“Of course. I’m glad I can be here for you.” He means it. The trust you’ve placed in him does not go unnoticed or unappreciated. Your willingness to be vulnerable and funny and so yourself is a precious gift to him, and one he’ll never take for granted. “Thank you for letting me come.”

I’d like to let you come -

Ew, dude.

What?

Now is not the time.

“With that in mind,” he continues, his voice gentle in the dark, “I’m really proud of you. And not in a ‘I’m your boss and you’re making significant progress,’ way. As your friend, I’m really proud of you.”

Your friend.

He is your friend.

I know but that…sucks.

It doesn’t have to.

There’s something in his voice that almost makes you stupid, but you hold your tongue. “Goodnight, Hotch.”

He takes a deep breath, missing the way his first name fits in your mouth. It sounds safe there, like you’d never use it against him. “Goodnight.”

+++

You feel warm and feeling somewhat constricted, but not uncomfortable. There’s weight at your back and an arm around your waist, and you lean into it in your state of half-wakefulness. A little noise leaves the body behind you, almost like a sigh with tone.

Remembering where you are, you resist the instinct to jump. Hotch is wrapped around you like a koala, his knee between yours, one arm under your head and the other around your waist, face buried into the crook of your neck and shoulder.

His hair smells divine, and he’s so warm.

Your theory from yesterday morning seems confirmed - you definitely didn’t fall asleep touching each other, so you must have found each other in the night. The thought warms you, and you close your eyes again.

The ceremony isn’t until the early afternoon, so you have all the time in the world to doze and prepare for the hellscape of the day.

That’s not a fair assessment. You think, and correct yourself.

If the prior evening was any indication, things would go smoothly. Aaron was the world’s best wingman. He kept conversation flowing and took your cues without a second’s hesitation. Everyone loved him, and people asked you all night how you met, how long you’d known each other, how long you’d been together. The first questions were easy, but the last one was one you hadn’t prepared for. He, of course, had an answer for all three.

“We work together.”

“We met, what? Five years ago now? Maybe a little more?”

“We’ve been partners for almost four years.”

And...he wasn’t lying. You always paired off with him at work, whether naturally or by assignment. His lack of specifics in defining your relationship both settled and raised your blood pressure, depending on the way you decided to approach it. The words accompanied an affectionate squeeze around your waist or a kiss to the back of your hand.

You know he’s just playing the part for the weekend and everything will go back to normal when you get home.

But God, he’s good at it.

You almost believe him.

He’s still sleeping behind you, his breath fanning slow and even across your shoulder. You’re both fully clothed, but there’s something intimate about it. Sleep, you think, is inherently vulnerable, inherently a trusting state. You two not only managed to fall asleep in the same bed, but woke up tangled together.

You drop your hand to your waist and rest your hand on top of his, falling back into sleep without too much thought.

When Hotch wakes, it’s thankfully late. He’s far too comfortable to be in a hotel bed, but quickly realizes it’s not the mattress. You’re wrapped in his arms, and for a split second he almost panics, concerned that you’ll wake to find him glommed onto you like some kind of ridiculous backpack.

But then he remembers the way your fingers traced his face when you were sure he was asleep, the way you leaned into him the night before - taking shelter in his willing arms.

He feels your fingers pushed between his, your palm warm against the back of his hand, holding him to you.

He’s fucked. He’s totally and completely fucked. He’s even more fucked to even consider the possibility you’re fucked, too.

How could you possibly want him? A man nearly fifteen years older than you, with one failed marriage under his belt, an inability to tear himself away from his work, and more than enough trauma to drown in is hardly the ideal partner for someone as vibrant as you, with so much life yet to live.

And yet, it’s so hard to imagine a life without you. Whenever he looks into his future, he sees you there with him. It’s far too easy to let himself fall into the fantasy as you peacefully sleep in his arms with your fingers laced together.

You shift a little in your sleep, and he arches his back a little, definitely trying to keep you away from...certain parts of his anatomy that are a little more awake than the rest of him.

Quit while you’re ahead, Hotchner.

He very gingerly disentangles himself from you, and he’s pleased when he only gets a few sleepy protests in return. The shower is calling his name, for more than one reason including but not limited to the uncomfortable tightness of his flannel pajama pants.

With one last lingering glance at you, he picks up his toiletries and locks himself in the bathroom for a long (very) hot shower, followed by a much shorter (very) cold shower.

While he’s gone, you stir and stretch your arms over your head. A little disoriented, you find his side of the bed empty but not quite cold before you hear the running water of the shower.

What if you just -

Do not finish that thought.

You are not one iota of fun.

Reaching for your bag, you pull your laptop out and get started on some emails. You have a couple from Seaver and one from Emily.

You sigh and pull out your phone.

“Prentiss.”

“Hey, Em. You wanted me to call?”

“Oh, I just wanted to see how things are going down there.” her voice is the picture of forced nonchalance, and you can almost hear Penelope leaning over her shoulder.

You laugh into the phone and trace patterns on the bedspread. “Things are going well. Hotch was the perfect gentleman last night, and we have the ceremony and reception today. We head home tomorrow morning.”

“Has anything happened? Where is he right now?”

“He’s in the shower. And no, don’t be ridiculous.” You shove your phone under your chin and answer all of Ashley’s questions in confident keystrokes. “You and I both know he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”

Aaron pauses in the bathroom, in the middle of towel-drying his hair. With a smile, he overhears: “...he’s just here because he likes to owe me favors.”

He can’t hear the response, but he does hear you when you say. “My God, Em. Would you quit?”

Ah. So it is Emily.

“I’m not going to do anything about it because there’s nothing to do anything about...Don’t give me that...You have absolutely no proof...I don’t care if you’re a profiler or not, there is no way you can say with any definitive certainty -” You pause, and your voice drops to a low murmur he can’t hear over the hum of the bathroom fan.

With a frustrated huff, he ties the towel around his waist and ventures out, entirely aware of his state of undress.

You’re so glad you drop your voice to finish your thought (“- that he’s in love with me. Don’t be stupid.”) because the door opens and you are immediately confronted with Aaron Hotchner in a towel and every single coherent thought flies out of your head. He smiles a little at you, and something in you melts.

“Are you good?” Emily’s voice is full of laughter.

The heat rises in your cheeks and you whip your head back to your laptop, typing just for something to do with your hands. “Yeah, for sure.”

“He just walked out wearing a towel, didn’t he?”

“Emily, you know I’m not going to dignify that with a response.” You roll your eyes, and miss the smirk on Hotch’s face as he grabs his hanging clothes from the closet.

“So that’s a yes.”

+++

Austin’s family clearly spared no expense for either the ceremony or the reception. You and Aaron had walked in arm-in-arm to find a spot on the groom’s side near the back. It’s still weird - there was a time where you thought for sure Austin was the be-all-end all for you.

But here you are, sitting next to Aaron. He’s wearing that beautiful suit that looks even better on him than it did on the hanger (and that’s saying something). As promised, his tie matches your outfit, and you’d be lying if you didn’t say it made your heart all warm watching him put it on.

The ceremony itself is a blur. You stand and sit when you’re supposed to, and spend the vows with your head on Aaron’s shoulder - playing the role, of course. You take a few unsteady breaths, caught off guard by how affected you are by the ritual of it all.

You don’t love Austin anymore, not by a long shot. That said, the reminder that you’re not married to anybody but work and rapidly approaching thirty is unpleasant.

“Are you okay?” Hotch’s whisper doesn’t carry far.

You nod. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

You shake your head, the soft wool of his suit jacket pressing into your temple. “Later.”

His cheek presses to your hair for just a moment. He’s not worried about you, per se, but he’s never seen you in this existentially forlorn state before. It’s a feeling he recognizes in himself, but to see it on you makes him feel a new kind of helpless.

+++

You’re at the open bar, snagging a glass of wine for yourself and two fingers of whiskey for Aaron (the good stuff, of course), when Austin’s mother warmly accosts you.

“Darling!”

Against your will, a genuine smile breaks out across your face. “Hey, Laurie!” You set the drinks down and embrace her, the familiar smell of her perfume engulfing you. Suddenly, you feel nineteen years old again. “Congratulations.”

She pulls back and waves off your good wishes. “Oh, please. I haven’t done anything.”

You laugh and shake your head. “I beg to differ, but alright.”

She takes you under her arm and holds you close to her. “So.” Her tone is conspiratorial, as if a great plot is to unfold before you. “Who is that devastatingly handsome man you’ve brought with you to shame my son?”

“I did not bring him to shame your son, he offered to come when my original date bailed. You remember Dean?”

“Of course. Such a sweet boy. Still married to his work?”

You shake your head. “I would be...hypocritical of me to get upset with him for that. My work at the bureau keeps me plenty busy. If I’m honest, this is the first personal time I’ve used in four years.”

She squeezes you for a half-second. “I’m so glad you’re here with us.” Her lips purse. “But don’t think you can get out of telling me about that fine, fine man over there.”

“His name is Aaron,” you start, fighting a smile. “We work together at the bureau and he’s just a friend, Laurie, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I always have ideas. Now, introduce me so I can see for myself.”

With a long-suffering sigh, you grab the drinks off the bar and lead her to the table, where Aaron sits with his fingers pressed thoughtfully to his mouth, his elbow on the table and ankle crossed over his knee. Approaching from behind him, you set the whiskey down where he can’t knock it over and lay a hand on his shoulder. “Aaron.”

He turns, and a broad smile breaks out over his face. You’re sure he’s just being polite - you’ve never seen him smile so much. Offering a hand to Laurie, he stands. “SSA Aaron Hotchner. Thank you for having us. I’ve heard so much about you and your family.”

“Oh no, that can’t be good.” She laughs lightly and takes his hand in both of our own. “Laurie Miller. As I’m sure you know, I have a great amount of love for this one here.” She releases Aaron’s hand and tucks you into her arms again, kissing your cheek. You laugh, tickled by her demonstrative affection designed only to embarrass you.

“C’mon, Laur. You don’t have to lie for my benefit.”

You try to ignore the fondness in Aaron’s eyes as he watches the two of you, Laurie cooing over you and your successes. She returns her focus back to Aaron. “Sit, sit and tell me what you crazy kids get up to over there in Quantico.”

Aaron sits and relaxes back into his chair, resting his arm on the back of your seat. You lean forward with your elbows on the table, your hands propping up your head. Aaron’s a great storyteller, of course, and it’s so interesting to watch him talk about work outside of the context itself. He seems to bloom - effusive, charming, and warm - before you.

When you look at him, it’s as if you’re seeing him for the first time.

“...Preventing loss of life is always rewarding, and our team is a family.”

Laurie is clearly enamored, completely drawn into his gentle description of your very-stressful and often-gritty line of work. “It’s so lovely you have so much fondness for each other. I imagine it makes everything much easier.”

He nods, and glances at you. “It does.”

Your phone buzzes on the table, and you excuse yourself with a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Dean, you bastard!” You answer. Hotch’s huff of laughter tells you he overheard it, but he picks up right where he left off with Laurie.

As you step out onto the banquet hall balcony, almost feel bad leaving him to his own devices, but then you remember all the times he’s been left alone with serial killers and you feel much better.

“Hey babe! Are you surviving? Are you alone? Tell me everything.”

You laugh into the phone. “I’m doing alright. Hotch actually offered to come with me. I just stepped out, but he’s in there holding his own well enough.”

“Oh my god. When I said that I didn’t actually think you’d do it!”

“What do you mean?” You look up and out over the property, and the views are simply breathtaking. The moonlight falling across the Virginia landscape almost makes the world look like it’s holding its breath.

What it’s waiting for... you’re not sure.

“When I said bring your hot boss to the wedding I was joking. You didn’t ask him, did you?”

You let out a snort and it almost disrupts the peace of the evening. “Of course not. He offered.”

“I have never met a pair of people so fucking stupid in all my life.”

“You’ve never met Hotch, idiot.”

“Don’t have to,” Dean says. “I know you are you’re dumb enough for the both of you.”

+++

When the dancing starts, you’re understandably resistant. The playlist is a playful mix of contemporary and classic music, and you can’t help but laugh when Signed, Sealed, Delivered (I’m Yours) starts to play.

Aaron stands and offers you his hand. You take his hand without thinking, belatedly realizing his intentions.

“Hotch, you can’t be serious.” You stop dead in your tracks, but his grip on your fingers stays firm as he looks back at you with a look of humorous disbelief on his face.

“When have you ever known me to be otherwise?” He tugs you forward, and you fall into his arms with a huff. “Humor me. Just one and I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the night.”

You glare at him, dubious. “Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because I’m lying.”

And at the end of the day, you can’t refuse him anything - especially when he smiles at you like that.

He’s an excellent dancer. Your grip on his shoulder slowly loosens as you grow more comfortable, trusting him to lead you around the dance floor. He holds you tight, his movement playful in a way that’s almost foreign to you.

You’ve seen him dance exactly once, at Haley’s 39th birthday party, the summer before she died.

You catch sight of Austin and Madeline on the other side of the dance floor and avert your gaze when you find Austin looking back at you.

“Hey.” Aaron’s voice is low, almost a laugh.

Your eyes snap to Aaron’s. “What?”

“Relax.”

“You’re one to talk,” you scoff.

He rolls his eyes and throws you out by one arm, spinning you so your back is to his chest. “I’m plenty relaxed. You are tense.”

The feeling of his heartbeat against your back ruins your resolve and you relent. “It just feels weird.”

“What does?” He spins you back out and pulls you close. You try not to be too distracted by the proximity of his face to yours when you land back against his chest, you hand resting over his heart.

“I just -” you push through your reluctance and admit, “I don’t love him in that way anymore, but it’s super weird to even think that I could have ever thought he was it for me. And now he’s with someone he loves and both of our lives just...kept going after we split, you know?” You shake your head, scattering your thoughts.

He nods. “I do.”

You believe him. The very concept of his heartbreak with Haley - the separation, the anger, the divorce, her death, the love - is overwhelming. You know he understands.

The silence that lapses between you is comfortable.

Yeah, I've done a lot of foolish things That I really didn't mean I could be a broken man Here I am, baby...

When he turns you under his arm, you laugh until you can’t breathe. There’s a smile on his face, too, and there’s something warm and inexplicable about it. You turn the tables on him, turning him under your arm and pulling him back to you.

The song changes to something slower and, true to his word, Aaron keeps you out on the dance floor. You’re exhausted all of a sudden, and your eyes close as you rest your head against his shoulder.

“Thank you for being here with me.”

You’re only sure you spoke aloud when Aaron replies, “Of course.”

+++

Your feet ache when you finally call it quits and head upstairs to your room for the night. Aaron’s suit jacket had long since left him, leaving him rolled sleeves and a loose tie with his top two buttons undone. It traveled from the back of his chair to where it now rests, slung over his arm.

You look over your shoulder as you slip your shoes off. “You look positively rumpled, Agent Hotchner.”

He lets out a laugh, and it makes your breath catch. His laugh always takes you by surprise; it’s much brighter and higher than his speaking register, and frankly, adorable. “It’s past my bedtime.”

“You don’t have a bedtime.” And it was true - you could count on one hand the amount of times you’d known him to actually sleep, especially on a case. You could neither confirm nor deny that he even needed it to function prior to this weekend.

The thought makes your cheeks a little warm, and you turn away from him, setting aside your pajamas and packing the rest of your items.

There’s a little chuckle behind you before the bathroom door closes and the shower starts up.

When Aaron leaves the bathroom, his hair wet and pajamas on, you’re asleep. Curled up on top of the covers, out like a light.

He flips all the switches, leaving the room in darkness. Creeping to your side of the bed, he reaches over and pulls the covers down, gingerly shuffling your legs underneath, followed by your torso. You stir a little, and catch his hand as he moves to tuck your hands under the covers.

His eyes close, just for a moment, before slipping his hand out of yours. He’s already dreading going back to his empty apartment tomorrow afternoon.

That feeling is only amplified when you curl up against his chest as soon as he’s settled under the covers, your leg hooked over his.

+++

You wake up warm again, and snuggle into the body beside you. Arms tighten around you, and you remember where you are and who you’re with. Unlike yesterday, you can’t pretend to be asleep - when you look up, Hotch is awake, brown eyes looking down at you.

“Good morning,” he says.

You tuck your face back into his chest. “I’m sorry - I’m clingy when I sleep.”

His laugh sings over the crown of your head. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.”

Don't read into that.

I’m going to.

Don’t.

Fuck.

“What time is it?” You crane your neck and look at the clock on his bedside table, but you can’t quite see with his arm in the way.

“Just before nine. We have an hour before checkout. Want to get packed, grab some breakfast, and head out? I’ll drive.”

“You drove here.” You shove at him and sit up.

He shrugs and you take a moment to admire the tousled, floppy state of his hair. “I like driving.”

“I won’t argue with that.”

You sigh, stretch, stand and start rolling. You brush your teeth (twice) and put your clothes back into your suitcase, zipping it up without much trouble. He, of course, takes it off your hands right away and brings the bags to the car while you take care of checkout.

He meets you outside, sunglasses on, and the sun hits his hair. You can see all the nuances in the black - the touch of silver, the dark browns and reds. They all seem to make a halo around him in the sunshine. “Ready?”

You snap back to attention and give him a wide smile. “Yes, sir!”

Breakfast is an eventful affair. As soon as you sit down, you get a call from Penelope.

“Hey, Pen, what’s up?” You look across the table at Hotch with amusement in your eyes, and he smiles, still digging into his eggs benedict like a starving man.

“Tell me everything.”

“Oh, well we’re just at breakfast, almost on our way back. My laptop is in the car, can I take a look at that for you when I get home?”

Not now, Penelope, I’ll call you when I’m home.

She hums, following right away. “You better give me every single detail as soon as you step through the door or I swear I’ll riot.”

With a laugh, you reply, “Of course. You know, it might be easier if you just stop by - I’ll text you when I get home and we can do dinner or something.” You push your food around your plate, trying to ignore the fact that the only person you actually want to have dinner with is right across from you.

“Perfect. Yeah, just text me when you get home babycakes. Can’t wait!” She hangs up promptly, and your eyebrows raise for a half second.

You put your phone away and shake your head. “She’s very predictable.”

He nods, looking at you from under his brows. “Indeed.”

You both continue to dig into your food, not realizing how hungry you are from all your antics the night before. His phone rings next, and it’s Jack.

“Hey bud!”

There’s nothing better than the way his voice transforms when he speaks to his son. You hear your name and return your attention to his conversation.

“...we’re at a wedding this weekend, remember? We got to go to a big party last night, and we’re driving home today… Yeah,” he looks at you, “we did have a lot of fun… I’m so glad you had a good time with Aunt Jess and the Brooks cousins this weekend… You got to go ice fishing? That’s so exciting! Did Grandpa take you?... Awesome, bud… Sounds good, I’ll call you when I get home, okay?... I love you too.”

When he puts his phone away, you ask, “How’s he doing?”

“It’ll be a fight to get him home, that’s for sure.”

You take another bite of your food. “How are things with Haley’s family? Any better?”

“Not at all. I’m not sure there’s much I can do, at this point. Jess does what she can, but her dad is… not a fan of mine.” There’s a kind of sadness in his eyes, and you almost regret asking.

“I know you know this, but none of this is your fault.” You look into him and hope he can see the sincerity in your eyes, hear it in your voice.

He thinks for a moment, and you’re almost nervous he’s going to disagree (it’s happened before), but he just meets your eyes and says, “Thank you.”

+++

Hotch lets you pick the music on the way home, and doesn’t say a word when you sing along (sometimes good, sometimes bad). He does occasionally smile a little secret smile to himself, which makes your heart skip around in your chest.

At a certain point, you turn the music off and sit back in your seat.

As usual, Aaron knows you’re going to say something long before you say it. “Yes?”

“I know I keep saying this, but thank you for coming with me this weekend.” Your body shifts toward him, and you can’t seem to tear your eyes from his profile.

“You’re welcome.” He glances at you before looking back at the road. “Thank you for trusting me not to embarrass you in front of people you haven’t seen in almost ten years.”

You smile a kind of lopsided sort of smile. “You could never embarrass me.”

He frowns playfully. “That’s not true.”

“You are exceedingly upstanding, and you just got your hair cut, so the odds are in my favor.”

“Hey!” He self-consciously runs a hand over the back of his hair. You reach over to shove at his shoulder and you’re rewarded with a laugh.

“I’m kidding! I like it long.” You look over fondly at him. “It was longer when I first met you, remember?” You’re not sure why you continue, but you do nevertheless. “You started keeping it shorter after the div - well, after.”

He quirks his brow, the corners of his lips upturned just the smallest amount. “Nobody ever accused you of being unobservant.”

You grin widely at him and turn the radio back on.

