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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

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Honest and Truly

Summary: Spencer has his prom 10 years late, but none of that matters when it's with the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: 4.8 k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female (She/Her)-- Fluff

CW: Minimal vulgar language (PG-13)

Author's Note: This just might be my most favorite thing I've written in a very long time :) Also listen to the song I linked, it makes the title and the ending make more sense! thank you to @spookydrreid and @writhingintheroses for helping me a particular scene!!

Add yourself to my taglist! It makes it much easier for me :)

Honest and Truly

“A prom?” Spencer asks, realizing that the conversation had entered uncharted territory, a territory in which he had not a single clue how to navigate. Spencer, being a preteen in high school, never attended prom.

“Yes, Reid. A prom,” Penelope says, staring at him over the many monitors and stuffed cats that littered her desk, “It’s going to be so much fun!” she says, excitedly.

“That sounds like, uh, I’ll have plans that night,” Spencer tells Penelope, spinning around in the swivel chair as he eats his turkey and cheese sandwich. He usually enjoys their lunches together, but when Penelope gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.

@s“Now I don’t believe that for a second, Reid. The only time that you have plans is when you’re with Y/N. And Y/N is going to be at this prom,” Garcia says, her pink glasses sliding down her nose. She winks at Reid, almost like she enjoys watching him squirm.

“How do you know that she’s going? Did she say she’s going?” Spencer asks, unable to conceal his eagerness that Y/N could be attending. Spencer might hate dancing and those fancy shoes that are too tight on his toes, but all that can be talked away if Y/N is there.

“Yes, she’s going because you’re asking her. That and I’m making everyone go,” Penelope says matter of factly.

Spencer opens his mouth, attempting to talk away Penelope’s suggestion. But Spencer Reid is a smart man and he knows better than trying to argue his way out with Penelope. Especially when it comes to Y/N. He might have an excellent poker face, but Spencer can’t hide his love for Y/N.

“I’m not going to ask her. You know she’ll think it’s because-” Spencer says, prepping for a long winded rant before the door of Penelope’s office swings open.

Y/N, with two coffees in hand, floats into the room like she’s walking on air. Or maybe it’s Spencer’s mind that’s floating when Y/N walks in. He can never tell. Whenever he’s near her, it’s like everything is sweeter, lighter and airier. Wordlessly, she passes the coffee to Spencer. Feeling her fingertips graze his reminds him of how pathetic he must be. He nods, telling her thanks, knowing that he’s unable to fully articulate just how grateful he is for the littlest things.

“Who are you not going to ask and to where, Spence?” Y/N says, leaning against the filing cabinets and sipping her coffee. Penelope, never one to be quiet, silently watches as Spencer and Y/N converse. Spencer looks up at her, feeling that light and airy feeling again. He brushes his hair that falls against his forehead nervously thinking of an answer.

“I- uh, I was thinking of asking my mother to come stay with me for a couple of weeks. You know, she hasn’t seen DC in a couple of years. And I do have some personal days banked,” Spencer says, telling Y/N a small white lie.

“She’s in Vegas, right?” Y/N asks, interested in what Spencer is saying, which is something that he’s still not used to. Spencer nods, smiling awkwardly.

“Yeah, she says that she likes the heat,” Spencer says, hating how formal and cold the conversation sounds. It’s normally flowing with easy and familiarity, but something is wedged between them. Penelope, long forgotten by the pair, types rapidly on her keyboard.

“You know, Spence. If you’re up for it maybe we can have lunch or meet at Elmwood Park. I’d love to meet the woman that made my favorite person,” she says, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes. Her stare is so intense that it’s like she’s looking into his soul. He thinks that if she looks deep enough she’ll see her own reflection because his soul belongs to her.

“I-I uh,” Spencer says, immediately thinking that he should actually invite his mother out for a visit, “I think that’s a good idea. She likes the sites and all,” he tells her nervously, trying to ease his beating heart.

He’s her favorite person.

Out of all the people in this city, this world. He’s her favorite person. Spencer, a lover of math, is tempted to figure out the odds of being his favorite person’s favorite person. He knows it’s slim. He knows it’s rare. It’s something magical and Spencer is terrified he’s going to ruin it. He’s terrified he’s going to fuck something up that’s not even his.

“It’s a date,” Y/N says, turning to Penelope, who’s still long forgotten, “Oh, Penny, you need to yell at Morgan for me. He ate my leftovers,” she tells Penelope, who feigns horror, “And now I don’t have lunch”

“How dare he!” Penelope says, her exaggerated response inciting chuckles, “he can get away with murder because he’s pretty,” she says, shaking her head.

He knows that she’s pretending to be disappointed, but he still doesn’t like to see it. Spencer unwraps the other half of his turkey and cheese sandwich and hands it to Y/N. She looks surprised, as if Spencer just handed her a million bucks.

“Spence, you don’t have to,” Y/N says, softly, handing back the half of the sandwich, “It’s your sandwich, I don’t want you to feel-”

“Eat it, Y/N,” Spencer says firmly, looking straight at Y/N, “You need to eat something. We both live off coffee as it is,” he says, hoping that Y/N will take the sandwich.

He’s looking straight at her and she’s looking straight at him. Spencer wonders if he looks deep enough he’ll reach her soul. He dares to think that if he can find her soul, he’ll stare at his face. He’s her favorite person after all, that’s got to count for something.

“Thanks, Spence,” Y/N says, smiling softly, “You make the best sandwiches,” she tells him, taking a bite of the sandwich as Garcia’s eyes flit from Spencer to Y/N. Back and forth, she watches the pair engage in the world’s best miscommunication.

“Y/N, did you hear? I’m throwing a prom!” Garcia says excitedly, hoping that Y/N’s reaction will be more enthusiastic than Spencer’s.

“A prom?” Y/N asks, unconvincingly, “God, I hated my prom. I got punched spilled all over my dress and my date tried to sneak alcohol into the banquet hall. It was a shitshow,” Y/N says, remembering the less than happy memories from high school.

“I didn’t go to prom. You know, between being a 12 year old and a dork,” Spencer says, self deprecatingly, “It’s not the ideal scenario, but I am familiar with the cultural significance of proms in American high school,” Spencer says, speaking to no one in particular, yet looking at Y/N directly.

“Maybe we’ll both get the prom night we deserve, Spence,” Y/N offers, tossing out her wax paper wrapper. She walks past him and it’s like the air is sweeter. He believes in science, but loves magic. Y/N is magic.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, refusing to make eye contact with Penelope, “you know, sorry to uh, cut this short. I have some paperwork to finish. Hotch’s been on me all day about it. So, uh, see you later,” he says, walking out of Penelope's office like a bat out of hell.

He tries to ignore the knowing stares from Penelope and Y/N’s confusion as he ducks out and walks into the bullpen. Spencer doesn’t have paperwork. He finished all his paperwork by 11:12 am. But what Spencer does have is a flight from Vegas to Quantico to book.

And prom shopping.

___

As it turns out, Spencer doesn’t know much about teenage American culture. Sure he’s seen 90s movies that Y/N forced him to watch. But it was quite difficult to pay attention when all he could feel was Y/N’s fingers brushing up against his in their shared bucket of popcorn or her head laying against his shoulder when she got tired.

He doesn’t know much of anything when it comes to romance. But he knows that he loves Y/N— and hopefully that’s enough. He still hasn’t asked her if she’d go with him. Honestly, he’s not too sure why he even has to ask her in the first place. She’s going to be there already, but Garcia and Morgan convinced him that it’s part of the so-called “Prom Experience”

“Spence,” Y/N says, she’s perched on the tall bar stool and rests her elbows on her kitchen island, “did you find a suit yet? I was thinking that we can go to that vintage store on Rock Ave. They have a surprisingly good size selection, and I think that this whole vintage thing fits your aesthetic really well,”

“My aesthetic?” Spencer questions, again lost at sea.

“You know, you’re like nerdy chic. Equal parts dorky and equal parts handsome,” she tells him. He feels his cheeks burn at her words.

Handsome

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” Spencer says, eyeing Y/N over the rim of his hot coffee.

“It is,” Y/N says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like him being handsome is just as obvious as him being dorky, “And get your wallet. We’re going to the vintage store,”

Spencer has a hate-love relationship with weekends. He loves spending time with Y/N where it was so easy to pretend that she loves him as he loves her. He hates the weekends for the same reason he loves them. Spencer knows that it’s all fake. It’s a façade of the truth.

“Spence! You’d look great in this,” Y/N suggests, holding up a gray sports coat, “I think it will match your eyes perfectly,”

“If you think so, Y/N,” Spencer says, nodding his head in agreement. She continues eyeing him as if she’s imagining what he’d look like in the jacket. He has to admit, it’s a very nice jacket.

“Come on, Spence. There’s a mirror over in the corner. Try it on for me,” she requests and not even a second later Spencer finds himself being dragged by the hand to try on the suit jacket.

Y/N holds the jacket open for him as he slips it on through his arms. He’s surprised to realize that it fits perfectly. He looks into the mirror, staring at his face and Y/N, who tugs and smooths the jacket. Spencer can’t look too much longer because if he does the lines between reality and fantasy will be difficult to distinguish. As much as he wants to stare into the mirror all day long, pretending that this is real, he much rather it actually be real. But wishing and dreaming only ends up with battle wounds and broken hearts.

“You look very handsome, Spencer. Very handsome,” Y/N says, staring into the mirror too now. But she’s not looking at the jacket, she’s looking at him. The beat of silence lasts longer than what’s comfortable, “Um, I think, I saw some pants that would look good on you, with this jacket, I mean,” she says, stumbling over her words. She’s not looking in the mirror any more, her gaze is noticeably away from Spencer and the mirror.

“Okay, uh, whatever you think, Y/N,” Spencer says, “I’m not even sure why I agreed to this thing. I don’t dance,” he says, regretting his choice to go to Penelope’s prom, but feeling guilty for maybe disappointing Y/N all in one breath.

“Did you ask her yet?” Y/N asks, holding up a pair of similarly gray colored pants. She must notice his confusion, “You know Austin, the woman you heroically saved. Does any of it ring a bell, Spence?” Y/N teases. Spencer feels his cheeks burn and his heart tighten, that happens a lot around Y/N.

“Oh Austin, uh no. She wasn’t interested in me, after all,” Spencer says, shifting his weight and staring at his converse, “I mean, I should have seen it coming. It’s transference, that’s like Psych 101,” he says, feeling strange. It was odd when Austin broke up with him, even if you can consider it breaking up. He felt a strange sense of relief when it happened, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

Y/N clicks her tongue in annoyance as she walks over to Spencer. Tugging slightly on the sleeves of the jacket she says, “well she’s not as smart as I thought she was. You have to be a complete fool to let someone like you go,” she says quietly. She’s standing too close, looking too beautiful, and seeming too perfect for Spencer to not be completely enamoured.

Then it breaks, like shattered glass. The rosey glasses are lifted, leaving only cheeks that sting with nervousness and hearts the yearn for something a little more tangible.

“Stop staring at me and go try it on,” Y/N says, handing him the pair of pants, “Oh and I’m going to look for a vest and a tie to match. This store is unbelievable,” she tells him, pushing him into the makeshift dressing room.

Spencer puts on the pants, which fit, despite being maybe an inch or two loose in the waist. He looks into the tall mirror, which is noticeably empty without Y/N standing with him. A floating hand, belonging to Y/N appears. She holds a burgundy tie and a dark brown vest, both of which are very Spencer. He smiles slightly, strangely happy that Y/N has picked something out that’s perfect for him.