+++

You’ve never been more disappointed to see your own driveway in your whole life. Hotch pulls in and turns the ignition off, and you sit in silence for a minute.

There’s so much to think about, and most of it is at least a little uncomfortable. Of course you’re in love with him and he’s your favorite person (and that’s bad enough), but that is even harder to stomach now that you have to go back into the real world.

It’s easy to pretend that it was real, that it wasn’t just for show to make you feel less awful about the direction of your love life. If anything, now that you’re home, you feel even worse.

The only person you want is seemingly the only person you can’t have. There’s something so unattainable about Hotch. You’re not sure if it’s his stern exterior or his age or his role, or if it has more to do with how devastatingly handsome he is, but it’s something.

Aaron wishes he could do anything else, than leave you here at home. Nevertheless, he sighs and gets out of the car. You follow him around back, though you’re not really sure why - he takes your suitcase and insists on carrying it all the way to the door.

You stand there, fumbling with your keys, feeling more and more like a character in a romantic comedy with every passing second. Aaron sets your suitcase on the ground and covers your hands with his. You look up at him, and he leans toward you, pressing a gentle, chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you for inviting me.”

All you can do is nod, with a tight, closed-mouth smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says

“Bye, Hotch,” you call to him as he trots back to the car. “Thanks again.”

He turns toward you, puts his sunglasses on, opens the door, and says, “Anytime.”

You wave with the tips of your fingers and slide into your house. Your back to do the door, you slide down to the floor and cover your face with your hands.

Fuck.

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#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction #tali talks cm #a joyful future #a joyful future fanfic

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acourtofsnakes · 4 years

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Tome - Rogue, Chapter 10| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Summary: You find yourself talking to a mysterious stranger, whom you can’t help but feel a pull towards. Will the Mandalorian get there in time? And what will happen when he shows up?

Warnings: Gonna put this as an 18+ but it’s not SUPER graphic, Swearing (this is a given by now), a little angst, sexual tension – a lot - &mentions of sex that are kinda detailed, WE GETTING HOT IN HERE TODAY

AN: I was trying to hold off on the sexual tension but I couldn’t wait any longer and I needed to add some of Din’s darker side – I blame all the fanfics and Tik Tok, and i’m not ashamed

Word count: 6.5k+

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist:

@snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew

Mando’a translation: Tome – Together

You studied the man as he drew off his hood.

He had inky black hair, so dark the loose waves caught a blue tone in the light of the cantina, like the wings of a crow or a raven.

His skin was softly tanned, yet still a little pale, the pallor set off by the darkness of his hair.

But it was his eyes that drew your attention first.

They were the colour of melted amber, shockingly bright, like they almost glowed from within. They sparkled with flecks of gold, watching you with a keen interest, seeing what you would make of him and his offer. They glimmered like they already knew the answer before you did yourself.

He was heartbreakingly beautiful, and he knew it. Almost flawless.

So, where was his mark, his tell of a dark past, twisted with horrors and darkness that always seemed to follow beautiful people?

There.

As the light shifted, you saw that he bore two long, wicked scars on his face.

One began just above his eyebrow, parting through it and narrowly missing the edge of his eye, before coming to a thin point on his high cheekbone.

The other was smaller, drawn across the plush curve of his lips. It twisted it only slightly, just slightly tugging up one corner, but they did nothing to mar his sheer beauty.

It was.. almost otherworldly. Disarming.

That, combined with his watchfulness gave you a distinct feeling that you were dancing the line between prey or… company?

Or maybe it was the way the light seemed to shy away from the planes of his face, whereas the shadows clung to him like a second skin, like they were an extension of him.

You remained perched on your seat, torn between immediately leaving and putting distance between yourself and this too-beautiful man… or joining him.

He tilted his head, leaning back in his seat and he motioned gracefully to the stool in from of him, “Join me, love. I won’t bite.” His lips curled up into a wider grin and you swore you could almost see fangs, “Not unless you want me to.”

You rolled your eyes, but something about the comment made you realise he probably wasn’t going to kill you if he was flirting with you. “Well, since you paid for my drinks.” You shrugged lightly, slid off of your seat and then joined him at his table. “I’m not so easily won over though, just to inform you.”

The man’s smile turned lazy, feline and he chuckled. The sound of his laugh was like velvet, sliding over your bones and whispering in your ear, “Oh, I don’t doubt that for a second, love. I can tell you need more than a few looks and drinks.” He ran those ridiculous eyes over you, taking in every inch and it felt like was seeing straight into your soul. He made a thoughtful hum in the back of his throat, lifting his eyes to yours again, “No. You strike me as the kind of girl who needs to be truly impressed with more than empty promises.”

Your skin warmed with his gaze, your eyes narrowing a little, but you mirrored his feline smirk, leaning forward and dropping your voice, “And you think you’re the one to impress me, do you?”

He looked over your face, leaning forward and the scent of rain-kissed cedar and thunderstorms washed over you, swirling around your head and filling your lungs, “Maybe. Though something tells me that I might have a contender.”

Unbidden, the thoughts of that night on the Crest came back in a rush, Lori’s bare hands tracing over your skin, your throat and pulling through your hair with utter adoration.

You tensed, an ache of longing ripping through you and it blew your cocky response out of the water.

The man blinked a little, his eyes softening as he read your response that was obviously clearer than you’d like it to be, “Apologies. I didn’t mean to step over the line, so forgive me if I have.” He leant back again, raising his drink to you.

You shook your head softly, giving him a smile that was perhaps only a little forced, “Don’t worry about it, really.” You clinked your glass to his and then sipped your drink, maybe taking a deeper drink than the situation required. “So, what really made you pay for my drinks?”

The man looked a little bashful, gazing at the back of his gloves, “I’ve only been on the planet for the day. I saw you practising with the Marshal earlier and I was impressed. And… wanted to meet the woman who fought like she was dancing.” With his eyelashes lowered, you could see that the scar just tugged at the edge of his eyelid, and you briefly wondered how he managed to walk away with his eye still in his head.

However, his words had you frowning slightly because… they were the exact same words the Mandalorian had spoken to Greef, in awe of you. “Mmm-hm…” You raised an eyebrow at him, starting to believe you may have made a mistake in sitting here. “What’s the real reason?”

He lifted his eyes back to you, and had the good grace to look a little awkward, “I…” He sighed, “I fear I’m giving you the worst first impression of myself.” He spread his hands on the table almost in a gesture to show he meant no harm, “There have been rumours that… The Mandalorian who stole the Child had taken off with another bounty. And that…”

Your gaze was level and hard on him, wanting an answer and wanting it now, “And?”

He bit his lip, that curl of hair still resting over his forehead and making him longer especially with the guilt in his expression, “That there was something between him and his old bounty. Him and… you.” He inclined his head toward you slightly.

Warning bells began to tinkle in your head. “And where did you hear that?”

He shrugged lightly, lifting a hand, “Oh, one hears many things. Especially about you, my love. You’re famous in planets that don’t even know about the Mandalorian. Everyone knows someone who’s seen your puck.” He was reaching toward the sword on his back, his hand closed around the hilt.

Within a blink, your hand was on your own knife again, “I am going to give you thirty seconds to tell me the truth, or I swear, I will run my knife through that pretty eye of yours so quickly you won’t even have time to breathe.”

He blinked, something flickering in his expression, but he held his hands up further, “Easy.” He pulled his sword free of his holster, setting it on the table between you both. “I’m not here to take you in. I was shown your puck, but I refused. I had heard you were here, and I wanted to warn you.”

Your hand didn’t budge from the knife, “Warn me? Of what? I know that everyone is after me. I don’t need some stranger telling me that.”

The man tilted his head, adjusting the hood of his cloak over his shoulders now that his sword was out of the way, “Don’t you want to know who employed them all? All of the people who have been after you?”

Is he playing with you?

You were entirely focused on him, ready to fling the knife and bolt should you need to. You knew how to get out of here, how to get up to the rooftops and dart across them.

Don’t. Don’t ask him, just in case. Get out now.

He knew… He knew who sent everyone after your head.

No.

This man knew who was responsible for the lives of friends and strangers.

You shouldn’t ask. This was a mistake. You needed to leave.

You looked away from his golden stare, drawn to look at the sword lying there on the table.

Your brows furrowed imperceptibly as you beheld the strange symbols carved onto the sheath.

Something about them seemed… familiar. Strangely so. They itched at the back of your mind like a forgotten language.

He lowered his golden eyes to the sword between you, sucking in the light of the room.

“The symbols on this sword… they call to you, don’t they?” He ran a gloved finger along the sheath, tracing delicately over the inscribed symbols.

You bit your lip, hesitating as you watched him.

He looked up at your expression, your hesitation and then he slowly unsheathed the sword, revealing the blade to you.

The blade was made of a deep, dark obsidian coloured material. It was like no metal you’d ever seen. It seemed sheer almost, like a gemstone but it was a rich ebony colour, as endless as space. It pulled in the light around it, sucked it dry and seemed to use it to glow darkly from within.

Along the centre of the blade, the same symbols were inscribed, but this time in a rich golden gilt.

With each symbol that was exposed, something rose within you.

He was right.

They truly did call to you. You didn’t know how, or why, but you felt like you knew what they meant, that you should understand them.

The caged power of the Force within you felt it too.

That’s what they were calling to, what they were connecting with.

The raven-haired man smiled that disarming smile again, his lips twitching up in delight, knowing he was correct. He remained silent for a few seconds, “They call to your power.”

Wait.

He… knew?

How the fuck did he know about you?

No one knew. Not even the Mandalorian knew.

You reached for your blade instinctively again, watching the man in front of you.

Fear must have registered in your eyes, mixed with a defensive warning, because he held up his hands.

“Easy, I’m not going to hurt you. I already told you that. I’m not here for you, or the bounty.” He shrugged a little, “Okay, I am here for you, but not like that. You see, my sister was the same. She had the same… gifts, as you.” He mercifully kept his voice low, soft enough that only you could just hear it.

You didn’t speak, couln’t say anything, only watched him. Waiting. Even if curiosity did spark within you.

He smiled softly like he saw it, the scars on his lips doing nothing to mar the overwhelming, stunning impact of that simple gesture, “That’s right… she was so incredibly talented, and I adored her to pieces. She was beautiful and had such a light within her. Much like you. And I want to help you… like I tried to do for her.” He tilted his head a little, his molten eyes shimmering with sadness as he spoke about her. IT was etched in every line of his body, the pain of losing a loved one that you held so dear.

You swallowed, slowly letting go of your knife, “What happened to her? How do you know about me? Who is sending the hunters after me? Who are you?” The questions tumbled form your lips like rain, unable to stop them as you were faced with a man who could.. maybe help you?

He chuckled softly, filling the air with that musical sound again, “Let me answer the easiest one first. My name is Rena and-“

The doors to the cantina opened, letting in a warm, volcanic breeze.

You felt, rather than heard his presence behind you. You could recognise the almost silent footfalls, the barest scrape of armour as it got closer and closer to you.

With every step, it felt like you might jump out of your skin.

He was here.

He’d come back.

Had he come back for you?

“Get away from her.” His snarl made the chatter in the cantina drop a few notches, the atmosphere subtly changing as everyone tried not to listen in.

You could feel his height rising up behind you, and turned around in your seat to greet him, despite the snarl in his voice. Your elation at seeing him, the very way your bones hummed in delight made you miss what he just said.

“Lori.. you’re here.” You couldn’t deny the way you greedily took in his tall, beskar-clad form. His armour looked… dustier, dirtier than it usually did. Like he hadn’t had time to clean it. There were a few patches smudged over the chest plates, and the fabric beneath looked a little torn. The more rugged look was good on him, giving him that edge that you knew lingered beneath the surface.

Grogu rested at his side, in his little pouch bag. He cooed delightedly when he saw you, earning himself a grin and a wave.

And in the Mandalorian’s other hand…

Duru.

Held in his hand like he normally held the Child.

You tilted your head, reaching out to take her, “Lori, why are you carrying my cat like a baby?” You laughed, holding her furry body close

He ignored you, his helmet focused on the figure opposite you. “I said, get away from her.” The rough baritone of his voice held a fierceness you’d never heard before, the promise of a thinly veiled threat should your companion continue to ignore him.

You blinked in surprise, at the fierceness in his tone.

You’d expected a ‘Hello’ at least, but here he was, acting like you were invisible and giving a death stare (you presumed) to the man opposite.

Rena chuckled softly, that laugh like flowing water over smooth stones, “Calm down, friend. I’m not going to hurt her.” He smiled at the Mandalorian, all easy charm and glowing eyes.

Mando growled, striding forward and he flung his arm out across your body… like he was protecting you?

“I am not your friend. And you are nothing to her. So back off.”

You frowned, something prickling at the back of your neck, a feeling you couldn’t place. You appreciated the Mandalorian defending you but… from what?

Did he think you couldn’t be trusted to sit and talk to someone? That you were dumb enough to make a foolish mistake with so many after you?

“Mando. Enough. You don’t even know Rena. Neither do I. Calm down.” Your voice was soft, but firm. To tell him you appreciated the defence, but you didn’t need him to save you.

Besides, you wanted to know more about him, more about how he knew what lingered within you and how he planned to help.

He barely looked over his shoulder at you, keeping his head turned to Rena, “You’re right in that you don’t know him. But I do. So forgive me, but I’m the one calling the shots in this situation. Take the kid and go back to the Razor Crest. We’re leaving.”

Your shoulders straightened and your eyes flashed as you raised an eyebrow at him, “You’re the one calling the shots?” Your voice was flecked with icy coolness, and disbelief, “I can make my own decisions, Mandalorian. Despite what you may think.” You let acid creep into your tone, let him know you were referring to him decided to dump you here.

Rena’s amber eyes flicked between the two of you, dancing in amusement as he tilted his head, “I’d listen to her, Mandalorian. I think she knows what she’s doing. She doesn’t strike me as the kind of woman who likes to be told what to do.” The light bounced off his dark hair, making the inky curls catch a deep blue. His posture was at ease, leaning back in his chair, his sword within easy reach, should he need it.

The cantina was silent now, everyone flat out watching or listening to the potential fight that was going to ensue… and whether it would be between Mando and Rena, or Mando and yourself.

Mando still had his arm across your body and Duru’s too, actually. “And you don’t strike me as the kind of monster that plays with their food for so long. I know you like to have your sick little games, but this isn’t exactly your style is it.” His words were venomous, a tone you’d never ever heard before.

Anger flashed through you, chasing away the initial delight you had at seeing the Mandalorian. You understood his wariness of strangers, but he was being out of order. You weren’t stupid. You’d been doing this for long enough that your instincts were pretty sharp when it came who to trust and who to run away from.

You stood up, glaring at the back of his head, “Enough, Lori. This is ridiculous.”

Mando ignored the cold anger of your voice, finally looking at you over his shoulder. “Just wait outside. Please.”

His plea stopped you short. He had only ever used that word in such a tone once before.

In the kitchen area, with his hands on your skin and in your hair.

Please.

And… was there a layer of fear beneath it?

You sighed, looking from him to Rena, reluctant to leave them in case the fight did indeed break out. This man… he said he could help. And he couldn’t very well do that dead, could he?

You didn’t doubt for a single second that Mando wouldn’t go down without a fight, but you sensed there was something coiled within Rena, a slumbering beast that was waiting to be provoked. It prowled behind his eyes and his smile.

As if reading this in your eyes, Rena smiled at you, shaking his head a little, “I’m not looking for a fight, love. Your Mandalorian will come back to you in one piece. And I’ll leave here in one piece as well.” His eyes shifted to Mando, something in them shifting, “Won’t I?”

Mando was still, his instincts on trigger mode and just waiting to explode, “I don’t like making promises I can’t keep.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you took Grogu from Mando. “Fine. You have five minutes.”

You rested the bag across your body, ignoring the eyes watching you as you stalked out of the cantina. “Men.”

The cantina door opened, and the Mandalorian walked out.

A quick inspection revealed no damage, so you turned your gaze back to your knife.

You were perched on a wall, Grogu on your lap and Duru around your shoulders as you waited for the Mandalorian.

Having spotted you, he walked over, hesitating a few steps away like he was approaching a raging fire.

Good. Let him hesitate. Let him know how fucking furious I am with him.

You said nothing, continuing to clean the blade of your knife on the edge of your cloak.

Silence stretched between you, broken only by the soft thump of Duru’s tail, and Grogu’s tiny huff as he looked between you both.

Mando observed you for a moment, before placing his hands on his hips and sighing, “Come on then.”

You turned over your knife, methodically buffing up the blade, “What the fuck was that? Do you treat all strangers the way you did in there?”

The Mandalorian was still, watching you carefully, “He’s not a stranger. He’s dangerous. Deadly.”

You still hadn’t looked at him, “I am dangerous. And deadly. I’ve killed people and ‘played with my food’. Does that mean I am a monster too?”

He shifted his weight to his other leg, “I didn’t call you a monster. You know I wouldn’t do that. I’m sorry if it stirred anything up, I didn’t think” Your old argument must have flashed through his mind because it did yours. But that wasn’t the issue.

Grogu looked at you as you shook your head, “Nope. You didn’t think, did you? You waltzed in there. And made a scene.”

A noise filtered through the vocoder and over to you, “A scene? I would hardly call it making a scene. That guy is a stone-cold killer. He was sitting there, toying with you and no one would have batted an eyelid to help you. There are people after your head, him especially!”

Fire simmered through your veins. “Oh, for the love of all the stars, grow up! He isn’t deadly. He knew who I was, and he didn’t once raise a hand to hurt me. He said as much himself.”

The Mandalorian laughed, that damn laugh that made your teeth set on edge, “He told you, did he? Oh, forgive me then. Of course, he was telling the truth.” He shook his head, pacing and then coming back to you.

You frowned, watching him pace, “What is your problem with him? So I was talking to some guy in a bar, that immediately makes him a monster?”

The Mandalorian made a frustrated noise, raising his hands, “My problem, sweetheart, is that I thought you were smarter than that! Some creep tells you he knows who you are but he ‘isn’t going to hurt you’ and I thought you’d be running the other way and he’d be laying there with a knife in his chest! Not laughing with you over that fucking sword of his.”

This man was being ridiculous.

“So, this about my supposed stupidity now too, is it? Because I did something that you didn’t expect me to do?” You shoved your blade back into it’s sheath, nearly slicing your leg as you did.

Mando made another frustrated noise, “Fucking hell, you’re not listening to me, again!! This is not about you! This is about him!! He cannot be trusted. He is a monster and a murderer. And I don’t care if he was singing you nursery rhymes or telling you about the baby Porgs he adopts, he was lying! He is going to kill you and I am not letting that happen!”

Jaw clenched, you glared at him still, “Have you seen him do such things? Where’s your proof he was going to kill me. Do you know him?”

“Not exactly. But I-“

“No. You don’t know him at all. You didn’t trust me to be able to handle the situation, even though there wasn’t a situation until you walked in.”

Mando crossed his arms across his stupidly broad chest, “Like I said. You clearly didn’t know what you were dealing with. Again.”

You slowly looked up at him, eyes blazing and Grogu made a noise, his little body going still. “Oh?”

The Mandalorian kept his gaze firmly on you, oozing that cockiness that grated on you as much as your own grated on him, “Nope.” He tilted his head, “Someone has to keep you safe.”

It was the insinuation on the word, ‘someone’, that had you picking up Grogu and placing him on the wall. He immediately tucked his chin into his tunic, his hands coming up to cover his ears.

A beat later, your fury exploded.

“Someone needs to keep me safe?! And I suppose that title oh so graciously falls on you, does it? Because you know everything about everyone who comes into contact with me?” You stalked toward him, poking a finger into his chest, “I was doing just fine before you. I don’t need you to keep saving me. If I remember correctly, it was me who saved you the last time. So don’t come out here on your high and mighty hero argument, you pretentious, shiny, asshole!” You pointed at him, “You can’t just walk in and start accusing people of being murderers when you clearly don’t know them!”

The Mandalorian sighed, “Don’t start this again. You know I didn’t mean it like that. So, don’t start calling me names either. I was trying to protect you, like I keep saying.”

You growled at him, “So you’re allowed to waltz in there and start spewing accusations, but I’m not allowed to call you out for being an asshole?”

Mando walked over to the wall where Grogu and Duru were perched, “I wasn’t spewing accusations, princess. I was telling the truth. When are you going to believe me?” He scooped up the kids, placing Grogu back in his pouch over his shoulder and holding Duru in his arm again.

For some reason, that fuelled your anger even more, that he took your cat and strolled off. You scrambled off of the wall, “Are you going to explain to me how you know then?” You followed him as he began to walk down the street, winding through the paths.

He didn’t even look at you just kept walking, “I just know that he went in there to kill you. He was playing with you first.”