“Tell me when you’re decent,” she says, her voice muffled by the curtain that separates them. He sticks his head out of the curtain, his eyes immediately finding Y/N’s.

“Ohh, Spence, you look amazing. Very handsome,” she says, her hands clasped around the tie, tugging just like she did with his suit jacket before, “What do you think?” she asks, looking at him curiously.

“It’s nice,” Spencer offers, approaching this like he does everything: cautiously, “I do like the texture,” he says, running his hands up and down the sleeves of the jacket.

“You look more than nice, Spence. I know I’ve said it like 30 times, but you look very handsome,” she says. Spencer hopes that she means it. He needs something to be real. Sometimes besides what he feels, because what he feels is the realest thing in the world.

“It’s nice to hear,” Spencer says, “you know from someone who’s not my mother,” he jokes, shrugging off the jacket and grabbing the hanger from Y/N.

“You deserve to hear it,” Y/N says so softly Spencer wonders if she’s saying it all. That beat of silence, followed by the awkwardness is back.

“So, uh, I saw a dress that I’m going to try on,” Y/N tells him, her gaze shifting everywhere but Spencer’s eyes.

“I’ll go pay for this,” Spencer says, walking back into the dressing room and the mirror that lies to his face.

___

Back in Y/N’s car, Spencer shifts in the passenger seat trying to find a way to sit comfortably while holding his suit jacket, pants and vest. Y/N hangs up her dress, that’s wrapped in a gown bag. She wouldn’t let Spencer see the dress, despite her practically picking out his entire outfit.

“So what’s next,” Spencer asks, as Y/N gets into the car. She smiles over at him sheepishly, leading Spencer to think she’s got another trick up her sleeve.

“I’ve got a confession, Spence. And please don’t hate me for it,” Y/N says, her voice coming out a little nervous as she eyes Spencer.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, even if I tried. And I’m certain I’ll never have to,” he says softly, resting his hand over hers on the console. He rubs the back of her hand gently, thinking about just how easy things are with her. If he could only be a little braver, maybe then the mirror wouldn’t be so empty.

“Okay. I knew that things didn’t work out with you and Austin. I overheard you telling Derek,” Y/N confesses, “And I know that it makes me a horrible friend or whatever, but I’m sorry that I eavesdropped,”

“Oh, uh how much did you hear?” Spencer asks, suddenly quite nervous. He can feel his heart drop, waiting for the moment when Y/N laughs at the thought of her loving him. He knows that it’s not fair to her, but then again all is fair is love and war.

“Enough to know that you’re still hung up or or someone else. I left once my conscience got the better of me. Once a Girl Scout, always a Girl Scout,” she says, making the three finger salute that’s common in scouting, “I just wanted to hear it from you, you know you’re my favorite person and all,” she says, a frown forming.

“I think, uh,” Spencer says, “That I was just a little embarrassed. You know how Derek and Penelope and Emily and JJ can get. It’s basically just you and Hotch who aren’t jumping down my throat about being, you know, alone,” he says, chuckling awkwardly.

“They just want to help you, Spence. In their own ways, but I’m always on Team Spencer. You never got to worry about that,” Y/N offers, squeezing his hand.

He considers what she says, not responding verbally, but nodding his head. He hasn’t ever had someone on his “team”, so it’s strange. But a good kind of strange.

“Spence, you okay? I wanted to give you something. To be truthful, I’ve been thinking about how I was going to do this for awhile,”

“Ask me what?” he questions, wondering what she has in store. He watches as Y/N rummages in his bag, clearly looking for something. He’s thoroughly confused when she pulls out a TI-84.

“What on earth?” Spencer says, as she places the calculator in his hands. Her sly grin, beaming up at him only further proves his point: his heart just beats faster around her.

“Just shut and press the on button. You’d think that a genius would know how to work a calculator,” she comments, rolling her eyes playfully.

“You know, I never used these. I can just do it in my head faster,” Spencer says, winking at Y/N when she pushes him teasingly.

“God, Spencer just turn it on!” she demands, very apparently getting more and more impatient.

He turns the calculator on and is brought to a green screen that has a picture of a graph. Spencer raises his eyebrow, as if to ask Y/N for the next direction.

“Press the graph button,” she says, getting quieter as Spencer looks at her.

He presses the button that she said to, waiting for whatever is supposed to happen. Spencer watches as the screen draws four black lines running parallel to each other. A curved line is drawn on the first two black lines, forming the letters “P” and “R”. The screen continues to draw, making an oval that looks like an “O” and the last two parallel lines are joined together with a “v” shape, forming the letter “M”. He takes a second glance, reading the 4 letter word slowly.

P-R-O-M

“Well?” she asks, waiting for his answer.

He’s speechless. Spencer blinks. It’s like his brain has stopped working. It’s a prom, a stupid prom that’s 10 years too late. But it’s the girl of dreams that’s asking him. And that’s the stuff those rom-coms he couldn’t pay attention to are made of.

“I mean, of course. Of course, Y/N,” Spencer says, dropping the calculator into the cup holder and leaning in to hug Y/N.

His heart stops again. Falling into that tricky habit of either speeding up or stopping when she’s around. He thinks he’s ready to implode when she pecks his cheek. Her lips don’t linger, hardly touching his skin for it to be considered a kiss.

“I don’t think I’d want to go with anyone else,” she says, mumbling into his skin. She seals his fate with her lips against his skin. Never again will Spencer imagine what it’s like to have her lips against his skin. Even though it’s a fraction of the time he’d want, it’s tattooed in his mind.

“I’m not much of a dancer, by the way,” Spencer says, reluctantly letting go and sitting back into the passenger’s seat, “so don’t expect too much,” he jokes.

“Oh you better watch it, Doctor Reid. I’m getting you on the dance floor, even if you hate it,” Y/N says, smiling as she backs out of the parking spot and turns into the street.

Spencer looks out the window, thinking to himself that there’s probably nothing he can hate if he’s doing it with Y/N.

Spencer didn’t go to prom in high school. He didn’t do a lot of the traditional things that most former high schoolers reminisce about at his age. He didn’t go to football games or have a best friend to make lifelong memories with.

He didn’t have any of that, until now.

But it’s prom night, 10 years late. His hands are sweaty and his mouth feels dry. Spencer wasn’t this nervous for even his first day at the BAU all those years ago. He tries to fix the burgundy tie that Y/N picked out at the vintage store. It looks crooked and twisted. Nothing like when Y/N tied perfectly in the store for him. He supposes that he can wait till she comes to pick him up.

The mirror, again, is noticeably empty without Y/N standing beside him. He can get lost in there, thinking about her standing with him. He does, because it feels like seconds later when he hears a rapid knocking on his apartment door.

Standing on the other side of the door is Y/N. She wears a sage green dress that looks like it’s made of softest silk. He smiles at her, not sure if he can trust his words. Spencer doesn’t think he’ll be able to do much thinking when all he can focus on is the tiny straps that rest on her shoulders or how the sage green compliments her skin tone.

“You look, god. You’re beautiful,” Spencer says, partly under his breath partly aloud to Y/N, “so beautiful,” he says again, focusing on her eyes.

“And you’re looking very dashing in that suit, Spence,” she says, pushing her way in, “do you need help with your tie?” she asks, looking at the tie he holds in his hand.

“Yes, please,” he says sheepishly. He holds out the burgundy colored tie, but takes his hand back as an idea crosses his mind, “oh wait here, I’ll be right back,” Spencer says, walking quickly to his bedroom.

“Alright,” Y/N says sceptically, “Don’t ditch me, Reid!” she calls out from the living room.

Spencer returns, hiding the new tie behind his back. He places an olive green tie with dusty blue and pink flowers in her hands. He notices her smile grow, realizing that he’s picking a new tie for a reason.

“I might not know much about prom, but I think that we’re supposed to match. You know, since we’re going together,” he offers, “but I need help putting it on,” he says.

“We’re going to match!” Y/N says excitedly. As she unbuttons the first button on Spencer’s cream colored shirt he holds his breath. He can’t breathe when she’s this close. Her fingers are quick and nimble as they feed the tie around his neck and elegantly create a knot. If Spencer wasn’t already in love, he knows that watching her eyes twinkle and her tongue poke out as she concentrates would make him declare it then and there.

“So handsome,” she says, using that quiet voice that makes it seem like she’s talking to herself rather than him, “I can’t wait to dance with you,” she tells him tugging the tie.

“I’m not going to be good, Y/N. I’m going to be a fool,” Spencer says, lamenting already about what an idiot he’s going to look like in front of Y/N.

“That’s nonsense, Spence,” Y/N says, waving him away with a toss of her hand, “You’re going to be the best dancer there,” she tells him rubbing her hand up and down his arm, like she did at the store.

“Would you believe it, if I told you I never danced with anyone?” Spencer says, being the most honest and true he’s ever been.

“We can change that,” Y/N says, stepping towards Spencer and linking her hand in his. She squeezes, restarting and stopping his heart all in one go, “oh wait we need music,” she says, feeling around for where her phone usually is.

“I got it,” Spencer says, stepping away from Y/N. He walks over to the small record player in the corner of his living room. He doesn’t play it too often, the records he has were once his mother’s and they’re too painful to play most days. But Spencer’s sure that he can make every exception to all his rules for Y/N. Maybe he’ll get some happy memories out of it.

“Going old school I see,” Y/N says, teasingly as Spencer walks over grabbing both his hands in hers, “everything about you is very charming, Doctor Reid,” she says, softly swaying to the jazzy tunes of Sarah Vaughan.

“I’m not too sure about that,” Spencer says, following Y/N’s lead as she floats around his living room, carrying him everywhere she goes. She rests her head against his chest and Spencer swears that she’s going to get a concussion from how hard his heart beats.

They’re alone, no audience to witness the moment that Spencer wonders if he can dare to call intimate. It’s intimate to him because every moment with Y/N is intimate. Maybe if someone had told Spencer that dancing like this could bring pure paradise all the way from your fingertips to your eyelashes, maybe he would have done it sooner.

“You’re quite the romantic, Spencer,” Y/N says as the song comes to a close. The record player stops, but they don’t stop swaying, “And you told me you couldn’t dance,” she scoffs lightly, with her head still resting against his chest.

“Is that okay with you?” He asks, “me being romantic,”

“I don’t think that I’d want it any other way, Spencer,” Y/N says, removing her head from his chest and her hand from his. She cups his face, touching him lightly. Y/N holds him like he aches to be held. It’s gentle and tender, yet leaves him desiring more.

“Honest?” Spencer asks, daring to be brave.

“Truly,” she responds.

Spencer shifted slightly, so he can also hold her face in his hands. Y/N drops her hands though, wrapping them around Spencer’s waist to pull them closer together. Spencer’s phantom fingers are like that dance around that dance around Y/N’s skin.

It’s Y/N that initiates the kiss. She moves in slowly and tenuously, looking just as nervous as Spencer is. He’s shaky slightly, the anticipation getting to his head when all he can see is Y/N’s eyes looking into his and all he can think about is how soft her skin is. It’s all he’s ever wanted to think about. Her lips are soft and pillowy.

But it’s more than that.

Kissing her is everything to Spencer. It’s the breathy sighs she lets out as he moves his hands and rests them securely behind her neck. It’s the peachy scent of her perfume that’s so sweet and strong it should be overwhelming when all it is, is intoxicating. Kissing her is dizzying and terrifying, but wonderful and sweet. He can’t tell where his lips start and where her’s end, but it doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t open his eyes because he knows he’s facing the mirror. But unlike before, he doesn’t need a mirror to know what he’s looking at. He can look into his soul for that.

“Very romantic,” Y/N says, smiling through the quick kisses she plants on his jawline, “I always thought you’d be a romantic,” he tells him.

Spencer brushes his thumb over Y/N’s bottom lip. It’s puffy and bitten from his kisses, but he thinks that it would be a shame to not bite and kiss it some more. He smiles so hard he knows that he’ll wake up in the morning and his mouth will hurt. But that’s the least of his worries if Y/N’s there to kiss it better.

“Honest?” Spencer says, calling back to the song, that’s now their song.

“Truly,”

---

TAGLIST (ADD YOURSELF HERE)

@shemarmooresfedora @willowrose99 @calm-and-doctor @spideygenius @measure-in-pain @nomajdetective @spencerreid9 @saspencereid @laurakirsten0502 @winifrede @muffin-cup @idonotexiste @pastelbabygirl19 @strawberryspence @g0lden-cth @spookydrreid

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader happy ending #spencer reid x reader one shot #spencer reid deserved a happy ending #criminal minds fanfiction

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emerald-chaos · 3 years

Text

Already Gone

**gif not mine, credit to the owner below!!**

Oh hohohohoho besties. You are in for it on this one. The other night I had an idea that popped into my head and to say I got carried away with it would be a gross understatement. This is the first time I've written smut in forever so bear with me as I get back in to it. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, please feel free to send feedback!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k (oops)

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), language, ANGST (holy shit is there angst), fingering, unprotected sex (please be smarter than these two), infidelity, and I think that's about it? Please let me know if I left something off.

A/N: Thanks to my sweet, sweet friend who read through this for me and helped me fix a few things. Also I take the, MINORS DNI, warning very seriously, so please only interact if you are of age. Please have your age in your bio so I can confirm. By clicking "read more" you agree to this. I really don't want to have to block people.

The cacophonous trill of shattering glass erupted through the space. Raised voices, thick with rage, echoed off the walls. It was difficult to tell which words were coming from which mouth, the both of you overlapping as you spewed out hatred toward one another.

“What in God’s name is going on here?!” Steve shouted as he entered the room, coming back from a late night run at the most inopportune time.

“Stay the fuck out of it!” Your two voices shrilled together as you both pointed toward Steve.

You could feel your chest heaving and it almost felt as though you were foaming at the mouth. Rage was completely consuming every crevice of your body and spilling out into your actions and your words. You turned back to the object of your aggression and watched as he ran a hand through his hair and turned to walk away from you.

“You’re nothing but a coward, James Barnes. A goddamn selfish, son-of-a-bitch, coward!” You screamed with every ounce of energy you had left in your body.

The two of you had some knock-down drag-outs in your past, but it was nothing compared to this. Months of pent up feelings, insecurities, jealousies, and secrets were all coming to a head at this very moment. The last few months the two of you had been incredibly short with one another - a stark contrast from your usual loving tone. Passionate kisses became brief pecks to the cheek, midnight roaming hands became backs set to one another, and ‘i love you’s’ felt more like a habit than a genuine feeling. In your heart you feared it would come to this one day. No matter how hard you tried, how much you wanted to, you were never going to be able to fix what had been done to the man you loved. There was no amount of love in the world that could reverse the tragedy of the Winter Soldier - at least that’s what you were convinced of now.

The man in front of you turned and strode across the room, minimizing the space between the two of you. His metal hand in a fist as he brought it up to jab a finger into the middle of your chest. Pupils were blown wide, what was once a lustful look was now filled with only pure anger. As he opened his mouth to speak, spit flew into your face.

“And you are a self-righteous, ignorant, self-important bitch!”

As your eyes raked over the contorted facial features of the man standing in front of you, you realized you couldn’t recognize them. The man standing in front of you was not Bucky. It was not the man who twirled a strand of your hair when he sat with his arm behind your chair, not the man who pulled over the car to help a turtle cross the road, and definitely not the man who held you in his arms as he cried after a nightmare. The man standing in front of you was a frightening enigma of hatred and rage. This was not your Bucky. In fact, you were almost certain you lost your Bucky months ago.

* * *

You hadn’t noticed the bouncing of your knee until the man who sat beside you gently cupped it with his hand, stilling your nervous movements. It was enough to break you from your thoughts as you turned your head to meet his kind eyes.

“We don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll have them turn the car around and we’ll go back to the airport. We catch the next flight back home.” He whispered in reassurance. Even though your mind was anxiously racing, you couldn’t help but smile at the compassionate gesture.

“Of course we do,” you started, cupping his cheek with your hand as the sunlight glinted off your pristine wedding ring, “Tony was one of the most important people in my life. Plus, I’m pretty sure he would haunt me if I didn’t go to his funeral.”

8 years ago you promised yourself in the taxi ride to the airport that you would never step foot in this place again. That all changed when you got the news of Tony’s death. Your time working with the Avengers was a life-changing experience and it was all thanks to Tony. The memory of him seeking you out to work alongside Dr. Banner in the research lab was one that you could never forget. Tony was an arrogant, pompous asshole but he was undeniably a good man. You would curse yourself for the rest of your days if you let your own baggage get in the way of that.

“Alright,” your husband responded with a sigh as he squeezed your knee, “But please, promise you’ll tell me if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Promise.” An agreement that you sealed with a kiss.

Mike was a good man, he was someone who cared for you deeply and who made you feel safe. After your transfer to the DC Shield Office, you had sworn off any more office romances. Those never ended well. That was until your path crossed with Mike. From the beginning of the relationship, you were upfront about your past issues with relationships and how you weren’t ready to dive into anything and he simply stated that he was okay with that, that he would wait.

The marriage was a happy one, Mike always playing the role of doting, caring husband. No matter how much you pushed back against him, he was always willing to give you space and to let you feel what you were experiencing. Mike was a good man. But he wasn’t him.

Your gaze left his as your eyes returned to the skyline, the familiar pressure clawing its way back to your chest. It’d been 8 years since you saw him. 8 years since you packed your bags and left the only home you’d ever truly known. Sure, you had this new life - a new husband, new friends, new job with similar duties, but there was still a piece of you that was missing. A piece you knew could never possibly be filled again. You had come to terms with that, slowly, but it had happened eventually. Now that you were back, you knew you were going to have to see him again - see all of them again. While a lot of good memories resided within this area, there was a hell of a lot of pain that went along with it. All you could do in that moment was remind yourself that you were here for Tony - to honor his memory and pay your respects. You didn’t owe anything else to anyone else. Something in your chest, however, told you that wouldn’t be the way things played out.

* * *

The service was beautifully executed. It was obvious that Pepper had poured her heart and soul into ensuring that Tony Stark was remembered as he should have been. The walls of your heart tightened as you saw Pepper clutching their young daughter to her side. Although Tony had made a lot of mistakes in his life, he spent his last years making sure to do good and to make things right. While it felt like a hot knife had been stabbed into your chest as you said goodbye to a once dear friend, you took solace in knowing that Tony was so loved by so many. That his legacy would live on in so many different ways. And that Pepper was there to say goodbye.

It had been your plan to attend the service and then leave immediately after it had ended. Of course, life has a funny way of never doing quite what we want it to.

It was Sam who stopped you first, pulling you into a tight hug against his form as your fingers gripped his jacket. Sam, being the angel he was, never once mentioned anything from the past and instead expressed his happiness with seeing you again and learning that you were doing well. The one thing Sam was not good at however, was keeping his mouth shut. Word quickly traveled through the crowd of your attendance and one by one old friends began to find you. Wanda didn’t have much to say but kept you in a grateful embrace while you expressed your condolences for Vision. In a shocking turn of events, It was actually Peter who was the most difficult to see. The once bright, happy-go-lucky, smiling boy was visibly devastated - heavy dark bags lingered under his eyes and his glow had been severely dimmed by the loss of his mentor. You couldn’t help but cry as you held him in your arms, expressing to him how proud of him Tony was and how he’d told you just that on several occasions.

After the hellos, the hugs, and the reminiscing you had told yourself that was it, that you were going to leave. It was then that Pepper stopped you with a soft hand on your shoulder, a kind smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and a warm embrace. After a pause of silence, she pulled away and invited you and Mike to stay for the gathering that had been planned following the service. Your mind screamed at you, begging you to politely decline - tell her you had to get back to DC, that you had a flight already booked that you couldn’t miss, that you had important business to get back to.

“Of course, Pepper. We’d love to.”

* * *

The gathering was exactly what Tony would have wanted. It was family and friends gathered around eating and drinking, but most of all - it was a bunch of people talking about Tony Stark.

You told Mike before the two of you arrived that you would stay for 20 minutes tops. That it simply would be out of respect for Pepper and once you felt your presence had been noted that the two of you would slip out unnoticed in the sea of people.

That was 2 hours ago.

Laughs came easy, tears flowed frequently, and stories were shared amongst friends. Surprising to you, it felt good to be around these people again. A familiar pang of home would hit you every now and again as you reconnected with those who you hadn’t seen in years. You introduced Mike to your old friends, who welcomed him warmly and with open arms. What you had thought would be a stressful, gut-wrenching day had actually turned out to be a joyful celebration of life. The day had been progressing smoothly and you wanted to chastise yourself for being so pessimistic.

That was, until you saw him.

Hands stuffed into the pockets of a black bomber jacket, long chestnut hair falling onto his shoulders, and a familiar collection of facial hair decorating the lower half of his face. He looked as terrible as you felt at the beginning of the day. Dark circles had only grown more prominent beneath his beautiful blue eyes and the corners of his lips were drawn down in a permanent frown. You couldn’t help but notice that he’d lost a considerable amount of weight. The once broad, thick man was now far more lean and toned than you ever remember him being.

A breath caught in your throat as the cerulean eyes met yours. Unable to stop yourself, you shoved your drink into Mike’s chest and hurried off to the nearest bathroom. Barely making it in time, you emptied your day’s stomach contents into the toilet. Breathing heavily, you fought back sobs as they threatened to leave your throat. To anyone else, it may seem you were simply grieving the loss of your friend, perhaps taking it harder than most. Oh how you wish that were the case.

You knew it would be difficult to see him again, but you didn’t expect it to feel as though someone had set your entire body ablaze. The heavy feeling of grief, anxiety, and stress from the beginning of the day was crushing your lungs, your stomach still trying to lurch although it had nothing left to give up, and tears burned the rims of your eyes. As you cleaned yourself up and flushed the toilet, you exited the stall to wash your hands and rinse your mouth. You tried to convince yourself it was the entire day's worth of emotions that had led you to this moment. That man no longer had this kind of hold on you - you had moved on. Or, so you thought.

Slowly, your gaze met your reflection in the mirror. The woman there looked worn and tired, like she had been fighting a raging war that she had been losing miserably. Mascara had begun to run down the apples of her cheeks and lipstick was smeared across her mouth. A heavy sigh left your lips as you did your best to make yourself more presentable. A shaky hand entered your clutch as you retrieved your lipstick and applied another layer. You gave yourself a final once-over and decided that your current appearance was as good as it was going to get. Just as you were going to turn around and return to the party there was movement in the mirror that caught your eye. The door was being pushed open from the outside. You turned to protest, to let the intruder know that the bathroom was occupied.