You darted around a fruit cart, the setting sun bouncing off his shiny head and getting in your eyes, “And I asked you for your proof. Which I’m still waiting for.”

Mando stopped, so suddenly you bumped into his back with a soft oof. “Look. I just know, okay. Can’t you leave it at that for once?” You just knew there was a pleading expression underneath the helmet, but you weren’t letting it go.

You crossed your arms, arching a brow at him, “I’m gonna give you a minute to remember who I am and answer that question for yourself.”

He groaned, dropping his head back and looking at the darkening sky for a moment. “Fine.” He lowered his head to look at you again, “In Mandalorian culture, there are legends of a creature so foul, he was spat back out of the deepest pits of darkness. A man so cruel that darkness itself shies away from him. They say he has no soul. I didn’t believe in it when I was a Foundling. I thought it was just a story they told us to make sure we stayed in line but… I know that it’s true now. He is true. We call him Haran. It means cosmic annihilation, because that’s what he brings. He kills people for pure pleasure, but he drags it out in the worst way possible first. And he’s after you.”

You said nothing. Simply staring at him.

He stared back at you, waiting.

The seconds ticked by, Grogu and Duru looking between you both.

Finally, you spoke. Your voice was very quiet, very calm, “You mean to tell me. That you walked into that cantina, after over a month of not seeing me, without even saying hello, I might add. And you walked over to this man, accused him of being a murderer and threatened him… because you think he’s a children’s story?!”

The noise of exasperation that came from the man before you mirrored your own emotions, “For the love of- You’re impossible.”

“And you’re talking bullshit.” You snapped the words, arms still crossed, and you were just getting madder by the second. But something was suddenly becoming clear in your mind, some dark whisper to play with him.

Mando almost audibly rolled his eyes, shaking his head before turning around and continuing to walk. “Whatever, princess. You asked, I told you.”

There was no hesitation as you followed him again, “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” His voice was flat now, bored almost. He weaved through some more corners and streets, the paths getting quieter and some empty buildings rising up around you.

“Yep. And I think I know why. I know why you suddenly went alpha male protective on me. I know why you made such a scene. And I know why you’re acting like this now.” You were poking at him; sure you knew the truth now. And if you were wrong, hell, maybe you could make him as frustrated as he had made you.

“Do enlighten me, princess. How do you know such things?” There was an edge to his voice, like he knew where you were going with this.

“Because to me, it sounds like you walked in there, saw me sitting with someone else and…”

He stopped, putting the kids down on a wall again as he turned to look at you, “And what? Say it.” The visor of his helmet was locked onto you and you had that feeling again that you had locked eyes.

You stared back at him, crossing your arms, voice dripping with fury and contempt, but now with an edge, “You were jealous.”

The evening was quiet, this part of town abandoned by the look of the crumbling buildings around you.

The Mandalorian laughed, but there was no humour in his voice, “Jealous? You think I was jealous of him?”

You bristled at the cocky laugh, eyes flashing again and that hidden part of you shimmered and trembled, “It sure as hell looked like it. You didn’t even say hello to me before you were descending upon us like an alpha male claiming your territory.” You stalked closer to him, two predators dancing around each other again, “I am not your territory, or your property. I am no-ones.”

Mando didn’t move, letting you come closer, “I know that. I never once laid claim to you. But when I walked and saw you sitting there with that.. that..”

You snarled softly, “Don’t say it again.”

He looked at you for a moment, “That creature… I lost it. You shouldn’t be on the same planet as him, let alone across the table.” He dropped his arms to his sides, displaying that restless energy that was so rare for him.

You couldn’t help but laugh this time, “Because he’s some kind of spooky shadow man from your childhood stories? Please.”

Mando shook his head fiercely, pointing at you, “It’s the truth. Haran is real. And he was sitting opposite you, playing with you and pretending to be some bashful pretty boy.”

You prowled toward him, mimicking the shaking of his head. “No. Not good enough. Stop lying to me, Lori.”

“I am not lying to you!! Get it through your head, he was going to kill you!!”

You were right in front of him now, peering up at him, “Admit it.”

His voice was tight, but he didn’t back away, “Drop it, princess. I already told you.”

You shook your head, “I don’t believe you. If you wont tell me the truth I’ll help you.” You took a tiny step closer, so close your chest brushed against his as he panted a little. “I think you went to my room, expecting me to be there. You saw that I was gone and Duru was alone. You immediately thought the worst, and came rushing down to the cantina, hoping you’d find me there. And you did. Only it wasn’t what you expected.”

Mando was silent, his hands curling into fists and uncurling again.

You continued, relentless, “Instead of being on my own, you saw me sitting with another man. A damn good looking one at that.” You cooed the word at hi, dropping your tone to a seductive, needy one.

You wouldn’t have heard the soft growl if you hadn’t been this close, and it only spurred you on. “You saw us laughing, talking. And you didn’t like it.” You tilted your head a little, “You saw us and thought… how well do they know each other?” You lifted your hand, placing your fingertips on his chest, “Maybe we knew each other as friends. Or… maybe we knew each other more than that. Maybe we’d spent nights together...” You began to tap your fingers down the Mandalorian’s chest plate, as you lowered your voice to a seductive purr, “What if we couldn’t wait, couldn’t wait to get to the bed and he threw me against the wall, tearing the buttons off my trousers in his haste.”

Mando was breathing harder now, his hands curled up tight. You knew you were pushing his buttons, edging him to possible fury but something in you ached to do this, to feel something like that night before. You wanted a reaction out of him, something more than just protectiveness and care. You wanted him to lose his cool, break free of his restraint and just… do something.

“Maybe I tore off his clothes too, both of us kissing so fiercely we couldn’t breathe, our tongues dancing around each other as we grabbed at each other, pulling away the layers of clothes until…”

You rose up on tiptoe, your hands resting against his belly for support, and you knew the helmet would pick up your whispers, “Until he sunk into me, pushing me against the wall and fucking me, so hard and so loud that everyone in that building heard, that everyone knew what was happening. They knew his name, they knew my name, and they knew that we did not stop going. That we had sex on every available surface in that room. That I threw him on the bed and rode him until he was clawing at my hips. Do you want to see? Do you want to see the bruises that you think are on my hips?”

You turned your head, so your lips brushed the edge of his helmet and fire burned through you as he turned his head into your words and his hands twitched, “Do you wish it was you, Lori? Do you wish it was you that was making me scream? That you were the one leaving marks on my body? That you were the one buried so deep within me I could feel you in my belly?” You pushed your body into him, effectively pinning him to the wall with your own body, “Did you think about me whilst I was gone? Alone, in the middle of the night with only your hand to keep you company?”

Your fingers trailed to his clenched fist, curling your hand around it to bring it to your waist.

Only for him to let out a choked growl that set your bones ablaze. He spun quicker than you’d ever seen him move, switching the position and holding your hand against the wall, his other next your head, effectively creating a cage with his body, “Shut up.”

You grinned, hearing the rasping tone of his voice, “I knew it, I knew you were jealous. You did think I fucked him, didn’t y-“

Suddenly, his hand had left yours and was over your mouth, “For a girl who acts like a princess, you have a fucking vulgar mouth.” He tilted his head down to yours, his voice rumbly and sparking all sorts of images in your mind. “Maybe I was a little jealous. I’ll admit it.”

Your eyes flared with triumph, even if the hand on your mouth was coiling heat in your belly, making heat flood through your body – and between your legs.

The Mandalorian leant in closer, surrounding you with his scent again, smokey leather, metal and that distinct woodsy smell. “You asked me if I think about you… but what about you, cyar'ika? Do you think about me when you’re alone?”

By the stars, the way his voice dropped and rolled along your spine like a caress. It opened up the corner of your mind that you tried to ignore, the corner that spilled out every night, into your dreams.

“Do you think about that night on the Crest? What might have happened if we weren’t interrupted? Would my hands have gone lower? Touched where you wish it was me? Sunk into you and stroked you until your legs shook?” He chuckled lowly, a sound that would have brought you to your knees if he wasn’t caging you to the wall. He was so close you could no longer see your reflection in his visor. His head titled a little and you felt his body push into yours gently, all hard, cold armour, but beneath that… beneath his hips, he pressed into you.

You could feel the hard length of him, feel that he was turned on by this just as much as you, maybe he wanted this as much as you did.

Wanted the images searing through your mind, of his hands tearing around your clothes, dropping to your thighs and lifting them around his waist, gripping them so hard he left bruises as he pushed into you..

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck.

Electricity crashed through your veins and your darkened eyes rolled back a little, thighs clenching. You couldn’t help it, your lips parted and a soft moan slipped from them, muffled against the leather of his hand and without thinking, you bit down on his fingers, tasting the leather.

His hand tensed over your mouth, his body jerking into yours a little as his breath left him in a soft huff. “Fuck, you d-“

“Uh, guys?”

Cara’s voice filtered through the haze of lust that clouded your brain, and immediately, the Mandalorian jumped backward, the two of you parting like you’d been shocked.

Heat flooded your cheeks and neck, not from embarrassment so much as a response to his words.

The man made you furious, made you see red but… you couldn’t deny the fire between you. The way you were dancing around each other since you met. You were seemingly in a constant stay of being polite, flirting with each other or being at each other’s throats – either through anger or pure lust.

“What is it, Cara?” Mando turned to her, his voice coming out a little harsher than intended due to the roughness of his voice, betraying the reactions of his body.

Her eyes flicked between the two of you, and you just knew she saw it all from the way she was holding back a smirk as she looked at you. “That guy from the cantina asked me to give you this.” She held something out to you.

You cleared your throat, pushing away from the wall and walking past Mando carefully, like the faintest touch between you both would ignite something. “Thanks, Cara” You took the object she held out and it was a thin metal card with a code embossed onto it. You frowned, flipping it over but all that lay on the other side was a symbol. A two headed snake coiled around a sword that looked a lot like the one that had been sheathed on his back.

The Mandalorian answered instead, thankfully staying where he was, “It’s a comms code. If you input it, it’ll connect you to him.” His voice was tight, “If he thinks-“

You held up a hand, not looking at him, “Don’t even finish that sentence.” You pocketed the card, letting out a breath, “I’m going to go and sort my things out. I… I’ll meet you all in a bit.” You allowed yourself a glance back at the Mandalorian, skin heating when you found his visor already trained on you.

You swallowed thickly, your blood simmering again but you made yourself turn around, avoiding Cara’s smirk, “C’mon, Duru.”

You headed back to your little apartment, relieved when you heard no trailing footsteps behind you. You needed the time alone for a minute, to process what the hell just happened between you both.

And maybe to cool down.

He would be the death of you.

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#the mandalorian x force sensitive! reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x force sensitive! reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #the force #the child #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #rogue

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fruitcoops · 4 years

Note

okay so: coops and jily do the couple fear pong challenge (couple vs couple fear pong by cut for reference)?? pleaseee - m

Anon, you definitely read my mind with this. I’ve had this idea in the works for almost a month and I’m so glad you suggested it!! Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for alcohol (beer)

“Are you ready to lose?” James asked as he set up a few lines of red Solo cups.

“Try me,” Remus shot back with a grin. Their respective partners shared an exasperated look.

“Hello, hockey fans, and welcome to Fear Pong! I’m your host, Marlene McKinnon.” Marlene set an armful of beer bottles on the ping pong table and began filling each team’s cups halfway.

“I’m Lily Potter, and this is my husband James.” Lily waved to the camera and stole one of Marlene’s bottles to take a sip. “Ugh. It’s like wheat-flavored moonshine.”

“I think she takes it as a challenge to find the worst alcohol,” Remus mused. “I’m Remus Lupin, the best winger on the Lions.”

“Shut it, Loops.”

“Bite me, Pots.”

“And I’m Sirius Black, the team captain,” Sirius said. “As you can see, this is going to get out of hand very fast.”

Marlene leaned on the table, looking between them with a grave expression. “The rules are simple. If you throw the ball and it lands in a cup, you have to do the dare on the coaster or drink the beer. The team who drinks all their cups first, loses. We’ll do the deadliest of games to decide who goes first: rock, paper, scissors. Choose your champions.”

Sirius and James moved to the front of the table. “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!”

“Shit,” Sirius muttered as James’ paper defeated his rock.

James grinned as he headed back to his place. “I can already taste victory.” Lily took careful aim, and the ball landed perfectly in the center of their cups. “That’s my wife, everybody!”

Remus rolled his eyes and picked up the coaster. “Leave five hickeys on your teammate. Your opponent chooses where. Aw, man, everyone’s going to see them at practice.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to chicken out and drink?”

His jaw ticked. “Where.”

“One on his cheek, the rest on his neck.”

Sirius leaned down with a heavy sigh and Remus worked a hickey onto his cheek, pulling away with a soft pop and appraising it. “Not bad. Four more?”

“Four more.”

It took less than a minute for the rest of the marks to appear in a light lilac color. Remus licked his lips and picked up the ball. “Those are such weak hickeys!” James protested. “Come on, Loops, you’re better than that.”

“And yet they’re already done.” He picked up the ball and readied it. “Tragic.”

A few droplets of beer splashed out of the cup and Lily lit up when she read the dare. “Switch outfits with your partner. Oh, baby, you’re going to look gorgeous!”

“Do we get a screen or something?” James asked as Lily began unzipping the back of her dress. Two camera crew members came over with a large blanket and they stepped behind it; after a couple minutes of rustling, Lily emerged in her husband’s too-big sweatshirt with the cuffs of his jeans rolled up.

“Do you need a hand with the zipper?” she asked with a light laugh.

“Got it. Oh, wow, I look hot.” James came into view and Sirius held a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. The floral dress fell to his mid-thigh and the low neckline exposed quite a bit of his chest. He swayed back and forth, making the skirt twirl slightly. “Very breathy.”

“Alright, handsome, your turn.” Lily handed him the ball and he shot it—it bounced off the rim and Remus whooped.

“I can already taste victory,” he mimicked in a terrible Boston accent; James threw the backup ball at him and it smacked him in the forehead. “Ow!”

Unfortunately, Sirius’ throw also went wide, ending up down Lily’s baggy shirt. “Hang on, it’s in my cleavage. Nice aim, Cap.” She dug around for a moment as Sirius flushed, then emerged with the ball, giving it an elegant toss.

“Damn it,” Sirius muttered as he took the coaster. “Make out with your teammate for a minute, but one of you can’t move their lips or tongue. Again with the kissing? Really? Can’t we just switch clothes and call it a day?”

“Come on down to the front, pardner.” Marlene said with a false Southern twang, patting the backs of the two folding chairs she had set up. “Get your smooch on.”

“I can’t move my face, right?” Remus asked as he sat down across from Sirius. Marlene shook her head.

“Get it, Cap!” Lily cheered as he reached out to cup Remus’ jaw in his hands.

Sirius had to turn away and laugh for a second, rolling his shoulders out. “Okay, ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Why do you look like you’re gearing up for a game?” Sirius flicked him on the thigh and Remus pressed his lips together, still smiling slightly.

He started soft, placing slow kisses all over Remus’ mouth. “It says ‘make out’, Cap, come on!” James complained. “If that’s your idea of making out, you need to apologize to your fiancé.”

Remus raised his eyebrows and Sirius huffed a sigh, leaning back in for a proper kiss with a significant increase in tongue. Lily whooped and Remus’ shoulders began to shake with suppressed laughter—Sirius moved his hands to down to steady him as the timer continued counting.

“Ten seconds!” Marlene warned. The final buzzer went off and Sirius pulled away, wiping at his lips.

“That felt so weird,” Remus said as he dried his mouth off with his sleeve and tugged Sirius in by his wrist. “C’mere.”

Sirius bent down for a quick kiss before they walked back to their side. “Alright, our turn.”

“I get to throw it this time.”

“What? Why?”

Remus took the ball out of his hand and kissed his cheek. “I say this with all the love in the world, but you suck at beer pong. So does Pots, if that makes you feel better.” His shot spun around the rim of a cup before falling in with a clatter.

“Take an article of clothing off for every sexual partner you’ve had,” James read. “Aw, come on, I’m only wearing a dress and none of you want to see me naked.”

“You’re not wearing underwear?” Sirius looked mildly alarmed.

“I’ve had more than two partners, dude.”

Lily shrugged. “I’m not about to protest seeing you naked.”

“I would!” Remus and Sirius chorused with equal measures of horror. James rolled his eyes and downed the cup.

“James, you have to throw it,” Marlene interrupted as he handed the ball to Lily. “You need to switch each time.”

“Shit,” Lily muttered, giving it back. “Don’t fuck this up for us, honeybun.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He took careful aim, tossed it, and landed a perfect shot in one of the cups without a coaster. Sirius and Remus groaned as Lily cheered. “Hell yeah!”

Remus drank the beer as Sirius lined up the ball; it sailed through the air and bounced off two cups before sinking into the third. They high-fived with both hands while Lily took the dare out. “Call your parents and tell them you’re pregnant—oh, we can’t do this.”

“Why?” Remus snorted. “You’ve already done it once.”

“I would break my mother’s heart if she found out it was a prank.” James shook his head and passed Lily the cup. “I would get the lecture of a lifetime.”

“Can you imagine pranking poor Effie with fake grandbabies?” Lily asked as she drank.

“The guilt would eat me alive,” Sirius agreed. Lily lined up for another shot. “Miss, miss, miss, miss—fuck.”

“Call a friend and ask for a threesome.” Remus’ eyebrows shot up and he looked at Sirius. “As much as I want to win this game, there’s no way we’re doing that.”

“Hell no, I’m the captain. That’s an abuse of power or something.” Sirius drained the cup and set it aside, moving so Remus could get a better angle for his throw. It landed in one of the cups they had already hit and Lily cursed as she drank again.

“Marley, we need to have a talk about your alcohol.”

“I want you guys to know that I specifically asked for the shittiest beer they had that would get people drunk real quick,” Marlene said off screen. “It comes from a place of love.”

They traded three more shots back and forth, each one bouncing off the table or threatening to take someone’s eye out before James got a lucky shot. “I thought you said he was bad at this!” Sirius protested as he took the dare out.

“I thought he was!” Remus defended. “What do we have to do?”

“Let them paint us with glue and pour glitter on us.”

“Alright, let’s do it.”

“Shirts off, unless you want to ruin them,” Marlene said as she carted two containers of glue and some small buckets of glitter out. Remus and Sirius obliged, then stood on the clear tarp she had laid out. “Pots, Lils, go nuts.”

“This is the best day of my life,” James said gleefully as he took a paintbrush and began drawing a wobbly smiley face on Sirius’ torso.

“It’s so drippy.” Sirius let out a long exhale and bounced on his toes as James added polka dots and squiggles all over the place.

“What are you writing?” Remus asked as Lily began touching up her work. “Are those words?”

“Maybe. Glitter time!” Without further ado, she dug her hand into the bucket and threw a handful at Remus’ chest. It exploded in a small poof and only some of it stuck; he wrinkled his nose.

“It’s in my mouth.”

“Gay rights—oh shit that’s cold!” Sirius yelped, batting James away. “Just do the glitter already!”

“Don’t rush an artist!” Nevertheless, James went over and shook about half the bucket onto Sirius.

He spat out a mouthful of sparkles and glared. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that was necessary.”

“Whatever you want, David Bowie.”

“He looks more like Freddie Mercury to me,” Lily mused as she continued sprinkling glitter over Remus, revealing her name written in careful cursive. “This is going to be such a pain to wash off, you two.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” Remus shook his hair out and a small waterfall of glitter fell out onto the tarp.

“Back to your stations, everyone!” Marlene called.

The game only got rowdier after that as each team did everything in their power to prevent dares, ranging from shaking the table to sneezing loudly each time someone squared up for a shot. Remus finally sank one and nearly smacked Sirius in the face with his celebratory fist pump as Lily groaned.

“Let the opponent pour ice water down your pants.” James frowned and looked to the camera crew. “I’m not wearing any pants.”

“You’re wearing underwear,” Marlene pointed out. His eyes went wide as she came out with two bowls of ice water and handed them to Sirius and Remus, whose smiles were downright maniacal.

“I really hope you’re done having kids,” Sirius said as James turned around. “On three. One, two—”

Both of them shouted in shock; Remus burst out laughing as Sirius shook the final few ice cubes into James’ underwear. “That was not three!” Lily tugged at her pantlegs and ice cascaded out, darkening the fabric along the way. “Aw, it looks like I peed myself.”

James braced his hands on the table and leaned forward, taking deep, slow breaths. “I can’t feel my balls,” he managed. “Holy fuck, that’s so weird.”

“It’s like a punch bowl down there.” Lily grimaced and picked up the ping pong ball. “I hope you two are ready for payback.”