“Excuse me, sorry, there’s someone--”

It felt as though all the air had been taken from your lungs and your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as you came face to face with the man you had tried so hard, for so long, to forget. It was as though you were frozen in time, as if he were Medusa - turning you instantly to stone. Logically, the thing to do would be to tell him to get out or for you to leave the bathroom so that he could occupy the space alone. However, all you could do was stand and watch as he closed the bathroom door behind him, as his fingers closed around the lock and clicked it into place.

Then it was just the two of you. Bodies unmoving, aside from the rapid rise and fall of your chests in tandem. The air felt 100 degrees warmer than it had when you were alone. The silence, paired with the thump of your heartbeat, was deafening to your ears. You were hyper-aware of his gaze as he studied you the way you had him not minutes before. His eyes finally met yours once more and there was a poignant silence before he finally spoke.

“Can’t believe you still have that dress.”

Your eyes blinked a few times, brain trying to process his words and the situation you had currently found yourself to be in. You looked down to the front of your dress and smoothed your hands down it. How could you have gone the whole day without realizing that the dress you were wearing had been a gift from Bucky on your first anniversary? You were positive you had rid yourself of anything even remotely related to him. In fact, you distinctly recall dumping a box of momentos into a barrel and tossing a lit match inside. You don’t remember making the conscious decision to keep the dress, or why you would have made the decision. Now here you were - mere feet away from the man who had put it on and so delicately took it off of you many times.

“S’perfectly good dress. Shouldn’t go to waste.” Was all you could muster as a response in that moment.

The man before you took a step forward and you took a step back, hips coming into contact with the cold marble counter of the sink.

“Thought I’d never see you again. Y’look...different.” His gaze roaming its way down your body once more.

As his eyes landed on the diamond ring nestled onto the 4th finger of your left hand, you felt a lump begin to form in your throat.

“Congratulations.” His words were cold. Inauthentic. “He’s a lucky guy.”

“What the fuck are you doing in here, James?” The words were supposed to be sharp, but instead came out shaky and insecure.

“Saw you out there, starin’ at me. Guess I just wanted a closer look at you.”

By the end of the sentence he had closed the gap between the two of you even more, chests threatening to bump one another. His metal hand slowly reached forward and brushed a piece of hair off your shoulder. The cool appendage felt like fire against your skin and you know he heard the way you sharply inhaled, but you just couldn’t help it. You swallowed hard, head reeling and knees trying to buckle beneath you when you felt his cool palm cup your fiery cheek. It took everything in your body to avert your eyes from him, especially when you felt him even closer than before - warm breath fanning the expanse of your face. Why was he doing this? What was he going to accomplish? The fight or flight response in your body was screaming at you to push him away and run, but you didn’t.

“I’ve thought about you every day since you left, sweets. There’s not a moment that passes by where you’re not on my mind.”

Your eyes closed tightly, tears now welling up and spilling over.

“Everything you said about me that night was true. I am a coward. A coward who lost the best fuckin’ thing that ever happened to his sorry, broken ass.”

A small sob escaped your chest as your hand flew to your mouth, failing to keep it from tumbling out. Bucky found a loose thread and was slowly unraveling everything you’d worked toward in the last 8 years, every step toward progress and peace that you had worked so hard to find.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, doll” Bucky was now fully cupping your face with his large, calloused hands, “I’m so sorry that you fell in love with someone like me - a broken son of a bitch who never got put back together. I’m sorry that I hurt you so badly. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you the way I promised I would. I’m sorry that -”

In a moment of weakness, before he could finish his sentence, you were crashing your lips to his. There was nothing else that existed in your world - there was only you and there was only Bucky. Seemingly moving on their own accord, your hands found their way into his hair, grasping wildly for something to hold on to. As your fingers tugged on his roots, Bucky let out a deep moan into the kiss, sending a shiver down your spine.

The kiss was sloppy and desperate, all tongue and teeth. It was a balance of dominance between the two of you - although you were the one who initiated the kiss, Bucky was the first one to gain access to the inside of your mouth, and you were the first to tug his lower lip between your teeth. A pathetic mewl left your lips as Bucky’s mouth began trailing wet kisses across your jaw and down the column of your throat. The heartbeat in your ears from earlier was much worse now, making your head throb in pain. Every nerve ending in your body felt as though it was on fire and a small voice in the back of your head kept pleading with you to stop. For a moment you entertained the idea of shoving him off and telling him to fuck off, but that was before he started sucking that spot on your neck that he knew drove you mad. It was your turn to moan this time as you involuntarily arched your back, pressing yourself up against his firm torso.

You knew the way that you were tugging on the strands of his hair had to be incredibly painful but it only seemed to urge Bucky to continue. A soft gasp tumbled past your lips as you felt Bucky’s thigh push against your aching core. The sensation had you digging your fingernails into the back of his jacket as you finally released your grip on his hair. Before you could stop yourself, you could feel your hips grinding yourself down against his clothed thigh. Your dress had been pushed up around your waist, now only a small piece of cloth covering you as you desperately chased a high.

“I shoulda never let you go. Shoulda been at the airport to stop you before you got on that plane.”

His teeth sunk into your pulse point once more, earning himself another moan from your lips. The sting was soon replaced with the cool sensation of his tongue tracing the marks he had left.

“I love you, doll. I haven’t ever stopped lovin’ you.”

“Show me,” you whimpered pathetically against his shoulder, “show me you love me, Bucky. Please.”

An audible breath caught in his throat as he pulled himself back to look at you. Your chest was heaving, make-up smeared once more, and your pupils were blown wide with lust. You obviously weren’t able to see the look you gave him, but judging by the way he looked back at you it was fair to say you looked broken, pathetic, and desperate for him. The eyes looking back at you had the softness to them that you remember, the strokes of his hands against your body contained the passion that you’d so been longing for, and the tone in his voice told you that he was desperate for you too.

Within seconds your feet were lifted from the ground and your ass made contact with the cold, wet countertop. There wasn’t a lot of room, objects were scattered onto the floor and others were left to push into your hips with aggressive force, but you just didn’t care. It was impossible to care when Bucky moved your knees apart and dragged a finger along your clothed pussy. The sensation made your head fall back against the mirror with a hard thud but you couldn’t feel any of the pain from it at all. The only thing you felt was the way electricity rippled through your body when he used his thumb to apply pressure to your aching clit. Bucky groaned and rested his forehead against yours, lips slightly parted as he felt your need for him growing.

“So wet for me, just like I remember. Lemme make you feel good, sweets, hmm?” He had leaned forward to whisper softly in your ear as his teeth grazed your lobe.

It was you who reached down and shoved your panties down your thighs, meeting a surprised look from Bucky as he helped you drag them down to hang around your ankle. Bucky’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he hooked his hands underneath your knees to spread your legs open for him. Another groan came from him, this time more guttural than the last. You felt small underneath his gaze and the cool air in the bathroom brushing across your soaking core made you shiver.

Your hand flew to your mouth to suppress the noises you made as his finger slipped through your folds, running up and down to collect your wetness.

“More. God. Please, Buck. Need more.” You whined, attempting to roll your hips against his hand to find any form of friction that you could.

“Anything for you, baby.” He whispered as he gently inserted a finger inside of you. The two of you moaned in tandem.

There was a brief moment of embarrassment with the way your walls immediately clenched around his finger and the way his finger immediately found that soft spot. It was shortly replaced with a feeling of ecstasy. Bucky captured your lips with his to swallow your moans as he added another finger. The way his fingers were curling and pumping inside of you already had you close to the edge. Bucky pulled back and held your gaze as he added pressure to your clit with his thumb, circling the area as his fingers continued to repeatedly hit that spot inside of you.

“Please, please don’t stop.” You begged as you felt the pressure building within the lower part of your body.

“S’okay. I’m right here.” Bucky’s other hand was cradling the back of your head as he whispered to you. “I know you’re close. Can feel you squeezin’ me. You can let go for me, I got you.”

As your eyes met his, foreheads pressed together, you finally came apart. The white hot sensation tears through you as your legs quake. You squeeze your eyes shut and allow Bucky to help you ride through your orgasm as he peppers light kisses along your neck.

“I almost forgot how pretty you look when you cum.”

You whine at the emptiness and loss of contact when Bucky removes his fingers from your center. As your eyes flutter open you see him push the fingers into his mouth and suck them clean. The look on his face was euphoric.

“God. Almost forgot how fuckin’ sweet you taste too.”

Mustering up all the strength you had, you sat up and pulled him closer by his belt. The two of you worked together to rid him of his pants and boxers. Your hand wrapped around him, thumb swiping the red tip and using the pre-cum to help lubricate as you pumped your hand down his length. Bucky’s jaw clenched as he moaned at the sensation. Just as you were going to leave the counter, you felt his hands grabbing your shoulders and halting your movements.

“Maybe a different time, sweets. But right now I gotta be inside you.”

You caught your bottom lip as you nodded and released your hold on him. Bucky’s hands wrapped around your thighs as he pulled your hips to the edge of the sink. The metal hand left your thigh as he grabbed himself at the base and pushed his length through your folds. The two of you once more shared a moan at the sensation. As he lined himself up with your entrance, your hands wrapped around his neck to pull him in for another kiss. The next thing you felt was the familiar sting of his cock stretching your walls as he slid into you. Your lips left his and your forehead found itself pressed against his once more. Both of you panting heavily as neither of you dared to speak a word.

Following a moment of silence, allowing your body time to stretch to accommodate him, you nodded slowly as to signal to him that it would be okay for him to move. His thrusts were slow and calculated at first, as if he was attempting to regain his memory of your body - one that he once knew so well. You couldn’t help but dig your fingernails into his shoulder as you held on to him for dear life, subconsciously afraid that if you were to let go of him he’d be gone again forever.

“Faster, Bucky. Please.” You whimpered into his ear as you took his earlobe between your teeth and nibbled softly.

A low growl left his chest as he grabbed your hips and lifted you off the counter, moving slightly so that he could cage your body against the wall. You wrapped your legs firmly around his waist, locking them at the ankle. His thrusts became faster, deeper, and it was apparent he had gained his confidence back.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. Just the way I remember.” He grunted as he dug his fingers harder into your hips.

His lips were on yours again, this time tears were starting to decorate the corners of your eyes. The pleasure, the regret, the passion, the guilt - every feeling was building up along with your orgasm. Bucky pulled away from the kiss to tap on your bottom lip with two of his fingers, which you greedily accepted into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his digits until he pulled them out and used them to circle your clit. The added pleasure was almost too much to handle.

“C’mon, baby. Wanna cum with you. Can you do that for me, huh?” Bucky whimpered, his thrusts beginning to falter from the calculated snaps he was giving you before.

All you could do was nod your head quickly as the pressure steadily increased, bringing you to the brink of your second orgasm.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much, oh my god.” Bucky grunted as the two of you reached your peak together.

You leaned forward to bite down on his shoulder and suppress the scream that left your mouth as pleasure erupted through your body. The two of you assisted each other through the high of your release and you felt your ass make contact with the cool countertop once more.

The only noise present in the space was your heavy breathing and a small dripping noise that came from the sink. Bucky’s final words before he came replayed in your head over and over again as you attempted to slow your breathing and bring yourself back down to earth. Your body shuttered slightly as Bucky slipped himself out of you. As you sat up, you noticed he was looking around the bathroom.

“Shit, sweets. I don’t think there’s anything I can use to help clean you up.” He sighed and turned to meet your gaze that was locked upon him.

“It’s fine, Buck. Not a big deal.”

Bucky bent over and helped you pull your panties back on before he redressed himself. Neither of you spoke for what felt like eternity.