Her throw was immaculate, despite both Sirius and Remus blowing on it as it arced over the table. “This is terribly convenient,” Remus said. “Wear a childbirth simulator for fifteen seconds each.”

“Fifteen seconds?” Lily swung around to the camera in disbelief. “I was in labor for four hours!”

“You’re also way stronger than we are,” Remus laughed as Sirius helped Marlene drag a beanbag out onto the glittery tarp.

“Who’s up first?” she asked.

“Sirius,” Lily said without hesitating. “He kicked off my labor, he gets to know what it felt like.”

“Do I get any choice in this?” Sirius asked, though he was already laying down and brushing glitter off his torso to make room for the sensors. Lily took the remote and pressed a few buttons. “Should I apologize now or—shit! Shit, shit, mon dieu, c’est horrible, s’il vous plait, owwwww.”

His hand collided with Remus’ and he grabbed it, squeezing it tight as James watched, wide-eyed, from the sidelines. “Baby, you’re going to break my hand,” Remus wheezed.

Marlene’s timer went off and Sirius scrambled to tear the sticky pads off, practically throwing himself off the beanbag. “That was hell. Lily, don’t ever feel like you need to have children again.”

Remus swallowed thickly as he took Sirius’ place, settling back into the cushions. “Hold my hand?”

“Please don’t break my fingers.”

Remus’ knee jerked up on reflex as soon as Lily turned it on and he yelled, eyes flaring wide with surprise. “Motherfucker! Ohhhh my god this is what death feels like. This is what death feels like, I hate I hate it Sirius Black do not let go of my hand.”

“Four hours,” Lily said mildly as he gritted his teeth and Sirius winced at his grip.

The cheerful jingling of the timer made Remus nearly sob with relief; he peeled the sensors off his skin and immediately went over to hug Lily. “You are the most incredible person I know. Please never make us do that again.”

“You chose to do it, Glitter Boy,” she laughed, giving him a playful shove after returning the hug. “Fire away, Cap.”

James had to drink, then Remus, then Lily, and after her shot went wide, Sirius landed a miracle throw. “Let the opposing team shave your head,” James read. He looked up at them and narrowed his eyes. “Touch my hair and I’ll end you.”

“We only have two left,” Lily warned as he took the cup and drank it. “And only one has a dare.”

“I’m not going to sacrifice my hair to win bragging rights.”

His next shot was a laser throw that nearly knocked over the cup it landed in. Sirius’ shoulders slumped when he took the coaster. “Let the opponent smash a pie in your face.”

“Could be worse.” Remus shrugged. “I’m glad I didn’t wear my nice pants today.”

“These chairs are going to live in my nightmares,” he said as they returned to the tarp. Lily and James carefully took the whipped-cream pies from the camera crew.

“Woah, what’s that?!” Lily shouted all of a sudden. Remus startled, turning to look at her, only to get a full pie slammed directly into his face. James didn’t hesitate—he really put his hips into it, and some whipped cream splattered back onto the table.

“Moisturizing is very important,” he said, rubbing the pie in slow circles around Sirius’ face until almost all of it was coating his skin. “Sugar scrubs are all the rage.”

“Do I look exfoliated, sweetheart?” Sirius asked, turning in Remus’ general direction.

“If I could see anything right now, I would say no.” Remus wiped his eyes off and flicked the cream at Lily, who quickly stepped backwards. Sirius leaned over and licked Remus’ cheek, laughing, until Remus grabbed Lily’s mostly-empty pie tin and shoved it in his face.

“I deserved that,” he said, voice muffled by aluminum and filling.

The video cut for a moment, and when it returned, the four of them were pie-free and back at the table. The game had clearly continued off-camera, because each team only had one cup left. Their cheeks were significantly more flushed than before.

“Just out of curiosity,” Marlene cut in as Sirius picked up the ball. “On a scale of 1-10, how drunk do you think you are right now?”

Lily made a face. “Maybe, like, a four?”

“Three,” James said.

“Yeah, three.” Sirius hiccupped at the end of his sentence, clearly startling himself. “…three and a half.”

“I’ll have to agree with the collective,” Remus said. “Not anywhere close to drunk drunk, because it’s shitty beer, but pleasantly buzzed. Take the average of everyone else and that’s…about three and a third? The math is skewed if Sirius goes with three and a half instead. I dunno.”

There was a beat of quiet before James shook his head. “Only you would do tipsy math to calculate how drunk you are instead of guesstimating like the rest of us. Fuckin’ nerd.”

“Fuck off, you can’t even do addition.”

Sirius threw the ping pong ball before the argument could get any more heated and it bounced off the table, hitting James right on the cheek. “Oops.”

“Hey!” It was James’ turn to throw next, and he deliberately aimed for Sirius’ face—Sirius ducked and it flew past him, hitting something off screen with a clatter. “Sorry!”

“Ha! That’s what you get.”

Remus rolled his eyes and took the ball; it went into James and Lily’s final cup despite their defense tactics. “Ah, shit,” Lily muttered as she picked up the coaster. “Pour beer into your partner’s mouth using only your feet. J, do you trust me with this?”

“I love you, but no.”

“That’s fair. To the tarp!”

Remus and Sirius watched with far too much glee as Lily laid down and Marlene put a fresh beer cup between the soles of James’ feet. “Ready?” he asked her. She nodded and opened her mouth as he began slowly tilting it.

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” Remus and Sirius chanted from the sidelines. About halfway through, the cheap plastic cup folded and rolled out of James’ grip, bouncing off Lily’s nose and falling to the floor.

She sat up quickly, checking her hair as the last of the liquid formed a puddle on the tarp. “Is it in my hair?”

All three men squinted at her. “Nope,” James said after a moment. “All good. Did we complete the dare?”

Marlene made an ‘ehh’ noise as she tossed them a towel to mop up the spill. “You didn’t finish the cup…”

“The coaster said nothing about finishing!” Sirius protested. “They did what they were asked.”

“Babe, we want them to lose,” Remus muttered.

Sirius winced. “Right. My bad.”

Both Remus and Lily heaved a sigh as they went back to their positions. It was Lily’s throw next—neither of them tried to prevent the inevitable and the resignation on their faces when the ball landed with a gentle plop aged them by ten years. Remus slid the coaster out. “Huh. Not bad. Let the opponent give you both three-minute makeovers.”

“Dibs on Remus,” Lily said immediately. He looked rather flattered by that and Sirius groaned.

“Pots, I don’t trust you with makeup.”

“Smart boy. Get over here and let me make you handsome.” James grinned and took the container of makeup supplies from Marlene, patting the two chairs at the front. “Lils, I don’t know what half this stuff is.”

“That just makes it more fun!” she said cheerfully as Remus sat down and she rummaged through the various bottles and brushes. “If we only have three minutes, I think we should do something simple and pretty. The glitter is really going to make it better.”

“Three minutes is so much time!” James laughed. Both Marlene and Lily gave him incredulous looks. “No?”

“Honey, it takes me twenty minutes to do a full face of makeup in the morning.”

“Jesus.”

“Time starts…now!” Marlene tapped her phone and Lily uncapped a dark pencil; Remus leaned away from her as she neared his face with it.

“What is that?”

“Eyeliner.”

“Please don’t blind me.”

Lily scoffed. “Have a little faith, Loops.”

James on the other hand, grabbed some mascara and began shakily applying it to Sirius’ lashes. “This is surprisingly difficult. How do I know if it’s working?”

“Usually you can see the color transfer over.”

“My eyelashes are already black,” Sirius said, wincing as James jabbed the side of his nose. “Watch it.”

“They’re also really long,” Lily said as she continued drawing a steady line along Remus’ lids. “Mascara might not do very much for the lucky bastard.”

“It’s not my fault I have long eyelashes!” Sirius protested as James moved on to the second eye.

“Do you have any idea how many women would kill do have those?”

“Ten seconds!” Marlene called. Lily swore under her breath and began putting the finishing touches on the second eye. “And…done!”

“I don’t know about you guys, but I feel hot as hell,” Remus laughed, batting his eyes at the camera. Marlene handed him a mirror and his eyebrows rose. “Thank you, Lily, I look so fancy.”

“My eyes are sticking together.” Sirius grimaced and blinked a few times so the clumpy mascara would settle. He looked over at Remus and went still.

“What?”

“You—hmm.” He paused for a second. “You look really nice. Very punk rock.”

Remus smiled. “Thanks. Some of your glitter stuck to the mascara, so you’re very sparkly right now.”

“Re, you have light eyes, which helped a bit,” Lily explained as she tossed the eyeliner and mascara into the makeup container. “Contrasting colors always pop better, and everyone looks sexy in eyeliner.”

“I wore it for Halloween last year and it was awesome,” James said, heading back to the table.

“Final throws!” Marlene called. All four of them looked over in surprise. “Did you all forget the point of the game? Loser is whoever drinks their cup first.”

Remus turned Sirius by his shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. “Please, please don’t miss this throw.”

“As if I’m letting James fucking Potter beat us in beer pong,” Sirius scoffed, kissing his forehead before lining up for the shot; it bounced off the rim and dropped right in. The room exploded into noise as Marlene blew the victory airhorn and Remus and Sirius began jumping up and down, yelling incoherently. James and Lily both groaned as he drank their last cup.

“Do we get a prize?” Remus asked.

“Bragging rights,” Marlene said as she took their empty cups. “I might have some Lions merch—”

Four hasty ‘no thank you’s answered and she laughed, shaking her head.

“Alright, sign us off!”

“Thanks for watching, Lions! I’m Sirius Black—”

“I’m Remus Lupin.”

“I’m Lily Potter.”

“And I’m James Potter.”

Marlene popped into view one more time. “Quick disclaimer: we do have a designated driver waiting today. Remember to like and subscribe for more Lion Pride content!”

181 notes · View notes

whump-town · 3 years

Text

Cracks in the Ceiling

little hurt LOT comfort

my version of Route 66 bc how are you going to cut him open and give such minimal comfort?? like damn

Morgan’s tearing through the open case file in front of him, attention more or less on his teammates debating the case openly around him. His head is pounding, there’s this ache fixated on his right temple that no amount of Tylenol has managed to dull. If it weren’t for the pain he’d lean over and make Rossi aware of the fact that he’s 100% certain that Hotch slept in his office last night. He’s no snitch but this is the second time this week and it’s a pattern of behavior that has never been good in the past. It’s a behavior worth noting. For now, he decides to leave it. The others are gathering, filling into place, everyone’s mostly in their usual seats at the round table. He isn’t alerted or even too worried about Hotch standing rather than sitting, dark eyes darting over them. It’s probably nothing, Morgan shakes his head, not a big deal.

They jump into the work, Morgan keeps quiet. He’s got some things scratched into the margins of his file but he’ll bring them up now. Nothing worth stating just yet, not even proper observations but maybe Reid will have something to spitball. “--as you know, the amber alert is…” Morgan looks up, frowning at the sound of just how breathless Hotch is. As if he’s just run a marathon or taken down an Unsub by himself. Morgan looks the man up and down. The stark contrast of his boss’ pale face to the red of his tie. Morgan frowns, “Hotch?” He’s already on his feet, heart hammering, standing just as Hotch rasps an “excuse me”.

“Aaron!”

Rossi gets to him first. Kneeling right down on the ground, no reservations left for personal space. Anywhere else, anything else and it might have been funny. Rossi is so careful about himself. He won’t get his shoes dirty and he’s not putting creases in his pants let alone kneeling on the ground and risking wearing down the material around his knee and yet here he is. Placing a crease in his shoes at the toes and digging a knee in the, no doubt, filthy carpet. His clothes don’t matter, he’s paying them no mind as he calls Hotch’s name again. Begging-- “Look at me! Aaron? Aaron!”

It’s all snippets, no solidity.

Rossi’s rough palm, his skin radiating an intense uncomfortable heat against Hotch’s cheek. The rings on his fingers biting with their chilled metal, startlingly present in a haze of sensations he can’t name. All too much information for his brain, warmth and the chill, and how heavy his diaphragm feels as he draws in breathes.

Bright lights, rocking, and back and forth. White, bright white dancing from one eye over to the other.

“Mr. Hotchner?”

Drugs. He can feel them in his veins, thick as sludge crawling up his throat.

“Mr. Hotchner, can you hear me?”

Pulse is thready.

He’s not responding.

He can see Rossi-- it’s not worry pulling his face down, it’s hopelessness. A deep realization that he can do nothing, that he’s powerless and clueless. He can do nothing but sit there as the paramedics work, providing no commentary, having generally no idea what to do.

Starting lactated ringers.

Systolic is dropping.

BP is 90/60.

Systolic is his heart, which Rossi knows isn’t good. His blood pressure runs low, he takes medication for that. Maybe… Maybe he just didn’t take his meds this morning. That’s an easy enough explanation. No need to think the worst.

But the worst is what they get.

Foyet returned from the grave. Sometimes it’s like that man never really left. Hotch still looks over his shoulder, wakes up in the middle of the night thinking about him. Catches himself thinking like a trapped animal, reflexively isolating himself. It was only a few months but the paranoia is something he’s never been able to shake. He put his family at risk, lost Haley and Jack for months, and every time he was alone with a team member Foyet could be watching and if Foyet wanted to… he couldn’t even keep a serial killer from breaking into his home. He’s nearly lost all of them to serial killers, what’s he really going to be able to do to stop Foyet from killing them?

Back from the grave?

It’s like he never left.

Garcia approaches the bed slowly, put off by the stark contrast of the bags under Hotch’s eyes, and the intense pallor of his face. The only reassurance he’s even alive is the fog, the oxygen mask flushed with each of his shaky and choked breaths. “Sir?” She slowly reaches down and takes his right hand in both of her own. His hand is freezing, limp, and heavy in her hand. Lifeless. Even his veins look wrong, the colors aren’t right.

Settling herself with a deep breath, Garcia runs her thumb across his knuckles. Trying to draw some sort of stability, some consciousness to the madness buzzing around them. The hospital alight with all the wrong sorts of energy.

His head is turned slightly to her, lips parted as his breathing labors on. Leaving his lungs in harsh rasps. His left arm is curled limply around the light pink basin in his lap. It makes her stomach ache to imagine him alone back here, even if he wasn’t awake.

“Ma’am,” a nurse steps into the room, followed by two men on each of her sides. “They’re ready for him in OR 2. We’re going take him there now.”

Garcia nods, hands shaking a little harder than she’d like at the thought of him going somewhere she can’t watch over. This isn’t the same as the field. There she can hear what he hears. She’s right there with them but… “O--Okay,” she whispers, nodding tightly as she gently lays his hand back down on the bed. She looks him back over once more. Memorizing all that she can and biting back the emotion working up her throat. “Take care of him,” she says, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “He’s really important to me.”

The nurse stops, ignoring the other two men as they place all the machines they can around and in Hotch’s lap. She squeezes Garcia’s arm gently, “he’s in the best hands.” She nods, a small sympathetic smile in place. “We’ll take care of him, ma’am. I promise.”

Garcia nods, “okay.” She has to trust them and she can do that. She believes in medicine. She understands it. He’s going to be okay. Eventually. Not right now but soon and she’ll stay with him for as long as she can.

“Hello?” She answers her phone on the second ring, her hands shaking so badly she misses the answer button the first time. Her eyes stay on Hotch, watching and struggling to keep up with the fast pace of the staff pushing him down the hall. Distracted enough to not even care that it’s Morgan calling her and that she should greet him with their usual luster. She just can’t find it in herself to conjure it up right now.

Morgan greets her a second later, a mind centered on just getting this case over with. He can’t think about Hotch. Can’t get distracted. “Hey, Baby Girl,” he says, pulling the phone back and hitting the speakerphone so JJ can hear. “It’s Morgan. How’s Hotch?”

Garcia really wishes she hadn’t worn heels today. The heels along with her much shorter legs are making it really hard to keep pace with Hotch. “He’s still out,” she informs him. Which kind of sucks. She’d feel really good right now if she’d just seen him awake. To talk to him. He’s always really good at calming her down. “They’re taking him to surgery.”

Morgan sighs, shaking his head. Damn, he’d really been hoping whatever this was to pass over as the flu. “Okay,” is all he says, hoping his disappointment doesn’t write itself all over his body. He clears his throat and tries to shake this awful feeling in his gut. “Alright, well, we need you to look through Samantha Wilcox’s text and email correspondents.”

Garcia nods her head, hoping what he’s saying actually sticks in her brain. She’d hate to have to call back and tell them she didn’t catch a word being said. Not after promising Dave, she would be okay to stay behind with Hotch. “Okay.” She agrees, “what am I looking for? Anything in particular?”

JJ’s voice cuts through and that takes Garcia by pleasant surprise. “She’s been in touch with her dad.”

Oh. Garcia thinks. That’s probably not good.

“And check vicap,” Morgan adds.

Garcia had seen the doors coming and the nurses and doctor’s throwing on scrub caps from down the hall. She’d seen them but she hadn’t thought this was where they part. Nervously, her eyes flicker over to Hotch. Maybe it’s better he’s not awake to see her like this. The last thing he needs is worrying about trying to soothe her nerves. “W-Why,” she stops as a nurse sympathetically directs her to.

She doesn’t hear a thing from then on. Her ears are ringing, words coming from the line but she doesn’t hear it. She just stands there. “They just took him back,” she manages. He’s gone from her sight. The hall is empty. It’s just her standing here.

For the sake of appearances she finds a seat in the waiting room, tries to manage deep even breathes. Remain calm. But Morgan’s request doesn’t take that long, he doesn’t even try to stay on the line with her. The conversation dies the second she tells him Hotch is in surgery and no one’s told her anything.

Out of boredom, unable to sit still a moment longer while her mind replays the pain of the day that it happened. Being forced to stay at her desk while knowing, while having listened as Emily explained the mess in his apartment. The tumbler shattered on the ground. Clear, composed Emily Pretniss’ voice trembling, the shattered glass in her throat. Not enough blood to know he’s dead but not enough to survive.

She goes to the gift shop to distract herself with the signs and clothes for expecting parents, for balloons that wish parents and grandparents a speedy recovery. So that she can stand amongst the aisle of teddy bears and t-shirts and exist in space and time that feels mute, feels non-existent.

She buys herself a sucker shaped like a heart and Hotch a teddy bear with a t-shirt that says “I love you” because he’ll pretend to hate it. He’ll hate the attention maybe but it’ll keep him company. After what Foyet did to him she gave him a troll, it’s all she had on her when was finally able to get to the hospital to see him. He was asleep by the time she got there, the doctor gave him sedatives. He got agitated after Haley and Jack left, tore stitches in restlessness. They set up a schedule, made sure he wasn’t alone after that.

She placed the troll in the palm of his hand, curled his fingers around it. He gave it back when he returned to work. She found it on her desk with a note, a simple “Thank you -H”. What a silly man, she’d meant for him just to keep it. She slipped it back into his go-bag the second he wasn’t watching. He got the message then.

It’s still in his go-bag.

The recovery room is filled with the sounds of heart monitors.

It’s good. Logically, Penelope Garcia knows it’s good but she’d rather be anywhere else in the world. Yet she’d fought rather bravely to get here, to be allowed someplace she should not be. Listening to the crowd of heart monitors softly ringing out the promise of ongoing survival, she feels hopeful. She’s not naive enough to feel safe.

She’d watched them extubate him. She’d stepped into the room a little prematurely, seen him attached to all those machines. Watched his chest rise and fall under the guide of the ventilator. Slivers of his eyes present as a doctor talked to him, guiding him through the process. He gags and chokes, still absent of mind as they move him. By the time anyone pays any attention to her he’s already back under the pull of the drugs. Asleep. They move him on the bed, settle his arms back to his sides and pull the blankets up to his chest. He’s no more than a body to manipulate.

“He’ll—He’ll be okay, right?” She’d seen the doctor extubate Hotch and her chest hurts at the sight of him. He’d been so limp as they pulled that tube out, coughing and curling into himself. Unaware of everything around him, he’d wrapped his arms around his chest. He’s as pale as the bedsheets he’s laying on and her protective streak wants nothing more than to gather all six feet of him up into a comfy blanket and cuddle his pain away. “Is he in any pain?”

The doctor clenches his teeth, taking a breath like he’s either uncertain or afraid to tell her the truth. He places his arms over his chest, “there was a lot of internal damage.” But he’s still chewing on what he’s really afraid to admit to, turning it over. Weighing the pros and cons— “We lost him on the table but—” panic strikes the happy blonde like a hand. “We got him right back, ma’am. He’s responding appropriately to the medication. Your friend is tough, his recovery is already coming along nicely.”

Garcia lets out a shaky breath. “Is there anything I can do? You know, until you move him?” They get hurt all the time and she tries really hard to stay objective, to keep coasting along because that’s always what the others do. Emily never loses her head and Hotch always stays in the field, takes care of more than his share of the work. So she can do that, she’s capable of that.