“I-...” You muttered finally, “I love you too, Buck. I thought I was over you, I thought I moved on but...I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you no matter how hard I try.”

Bucky reached out to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand as he listened to you lament to him. His eyes were soft and caring and you could almost swear he was looking into the depths of your soul.

“I think —“

Your conversation was cut short by the sound of knocking at the bathroom door.

“Hey, are you okay in there? Do you need anything?” Mike’s voice had your entire body flooded with the shame of your infidelity. In one swift movement, you were on the floor and turning the sink on to make it appear you were just washing your hands.

“Y-yeah I’m fine! Just finishing up! I’ll find you out there in a minute!” You squeaked.

Mike seemed to pause for a moment before you heard his footsteps retreat from the bathroom door. A wave of relief washed over you, but it was only temporary. As soon as you were relaxed the gravity of the situation you were in was clouding you once more.

“I have to go. I can’t give him any reason to think he needs to come in here.” Bucky nodded, eyes not leaving yours as you spoke while collecting yourself, “but we need to..we should..we have to address this. Later.”

“I agree.”

“Our flight leaves tomorrow night. I’ll...see what I can come up with as far as an excuse. Then we can put this to bed for good.”

“Absolutely, sweets.”

The nickname made your knees buckle once more as you sighed.

“Goodbye, James.”

You finally tore your eyes from his as you unlocked the door and slipped out of the bathroom. In reality, however, you knew this really wasn’t goodbye. Not even close.

273 notes · View notes

the-modernmary · 3 years

Text

you’ll always know me || aaron hotchner x reader

Summary: "I would have stayed... If you asked me to.

After your high school graduation, you left without saying goodbye to Aaron Hotchner, your best friend, and nobody had heard from you since. Years later, you're back in DC, and catching up with Aaron brings more than you could have possibly hoped for.

Warnings: mentions of weed

A/N: I really wanted some soft Hotch content in my life after all the angst in my best habit, and this is about as soft as I can get. Inspired by Taylor Swift's "dorothea". Honestly, I was listening to evermore, blacked out for about three hours, and this is what came from that. There is no other explanation for this. It's written differently than my usual style, but I hope y'all like it still!