The doctor smiles, “yeah. When he wakes up, his throat’s going to be pretty agitated. Try to get him to drink some water. It’ll help later, make him stronger when the nurses come around wanting him back on his feet in a few hours.” He extends his hand for her to shake, “and I’m sure with you here, Agent Hotchner will make a speedy recovery.”

Garcia blushes and shakes his hand.

“So,” the doctor stuffs his hands in his lab coat. “Are the rumors true?”

Garcia frowns, tilting her head.

“Did he really…” the doctor’s eyes move to the man on the bed. He shakes his head, “was it really a serial killer that did all that to him?”

Garcia pulls in a heated breath, she’s an even-tempered woman. She’s not going to be hot-headed about any old thing but why would he even say something like that. With Hotch right there. Just as she’s about to lay into him Hotch mumbles something from the bed, turning his head and blinking heavily as he takes in the darkroom. She can’t make it out but he shakes his head and makes a clumsy pull at the nasal canal under his nose, trying to dislodge it. She throws the doctor a dirty look and moves to his side, calling his name. Garcia takes his hand, “what? What is it, sir?”

He frowns, tight. Grimacing as he swallows, adam’s apple bouncing as he shakes his head again. He looks at her, eyes drooping before his lips part, his mouth clumsily forming her name. He pushes at the nasal canal again, his discomfort obvious. “Is he here?” he rasps. “Foyet?”

Garcia curses that stupid doctor but she knows it’s not his fault. Old injuries and old scars. “No, honey,” she soothes, her thumb running over his knuckles. If he weren’t so high, so bogged down with the drugs he wouldn’t be so confused. He’d fuss over her endearment but instead, he leans closer. Turns his face towards her, trusts her. “Foyet’s long gone. He can’t hurt you. You’re safe.” The news seems to be surprising at first but she can see the moment he remembers. Foyet is dead. It puts him at some ease, helps but he’s still visibly uncomfortable.

She releases his hand, her heart breaking at the soft sound he makes. His panic swells as she steps to the side of the bed, going to the water pitcher. She pours a cup, holding it up so he can see what she’s doing. He shakes his head, making another clumsy tug at the oxygen canal and successfully moving it this time.

“Take a sip of this and I’ll bring you a strawberry milkshake later,” Garcia promises with a kind smile. “Come on, sir,” she urges. “One sip of water for your favorite milkshake?” She places the straw to his chapped lips and smiles when he takes a tentative sip.

He manages to raise his left hand, struggling to form a good hold on the cup. She lets him have it though, her palm just under it in case he drops it. “I don’t like strawberry milkshakes,” he rasps, sipping slowly at the water working numbers on his raw throat.

Garcia smiles, “I know sir.” She reaches up and lightly taps a finger against his temple, “I was just making sure they didn’t scramble your brains, that’s all.” She takes the cup back, noticing him slowly losing his grip, fighting the anesthesia still coursing through his veins.

He grins sleepily at her, eyes falling shut. “No more scrambled than usual,” he jokes softly.

She grins and takes his hand in her own, squeezing his limp fingers. “Oh, but that’s why we love you, sir.”

He nods, eyes shut as he slips back under the lingering anesthesia. “Garcia,” he mumbles, fingers curling around hers. “You don’t have to stay.”

She shakes her head, “I’m not gonna leave you back here all alone.” She looks around, he may be fighting sleep and will most likely spend his hour back here asleep but it’s creepy and she knows he wouldn’t leave her. “It’s kind of scary back here,” she admits and squeezes his hand. “And you wouldn’t leave me back here all by myself so don’t expect me to leave you.”

Hotch grumbles something under his breath she can’t quite hear but she takes it as his usual self-deprecating, overbearing nature sort of thing and lets it slip. “Get some sleep, sir.”

He doesn’t remember a word of their previous conversation.

A nurse comes in and they run through all the same old stuff. He’s given a pink bucket even though he doesn’t express he’s nauseous, still clutches it to his chest. Pink plastic rubbing against the surgical staples, he’s afraid breathing the wrong way will split him open. The morphine is making his head fuzzy, makes his dreams weird and his thoughts overwhelmingly rippled. But the world distorts a little and he sees Garica sitting there, all of the brightness in the world scribbling away on her notepad so that she can make sure he abides by every word they advise. He feels a little better with her here.

“Mmm,” he’s leaning into his side but he perks up a little when he hears the nurse say something about food. Tells them he can’t eat anything for the next forty-eight hours. His noise draws their attention, the first real reaction he’s had since this all began. “No milkshake then.”

Garcia frowns at him and then the nurse. She reaches over and squeezes his hand, “sorry, sir.”

He clears his throat, pressing the bucket harder into his stomach. “S’okay.” He really doesn’t care about that. The main concern right now is not throwing up. A battle that it feels like he won’t be winning.

“Mr. Hotchner?”

He cracks an eye open and knows that a good stretch of time has just passed. There are no markers for it within the room, the blinds are shut on the one window and there’s not a visible clock within his line of sight but intuitively he knows.

“I need to change your bandages.”

He nods, faintly able to recall this part of the healing from years ago. The constant monitoring, the bandage changes. Sucks. All of it. “Garcia?” they ask him if she can stay. He doesn’t want to do that to her but he also doesn’t want to force her away. “You don’t have to stay.” He finds her in the mix of people, around the sound of gauze being opened, and things shuffled around. “Take a break,” he manages a sliver of control. “Get some fresh air.”

She shakes her head.

“Garcia.” They’re waiting on his permission, to go on or kick her out. “Penelope,” he whispers, “you don’t have to look. You don’t want to.”

She frowns, standing to contest his nonsense head-on. “Sir, you’re one of the three most attractive men I know.” She stands there and dares him to say otherwise. He’s a good bit older than she is but she knows an attractive man when she sees one. She’s not blind.

He smirks, too loosely for it to be entirely of his volition and nothing to do with the drugs. “One of three, huh? That makes me the third?” She rolls her eyes and he waves her off, makes a motion for her to go. “Go eat, Penelope. Call Morgan. Get out of here.”

She doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want him to ever leave her line of sight again but she nods and listens.

Morgan tells her everything with the Wilcox case went decently. They got the dad and the girl made it out alive. She tells him Hotch is awake, facing this new disaster with his usual stoic ways. They end the awkwardly, neither really in the headspace to play around.

He’s asleep again when she comes back. Gown askew across his shoulders, leaving his collarbones scandalously out in the open. Makes him look naked but she can’t look away. Under all those layers, suits that haven’t really changed in the decade she’s known him, he’s deceivingly pale. She can see muscle, the way it lays, and yet the soft corners of him. Years of fatherhood having worn him down in places softened him in others. He’s gained weight but this has set him back again and she realizes that if she’s looking at his too-thin body here then he’s lost weight before her eyes. How long has he been sick?

Visiting hours are over, she’s supposed to be making her goodbyes for the night. This sullen feeling in her stomach only doubles, makes her feel sick. She can’t leave him. Don’t they understand that? He’s in no state to be left by himself. “Sir?” she whispers. She touches his hand and he flinches.

His sleepy frown deepens but he hears her whisper for him again. He hums, eyelids too heavy to lift fully. “Mhmm?”

“I have to go,” she says. “Visiting hours are over.”

He hums again, nods.

She takes advantage of his current state leans down and kisses his forehead, hugs him while he lets her. “I love you, sir, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She takes a moment, his eyes still closed, to move his hair off of his forehead. “Are you okay? Will you be okay?”

He nods, swallowing thickly against the dryness in his throat. Facing the next few hours alone sounds miserable but he’s more than mastered the art of sleeping off stays in the hospital. It’s going to be a long night but not an impossible one.

“Oh,” she mumbles, “okay.” She moves to gather her stuff when she remembers the teddy bear. “Sir?”

He opens his eyes, just sliver but he’s there.

“I thought… maybe…” she places the bear in his lap. “To keep you company?”

He smirks, “thank you, Garcia.” There’s something about the way he rubs at the bear’s ear, softly and entirely content that gives her hope. He’ll be okay, she knows, but that doesn’t stop her from worrying. He looks up at her, that same lopsided grin she’s seen all afternoon. The drugs will wear off and she’ll be left without that smile again. Having to barter her way into sad grins instead.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she promises.

“Not until you’ve had breakfast,” he mumbles. “Eat first.”

She can’t help but smile even if she intends to listen. “Yes, sir.” So bossy. He’s lucky he’s cute or she’d have smacked him up the side of the head by now. She leaves, it hurts and she really, really doesn’t want to but she leaves.

He’ll be okay, she knows that.

And he is. There’s no good way to measure the day’s passing but a nurse comes in and tells it’s eight o’clock and that someone called the nurse’s desk asking for him, a name that came with a badge. Which confuses him but that really only leaves a small group of people, he assumes that means the team is back home.

It’s not them.

She gets there at nine o’clock and it’s only her badge and artfully mumbling something about Interpol that gets her back. They know he’s a federal agent and she’s betting on that. She’s always been good at poker.

He’s sleeping when she finds him, the only light in the room coming from the heart monitor. She wishes she knew how to read it, how to understand what the numbers mean so that she might be able to get a better grasp on the situation. All she knows is what Morgan told her over the phone but that seemed crazy. Hotch wasn’t even sick, Morgan said he was fine. Maybe a little off but he’s Hotch, he just simply is off.

“Emily?”

She steps into the room, following the sound of his sleep-disturbed voice.

“What’re you doing here?”

He’s obviously confused, frowning at her more than happy to see her. The morphine always gives him crazy dreams, he’s probably assuming that’s what this is. “I know I’m not your favorite,” she mumbles sarcastically, “but you don’t have to make it so abundantly clear.” With an eye roll, she sits herself down on the edge of the bed. For a moment, as his tired brain processes what she’s said, she fears what she fears every time she comes home-- that things between them have changed. That distance hasn’t made him fond but rather angry or has changed one of them so drastically that they no longer know one another.

He groans at her, shaking his head and grumbling her name in that bothered way he’s perfected over the years.

With a smile, she knows nothing has changed. He still manages to say her name like “leave me alone” meant to be taken as an endearment, an invitation to stay. “It’s okay,” she assures, tapping the back of her hand against his hip. “No hard feelings.”

He hums, not going to even bother with refuting any of her statements. That’s the beauty of their companionship, they never really have to say anything. That’s what she’s so afraid will change because she knows that if one day she comes home and he can’t read the “I love you” hidden in her sarcasm and the “please, don’t scare me like that again” in her playful proximity then that’s it. She can find the words for Reid and she’s always been able to suck up the physical comfort for Garcia or JJ but she just can’t with Hotch. She tried so hard after Foyet to be able to say something, to wrangle up comfort, but she just couldn’t.

But there was a moment, one night when the world seemed to be drowning in a rainstorm, that she woke up sick. His abdomen was still ablaze from Foyet’s attack, too fresh for him to be up and moving around. He’d followed the sound of her getting sick to the bathroom, making his slow way down the hall held upright by the wall. Moving forward only because stopping would cause him to fall. He didn’t leave her once he understood the noise just settled down on the ground beside her, back leaning on the bathtub. Neither said a word but she looked over at him and she saw all the comfort he couldn’t manage to bring to words. His worry etched across his face. She was supposed to be taking care of him and yet they’d ended up shoulder-to-shoulder waiting out a storm on the bathroom floor.

She has a fever-hazed memory of waking up with her head on his shoulder. A glass of water against her knee and the warmth of a heating pad against her stomach. No idea how he did it or when but they never spoke of it. Never had to. Somehow someone she can’t even manage to tell that she loves or that she even remotely feels concerned for turned out to be one of her closest friends. The asshole she once thought untrustworthy. He’s still an asshole but it’s one of those things that you just learn to look over.

Makes him interesting.

“So,” she says with a sigh, “you gonna scoot over or what?”

She gets another blanket out of a cabinet she sees in the corner of the room, distracts herself so that he’s certain she doesn’t see him moving. That’s what she’s talking about, there’s no communication needed. He can move himself over a little bit but it’s painful and he’s weak and he doesn’t want her to see that. She also knows he runs cold and won’t share his blankets with her. Loves her enough to share his bed but she’s yet to encounter someone he loves enough to share his blankets.

“What happened to your arm?” he can see it once she moves away again. A simple sling keeps it pinned to her chest, he assumes she’s either dislocated or been shot. Wonders why she didn’t call, why she didn’t tell anyone.

She sighs, he can’t see her roll her eyes but he knows that sigh and knows she’s done it even if he can’t see. “This prick,” she tosses the blanket on his legs as she climbs up beside him. “He kicked me, sent me down a flight of stairs.” He can tell she’s more embarrassed than hurt, which is good. She puffs out an agitated breath but despite this is very gentle as she gets closer to him. Hyperaware of the wounds she can’t see.

Her warmth is alluring, despite himself he leans closer, and she doesn’t say a word when his cheek comes to her shoulder.

“I’m okay, though,” she finally states. Moves some of her blanket over him, checks again that he’s comfortable. Which she assumes he is, or he wouldn’t be sleeping. “Clyde had given me three weeks off, told me to take a break. That’s why I came. I promise I didn’t take any unnecessary time off.”

He hums, appreciates this addition. She knew he would.

Her throat is sore where it catches the words she doesn’t know how to say. That she’s missed him terribly or that she loves him or that when Morgan told her what happened she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think or move. He takes her hand and she has to pinch her eyes shut so that she doesn’t cry and he squeezes her hand.

He’s missed her too.

He loves her.

He’s glad she came.

“Go to sleep,” she mumbles.

He hums.

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

The others come in at six, pilling into the room in dirty clothes from the day before and sore from the jet ride home. They’re too tired to speak, to do anything more than grumble and shove at one another to get through the door. As they pile in they take stock of the sight before them. Emily’s dark bruises, the black eye that the night had hidden from Hotch. Her hand still holding his. Hotch breathing, laying there entirely whole. Slowly returning to his normal colors.

They have questions, concerns to raise with both sleeping parties, but those can wait for a better hour.

They settle down in the room, squeezing together on chairs.

Morgan sees Hotch wake a little, a soft shift in his breathing.

“Back to sleep,” Morgan whispers, trying to keep the others from hearing. Hotch’s face pinches, mouth opening to ask the question Morgan already knows. “Everything went fine. Samantha is safe, no one got hurt.” He glances at Emily and shakes his head, “go back to sleep, Hotch. We’ll talk in the morning.”

And it settles once again.

Nothing but the soft sound of sleeping agents.

#criminal minds #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #david rossi #penelope garcia #emily prentiss

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svtkillua · 4 years

Text

little lion man > 2

rating: [pg-13 / angst] pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader x todoroki shouto warnings: cursing, lots of yummy angst >:)) word count: 11.3k listen while you read here!

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ch.1 + ch.2 + ch.3 + ch.4 (final) + alt. ending

A broken heart was a nuisance, an annoying leech that sucked the life out of you every moment you paused to think about the pain it was spreading through your limbs. Every second you spent with your mind not occupied you wanted to scream and cry. It felt like your emotions were burning embers and anytime you paused to give it oxygen the fire would grow and consume you til you were nothing but ashes.

You had been on a roller coaster for a week straight, you had highs and lows and every dip and turn was filled with Bakugou. He was in your favorite songs and covering your walls. He was in your brain and in your vision and filled your senses down to your atoms that made you alive. Sometimes you felt angry, sometimes you felt happy, but mostly you felt so incredibly sad.

You’d managed to, mostly, get Bakugou off your case after repeatedly insisting you’d just been surprised and upset at the possibility of losing him. It wasn’t technically a lie, you were definitely surprised when he’d announced his plans to get engaged. To say you hadn’t seen it coming would have been an understatement. You conveniently left out that your heart had been crushed and that you’d never suffered a pain more severe in your entire life thus far. It had felt like you got hit head on by a speeding train that you’d been too slow to dodge.

Now was the hard part; to continue to act like you were okay, like you couldn’t wait to watch him get married and see them began their happily ever after. You were pinning your emotions to the back of your mind and tying them down with a neat little bow because you needed to. You would be the best friend Bakugou deserved and yearned for right now, even if it made you feel like your insides were rotting.

All of it was frustrating. It was frustrating he didn’t love you but you so unwaveringly loved him. It was frustrating he could so easily tell when something was wrong with you and made it so much harder for you to lie. It was frustrating that every moment alone felt like torture because all you could think of was him with her and there was nothing to distract you. He had been your distraction when you’d been hurt before, and now he was unknowingly the cause and couldn’t be the cure.

Maybe you’d just feel this sad, heartbroken and lonely forever. Maybe you’d always be stupidly in love with someone whose heart was taken. Maybe you were foolish for thinking you could’ve had a chance if you tried harder. Maybe you’d be alone and in love til the day you died with someone you’d never have and would never want you. Maybe that was your fate in life, to have a permanent fake smile and empty feeling in your chest.

It was all affecting you more than you could let on, though you were mostly convincing, sometimes even to yourself. It was like your brain had turned to stone and got chipped to pieces too small to make coherent thoughts other than how awful you felt at times. You just needed to ignore the gnawing in your chest that had been so consistent lately it was becoming a part of you. Then you would be fine, you had to be.

For Bakugou.

He was obviously worried about you, even after the long phone call and a few days passing. He’d been calling more frequently and every time his voice would waver on the edge of concern when your tone wasn’t quite right. Whether or not he trusted what you had told him didn’t matter, because you could hear the worry lacing his tone when he’d repeatedly asked if you were okay. It only solidified your decision to put your feelings aside and focus on him, because you loved him too much to egg on the anxiety you were causing him. Besides, there was no reason for the both of you to be living a pained existence.

Convincing yourself that locking your feelings behind a perfect smile would be easy had been step one, though in the far parts of your mind you knew it wouldn’t ever work. Now, you just had to actually put that thought into action and try to be there for him. Perhaps the self sacrifice would persuade the universe to give you a break.

The wind whipped at your cheeks as your eyes squinted into the cool air blowing your hair away from your face. Your feet made soft clapping sounds against the pavement as you took a quick peek towards Bakugou’s building, the large inconspicuous residence you hadn’t been to in months. Perhaps it felt more intimidating because you’d be alone with Bakugou for the first time in a long time. The thought made your abdomen twist uncomfortably, the wind shifting directions, your jacket flitting open.

The sky was a pale blue and dotted with soft looking white clouds, the streets slow but bustling as workers fled their jobs for lunch. The day wasn’t nearly as ominous looking as your last time seeing Bakugou had been, but your mind still felt restless as the front door came into view. Your fingers were wrapping around your phone before you could dwell on it, plucking it from your coat pocket, fingers to drumming across the glass.

To; Bakugou [ 15:04 ]:

I’m here come let me in it’s cold!

Coming over for a late lunch had been Bakugou’s idea after you’d been seemingly sticking to phone calls rather than visits in person when he had free time. He’d been complaining about it and you could only tell the boy no so many times before he’d multiply his suspicions and assume the worst. He opened the door after a few minutes, a breathtaking grin on his face as he promptly reached out and tugged you inside.

You were met with a gush of warmth as the door closed behind you, a content sigh slipping out as you hung up your coat and slid your phone into your back pocket for safekeeping. He flashed a relaxed smile as you slipped your shoes off, his body pulling yours in for a hug the moment you stood upright. You tensed for a second when his body molded into yours, but took a shaky breathe to relax, slithering your own arms around his waist.

“Missed you.” He hummed mutely and slowly slid his arms off of you, his tongue poking out to wet his lips as he looked down at you. His hands moved to your shoulders as he held you at an arm’s length, eyes examining your entirety.

“We talked on the phone yesterday, Katsu.” You quietly laughed and patted his chest with your palms out flat, dipping your body away from him as you moved further into his home. Something about being here had always made you feel content. Maybe it was because it smelled like he did when you’d hug him so tight he’d burn into your senses.

Your eyes flickered around the living room you hadn’t seen in so long, landing on picture frame after picture frame filled with photos of him and Camie. Sure, there were some mixed in of yourself, his family and the boys, but you could tell without counting that most of the new items in the room were featuring her. From the baby pink teddy bear sitting on a desk in the corner, to the several photos of the two of them dotting the white walls, her presence was made known.

Hatred wasn’t something you felt for her but jealousy without a doubt was. It wasn’t that you disliked yourself, you just had an ever expanding nagging in your brain reminding you of all the things she had you lacked. She was smart and graceful and kind and oh so beautiful, according to Bakugou. She had gotten his affections just by being herself and you were resentful that you being you apparently wasn’t enough to do the same. Not for him, at least.

He cared about her and that was so immensely obvious just by having seen the two of them interacting. It made your confidence deflate. All the things you so badly wanted to do with Bakugou, she would get. The memory of her kissing his lips and holding his hand replayed in your head like a sick movie designed to make you ill and you had to take a deep breathe to try to push that sickness away.

You followed Bakugou’s retreating back towards his kitchen, away from the taunting photos, where he’d set up a small lunch for the pair of you. A small smile spread on your lips as you sat, eyes watching him move around his kitchen to get you both drinks. You could see his lips moving but his words weren’t registering in your conscience, though he seemed to be talking about what he ordered you for lunch. All you could focus on was how relaxed he looked there in the kitchen with you, chuckling to himself about how much food he’d bought.

Little moments like this had been what made it so simple to develop feelings for him. He just seemed so close to you in those minutes when he was the most himself he could be, just talking about his day and moving without thinking. When you were alone like this he wasn’t Bakugou Katsuki the hero, he was Bakugou Katsuki, your idiot of a best friend who loved to make you smile.

Had you really been that stupid for thinking that maybe, somewhere, in the deepest parts of his heart, he had been falling in love with you too? Had it been stupid to think that these moments alone had felt just a right as they had to you? How was it possible for you to have been developing such different feelings every single second of your time together? You had only ever been watching him when he had never really glanced at you, not in the way you yearned for.

“Here we go.” Bakugou sighed, finally settling into his seat, placing a mug of your favorite tea in front of you before he sipped some of his own. You noticed he was using the mug you’d sent him a couple months ago while he was on tour, shifting your eyes to his face as you picked up your utensils.

“Thanks, Katsu.” You smiled a small but genuine smile as you took a bite, your smile spreading as you took another, much bigger one. Bakugou’s light laughter made heat rush along your face as you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Shut up, I haven’t eaten all day.” You defended halfheartedly, taking another bite before snapping your chopsticks towards his face, which only made him laugh a bit harder, his head shaking from side to side.

“You just look cute with your cheeks all puffed out like that. Like a chipmunk or something.” He commented, using his finger tip to poke one of your food filled cheeks, making your eyes roll.

The two of you fell into your easy rhythm so quickly and it felt like for just a few minutes you didn’t have to keep your guard up. You didn’t need to pretend you were happy because simply being with Bakugou made you so much happier than you wanted to admit. You wanted so badly to hate him for making you feel this way, but you just couldn’t seem to.

You were both sipping your tea, plates mostly empty, a huge amount of leftovers on the counter. The kitchen silent besides the quiet ticking of the clock on the far wall behind you, as it had been for a few moments since your conversation died out. His eyes had averted from yours when the silence fell, your own taking advantage of the beat in conversation, trailing over the lines of his jaw and neck. You watched as his muscles moved when he swallowed and let out a small huff of air, it sounding a little strained.

His fingertip was dragging lazily along the rim of the mug he had set down, a drip of the brown liquid rolling down the side of the cup and pooling onto the table below it. Your knee bounced under the table as he took a slow inhale before he spoke, the anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

“Were you mad at me? The other night, I mean? Were you mad?” His eyes were avoiding yours as the words slipped out, perhaps because he knew this was the tenth time he’d asked you the past week if he’d done something wrong. To you, he had done something hugely wrong by loving Camie instead of you, but you couldn’t exactly tell him that without telling him everything, and that was a conversation you definitely weren’t having right that moment.

“Why would I have been mad at you Katsu?” You took a second to compose yourself before you spoke, not wanting to give yourself away or say something you shouldn’t. You knew if you kept avoiding this conversation he’d eventually grow agitated but you also had to tread carefully or he’d start figuring things out.

You lifted your cup up to your lips, which puckered to blow some of the steam away before you took a drink. His eyes shifted over to your, moving from your hands, to the mug, then up to your eyes, his own masked slightly by his lashes and messy, spiky pieces of hair. He ran his fingers through it to push it aside.

“I don’t know, I just… I just feel like something changed, like we changed. I don’t want you to think that just because I’ll be married to Camie that we’re going to be any different. I wouldn’t ever let that happen to us.” His bottom lip tucked up under his teeth as he scrunched his face up some. His ruby eyes squinted closed as his lip slowly slipped out from under his teeth, lips pursing as he debated his words. “I know that everything seems really sudden, we’ve only really been together a year. I shouldn’t have expected you to be ecstatic when you barely know her.”

His voice was quiet but felt so loud in the space surrounding you, the air reverberating with the sounds. Everything had changed when he told you, you changed and you knew he could see the shift. The way he’d hugged you when he left made it obvious he knew you weren’t okay even if he appeared to be telling himself you were. You couldn’t have been sure why, maybe it was because Kaminari had walked in on your conversation, or perhaps it was because Camie had been there.

“She’s just so incredible, she’s so special to me. I don’t even know how I got lucky enough to get her. The idea of losing Camie now…” He trailed off his little rant, eyes moving away from yours and down towards his cup, staring at his spoon as he swirled it around. His head shook slightly as he tilted his head upwards so his eyes were on you again.

You were sure you loved him more than Camie never would. How was it possible for him to not see that you meant so much more to him than a friend? How could he for a second think that no one who love him again when you always had?

“I just, I can’t lose you, either of you. I need her but I need you too, so badly.” Bakugou’s gentle tone felt like he was trying to calm you down, like he didn’t want to awaken the sadness in your heart he wasn’t sure was there inside you. “No matter what happens with me and her I’m always going to care about you and need you, here, with me.”

Was it possible to be dumped by someone you were never dating? You felt like he was giving you the talk when all you’d ever done was daydream from a safe distance about what it would be like to be his. Why did he feel the need to explain how much he needed her when you didn’t need convincing that he was in love with her? You thought you were the only one not acting like yourself, but seeing Bakugou’s eyes now darting between yours made you question that.

“Katsu, I know you love her, I know you need her. Relax. You know you don’t have to explain yourself to me.” It was the truth, Bakugou never needed to explain himself to you, and right now you didn’t particularly want him to. You could only listen to him fawn over her so much before you’d start feeling like you were being suffocated. “I just want you to be happy Bakugou, no matter what.”

He stayed still for a moment, his fingers having grown motionless against the cup as he focused in on you. He was scrutinizing you, trying to read your thoughts and find out your very secrets you were struggling to hide. You’d thought you’d been convincing but perhaps you weren’t as good of an actress as you had thought.

The obnoxious ringing from his phone got the attention of both of your gazes, his screen lighting up and flashing with Camie’s name. You bit down hard on your bottom lip, standing up with your dirty cup and heading towards the kitchen sink as he cleared his throat behind you before answering.

“Hey…Yeah, sorry we were eating lunch.” You could hear bits of his conversation as you turned the water on and rinsed your cup out, glancing at him over your shoulder as he retreated from the room, phone pressed to his ear as his voice caught your ears again. “No, it’s just me and her.”

A quiet sigh left your lips once he was out of your line of vision and you tilted your head downwards, damp hands gripping the countertop. You could feel yourself getting worked up as you repeated him talking about her in your head.

In the movies and books they always made it seem like getting your heart broken was one quick moment, but it wasn’t. It was so slow. It was all consuming and would build and build until you finally couldn’t take it anymore. It would kick at your chest and turn your skin deep purple and blue. It would throw hammers at your ribs and rip apart the bones before yanking out your heart. It would squeeze it tightly and cut off the blood flow and make that pain grow and grow til it was all too much.

It was breaking you, the only question was what would be the final push to ruin you. How many more words of his love for her could you take? You were barely making it as it was, your eyes were lined in dark circles makeup couldn’t quite cover up, your body sluggish and mind in a fog. You could only ignore the silent pain for so long before you were going to lose it, despite how hard you were trying to make it okay.

You placed the cup in the dish rack before padding your way through the house, looking for Bakugou, spotting his back in the crack of his bedroom door. Judging by the sound of his muffled voice he appeared to still be on the phone, his messy hair moving slightly as he shook his bit of head you could see.

“…just haven’t been alone for a while, that’s all. You know I wanna see you, too.” Was all you picked up as you walked past, going into his makeshift study. It was a small room with a desk, some bookshelves and a little keyboard in the corner. You shut the door behind you as you sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. You dropped down into the chair at his desk, using your foot to kick off the ground and give it a light spin.

The room was hushed besides the sound of the world outside coming through the barely cracked open window, the curtains fluttering in the breeze coming through. His space was littered with crumpled up papers and stacks of books and magazines so high you were surprised they hadn’t toppled onto the ground yet.

You sighed quietly as you slid your phone from your pocket, hair falling into your face like a curtain you were too lazy to move. You hummed to yourself as you noticed you had a text waiting from Todoroki and opened it with a tap of your finger, eyes flickering over the words.

Todoroki [ 15:44 ] :

Do you want to come over and watch a movie later? I got that new mystery thriller you wanted to see.

Your fingers drummed over the letters as you sent a quick response back, before setting your phone back into your pocket.

To; Todoroki [ 16:02 ] :

Sorry, was eating lunch with Katsu. That sounds great, I’ll text you once I’m home.

Your fingertip slid along the edge of the desk as you rocked side to side in the chair, eyes trailing along behind it before you paused, noticing his top desk drawer was ajar. Curiosity got the best of you as you slowly gripped the edge, giving it a gentle tug open. It was mostly junk, scrap papers and little notes tossed inside to be reread later. You moved to shut it when it caught your eye; a small, black, velvet box tucked safely in the back corner.

The air felt thick as you halted your movements, unable to tear your eyes away from the unassuming object as your lips parted to let out a sharp breathe. You hesitated before picking it up, your mind going a mile a minute at the possibilities of what could be inside. You held the box delicately in the middle of your palm, as if it could snap and bite you if you touched it wrong. Your breathing felt too labored, chest too tight as you rested your fingers against the top. The sinking feeling in your chest making you gulp for air as you shifted your weight anxiously.

The room felt to silence as you pulled the lid open and your eyes were met with a beautiful diamond ring. It took your brain a second to catch up with what you were seeing, the panic spreading through your veins before you could register that the box had contained exactly what you dreaded. It sparkled when the light hit it as your hand shook and you felt like the universe was mocking you, laughing at how pathetic you’d become.

It was incredible how a stupid piece of jewellery could make your mood plummet. You’d let your guard down too much today with him, you’d forgotten the reality of what was going on outside of the little bubble you’d climbed inside. You’d been idiotic to think you could pretend your feelings into nothingness, foolish even for even giving that kinda thought an ounce of your time. Your fingers shook some so you squeezed your hand tighter around the black velvet, bottom lip beginning to tremble instead.

It definitely wasn’t anything to scoff at, a large teardrop shaped, crystal clear diamond in the center. It had two smaller pink gems on the sides of it, the entire band covered in rosy stones with delicate gold swirls protruding behind the teardrop shape. It screamed Camie. It was elegant and graceful and the pink tones reminded you of the color her cheeks turned when she blushed.

You felt like you could vomit, staring at the perfect stone and thinking of how much it seemed like her. She was just as perfect, just as elegant, just as graceful.

It was no wonder he loved her and not you.

The trepidation that crept up your spine made your entire body tense up, like you’d been shoved in a bath of ice water. Your nose scrunched as you tried to swallow, aware of your loud breathing, fingers snapping the lid shut before you could stare anymore. All you could picture was him slipping it onto her finger and the image made you want to run so far away. Seeing the ring in person only solidified the plans he’d told you, you just hadn’t imagined you’d be seeing it beginning to happen so fast.

The damn perfect ring represented so much more to you than just being a ring. It was everything you weren’t, everything Bakugou loved and cherished all wrapped around in gold and covered in diamonds. It was everything you’d never be and never have and everything you wanted so bad it was crushing you inside. How could you have been so naive to let yourself get here? How could you let your heart be swayed so easily by one boy to the point where he held your whole being in his palm and could toss it aside whenever he pleased? You were just a stupid girl with stupid feelings for a boy who didn’t seem to understand how he could, and was, affecting yours with every move he made towards her.

A single tear slipped down against the side of your nose, your curled up hand rubbing it away as you pushed the box back in place and slammed the drawer shut with your knee. Your hands shook as you walked over and sat idly on the small cushioned bench in front of his keyboard, fingers curling into your palms to make hard fists against your thighs. A shaky breathe fell out as you squeezed your eyes closed, now thankful for the curtain of hair shutting the room around you out.

Your head lifted up towards the ceiling, eyes opening back up as another tear slid out of the corner, spilling along your temple and skimming the shell of your ear, your hand raising to absentmindedly wipe it’s wet trail away. You felt like you weren’t in your body anymore, like your systems had all shut down and put you on low power mode. You were weak, too weak to really cry and too stubborn to address the agony in your bones that was screaming for attention.

You turned your body towards the keyboard, back to the door as you stared down at the pristine white rectangles, mind blank. The keys were untouched while the actual body of the keyboard was littered with little notes and lyrics he’d apparently not wanted to forget. He had a little piece of music you’d given him to practice awhile ago set on the music stand, his messy handwriting all over it.

You wanted to leave. You needed to leave. You felt like you were drowning but no one could see you struggling. Like your lungs were filling with water and you couldn’t scream for help, only now the water was pain and sadness and you couldn’t scream for help because no one could know you were being killed. No one could know because he couldn’t know.

Your fingers slid over the keys before you really thought about it, barely using pressure to play a somber tune, trying to simultaneously fill the void of silence but also quiet down the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.The emotions you had bubbling just below the surface made your body slouch forwards, eyes run dry but feeling tired.

Why was it that the one you wanted was the one you couldn’t have? Why did you have to fall in love with someone like Bakugou? He had become your everything without even knowing it. He was the sun and the moon and all the stars in the universe and you were just an admirer who stared at it all from a telescope. You’d never even gotten close to capturing him but somehow in your mind you had thought you would.

The quiet melody you played blocked out the sound of Bakugou sighing as he came in the room, but the sound of the door closing caught your attention enough to make your fingers stop their movements. His body sunk onto the bench beside you, a heavy exhale coming from his lips as his hands ran over his face unceremoniously.

“I’m sorry that took so long. It was Camie, she said to tell you hello.” Bakugou spoke with a half convincing smile, his forehead leaning over and resting against your shoulder. You could tell he was put off now, but didn’t want to push it, your mind lingering to the box hidden in the desk as his body relaxed against your side.

You hated how effortlessly he could make your nerves multiply at this proximity, he was barely even touching you but he somehow seemed to have total control over your body. Half of you loved having him so close, loved feeling his lips press into your covered shoulder and hearing his breathing slow. The other half of you, however, dreaded having him like this as it only seemed to make the painful state of your heart more prevalent. You could feel his tense muscles relax against your side, his breathing slowly evening out to his normal pace.

“Teach me to play what you were playing.” He broke the few minutes of silence with his voice, nudging you with his elbow and straightening his back out. His eyes flickered over the keys before he turned his head to look at you, his hair falling further against his forehead. “I’m a good student, I promise.”

You stared at him for a moment before silently nodding, seeing the small smile tug on his lips before you let your fingers repeat the quiet tune, your free hand rested on your lap and tapping the beat into your thigh. You glanced over at him once you finished, nodding towards the piano to indicate he should try.

He nodded his own head, fingers reaching forward and starting to slip ungracefully between each note, hitting the keys a bit too hard to make the melody sound right. You let out an involuntary quiet laugh, making him pout and turn his upper half towards you as he spoke.

“Don’t laugh at me!” He grumbled like a little kid, even stomping his foot lightly to make it the full package. It was almost funny how quickly his mood had shifted from disgruntled and quiet to his usual playful, hotheaded state.

“I’m sorry.” You quipped, laughter quieting down as you shook your head at him and tried to calm your nerves, “You’re just hitting the keys too hard, it has to be more gentle, like this.”

You shifted towards the instrument again, biting down on your bottom lip as you let your fingers float through the melody. You were barely ghosting over the keys, just enough to make an audible sound. Your body moved with the notes, throat vibrating with hums as you let the sounds fill the room.

When you glanced over at him to see if he was paying attention, you noticed his eyes weren’t on the keys, or even your hands, but on your face. He hadn’t noticed you were looking at him, he was too in his head to realize he’d been caught staring. Something about the way his eyes were glued to you, with his lips parted and his breathing slow made your stomach tie into a knot.

You cleared your throat, reaching over and patting his knee with a sigh, which seemed to pull him from whatever was going on in that brain of his. You felt your mind going fuzzy as you shook your head at him.

“You’re a horrible student, you’re not even paying attention.” You scolded, narrowing your eyes at him as if you were mad. He just flashed you a sheepish smile and laughed quietly, bumping his shoulder lightly into yours as he muttered a small apology. For a moment you swore you saw a blush on creep onto his cheeks.

“I got it now.” He defended, hands once again resuming their place on the keys, moving too quickly and too aggressively through the tune, perhaps even worse than before. You rolled your eyes, adjusting your body so it was closer to his before letting your hand fall on top of his above the keys.

“Like this, Katsu..” You mumbled, fingers laying atop of each of his, his body stilling for a moment before beginning to move with your guidance. You tried not to focus on how soft his skin felt against your palm, not daring to look at his face as you swallowed thickly. “You see? Soft, it sounds better this way.”

“Yeah.” His voice was quiet, like speaking too loud would be alarming with how pressed together your bodies were. You finally let your face turn towards his again and instantly realized it was a mistake. You were way too close and at this distance you could see every single detail Bakugou Katsuki had.

His eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks as his eyes flitted across your face, his tongue poking out of his soft looking lips to wet them. You could see all the tiny details on his face, like the tiny scratch on his cheek from fighting with whoever and how his long eyelashes danced upon his cheeks. His thigh was pressing into yours and your hands were still overlapped though his was no longer moving, which stilled yours. Your nerves that had felt so fried the past few days were suddenly running on overdrive and your brain wasn’t moving well enough to process what was going on.

He let out a shaky breath as his eyes focused in on yours and held them in place, his free hand lifting up and pushing your hair back behind your ear as he spoke.

“Thank you.” His voice was soft, but sounded loud in the silent space around you, his calloused fingers lingering there by your cheek and not moving away. His fingertips dragged across your cheekbone, thumb grazing the corner of your lip just barely but the touch felt too intimate. Your heart was pounding so hard you could feel the blood pumping through your veins, making your fingertips feel like there were drums banging in them.

You couldn’t move, glued to the spot as his hand under yours turned, your palms flush as he slotted his fingers through yours, his other hand slipping away from your face, leaving what felt like burns behind. His eyes moved away from yours and instead to behind you, towards his desk. You were close enough to kiss him, just a tilt of your head and your lips could be on his. Your ribs felt bruised from how hard your heart was thumping into them.

Your eyes flickered over his face as his eyes remained glued to his desk and you silently wondered what he had said thank you for. Was it for, badly, trying to teach him to play the song, or something else? What had you done that was worthy of a thank you, and why was he holding your hand so tightly the longer he stared across the room? Why did he have to be so beautiful with the light flooding through the window casting a glow over his features? Why did it have to hurt so much to love him?

He swallowed hard, his thumb brushing across the face of your hand as his eyes finally moved to yours, a quiet sigh reaching your ears. He looked serious, his eyes definitive as he stared at you.

“Have you…have you ever thought ab-”

“Babe? Are you guys here?”

Camie’s voice cut off whatever Bakugou was going to say, his hand slipping from yours and his body springing away as if you’d scorched him. He was immediately standing up, eyes darting around the room, looking anywhere but at you as the door to the room opened, Camie’s smiling face meeting the both of yours. You felt an odd sense of nerves course through you for a moment, like you’d almost been caught doing something secret and immoral.

“What are you doing here?” Bakugou asked, his hand raising to scratch the back of his neck. He cleared his throat to try and clear out the waver in his voice, his body moving him a step closer to her.

“I got done with my class early and thought I would bring you guys some dinner.” Camie smiled brightly, giving you a polite wave hello before moving over to wrap her arms around her boyfriend. Bakugou glanced over at you once quickly before he wrapped his arms around her small middle, lifting her off the ground slightly when he stood up with her in his grasp. Her playful gasp and loud squeal had his laughter floating out so easily.

Watching him shift all his focus to her felt crushing, like the moment she showed up you no longer existed. Every step he took towards Camie was a million more away from you. To think for a second there you’d been imaging he was going to kiss you. Were you really that delusional?

The way they so simply made each other happy made you wanna scream. Camie was busy chatting away about her class to Bakugou, his head nodding though judging by the look in his eyes you could tell he wasn’t listening. His eyes were following her lips as they moved, his hands grasping her hips so she didn’t drift too far from him, but his brain wasn’t digesting the words.

You’d been living in a fantasy for a moment and Camie walking in brought you back to reality. You couldn’t keep letting yourself do this, you couldn’t give into how badly you wanted to be with him because this was what always followed. It wasn’t just self sacrificing, it was self destructive.