read on ao3 || masterlist

~~~~~~~

“What’s got you in such a rush?”

Rossi eyes Aaron carefully as the latter circles around his office, double and triple-checking that he didn’t forget anything. The last thing he wants is to have to come back to the office and cut his day short.

Aaron shoves a few case files in his briefcase. “An old friend from high school is in town and I’m meeting up with her.”

Rossi perks up at the word ‘her’ and he leans against the door frame. Aaron notices this, too, because he shakes his head quickly. “It’s not like that. We both got sent to boarding school for being problem children and we became quick friends. I haven’t talked to her since graduation. She just packed up her stuff and left the very next day.”

“You sound bitter,” Rossi points out.

“Not at all,” he lies, trying to forget the hurt of running to your dorm for your weekly breakfast together, only to be met with an empty room and a singular polaroid. “I knew she hated it there and her goal was to travel and see as many places as she could. Honestly, I’m surprised she’s back stateside at all. Last I heard, she was doing some art apprenticeship in Italy, but that was years ago.”

“You sound like you have a long evening ahead of you, so I’ll get out of your hair. And have some fun tonight, Aaron. You deserve it,” Rossi adds on as an afterthought.

The corners of Aaron's mouth lift slightly. “I will. Try not to let the building burn down while I’m gone. Reid is back on his physics magic kick, and I think I heard something about a lighter.”

Rossi gives Aaron a two-finger, half-hearted salute in acknowledgment, which is all it takes for Aaron to shut his office door and head towards the elevator. Knowing that you’re just outside, he has to make a conscious effort to slow his pace from an excited jog to just an anxious speed walk. The elevator ride is slow, seemingly stopping at every single floor on the way down, which gives his mind ample time to wander and think back to graduation day.

“There you are!” Aaron shouts from across the football field as he runs up to you, shoving through bustling groups of families trying to take pictures. He has so many stoles and cords and leis around his neck that you can barely see the suit he’s wearing underneath his gown. It’s a stark contrast to you, with only a singular chord for academic achievement, although a 3.2 wasn’t much of an achievement in the eyes of most people at boarding school.

“Here I am!” you laugh, throwing your arms around him in a hug and breathing in the smell of his cologne.

“Where’re your parents? Didn’t they come?”

“Of course they didn’t. They’re not ones for celebrating something as trivial as high school graduation, not when it’s just expected of me.” You roll your eyes. “What about you? I thought you and Haley were going to do the whole ‘meet the family’ thing today?”

Aaron is oblivious to the bitterness in your voice, although that’s nothing new. “We are, but I just wanted to give these to you.” It’s then that you notice the bouquet of flowers in his hand, although it’s now being pressed into your arms. “As a congrats. And a thank you for being there for me this whole time. You’re my best friend.”

You try to ignore the ache in your chest at his words. “Thank you, Aaron. I… I didn’t get you anything, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he waves it off. “If you want to get me something, breakfast is your treat tomorrow.”

“Okay, deal,” you agree, the smile coming back to your face. Selfishly, you don’t want him to go back to Haley or his family just yet. You want him to stay there with you so you don’t feel so lonely in the crowd of happy graduates. “God, I can’t believe you’re staying in D.C. for college. We always talked about getting out, seeing the world and never coming back.”

Aaron shrugs, and you watch as he brushes away a piece of his hair that falls into his face. “I’m hoping that going to GW for undergrad will make it easier to get into law school there.”

“And Haley Brooks is still here for another year,” you point out, half accusatory.

“Yeah, that, too.” Aaron chuckles uncomfortably before quickly switching the conversation. “What about you? Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“There’s an art school in Glasgow I’m thinking of going to. But, you know… George Washington also has an art program. It’s pretty nice, too. I’m still deciding.” You trail off, looking straight into Aaron’s eyes, giving him every chance in the world to make the decision for you.

Aaron hesitates, fighting an internal battle. “Go to Glasgow!” he says, fake enthusiasm in his voice, but your disappointment blocks out anything but his actual words. “Then I’ll have an excuse to visit Scotland.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was leaning towards, too,” you lie. “Aaron, I—”

You’re cut off by a voice calling his name. You both turn around to see Haley Brooks waving him over, her other hand holding 7-year-old Sean’s hand. She looks like spring personified, her blonde hair in bouncy curls and her pink sundress swishing around her long, slender legs. Her smile is so big that it could have parted storm clouds, and you want nothing more than to hate her with every single fiber of your being.

But then you see Aaron, returning her megawatt smile with his own, one you rarely ever saw, and how can you hate somebody who makes him so happy?

“I have to go, I’m sorry,” he says, although there’s not even a hint of regret in his voice. “But I’ll see you for one last Sunday breakfast tomorrow?”

“I’ll see you then,” you lied.

How Aaron could have missed the signs of your unhappiness, he’ll never know. At that time, all he knew was that you left without ever saying goodbye, leaving behind only a polaroid of the two of you from your weekend trip to Virginia Beach, both of you drunk and laughing with your arms wrapped around each other. He still has it, buried in his nightstand somewhere, but he hasn’t had the courage to look at it for a few years now.

As Aaron steps out of the FBI building, he recognizes you instantly, even though it’s only the back of your head, and it causes his breath to catch in his throat. He calls your name and watches as you turn around, your hair whipping around you, and the fact that you still have that same mischievous glint in your eyes is enough to make him feel like he’s sixteen again and nervously skipping class with you holding his hand and pulling him towards the school gates.

“Aaron!” You jog up to him and throw your arms around him in a hug, which he happily reciprocates. You press a quick kiss to his cheek before pulling away, and Aaron’s entire face burns.

You keep your hands on his biceps, holding him at arm’s length, as you study him. He looks almost exactly the same as he did all those years ago, with soft hair and the slightest bit of stubble, but he looks less carefree. He seems more mature, like life had aged him 100 years. Still, as cute as high school Aaron was, it had nothing on how good he looks now. “Look at you, Mr. FBI, all suit and corporate-looking! I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ve changed quite a bit,” he admits, and the sight of his dimples makes you want to melt right there into the sidewalk. “It’s really good to see you again. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you barely thought about me,” you joke, but hurt flashes through your eyes.

Aaron wants to argue, to tell you that he thinks about you all the time, but decides against it. He doesn’t want to spend the precious few hours he has with you bringing up old issues. “Are you hungry? Because there’s this diner a few blocks down with giant milkshakes.”

“Why are we still standing here, then? All you had to say was milkshakes, they’re my favorite.”

“I know. I remember,” he says, and that all-too-familiar pang in your heart comes back like it had never left. “Come on, we can walk and cut through a park.”

The two of you start your walk in comfortable silence, listening to the bustling city around you. Every once in a while, your hands would bump into his, and you were doing everything you could to ignore it.

“So did you ever go to that art school?” he asks suddenly, looking over at you.

You nod, a soft smile forming on your face. “I did. You were right, I loved Scotland.”

“Where did you go after that? Nobody heard from you.”

Your eyes sparkle as memories of your life the past few years flash through your mind. “Everywhere. Literally. I took a bunch of odd jobs and spent my time traveling,” you admitted. “I taught English in Vietnam for a year, worked on a cruise ship that went around South America, was an au pair for a French ambassador, went on research expeditions… Even dated a pilot for all of six months. Anything I could do that would let me see the world.” You laugh to yourself, shaking your head fondly. “I really put that private boarding school tuition to good use, huh? My parents were pissed.”

“It sounds like you were living the life you dreamed of,” Aaron says softly, looking down at you.

“It was,” you agree, your voice a little sad.

“So then why are you back here in DC?”

You shrug, your hands clasped behind your back, and you step down on a particularly crunchy leaf. “I’m just passing through. I’ve been going around the US and looking for a place to settle down. Finally. Figured I might as well put that art degree to good use. Maybe I’ll open a gallery or something.”

Aaron nods slowly as the chill of autumn runs through his bones. It’s nice, though, in a weird way. He’s always preferred the fall over spring. “Where have you looked so far?”

“Lots of places. San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, Atlanta, San Antonio, Miami… I’m heading up to New York next. Nothing’s felt right so far. But enough about me, how are you? I heard you married Haley Brooks.”

That same bitterness you felt in high school when you talked about Haley comes back with a vengeance. It’s unfair, and you know that. How was Aaron supposed to know that you were practically in love with him in high school if you never told him? Even now, you’re sure that he hasn’t put together the pieces.

You watch as his gaze falls slightly. “I did. She died a few years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and you reach out to give his hand a small squeeze.

“We got divorced a little while before it happened,” he explains, unsure why it’s so important to him that you know that. “I blamed myself for it for a long time. But I’ve, uh… I’ve made peace with it now.”

You give him a comforting smile, fully aware of the fact that you’re still holding his hand. “Aaron Hotchner, making peace with something in his life? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Aaron chuckles and bumps his shoulder to yours. “I’ve been known to do it a few times. But only a few. Haley and I have a son, though. His name is Jack. He’s 8 now.”

You shake your head in disbelief, and your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. “And you’re a father? Wow, you really have changed.”

“Is that a bad thing?” he asks, and you shake your head wordlessly.

“I like every version of Aaron Hotchner,” you promise. “Besides, change is a good thing. Especially since this city hasn’t changed a bit.”

Aaron looks around, eyebrows furrowed, like he’s seeing DC for the very first time. “It’s actually changed quite a bit. But it’s subtle. Only people who have been here as long as I have would even notice it, probably.”

The words cut through you both as a painful reminder of your abrupt departure from DC, and the silence settles over the two of you like a thick fog. This conversation was going to have to happen no matter what, you knew that going into this meeting with Aaron, but you didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

“I would have stayed,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “If you asked me to.”

Aaron shakes his head as his Adam’s apple bobs. “I thought about it. But I couldn’t do that to you. I knew you wanted to see the world, and you said it yourself. This city had nothing left to offer you.”

You pause, rubbing your thumb over your fingertips with your freehand. “It had you,” you reply, and Aaron feels like he was just stabbed in the heart. “That would have been enough.” Seeing Aaron’s dejected face, you quickly keep talking. “But I get it, don’t worry. You were head over heels for Haley Brooks. Everybody knew you two were meant to be together.””

“What does that have to do with you leaving?” he asks, more accusatory than he intended.

“Everything.”

Aaron breathes out your name, unsure of what to say until he settles on: “I’m sorry.”

You wave him off, forcing a laugh. “Don’t be. I was 17 years old with a crush. We do stupid things, like want to stay at home for a boy. I’m glad I left. Besides, Haley Brooks was clearly the love of your life, and far be it from me to try and break up the golden couple.”

The two of you stop in front of the diner and you drop Aaron’s hand, much to his disappointment, although you’re still close enough to him to see your reflection in his brown eyes. “I didn’t know you felt like that about me,” he says.

“Which is surprising, because everybody else definitely knew. But you’ve always been a little clueless when it comes to stuff like that,” you tease, flashing him a toothy smile. “But it’s in the past. So come on, I want to hear about this FBI stuff and drink a milkshake so big it makes my stomach hurt.”

Twenty minutes later, you and Aaron find yourselves smushed together in a corner booth covered in cheap vinyl, splitting a chocolate milkshake and laughing as you stroll down memory lane.

“You know, I ran into Stephen yesterday! A little coffee shop not too far from here,” you tell Aaron.

Aaron almost drops the fry he was about to eat. “Do you mean Stoner Stephen? What is he doing back here?”

You take a sip of the milkshake, and Aaron’s gaze is intense as you wrap your lips around the straw. When you pull back, he’s still staring at the soft pink your lipstick leaves behind. “Apparently, he’s lived here for years. Also, did you know he’s crazy smart? Like… graduated 4th in our class, went to Brown undergrad and Columbia graduate, smart.”

Aaron’s eyes go wide in disbelief. “And this is the same guy who, completely sober, tried putting his mattress in the pool so that he didn’t have to sleep in his own dorm?”

“The very same one. He’s like a lobbyist now or something for some activist group.”

“Wow, I did not expect that. Do you remember when he got so high that he thought his joint was going to catch the dorms on fire?” Aaron asks, the words barely discernible through his laughter. “So he warned campus police that the whole school was going to burn down.”

“Yes!” you giggle, your head thrown back in laughter. “They thought it was an arson threat and they had to evacuate the whole school. I was taking an English final during that.”

Aaron’s shoulder pressing against yours makes a shiver run down your spine. You idly wonder how much closer he can get to you if he really tried.

As if reading your mind, Aaron turns towards you a little more so that your knees are touching and you can feel his breath on the side of your neck. “We went to the beach that weekend,” he says quietly, unwilling to break eye contact with you. “Drank cheap beer. You got stung by a jellyfish. I had to carry you back to the car.”

No, no. You were not about to fall for Aaron Hotchner’s charm again that easily. Not again. It took you too long to get over him the first time. Still, you were leaning closer to Aaron, and Aaron was leaning in towards you, and your noses brushed as you tilt your head to the side ever so slightly and—

And his phone rings. Aaron’s eyes flickered to your lips one last time before pulling away, giving you an apologetic look.

“Hotchner,” he answers, and you pull your coat tighter around yourself as realization sinks into you. You feel like you’re 17 again, desperately waiting for Aaron to ask you to prom, only to hide in your dorm for days on end when he asked Haley Brooks.

When Aaron hangs up, he immediately reaches into his pocket to pull out his wallet, setting enough cash on the table to cover the tab and tip. “That was work. We have to fly out to Arizona. I’m sorry.”

You nod understandingly. “Gotta catch the bad guys. When do you leave?”

It’s silent for a few torturous moments before he finally answers. “An hour, at most. We brief at the office and then get on the plane.”

“Wow,” you breathe. “You weren’t kidding when you said that you live out of your suitcase. Can I walk back with you, at least?”

Aaron smiles, a small smile that makes you wonder how often he actually smiles now. It used to be a lot, but from what he’s told you, it seems like he’s had a rough go of it the last couple of years, and has a lot less to smile about. It makes you sad because when you were traveling the world, his smile was the one thing you missed the most.

“I’d really like that.”

The two of you make small talk on the way back, swapping stories about Jack and your various adventures around the globe. The autumn air is crisp with leaves falling all around you. At one point, there was a big gust of wind, and leaves and pine needles got blown onto the two of you, and you took your sweet time running your fingers through his hair, bushing it all off him.

When you get to the entrance of the FBI building, neither one of you says anything. You just stand there, both unwilling to say goodbye. You turn to face each other, just as close as you were in the diner booth.

“Oh, you have a…” Aaron delicately reaches his hand to your hair. His fingers in your hair make your stomach do flips, and you’re almost positive he can hear your racing heartbeat. His eyes stay trained on yours the entire time, never blinking. “Pine needle,” he whispers, holding the offending object between his fingers.

“Thanks,” you breathe, and you’re not sure if it’s the autumn chill or his hand reaching to cup your cheek that sends goosebumps throughout your body.

As if he were magnetic, you rise onto your toes, bringing yourself closer to him, and you press your lips against his. Aaron deepens the kiss and runs his thumb across your cheekbone. His other hand wraps itself around your waist. The kiss is slow and sensual and better than anything you could have dreamed of — and you dream of Aaron kissing you more often than you’d like to admit.

All too soon, the two of you pull away from each other, both wearing matching smiles.

“I should probably… get in there… before my team sends out a search party,” Aaron says reluctantly, pointing towards the entrance.

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Go save lives. I’ll probably be around for a few more days before heading up to New York. If you’re back by then.”

Aaron purses his lips, deep in thought. “You’re definitely settling down somewhere? Done with seeing the world?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Have you… Do you think…” Aaron takes a grounding breath, trying to gather the words he was too afraid to ask back at graduation. “Have you ever considered settling down here? There’s a pretty big art community here.”

You shrug, ignoring excitement building in your chest. “I think my work is a little too experimental for the people of the capitol.”

“You’d be surprised,” he chuckles.

You bring your lower lip between your teeth, chewing nervously at it. “I don’t know… I left for a reason. I just don’t know what DC has to offer me anymore.”

Aaron spreads his arms out at his side, palms facing you in an uncharacteristic display of vulnerability. “There’s me,” he offers, and, when your eyes go wide, he adds, “And Stoner Stephen, if I’m not enough.”

A laugh bursts out of you uncontrollably, which seems to put both you and Aaron at ease. “That makes it a very tempting offer,” you tease.

“And I have a coworker who flips houses. He’ll be able to tell you where to get the best deal on an apartment,” Aaron presses as if you need any more convincing. As if your mind isn’t already made up.

“First, I need to know that there’s more than one good place to get milkshakes,” you point out, shoving your hands in your coat pockets. “You’ll have to show me around when you get back.”

Aaron’s lips quirk up in a hopeful smile. “It’s a date.”

He makes his way towards the entrance of the Hoover Building, but you call out his name, stopping him once more. “We’ll also need a new Sunday breakfast place. Since our old one is closed down.”

Now, his smile is one of pure joy, and his eyes are sparkling in a way you haven’t seen in years. “I know just the place. As long as you don’t up and leave without telling me again.”

“Never again,” you promise, and for once, the idea of staying doesn’t terrify you.

“Then we’ll get breakfast together as soon as I get back.”

You smile at him, already missing the feeling of his lips on yours. “I’ll see you then.”

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

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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years

Text

A History Lesson

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4741

Warnings: Vulgar language, I think that’s it (it’s mainly fluff like Bucky’s)

Summary: You never were fond of history...but if history gives you a man like that? Maybe you could deal with it.

A/N: Here it is! A little later than I had hoped, but my brother is visiting, it was his birthday this week, work’s been a bit hectic, and I ended up writing a little something for Bucky’s birthday on Wednesday, which I didn’t mean to. I got it done, though! First Date with our dear Cap’n Spangles! I have all the First Date ideas for the other Avengers lined up, but I think I’m gonna put this on hiatus for now. I’m gonna try focusing on my College!AU at the moment. If you guys want, I’ll share my First Date plans, though. If I find time, I’ll write the next one. If you haven’t noticed, I have a fondness for collages, so I might do what I’m doing for my College!AU Project and make collages for the other First Dates before writing them. Anyways, enough with my ramblings. Enjoy the date!

You keep checking the clock, waiting for this lecture to be done. You typically enjoy school, but history isn’t a strong suit for you. You try in history, you really do, but all the information - the dates, people, places - it’s too much. You constantly mix things up, no matter how hard you study. And you don’t really get the hype. Who cares what these dead guys did? It happened, it’s done, and it’s time to move on.

“That’s all for today! Don’t forget your papers are due on Monday! You’re dismissed!”

You let out a groan at the mention of the cursed research paper. You had stayed up for hours the previous nights working on it, but so far you have squat. The essay is on the Second World War (more specifically the differences of life between Americans and Europeans at the time), and you know you should’ve done it when it was given a week ago, but your shitty memory makes it difficult to write a paper without five million textbooks in front of you and you don’t have time to go to the library every night between work, friends, and other projects. So, you haven’t done it yet.

Exhausted, mentally and physically, you collect your things and head out of the lecture hall. You pull out your phone to text your friends, telling them you have to work on a paper tonight and you can’t meet up for dinner like you all usually do on Fridays. Deciding to take a breather before working, you start out to the bench overlooking the Potomac River, which you always sat at to relax and just…be. The scenic walk through DC and the sight of the steady river flowing besides the busy city always calms you.

You sit there for a few moments, letting the slight breeze chill the skin that’s warmed by the sun, listening to it ruffle the trees. The blush pink blossoms that appear when Spring sings her song and chases away Winter flutter to the newly grown, bright green grass below. You enjoy all the seasons, unable to help but love the unique beauty each brings, and Spring is no exception, despite the allergies and tests she brings.

And speaking of tests…

A soft sigh passes your lips as you get out your laptop. You might as well start writing, or at least researching, that paper. You never were good at relaxing when there’s work to be done.

You’re so engrossed in getting the stupid essay done and over with that you don’t notice the jogger who pauses in his run by the very bench you are slaving away on. “Savin’ this seat for anyone?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, no. Go ahead.” You answer distractedly, not even looking up from your screen as the owner of the deep voice sits besides you.

A few more minutes pass in comfortable silence, before you ruin it with a grumble and delete half the paragraph you just wrote. “That doesn’t make sense.” You change tabs to look over the information on the page you have pulled up again, only to furrow your eyebrows. You’re pretty sure the information is wrong. You may have a shitty memory, but you’re sure that the information given on this page is in contrast to the information given in the book you were reading a couple days ago.

“What’re you workin’ so hard on there, honey?”

You let out a huff, throwing your hands up in the air in defeat. “Some dumb research paper for school! It’s on World War Two, and I can’t remember what’s right and what’s wrong and it’s a stupid topic anyways that my stupid teacher assigned! Who fucking cares about a hundred years ago? And how the hell am I supposed to know this? I wasn’t alive! You know what I…”

The words die on your tongue as you finally glance over at the stranger keeping you company.

Blonde hair that seems gold with the way the sun is hitting the strands, which are damp and in slight disarray due to his exercise. Bright blue eyes reflecting the sky above, hidden beneath long lashes that you’re immediately envious of. Pretty pink lips, matching the cherry blossoms on the trees surrounding you, pulling up into an amused sort of smile. The makings of a beard lining his jaw and littering his cheeks.

Steve Rogers. Captain America. You just ranted about how stupid history is to Captain fucking America. You just ranted about how you have to write a dumb essay on World War Two to Captain fucking America.

Ignoring the way your body heats up, starting in your toes and climbing up your legs, chest, and neck to reach the tips of your ears, a nervous little chuckle is all you can give. You clear your throat, trying to think of how to apologize. “I guess you wouldn’t know what I mean, huh?”

What in the ever loving fuck was that? That was not an apology!

You clear your throat and try again. “I-I mean…sorry. It’s not - I didn’t mean-”

“No, no. It’s fine, sweetheart.” The grin he shoots you makes you glad you aren’t standing up, knowing full well your knees would’ve buckled if you were. You open your mouth to apologize again, but he shakes his head before you can speak. “Really. It’s okay. I get it. I used to be a student too. And you’re right; it was a long time ago and there’s a lot of things that happened. Even I have a hard time keeping track of everything that went down.”

You merely blink at him, nodding slowly. Say something. For the love of God, please just say something. Anything! “Yeah. I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning.” Really? You’re sitting besides the one and only Captain America and that’s what you decide to say?

You feel yourself slump your shoulders slightly, trying to shrink down into absolute nothingness. But even that wouldn’t work because he’s got that friend of his that could shrink and he’d find you. It seems that you were destined to be embarrassed in front of one of the most beautiful human beings on the planet. Screw the universe.

Instead of teasing you or embarrassing you further, he chuckles and nods in agreement, his eyes lighting up. “You’re not the only one. My pal Clint has got the absolute worst memory. We tease him all the time for it. How he became an agent with the memory of a goldfish, I’ll never know.” You laugh at that, your muscles relaxing and your anxiety easing up.

“Yeah, well, I’ve gotta get through college before I’m in the clear.”

“Don’t worry about it, honey. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Uh…so, a World War Two paper, huh? Need some help? I’m kind of an expert on the topic.”

Breath hitching as he scoots closer, you swallow thickly and shrug. “I don’t want to bother you. You look like you’re in the middle of a run.” You gesture to the tight ass t-shirt hugging his torso that you’re sure is sizes too small for him and the joggers hanging off his hips.

Following your gesture, he looks down, before shaking his head. “Nah. I’ve already ran a few more miles than I was going to today.”

“Are-are you sure?”

There’s that grin again. You’re not sure you’ll be able to survive him tutoring you if he keeps giving you that adorable toothy smile. “Honest. I’ve got the rest of the day. We can go to the library if you want. Or we can stay here. Whatever works best for you. I don’t mind either way.”

You blink again, like an idiot, as you process his words. Whatever works best for you. What a gentleman. “Uhh…I was about to head to the library anyways, but I really don’t want to bother you-”

“Trust me, honey. It’d be my pleasure.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

You let out a soft laugh and nod at his insistence, starting to pack up your things. “Okay. I’m Y/N, by the way.” You stand up as he does and offer your hand.

“Steve. But I guess you figured that out.” Taking your hand, you expect him to shake it, but he squeezes it softly and brings it to his lips instead.

Clearing your throat, you tease him a bit to hide your bashfulness at his actions. “You’re a real gentleman, aren’t you?”

He shrugs with a slight smirk, gently dropping your hand and letting it go after another squeeze. “My momma raised nothing less.”

“I’m sure she’d be proud.”

His playful eyes go slightly more somber at that, his smirk morphing into a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Giving no reply, you smile softly and nod your head to the path. He nods back before quickly falling into step besides you, asking you more about your paper as you walk to the library.

* * * * * * * *

Giggling behind your hand to stay quiet, or at least attempt to since you both had already been berated by the librarians for being too loud, your attention is once again diverted to Steve and his stories.

It started out fine; he helped you find reliable books and told you which things were true. But not even half an hour passed before Steve told you a story about the Howling Commandos after something in a book reminded him of it. Your concentration since then has been split between your paper and Steve’s retelling of his past.

“Sorry. I keep distracting you. What’s next?”

You snicker again and shake your head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m almost done anyways. I’ve actually written down a few things you said, if you don’t mind me using them. My professor can’t exactly argue with Captain America, now can he?”

His lips pull up and his shoulders shake in silent laughter. “I guess not. Of course I don’t mind. You can quote me anytime. See?” He nudges you with his shoulder playfully. “History isn’t so bad.”

“Not when you’re telling it.” You respond earnestly, grinning up at him.

“Eh, Bucky’s always been a better storyteller than me.” He gives a little shrug and rubs the back of his neck.

You shake your head at his modesty. “Well I think you do just fine. You’re the first person to get me interested in history. Hey, can you read this over for me? I just need to finalize this paragraph and do the conclusion.”

When you receive silence as an answer, you look over at the blonde with an eyebrow raised. The ocean eyes scanning over you make you a bit self conscious, so you shift slightly in your seat, making him come back from whatever thoughts overtook his mind. “Sorry. Of course I can, honey. That’s what I’m here for. Let me see.”

He gives you a few pointers on what to add and what to get rid of, before you finally finish, saving your work and closing your laptop with a huff.

“What a mind workout. I’m sure my brain’s got abs now.”

Heads swivel towards you two as Steve guffaws, a lady a few tables down shushing him. He apologizes, still snickering. “Abs, huh?”

“I mean, not as good as yours but…” You freeze, inwardly facepalming. And you were doing so well.

He gives you a cheeky grin. “I’ve got good abs?”

“Oh don’t give me that!” You hiss out quietly. “You know you have good abs. I’m just stating facts is all.”

Another soft chuckle leaves those pretty lips and he twists in his seat to crack his back before standing to collect the books you both got out. “When’s the paper due again?”

You stand to help him, but you get a case of the butterfingers just as you go to pick the books up, making the pile tumble to the floor. “Ah shit.” Steve smiles gently at you as you huff and give him an exasperated look. “My bad.”

He snickers, bending down to help you despite having his own books to carry, like the gentleman he is. “So? Due date?”

“Monday.” You answer with a sigh, straightening up. You carefully set the books on the table to pile them better. “We should get the grade back by Friday.”

He hums, taking a few more books in those strong arms of his. “Ah, well, you’ll get a good grade. I believe in you.”

You smirk at him as you shift your bag so you could carry books under your arms. “I’m sure I will with your help, Captain.” He scoffs and rolls his eyes at your teasing manner. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Of course. I had a good time.” He sends that stunning smile your way and this time you are standing. Luckily you have a table to lean on casually instead of falling on your face. “Plus, now you’ve got a free weekend.”

“Ugh. I wish.” You shake your head. “This is my final semester before I graduate. There’s loads to do. But this makes it easier.” Heading through the aisles of the library, you catch sight of the time on a clock on the wall and your eyes widen. You’d been there for a little over three hours! “Damn! I’m sorry I took up your Friday, though. I’m sure there’s things you want to do before you have to go back to New York, huh?”

Shrugging his broad shoulders, he runs a hand through his golden locks and drops the books he had in his arms on the desk for returns. “Not really. I’m here for the next couple weeks, actually. Meetings and stuff. Plus, it doesn’t even take me an hour to get here, so I can really come whenever I want.”

“That’s nice.” You follow his lead and set your books down, readjusting your bag on your shoulder. “I wish I could go to New York whenever I want. I’m way too poor for that.”

He chuckles again. You’ll never get tired of the sound of his laughter. “I’m sure you’ll get there one day.”