You tore your eyes away from the pair of them as you slid your phone from your pocket, throat constricted as you quickly texted Todoroki.

To; Todoroki [ 16:47 ]:

Change of plans, would you be able to come get me from Bakugou’s please? I don’t want to walk home, it’s too cold out.

“Did you wanna stay and eat with us?’ Bakugou’s voice met your ears as he spoke to Camie, your eyes on their feet as they shuffled closer to each other. You silently wondered if they’d forgotten you were in a room, Camie had barely even acknowledged your presence the entire time she’d been here. Your phone buzzed with a response, making you glance at it.

Todoroki [ 16:48 ]:

On my way, I’ll be there in a few minutes.

Camie’s giggling made you gaze up again, her trademark blush spread across her cheeks as Bakugou lightly let his fingers tickle her sides, his smile a tad more relaxed than it had been a minute or two ago. You rose to your feet, which made Bakugou look in your direction once quickly, his grip on Camie loosening enough for her to turn her body towards yours.

“I should probably get going, actually.” You said with a forced smile, desperately wanting to get out of the room you were trapped in with the happy pair. Because the truth was you weren’t fine, you weren’t sure you’d ever be fine. You were a wreck and you were forcing things to seem okay because you were too scared to face what may happen if you admitted they weren’t.

Remembering that engagement ring was hidden in the desk beside you made your blood run cold. Your fingernails dug half moons into your palms, bottom lip trembling as the tears threatened to spill while you desperately tried to force them down, starting to move out of the room. How were you supposed to do this? How did anyone do this? Those romantic movies were such shit, no one would want to fall in love if they knew this was how it was going to feel.

You hadn’t known, and look where that got you.

“You don’t have to go.” Bakugou’s voice clicked in your mind as you exited the room, his footsteps trailing behind you as you made your way back towards the living room. The pictures of them on the walls now felt like they were there to mock you, to remind you that you weren’t wanted.

“We’d love to have you eat with us.” Camie insisted, appearing by Bakugou’s side as she slid her hand slowly into his, her sweet face twisted into a small frown as you slid your shoes back onto your feet. You hated how she answered for the both of them. Then again, Bakugou had invited her to join you both on behalf of the two of you. Maybe he just didn’t care if you wanted her there or not.

“It’s alright, you guys should have some alone time. Todoroki’s on his way already anyway.” You insisted, tugging on your jacket and noticing how Bakugou’s grip on her hand relaxed. Hers only tightened however, her body shuffling about as close to his as she could get without actually being against him. It made your body burn seeing how perfect they looked together, a vision of beauty and pain to your heart.

The room was mute for a moment as you got your jacket situated and buttoned up properly, fingers weaving through your hair and pushing it back off your face while Bakugou just stared. He pursed his lips slightly and then folded them in on themselves, making his mouth a straight, hard line. He looked dejected which you couldn’t quite understand. He had Camie here, he invited her to stay. Why would he be frustrated you were leaving? You knew he wanted you to like her but surely he didn’t expect you to be their constant third wheel.

Camie seemed to notice his quiet state and leaned up, kissing his cheek and frowning in concern as her free hand lifted up and cupped his chin, moving his face towards hers as she quietly asked if he was okay. The worry was clear on her features, her eyebrows furrowed as her thumb drew gentle circles on the curve of his cheek, his head barely nodding in response. You were beyond grateful to hear the knock on the door, turning your body and tugging it open without hesitation.

Todoroki stood with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, a dark colored sweater on his top half making him look soft. He had been looking at his shoes, his head lifting up when you answered and a smile spreading on his famous lips.

“Hey.” He spoke, stepping forward to pull your body into his hard chest, arms holding you tight for a small hug, your eyelids fluttering shut and savoring the warmth of his sweater covered chest against your cheek. “You ready to go?”

You nodded and pulled away from him, turning to bid the couple a goodbye, Bakugou staring at you with that unreadable look on his face again. His eyes were on your back, then on Todoroki, his jaw clenched uncomfortably and his free hand balled up into a loose fist. You moved your body forward to his, his demeanor relaxing as he slid his arms around you.

His hug felt different than Todoroki’s, his was hard and made your body crush into his, his palms encasing your back like a shield and his breath fanning across your cheek as he leaned his head down. You were surprised when his lips puckered against your cheek considering Camie was beside him, but she didn’t seem to have much of a reaction other than an uncomfortable clearing of her throat.

“I’ll see you later, Katsu, thank you for lunch.” You said quietly, pulling from his tight grip and rubbing your hands along your forearms anxiously. He simply nodded but said nothing back as you turned away from him. You followed Todoroki out the door, taking a deep breath of the crisp air outside once the door clicked shut behind you. Your muscles were achy and sore as you moved towards the car, body exhausted from the few hours there with Bakugou.

You felt like you’d gone through every emotion, from happy to sad to confused and back again. Your ability to keep it together was becoming paper thin, your mind foggy and begging to just be silent for a few hours. The tiny rope holding you together was being plucked apart string by string and was ready to snap.

The only question was when.

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The taste of the expensive alcohol on your tongue was doing little to dull your senses in the crowded expensive restaurant. The private back room you occupied was lavish, with high ceilings and a dazzling chandelier that sparkled in the dim lighting. The air felt hot and the music was so inaudible it might as well have been turned off.

Your dress was too stuffy, your thighs sticking to the faux leather seat beneath you as you shifted and tugged the too thick material. You were uncomfortable here. Uncomfortable under the gleam of all the expensive things.

Uncomfortable in the stupid dress that made you feel like you were being choked. But most of all, uncomfortable being sat at the end of the table where you had a perfect view of Bakugou and Camie, side by side and feeding each other bites of their dinners.

You didn’t know how you’d been forced to come to Camie’s birthday dinner, Bakugou had insisted she wanted you to come and since most of the boys were coming you’d given in. You were sat between Kaminari and Kirishima. Midoriya, Sero, and Todoroki were across from you at the large wooden table. You hated being here. You hated being subjected to watching the happy couple kiss and hug all night long like some form of specific torture catered towards your secrets and insecurities.

It all felt too much, them so in love, the sound of her friends loud laughter and chatting, the way Kaminari kept catching you staring at Bakugou, the tight anxious feeling in your chest every time Bakugou took a second to glance your way, all of it. Your nerves were at max capacity, body nearly buzzing from the emotions bottled up inside you and all you wanted to do was go home.

You sighed quietly, taking another sip of your drink as you glanced over at Kirishima, who had let out a bored grumble, making you crack a tiny smile. The youngest boy looked like he’d rather be anywhere but there, his arms folded lazily over his broad chest and the corners of his lips just barely turned downwards as he spoke.

“I don’t like her.”

You nearly choked on the sip of your drink you’d just swallowed, Kaminari’s large hand clapping at your back to make sure you could breathe while Midoriya’s eyebrows narrowed across the table at Kirishima.

“That’s not polite, Kirishima.” He scolded, taking a small bite of the food in front of him. Kirishima scoffed quietly as he sat up properly and picked up his own drink, speaking as he lifted it up to his lips.

“Don’t you think this is all a bit much for a birthday party?”

You bit down on your bottom lip as you set your glass down, eyes skimming over the other boys as they remained tight lipped, though Kaminari was bouncing his leg beside yours. Your last birthday you’d spent watching movies and eating pizza with Sero, Kirishima and Tokoyami while Todoroki baked you a cake and Bakugou insisted he did all the decorating. You’d just assumed this was going to be a small dinner, not this lavish affair it seemed to have become, her friends all in expensive looking outfits and the prices on the menu you’d seen astronomical. You could understand Kirishima’s distaste for location choice, it wouldn’t have been your first choice either.

“She’s been all over him all night like she’s trying to show him off.” Kirishima added and set his glass down after taking a swig, his hand overlapping as he folded them neatly in front of his body at the table. “So I don’t like her, period. I don’t really care if that’s rude.”

You took a glance down towards the other end of the table as Midoriya started lecturing Kirishima, muting out their conversation and letting your eyes wander over Bakugou as he took a bite of his food. Camie was chatting away with her friends beside him, his tongue poking out to lick his lips off as his eyes glanced over at her. His arm moved slightly from its grip around the back of her chair, instead wrapping around her shoulders. A smile tugged on her lips that made jealousy rage in the pit of your stomach from the simple gesture. It killed you to know you’d never have that with him, as much as you were trying to pretend it wasn’t hurting you.

You were scared of what would happen when you let the floodgates open. How were you ever going to move on if you let yourself feel just how deeply those emotions for Bakugou ran? You had been rooted to the same spot for so long hoping that maybe, just maybe, the impossible would happen, but deep in the back of your mind you knew that time was never going to come. That was becoming more obvious with each passing day.

When Bakugou’s eyes flickered towards your end of the table, he paused for a moment, gaze catching yours and you held it, swallowing down the lump that threatened to grow in your throat. He stared at you hard, his expression not changing and his eyes too hard to read from so far away, though you doubted there was any meaning behind them. He’d been distant the past few days, like you’d hurt him and he was pulling away and while it stung, part of you had been thankful for the time to try and put yourself together.

But you missed him, gosh did you miss him. You missed him every second you weren’t with him, even when being with him was murdering your mental state. It was like he was a drug and you were an addict waiting for their next fix. Only with Bakugou, coming down from the high felt more like plummeting off a cliff and landing right on your back, all the air being thrown out of your body along with any signs of happiness.

When Camie turned towards him and spoke something into his ear, his eyes moved away, a smile on his lips as he responded to whatever they were talking about. You pulled your own eyes away, feeling a pair burning into your face and looking over at the source. Todoroki, who you’d caught sending you looks all night. He’d been like your saviour all week, letting you stay at his place when yours felt too lonely, never asking any questions or pushing you to tell him why you weren’t acting like yourself. You knew he had noticed, if anyone was perceptive it was Todoroki, he never missed a thing.

Kaminari cleared his throat beside you, fingertip poking your cheek and gaining your attention as he smiled sweetly in your direction, nodding towards your plate of untouched food as he spoke.

“Are you okay? You’ve barely eaten.” His head tilted to the side, a small frown spreading on his pouty lips and his shoulders slumping, as if your lack of consumption completely deflated his mood.

“I’m alright, just not very hungry. Don’t worry, Kami.” You smiled faintly at him, patting his hand lightly and kissing his cheek, his head bobbing up and down as if he understood. Of course you weren’t hungry. How could you be hungry when you kept watching him kiss her? It made you want to expel everything in your body every time you saw it.

You sighed quietly and pushed your chair out, excusing yourself as Camie’s friends all quieted down to hear the story she was telling them. Bakugou’s fingers were drawing lazy shapes on her bare shoulder blade, your eyes tearing away as you made a silent b-line for the restroom, desperate for a second alone.

The minute the bathroom door closed behind you, you sighed heavily, leaning your back into the hard black door and closing your eyes. You were on the edge of a mental breakdown, your brain on overdrive to even keep you functioning. You were holding too much in. You didn’t want to hurt anyone else’s heart in the process of hurting your own, but could barely handle the feelings consuming you alive.

Your body moved over to the large mirrors above the sink, eyes wandering over the black lace dress that landed mid thigh. You always thought made you look good. Now you thought it made you look depressed, the fabric climbing halfway up your neck and covering the entirety of your arms, it hugging your hollow figure too tight to hide any imperfections you thought you had. It was a stark contrast to the lilac strapless number Camie had gone with. It only amplified how different you both were, neither bad, but one clearly superior in the eyes of Bakugou.

It was a terrible feeling to watch yourself be replaced. Of course you were never the one who filled Bakugou’s heart, but Camie was slowly taking your place in every other way. She was whose pictures covered his walls and whose presents littered his shelves. She was who he sang songs to late at night over the phone and she was the one who kept his attention when she was in the room. You were becoming more obsolete every second she became more relevant.

After a quick splash of water and a few deep breathes, you adjusted your body to stand up straight, hair pulled half back up off your face for once. You slowly pushed the heavy bathroom door open, giving yourself a mental pep talk as you exited the hallway towards the backroom, aware of the eery silence that filled your ears. Why did it make your skin crawl to hear so little chatter?

You scrunched your face up just as you entered the room, confused as to why Bakugou and Camie were standing and no one was speaking, Bakugou’s back to you and Camie’s eyes flickering to yours for a second, before focusing back on him. That was when his body sunk down to the floor and onto one knee, your body halting all movement.

This wasn’t happening.

This couldn’t be happening.

But it was.

Right before your very eyes were you watching Bakugou Katsuki crush the very last piece of you.

Gasps filled the air along with excited squeals as he looked up at her, Camie’s delicate hand lifting up to her mouth and covering it in shock, her own eyes filling with tears just as yours were, only hers were of happiness and yours most definitely were not. You saw his reflection in the mirror on the wall, his hands holding open the same velvet box you’d found a few days before, the ring sparkling under the faint light. The world felt like it stopped spinning, your lungs stopping all functions as his eyes met yours in the reflection for just a second, his firm expressing softening for just a second before his eyes tore away from yours, the words flying past his lips without a second thought.

“Camie, will you marry me?”

Hearing the words out loud was the final snip to the string holding you together. Everything began to crumble apart inside you, your cool exterior melting away. Her friends had all burst into cooing and clapping at her exclaimed yes, your body the only one unmoving while the girls all rushed over to see her ring. Your feet started carrying you backwards, your eyes burning and blurry as you saw his body turn towards yours for just a glance. Camie gripped at his arm and pulled him tight to her side as her friends all congratulated them, everyone fawning over them.

Kaminari was staring at Bakugou, then at you, then back at Bakugou, Kirishima complacently beside him looking unimpressed. Todoroki was already moving towards you, pushing past the crowd around them to get to you as you backed up out of the room, whipping around to leave. Your body pushed forward, bumping into a waiter and spilling a drink on yourself but you didn’t stop, rushing out the front doors uncaring about the scene you were causing.

You burst out the front and felt your resolve crumble completely, your body collapsing forward as you stumbled out and a choked sob ripped from your throat. You couldn’t hide it anymore, you didn’t care if it was selfish, you couldn’t pretend you were okay. You weren’t okay, you were so damn far from okay.

The air was filled with the sounds of your loud crying, your entire body shaking as you looked around for somewhere to go, some sign of what to do, struggling to breathe. All you could see in your head was Bakugou down on his knee in front of her and his voice repeating over and over.

He was everywhere, you couldn’t escape him. He was in your head making it hazy and in your eyes making them burn and boil over. He was in your lungs squeezing your airway til it was crushed and nothing could pass through. He was in your very nerves making sure you felt each and every touch he’d ever given you then ripped away. He was in your heart tearing out every last string holding it together until you snapped. You couldn’t do it anymore, it hurt too much.

You struggled to stay standing, seeing spots of black as you tried to stretch straighter. The door behind you opened but you were too weak to turn away. A pair of firm arms enveloped you and that only seemed to make your next wave of tears so much stronger. They were spilling down your cheeks and wetting your flushed skin, the cool wind blowing making your cheeks feel frozen.

You gripped at the strong body’s shirt and bawled into the chest, nostrils flared and mouth wide as you tried to get in oxygen. Your eyes screwed tightly shut as you blocked out the sound of the world around you. You recognized the feel of the hand stroking your hair and dug your nails into his back.

“I love him, Todoroki.” You sobbed, the words coming out choppy, trembling lips having difficulty forming the syllables. “I love him so fucking much.”

“I know.” Todoroki whispered, his grip around you growing more firm as he lifted you off your legs when they went to give out. You’d tried so hard, so so hard to ignore your feelings and you just couldn’t anymore.

You were never going to be his first choice. You were never going to get to hold him and kiss him and tell him how much you loved him. You were never going to be his entire world like he had been yours. Camie was, perfect Camie who had everything you didn’t, and now she had him too.

“Why doesn’t he love me? Why does he love her and not me?” You croaked, arms constricting around his shoulders as his hands gripped below your thighs to keep you steady. “Why am I not enough?”

Todoroki didn’t say anything, his thumbs pressing soft circles into your skin as he kissed his heart shaped lips into your forehead. You bit down hard on your bottom lip to try and hold back the screams you wanted to let out. You tasted metal and released it, using a hand to wipe the tears and snot off your face to no avail. Your eyes wouldn’t quit flowing, like a busted pipe that had been blocked up for years and finally sprung free.

Everything was falling from your lips too fast for you to comprehend, every coherent thought spilling out in cries too loud for such a public space but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, this had been a long time coming.

“I tried so hard to be happy for him. I tried so hard. Nothing I do is making it any easier, it hurts to look at him. I hurts to think about him, I just want it all to stop. “ You faintly felt one of his hands leave your thigh, the other hand sliding across your backside to stop you from falling to the ground. You heard keys and lifted your head slightly to see he was carrying you to his car parked near by, your voice muffling when you laid your head down against his chest. “I can’t do it anymore.”

His hands slid off your body as he leaned you into the door on your own two feet, a hand on your hip to make sure you wouldn’t fall, before turning toward the door to unlock it. Your crying was subsiding but the ache in your chest was only growing. The tears started coming back however when you heard the door of the restaurant open and footsteps rushing your way.

Bakugou was jogging towards the pair of you, Kaminari hot on his trail and you felt your whole body start to seize again, the tears returning tenfold as you covered your face with your hands, turning into Todoroki as he moved to cover you from Bakugou’s worried figure.

“I’m taking her home, she doesn’t feel well so just go back inside, okay? Go celebrate.” You could make out Todoroki’s words despite the way you were hiccuping as you tried to choke back your crying. Even when you were having a breakdown you didn’t want Bakugou to know, you didn’t want to ruin his night. You wanted to smack yourself for caring so much.

“Shut up, Todoroki.” Bakugou snapped, trying to get around Todoroki who was unmoving. Bakugou’s hand reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched away, turning your back to him and facing the car as your knees shook, hand clamping over your mouth to keep your crying silent. “Please look at me, please? Please talk to me, stop shutting me out. Please?”

The concerned begging made it worse, he was the reason you were like this. Had he just proposed tonight to make sure your heart was broken as possible? Did he love to be the one to make you miserable? Did he make sure you were there to see it so you wouldn’t keep thinking maybe he could love you too?

“Fucking go inside Bakugou, you’re making it worse.” Todoroki snapped and his figure tensed behind you. Your back shook with each gasp for air you took, vaguely seeing Kaminari touch Bakugou’s shoulder in the rear-view mirror.

“Katsu, cmon. She doesn’t want to talk to you right now.” Kaminari’s unusually soft voice met your ears, the only one who seemed to be calm in the entire situation, though when his eyes met your reflection in the mirror, his face screamed concern. Whether it was for you or the distraught Bakugou you weren’t sure.

“Will you both fucking shut up and let her speak for herself!” Bakugou snapped, the sound of his feet moving making you clam up, his figure coming around Todoroki who was still trying to block Bakugou from seeing you. The moment Bakugou’s face met yours from over Todoroki’s shoulder, his entire face fell, your own twisting in anguish as you started crying harder again, looking away from him.

“Why..” He started quietly, his hands lifting as if to reach out for you but Todoroki smacked them down, yanking open the car door so you could get inside, effectively creating a barrier between the two of you.

“Because you’re an idiot, Bakugou.” Todoroki sighed, shutting the door once you were inside and instantaneously muffling the voices outside the door. You chest was trembling with every inhale you took, hands shaking as you dug your nails into your thighs and squeezed your eyes shut. Everything you had was broken, everything felt ruined and tarnished and sick.

You didn’t feel like you anymore and you didn’t think you’d ever feel right again, not now. Not now that you saw him choose her right before your very eyes. Right after he looked at you did he shatter everything you’d been so desperately hoping for. Your heart you had so willingly given him he tossed to the ground and smashed under his expensive shoes, then crushed the pieces to dust so they could never be put back together. He did it all with five short, little words.

You couldn’t love someone who wouldn’t ever love you, not anymore.

When you dared to glance out the window you could see Todoroki coming towards the driver’s side door, Kaminari trying to tug Bakugou toward the restaurant. Bakugou’s eyes were glued onto your tinted window, not listening to a thing the taller boy said, a pained expression on his face that paled in comparison to the agony in your chest.

Camie’s head came out from the doors, concern painted on her features as she slipped between Kaminari and Bakugou, her arms sliding around her fiance and hugging him. Her ring glittering in the nighttime lighting made you tear your eyes away, the car moving finally and taking you away from there. You shivered but you weren’t sure if it was from the temperature or from your heart rate.

You felt empty, even as the tears fell silently down your cheeks and slid onto the dress that bunched around your thighs. Your heart was gone and your lungs were empty and your brain was consumed with all the things Bakugou had ever done that made you hurt the most. You heard his voice telling you she was the one. You felt his fingers rubbing into your palm as he held your hand and his lips pressing into your cheek. You saw him kissing her and holding her and getting down on one knee. You felt everything he’d ever done that made your heart ache, and all you could do was sit there and take it.

Bakugou wasn’t yours anymore.

He never was in the first place.

And you were an idiot for ever thinking he could be.

Todoroki’s hand wrapped around your knee, rubbing the ice cold skin as you chewed on the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to just breathe. You took slow, deep inhales through your flared nostrils, body twitching from the erratic cries your body was still producing.

“It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Todoroki’s gentle tone fell on your deaf ears, your nails digging into your thighs so hard they left angry red scratches in their wake. It felt like the earth was opening up and swallowing you whole. You swallowed hard, eyelids falling shut as you tipped your head to the side so it rested against the cool window.

You lifted your legs up, his hand slipping away as they bent in front of you on the leather seat, your arms wrapping around them. You had goosebumps risen along your calves, your body slouching into the door. You could see your face in the rear view mirror when you opened you eyes, your complexion gaunt and eyelids rimmed in smeared black. Little grey streaks were spread across your face from the wind blown tears mixing with your watered down mascara, your lip swollen from biting down so hard. You looked like you had finally given up, like nothing in the world could take away the pain in your heart.

“I don’t think I am, Sho.” You whispered, voice cracking as you let your eyes slip back shut “Not this time.”

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou #katsuki #bakugou angst #bakugou fluff #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #todoroki shouto #todoroki #shouto #todoroki angst #todoroki fluff #todoroki smut #todoroki x reader

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purpleyoonn · 2 years

Note

Ok sooo ahhhh after rereading Petrichor and ABMOL from the start to the latest updates all I can say is wow I missed a lot holy moly.

First on ABMOL after catching up to it, it made want to reassure y/n even more and to also maybe hunt down the people that cause her harm. But alsooo on another note I see you Mari hitting us with angst and fluff on chapter 12 then giving us some 😏🥴🥵 hahaha in all honesty I'm glad that before they engaged into something more intimate y/n and yoongi talk about it before and that they encourage her to be vocal since knowing her trauma that could be a trigger gosh even when they're hot and bothered they still think of y/n, people that is the standards right there.

Now onto Petrichor where to I even begin with this one I love the little domestic scenes sprinkled along the chapter makes me feel so ft and warm also the shopping scene that hit home for me I can totally relate to y/n as someone having trouble with my body image going shopping sometimes sucks and that saleslady with her damn comment like dude you're the delusional one so glad the boys stepped up even though y/n got in the bag I think in that scene y/n saw just how serious they are with her and that her insecurities doesn't faze the boys since they love her no matter what.

Oh and also I got second hand embarrassment when Jin and Yoongi walk in on y/n singing and bopping along since that literally happend to me just I few days ago and it brought back that memory haha. Now onto the part that made my blood boil, how can someone have a sister like that I mean gosh I'm not gonna list everything that she and her husband did that made me want to throw rocks at them since its going to be super long and this ask is already long enough but just wow they are the worst it's sad that y/n is so used to that kind of disrespect from a family that's suppose to love you unconditionally. I'm glad the boys intervene and made sure that awful human being got out of y/n's apartment. I don't know how y/n does it if that was me I would immediately throw them out and maybe get a slap or two in there but hey that's just my anger issues talking, salute to y/n she deserves all the love and hugs and kisses in the world

Ok so this ask for veryyy long whoops I'm sorry Mari, I hope I still make sense after you read this haha. Being away from your blog just made me missed it more and I'm so glad I'm finally on break so I can read and see your updates every time I want. Anyways hugs and kisses Mari. I hope you're doing great and having the best time and also taking tons of breaks to not overworked yourself 😍😘💕

more than anything the boys want to give abmol mc freedom, which is surprising. they want her to be able to make her own choices, even if the options might be controlled by them. yoongi talking to the mc about her feelings and about sex might be a little selfish for the man, as he is slowly opening up the option of her having sex with them. but to Yoongi, it is just him trying to give the mc another option of receiving love from them. so yes, while the boys are making sure communication is a huge thing in their relationship, they also have some ulterior motives.

the shopping scene in petrichor definitely gave some insight into the boys and mc. while on the surface, the scene is entirely cute and fitting for the self-healing storyline, there is so much more beneath the surface. the mc truly does not feel beautiful in her skin. confidence and self-love are different things. while mc is confident in herself and her skills, she has had so many things said to her, and about her that she doesn't feel like she is worth anything to anyone. she truly feels as though there is nothing special or beautiful about her. and for the boys to go great lengths to defend her, for Hoseok to leave work to come and check up on her, it shatters some of the ideas in her head about her worth. she starts to believe that maybe there is something special about her.

mc's sister and brother in law showing up is only the beginning of everything. there is so much history hidden in the chapters that I am kind of glad no one has picked up on yet.

but here is a hint, the prologue is the true beginning to the story. and the beginning always has a way of providing some truth to any story.

#purpleyoonn #purpleyoonn ask #petrichor #petrichor ask #a bond made of love #a bond made of love ask

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innaminitus · 5 years

Text

To meet you again

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Request: Hey! May I request Geralt x reader? Maybe where the reader is a commoner in the kingdom, and while Geralt is there to kill a monster, him and the reader keep crossing paths? But get this: the reader is extremely clumsy and every time they cross paths it’s because of the reader tripping, or running into him, etc ya know? It gets to the point where Geralt starts making small offhand comments about her clumsiness and she shows that she’s actually pretty damn feisty. I’m so excited! Thank you hun! (from @badass-dora-milaje)

and

Hello there. I read your beautiful lake story and just fell in love with your writing style. So I'd like to request a story if I may: Geralt & reader meet up time and time again. She somehow always helps him out (calms a mob, heals his wounds, gives the missing coin he needs) and she's always kind to him. There may be underlying tension between the two, but she doesn't act on it. There is a change in their dynamics though when she endangers her life while trying to help him again and anger and worry finally make him react, pushing her against a wall and showing her how much he truly cares. Now I'd like to leave it up to you if the smut is passionate and either sweet or more angry. I hope this is okay as a request? Thanks so much for sharing your work and doing this! Regards V (from @superconfusedandreadytorumble)

Warnings: smut, language, angst

Word count: 3034

A/N: I didn’t proffread it because i’m a lazy ass

You were… just a nobody, really. Just a clumsy girl, who happened to have just enough healing abilities to help with cuts and burns in the town.

Somehow he always crossed paths with you.

You were picking up the herbs in the forest, finally unbothered. It was the beginning of spring, and the door to your house almost never closed. People were storming you with colds and allergies, sometimes knocking on your door at night. Mothers were… overprotective, bothering you when their sons barely sneezed. In the forest you could finally rest, breathe fresh air and be alone for a change. No one walked that deep into the forest, afraid they might meet leshy and his monsters; you’ve never met him, though and doubted he actually lived in the forest.

That is, until you heard sounds of a fight. Frozen in place, you were too afraid to move. A cry of a beast mixed with hoarse screams and clings of steel, followed by sudden silence. Someone, or something moved for the last time and hit the ground. You waited for any sign that, whoever it was, was still alive.

“Ahh… Fuck.”

Well, that almost definitely was a sound of being alive.

You rushed in the direction of the voice, whose owner, thankfully wasn’t far. A man was on the ground, leaning on the tree, pressing his hand on his thigh. In front of him lied a beast, its horny head detached from its body, slimy blood spilled all over the clearing. Your stomach flew to your throat, but you managed not to vomit at the sight. One deep breath and you looked back at the man. He was bleeding as well, but the difference between him and leshy was that he was still alive.

You walked to him slowly, he turned to you when you stepped on a twig.

“Who are you?” He asked in between sharp breaths. His hair was white and his eyes were oddly yellow.

“A healer. I can help you.” You kneeled next to him and looked at the wound on his thigh. It was deep, and he was losing a lot of blood. You pulled at the hem of your dress and ripped a long stripe, then tied it firmly above the wound. “Come, you need to get up. My home is not far away.”

You held him while he clumsily got up, and supported him while you walked out of the forest.

“So what’s your name, healer?”

“Y/N. And yours?”

“Geralt.”

That was the first time you’ve met Geralt. You healed his wound and said goodbye, believing it was the last time you’d see the white-haired man.

How foolish of you.

He passed your village multiple times, since beasts seemed to adore the forests and swamps surrounding it, and soon the Witcher was a frequent guest in town.

You were reading a book. It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t see him, it was the fault of the heroine in the story, who was making the worst decision of her life.

It wasn’t a pretty picture, really. Geralt was talking to someone, and you just didn’t bother to look above your book. You smashed onto him, hitting him with the book, and hurting your nose badly on his broad back.

“Ouch…”

“What the hell are you doing?” He turned angrily, but his presence softened once he saw you. Not for long, as it seemed, since he started laughing at your miserable form, holding your nose with your palms and tears building in your eyes. He picked up the book you dropped. “I think that’s yours.”

That was the second time. You’ve had pleasant conversation with him, and discovered he also liked books, but haven’t had the time to read them anymore. Turned out he’s not just a pile of muscles and a nice voice.

Finally a day without a single patient. You could spend all calm day on the market, and unbothered buy food. Maybe you’d buy yourself a little treat, maybe a piece or two of peach pie…

You were buying apples when you heard a horse nearby. You smiled softly at Roach tied to a feeder near the inn and walked to her.

“Hello, Roach.” You caressed her head gently. She bumped your basket, full of fresh food. You fed her an apple. “And where’s your owner, huh?”

Suddenly you heard a loud noise in the inn and the door swung open.

“Witch– Witcher!” Geralt stormed out of the inn, the publican right behind him. You didn’t fail to notice how good the Witcher looked, his hair a mess and unbuttoned shirt. “Pay or I’ll swear my boys will kill you in your sleep.”

“You dare to threaten me?” Geralt turned back and faced the publican, who somehow got smaller under his burning sight.

“Geralt,” you called him, stepping closer and placing a hand on his shoulder. “What’s the problem?”

“He haven’t paid for his stay!” The publican shouted.

“I said I’ll pay later!”

“I don’t believe ya Witchers! One day you fuck a whore in my inn, the next day ya dead! And I am left with no money!”

“I’ll pay for him.” You gave the men a few coins.

“That’s not enough!”

“Well, remember about it the next time you drag your pregnant daughter to my house demanding an abortion. And I’ll maybe remember to not tell anyone about it.”

He reddened and, murmuring something under his nose, went back to the inn.

“Abortion?” Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“He has five daughters, and each one is rather frivolous.”

He untied Roach and turned to you.

“Thank you. I’ll repay you, I promise.”

“I know.” You shrugged. “But maybe next time you’re here, stay at my place.”

You tried not to show how many sinful thoughts flew through your head.

He stayed a few times, arriving at the evenings and leaving early in the morning. Unspoken tension between you was enough to keep him away. It wasn’t that you were disappointed, only you were… a little disappointed.

Snow was falling into your eyes as you were trying to make your way back home. You treated a boy with fever, not sure if he would survive the night. The cold was merciless, piercing you through, and you forgot your cloak when you run out to save the boy. Only a thick sweater was protecting you from wind and snow. You cursed your stupidity, dreaming of warm fireplace waiting for you. There was one more thing keeping you warm, but you didn’t really want to admit it to yourself. You just couldn’t help it that his eyes reminded you of the sun.

You stepped onto frozen mud, your poor excuse for shoes not protecting you from sliding all across the puddle. With a squirm you tripped on ice, and waved your hands, trying to catch stability, inefficaciously, only making your situation worse. You were sure to hit the ground, but someone’s warm arm wrapped around you, protecting you from it.

“Geralt,” you gasped, still hanging above the ground.

“Hello, Y/N,” he laughed and pulled you up.

Only this time it was different.

You just… had a feeling. A feeling that you should be out, even though it was night. You wandered around the town, this weird feeling in your guts not allowing you to rest. Your intuition was strong, due to your grandmother being a minor witch, and almost never let you down. It was an unsettling thought, piercing you through, that something bad was going to happen.

You didn’t notice that you left the town and mindlessly walked to the forest. Cold air soothed your burning cheeks and scent of wet grass hit your nostrils. You knew you wouldn’t get lost in this forest, you knew it better than you knew yourself, so you walked deeper, letting your intuition guide you.

Everything was oddly silent. No birds singing, not even the bugs working their way through the bushes. You could barely see in the darkness, but you didn’t need a good sight to feel the blood hanging in the air.

One, two, three vampires, and between them the whitehaired Witcher. You watched the scene with parted lips, as they hypnotized him, one already sucking blood out of Geralt.

You had to help him. A silver knife shone in the moonlight when you took it out of your pocket, glad you took it with yourself. You pressed the blade on your arm and with a deep breath cut the skin deeply, not allowing yourself to whine in pain.

“Blood.” One of the vampires shot his head up.

“Blood.”

“Human.”

You kept squeezing your fist to pump more blood out of the wound.

“Hey, assholes,” you shouted. “How about a dessert?”

Two of them left Geralt and run to you with awful screams, and it was enough for the Witcher to free himself from their power. You didn’t see him killing the vampire still sucking his blood, the two beasts already knocked you down, their cold, dead lips locked on your neck.

A groan was the last thing you heard before you passed out.

The ground was shaking when you woke up. You were flying, you were sure of it. Was this how death felt?

Your eyelids felt awfully heavy when you opened your eyes, the stars were shining on the dark sky. You moved your head. You weren’t dead. You were still in the forest, in someone’s arms.

“Geralt…” Your throat was sore, you were barely able to make a sound.

His jaw was clenched when you looked at him.

“You are… Stupid. Irresponsible. Do you even understand how big of a danger that was?” His voice was shaking from anger, but he tried not to shout.

You moved in his arms.

“Did you kill them?” He nodded. “Geralt, we have to go back.” You tried to fall on the ground, but he was holding you too tight. “Geralt, we need to bury them, their heads apart from their bodies, with iron nails in their skulls… And sprinkle poppy seeds–“

“I did it.”

“What’s with the poppy seeds, though?” You were taking without any sense. “Like… I know they’re supposed to obsessively count them, but do they really do it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you mad at me? Don’t be mad at me, please.” You lifted your hand to touch, but it felt weightless. You had no feeling in your limbs, but you could move them. It must’ve been because of the loss of blood.

“Yes, I am mad at you. You should never put your life in danger, not for me, not for anyone else.”

“I wanted to help you.”

“You shouldn’t have. I was dealing with them perfectly fine without you.”

“No, you weren’t,” you snorted. “They were killing you, you needed my help.”

He stopped. You didn’t notice that you already left the forest and were standing in front of your house. He gently placed you on the ground, making sure you wouldn’t trip. Your head was dizzy, but you were able to open the door and walk inside. Familiar scent of candles and herbs soothed you.

“It would be much better if they killed me instead of hurting you,” you said, your back turned to him, as you lit the candles.

He held your arm, and pushed you against the nearby wall.

“No,” he said in a hoarse voice, anger glistening in his amber eyes. “Stop saying such stupid things.”

“Stop telling me I’m stupid!” You were over it. You helped him, and that’s how he thanks?

“How can I, if you obviously are?!”

“You shouldn’t save me then, leaving me as a meal would eliminate me from your life just fine!”

“You must have no idea what you’re saying.” His hands were clenched on your shoulders just like his jaw was clenched when he was talking to you with such anger.

“Enlighten me, then!”

It took him a split second to press his lips onto yours, and to melt you completely.

“Is that clear enough?” He asked in a husky voice, his face millimeters from yours.

“Not– Not really. You’d have to repeat that.”

Only you didn’t give him any time to repeat it, because you threw your arms over his neck and kissed him hurriedly, leaning on him, almost knocking him down. He smiled during the kiss, deepening it, his tongue slid into your mouth, inviting yours to play.

Within a second you forgot about everything, about the vampires, about how bad you felt after the attack. He was more than enough to make you forget.

He lifted you up, and bumped on a closet on the way to your bedroom, making you laugh, quickly silencing you with his tongue. Soon you felt cold sheets under your back, and Geralt’s fingers untying the ribbons of your dress. He slid the material down your shoulders, kissing every inch of the skin that was exposed to him.

He kissed your collarbone, lick the hollow underneath it, his tongue swiped down, to the delicate skin of your breasts and suddenly you weren’t in the mood for laughing. You sighed when he softly tugged the side of your breast, pulling the dress down, exposing your hardened nipples. With a silent groan he closed his warm mouth around one nipple, caressing it with the tip of his tongue. The other one he rolled in his fingers, releasing a moan from you, and you felt him smile at that sound. His big hands kneaded your breasts as he kissed the valley of them before sliding your dress even lower.

His lips never left your body as he made his way down, gently biting your waist, leaving a mark. By the time he got to your hips the heat between your legs was noticeable, just as how wet you were for him. He kissed one hipbone, then another, and ignoring your womanhood kept kissing until he reached your knee, and then, and only then he made his way up. In most torturous of ways he licked the skin of your inner thigh, left hot kisses above the wet trail and finally, after almost driving you crazy, reached your heat.

He didn’t plan to work his way fast. Oh no, he planned to feast on you.

He kissed your folds, yet that was enough to make you squirm. He stuck out his tongue and with just the tip licked a stripe through them, parting them for his warm lips.

“Mm,” he groaned against you “so wet already, and I haven’t even started properly.”

His deep voice was giving you goosebumps, but it was his tongue that made you grab his hair. He flattened it on your pussy, rubbing your clit and forcing a moan out of you. His hands massaged your thighs, but one of it slid to your folds, to the aching clit while he pushed his tongue into you. You arched your back as he worked you this way, his tongue in and out of you, his skilled fingers rubbing vicious circles on your clit.

“Fuck… Geralt, please, don’t stop,” you moaned time after time as he mercilessly drove you to the edge of sanity, forcing an orgasm out of you.

You were shaking as you came on his face, whispering pleads and his name, pleasure holding your throat tight enough for you to not scream. You mindlessly held his head pressed onto you, spasms of ecstasy making you come yet again around his tongue.

He pulled away, his wet mouth and chin glistened in the light of candles as he ripped his clothes and hovered over you. You kissed him, your taste spilled in your mouth as his tongue was dancing with yours.

You felt his hot shaft on your stomach, how it dripped on your skin, making you hungry for more, more of his body, more of his lips. He bucked his hips, caressing your overstimulated clit with his tip, collecting your slick. He slid into you easily, you caught his gasp in your mouth.

“So fucking tight,” he whispered on your neck. “So marvelously tight…”

He pulled out only to push back in, and you were lost yet again, only now it was Geralt as well who lost control. As you expected, he wasn’t the one to be gentle.

He rammed into you like a wild animal, sounds of moans and wet bodies smacking filled the room and your ears. You reached above your head to hold the frame of the bed, but he had other plans. With sadistic smile he grabbed your wrists with one hand and held them still as his other hand held firmly your hip, sure to leave bruises. All you could do was to wrap your legs around him to make him reach deeper, and moan when he buried himself balls deep into you.

His thrusts were fast and violent, his eyes travelled from your waving breasts to your parted lips, as you begged for more, for him to never stop.

“Gods– You fill me so fucking good–“ You squirmed as your whole body moved to his pace.

“That’s right,” he groaned, leaning over you as your muscles clenched hard on his length. “I want you to come all over my cock.”

You would never deny that order. A heat wave hit you hard, overtaking your body in its silky arms, as pleasure spilled all over your mind just as Geralt’s cum spilled deep inside your pussy. Your legs were shaking when you rode down your orgasm with his gasps near your ear.

He fell on the bed next to you, panting.

“So… So you care for me. If I got the message right,” you said in between heavy breaths and looked at him.

“Pretty much, yes.”

He also looked at you before you both laughed. He pulled you to a soft kiss before closing you in his warm arms. There was nothing that could disturb that night. Not when you felt so warm, so safe next to him.

You placed your head on his chest and soon the sleep surrounded you like a fog. And you dreamed, dreamed about amber eyes and clear blue skies.

___

tag lists:

💞: @taylorswiftloverforever13 @thomasfoockinshelby @kaylig02@daddyloki @it-jinxed-us @themusingsofmany @randomlea @annakohanasworld @theunofficialduke @prismroot-starlight0@deathofmissjackson@tricksterwinchester @villanellevi @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @forgoshsake-watchyourlanguage @grace-barnes-13 @starofthedawn @superconfusedandreadytorumble @glimmerlove9

💖 - @omg-so-many-fandoms @iwannaendme

🖤 - @winterpoohbear

#geralt x reader #geralt x reader smut #geralt x y/n #geralt x y/n smut #witcher x reader #witcher x reader smut #geralt x you #geralt x you smut #witcher x you #witcher x you smut #witcher x y/n #witcher x y/n smut #geralt imagine #witcher imagine #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia imagine

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