You shrug half heartedly, not really believing him. You’re barely making it in DC. There’s no way you could make it in the Big Apple. “Sure. Someday. I’m serious, though. I’m sorry you wasted your time with some stressed out college student instead of enjoying time with your friends.”

“I’m serious too, honey. It’s no problem; I enjoyed it. And it’s not a waste of my time. Not as long as you get a good grade.”

You laugh as the two of you head out of the building, stopping on the steps and facing each other. “How will you know if I get a good grade?”

He purses his lips in thought. “Meet me at the bench next Friday.” He finally said, his eyes sparkling. “Then we’ll see. Until then, Y/N.”

You grin, taking the large hand he offers you, firmly shaking it before he can kiss your knuckles, making him snicker. “Until then, Steve.”

* * * * * * * *

Feet pounding against the concrete, you practically jump when you spot the man already sitting at the bench. “Steve!” You shout happily, waving your paper in the air. The blonde shoots up, a brow raised in curiosity. “I got a 97!”

You come to a halt in front of him, but it’s too quick, so your clumsy feet trip over each other. Before you can fall, he catches you with ease, smiling down at you in amusement. Small pants leave your lips as sweat trickles down your spine. Where’s that breeze when you need it?

“Uhm…oops?” What the hell was that?! That was embarrassing, that’s what it was!

He chuckles, straightening you up. “You were saying?”

With pride lifting up the corners of your mouth, you shove the paper at his chest, once again grateful that he ignored your blunderings. “97%!”

“I told you you’d be fine. And I knew it wasn’t a waste of my time.” Steve looks up from the paper to give you a toothy grin.

“Thank you again.” You take the paper he hands back to you and shove it in your bag. “I probably would’ve failed the class without this grade. Is there really nothing I can do to pay you back for your time?”

He taps his chin in faux-thought, before tilting his head innocently. “You can loan me some of your time on Sunday.”

You purse your lips, confusion written over your features. “My time? On Sunday? Oh!” You light up, figuring he just needs help with something. “Yeah, duh. Okay. What do you need help with? I can promise I’ll try my hardest, but I might not-”

“No, no. Honey, that’s not-” he laughs, shaking his head and grabbing your hand to make you stop rambling. “I’m askin’ you out.”

“Out?” You pause, registering what that meant. “Like…on a date?” Is he serious? There’s no way he wants to go on a date with you. You pretty much called his life story boring, to his face, and then made him spend three hours on a Friday evening at the library working on a college paper with you.

He snickers with a nod. “Yes, on a date. So whaddya say, sweetheart?”

“Yes!” You blurt out without thinking, before you shy back, feeling yourself heat up as you tend to do around this God of a man. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’d love to. Sunday. I can do that.”

He beams adorably, like a child being allowed to buy his favorite candy bar. Or a puppy with his favorite toy. Yeah…he reminds you of a puppy. Which only makes him that much cuter.

“Awesome! Meet me here at noon. Does that work?”

You nod vigorously. “That works perfectly.”

“Perfect.” He repeats, before taking your hand and bringing your knuckles to his lips once more.

* * * * * * * *

You’re sitting on the bench, tapping your toes nervously and checking your phone every minute. He said noon and it’s only eleven thirty. It’s a bit inconvenient, to say the least, when the place you go to relax is the place you’re meeting the person making you anxious. You could barely sleep the previous night, too many doubts lingering in your head. You seem to always be making a fool of yourself in front of him, but he was the one who asked you out, so that had to count for something.

You try not to think too hard about it, instead thinking back to last Friday in the library and how his features lifted when he told stories of his childhood and the Howling Commandos and the grin he got when he told you about the things they used to do that would get them in trouble.

“But I’m Captain America, and who’s gonna say no to this face?”

A little giggle leaves your lips as you remember his words, before you’re startled back to reality as a familiar smooth voice sounds besides you.

“Whatcha giggling at, honey?”

You whip over to see Steve grinning in amusement, leaning on the back of the bench. Your eyes drag down his figure. Another too tight t-shirt showing every ridge and curve on his torso, a jacket over his broad shoulders along with a casual pair of jeans. You had seen a meme about Steve having the proportions of a Dorito and, looking at him now, you can see how true it was. It almost makes you laugh again, but you remember what exactly is happening, and you suddenly can’t find anything funny.

“Sweetheart? You alright?”

“Huh? Oh. Yes. Yeah. I’m fine. I was just…thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking and leaning his forearms against the back of the bench next to where you’re sat. “And those adorable little giggles?”

There’s that familiar flush that you’ve learned to ignore, praying to God he didn’t notice your heart skipping a beat. “Uh, I just remembered something. That’s all.”

He gives a little hum, before hopping over the back and landing besides you. “Seems like we both had the same idea. Gettin’ here early.”

“If you must know, I was just…” You shrug. “To be honest, I’m a little anxious.”

“I’m not that scary, am I?” He teases, nudging you gently.

You roll your eyes and give him a look. “I don’t think there’s a bone in your body capable of being scary. I’m just…I’m nervous I’m gonna embarrass myself…again.”

Steve shakes his head, looking at you earnestly. “You’re not gonna embarrass yourself.”

Picking at the hem of your shirt, you scoff, shaking your head. “I already have. The amount of times I’ve tripped or said something stupid or rambled, which I’m doing right now, or-”

“Honey, honey. Slow down.” The blonde chuckles. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I find all of those things endearing. Now, the amount of times I’ve seen my teammates slip and fall on their faces while chasing an enemy? That’s embarrassing. Just the other day, Buck tripped on the roof of a car. Sam has it recorded.”

You let out a laugh at that and nod. “Okay, okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all insecure on you-”

“It’s fine, Y/N.” Steve insists. “Now,” he stands and offers his hand. “Let’s go get some lunch, yeah?”

You look at his hand before looking up at him and taking it without hesitation. “Okay.”

* * * * * * * *

After rounds of questions during lunch, Steve took you around the Smithsonian to all the different museums. Just like history, you had never been overly fond of museums. You typically walked around for a little bit, never really reading the information, only enjoying the pictures.

It’s different with Steve. Just like how it was different writing the research paper with him. He makes everything interesting, telling you his own facts and stories. Especially once you get to his exhibit in the Air and Space Museum.

Once you arrive, he puts on a hat and ducks his head, trying not to bring attention to you both while on a date. You tease him a bit, swinging your linked hands as you walk in with a cheeky grin. He nudges you with his elbow, his own smile painted on his lips.

You can’t help but listen and hold onto his every word, as if you’d die if you forget a single sentence. The light in his eyes as he talks about his past, showing you the pictures and plaques excitedly. Like a child during show and tell, he’s practically skipping from exhibit to exhibit, dragging you along behind him.

Giggling at his elation, you eagerly, and with no resistance, let him take you through his story. “They keep updating it.” He explains as you leave the area with World War Two and the Howling Commandos, entering through a corridor with modern pictures of him and the Avengers. “Every couple years or so they call me and tell me they’re adding another thing.”

“Doesn’t that get annoying?” You wonder, reading a wall about the Battle of Manhattan with interest. “Your whole life being put on display for everyone to see?”

Steve shrugs. “I dunno. I’ve never really minded. They don’t put in personal things, so it’s not too bad. You could learn more from the internet about me.”

You nod, knowing how true that really was. “You’ve got a point. Still. It must be a bit weird being a national icon.”

“I’ll admit, people stopping me on the street is getting a little old. I used to wish to be someone who changed the world. Now I have and sometimes I wish I could be normal. But I wouldn’t change what I’ve done. Who I am. Not if people can learn from it. Not if I can keep people safe.”

Turning away from the wall to glance at Steve, who has his hands in his pockets studying the wall, you smile and tilt your head. “You’re a good man, Steve Rogers.”

He turns to you, his lips pulling up. “That’s all I hope for.” His voice is quiet, earnest, before it becomes lighter as he gestures back to the wall. “You know the first thing we did after winning was go out for shawarma? It was Tony’s idea.”

“No way.” You laugh. “All six of you?”

“Yeah! We go there for every Battle of Manhattan Anniversary, now. I’ll take you some time. It’s a nice place.”

“Is that a promise?”

He smirks at your teasing tone. “Absolutely.”

* * * * * * * *

After your museum hopping, he takes you to Arlington Cemetery to show you a few friends and fellow soldiers he met all those years ago. It’s such a personal intimate thing that he shares, and you think you shouldn’t be there to witness it, but he’s quick to reassure you that’s not the case. That he wouldn’t have anyone else by his side, listening to his stories.

By the time you get back to the city, it’s getting dark, so you two head out for dinner before Steve takes you up the Washington Monument to look at the city lights. He makes sure you have the top all to yourselves; there’s perks of being an Avenger - especially one of the leaders.

“Alright, alright.” Leaning on the rail, you turn to him with a smile. “So maybe history isn’t as bad as I originally thought.”

“Yeah? I convinced you, did I?”

You roll your eyes at his smirk, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Maybe a bit. But only when you’re telling it. You think there’s any way you could come to history with me?” You joke with a laugh, feeling yourself flush at the chuckle and grin he gives you.

“I wish I could, honey.” He spoke softly, running a thumb over your knuckles. “Unfortunately, I’ve got work to do. I’m heading back to New York tomorrow. I’ll be back on Friday, though. If you would want to-”

You beam and nod energetically. “I’d love to go out again, Stevie.”

Giving your hand a squeeze, he beams back. “Fantastic.” He looks back out to the window and gives a little sigh. “It’s gettin’ late and you’ve got class tomorrow.”

“Yeah. I should probably get going. Do you, I mean, would you mind walking me home?” You blink up at him through your lashes hopefully.

“Of course!” His eyes - which you found throughout the day weren’t entirely blue, but had some green hues to them - lit up as you two start towards the elevator. He tucks you under his strong arm, pulling you close. “You wanna get ice cream or something on the way?”

“You read my mind, Captain.”

* * * * * * * *

By the time you reach your door, you’ve both finished your ice cream and he’s telling yet another story while you laugh, once again swinging your linked hands.

When it comes time to say goodbye, you can’t help but wish your hand could stay in his for a while longer. Knowing that you’d be saying farewell, you hold on a bit tighter. “Pick me up on Friday?”

He nods, squeezing your hand before letting it go and brushing his fingertips along your cheek. “I’ll call you later too, alright, sweetheart?”

“Okay.” You agree eagerly. “You gonna kiss me goodnight now, soldier?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles softly, before gently grabbing your chin. Using his other hand, he pulls you closer by the waist, pressing his lips to yours. It’s soft and sweet and perfect, just like him, but it ends too quickly for your liking. He pulls back, nudging his nose against yours, and murmuring against your lips. “Sleep well.”

You smile, leaning your forehead against his. “Good night, Stevie.”

Stepping away, he lifts your knuckles to his lips. “G’night.”

You stop him before he could turn all the way. “Steve?” He pauses to look over his shoulder at you with an eyebrow raised. You have a question, and you can’t help but ask it, it having been on your mind for days. “Why’d you stop your run just to sit by me?”

“And leave a beautiful dame like yourself before I could get your name? I may be a super soldier, honey, but I’m still a man. Abyssinia Friday, Y/N.”

#cjsinkythoughts #cjswriting #marvel #steve rogers #captain america #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #first dates w/ avengers #💛🧭

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waywardimpalawriter · 3 years

Note

“I’m done. I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.”

With Marcus Pike? Maybe BFFs to lovers because I want it to end happy? Thank you 🙏

Love of his life

Pairing: Marcus Pike x best friend!Female Reader

Characters: Marcus Pike,

Setting: five years after the last episode Marcus was in.

Rating: PG:13

Warnings: 2,774

Summary: Conversation overheard leads to feelings of regret at the chance not taken. Will he take that risk and go for who he wants or let it slide away just like the past?

Word count:

Notes: Written for the lovely @hnt-escape asking for the prompt “I’m done. I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction.” Will be in bold in the story. I hope you enjoy sweetie.

Tag List:

Forever tags: @chickensarentcheap @jedi-mando

Pedro Pascal tags: @evyiione

Staring into the caramel colored liquid ceramic mug warming your hands, thoughts clouded by a certain brown eyed man and how to handle the feelings you’ve harbored since grade school.

“Trying to divine this weeks lotta numbers from you coffee sweetie?” Soothing southern accented voice breaks through the fog smile in the sweet lilt.

Head snapping up to look towards the blonde, grin firmly in place over her ruby lips, “I wish, would donate at least half to research the antiquities we have that no one’s cataloged yet.”

“Wow devoted,” chuckling, walking over to the Keurig k-cup spinner to pluck the last Colombian dark roast pod. “What or should I say who’s on that gorgeous your mind that’s got your brow furrowed deeper than the Mariana Trench?”

Not wishing to discuss your thoughts right now, you deflect to ask, “Those things waste so much Donna and bad for the environment. Why don’t you just buy the bulk grounds?”

“Great way to keep from answering the true question,” baby blues lock, sincerity written deep and meaningful. Knowing she’s only trying to help having confided many times your dilemma those feelings you’ve held on to for so long brings about. “I don’t know why you haven’t told him sugar I mean you came to DC…”

“For this job Donna, Marcus turned up later… not much later,” last few words muttered into cooling coffee you try to hide behind while taking a sip. “I didn’t upheave my life for a man,” not sure who you’re trying to convince more yourself or Donna.

Established in your position at the museum a month before Marcus’s transfer and at the time he’s heavily invested with one Teresa Lisbon. Memories flood through like film reel before your eyes. Of that very night he comes to you heartbroken bags in hand with no one beside him and no real place to go. Promising yourself to shove your feelings aside and help him get back on steady legs. Even letting him stay till his place became ready to move in.

Loud snort greets your ears, breaking you from memory lane. “You keep telling yourself that and while you’re at it keeping him friend zoned when your clearly in love with him does neither one of you any good. He ain’t gonna wait around forever sugar trust me on that one,” hurt coloring her tone speaking volumes of her own pain. She looks away to watch the final drops of coffee land in her mug. You know exactly why she’s not looking at your right now, the hurt she tries to hide behind the bubbly personality. Fixing her coffee up just the way she likes to hide her own pain she’s shared a few times.

“How,” licking your lips slowly, mug placed beside you on the counter to clasp your hands in front of you. “I’m not even sure how or where to start Donna. He’s my best friend knows me inside and out I don’t…”

“Do you love him?” Simple question with no easy answer as grey blue eyes land on and pierce you with their intensity.

“I…” wringing those hands her question chases thoughts around your head. Finally giving the heart answer, “I love him, just unsure if he loves me in the same way. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to change the dynamics of our relationship and loose what we have for a what if.”

“Oh sweetheart I know it’s not easy to bank on what if’s but trust me when I say that man loves you in ways I’ve never seen and I’ve seen a lot.” Giving you a teasing wink then sobering, “Why do ya think I haven’t tried to snag him up myself?”

“Cause he’s not your type?” Joke sounding stupid to your own ears, glaze dropping to your shoes. “What if… what if I’m not his type? I mean you’ve seen the women he’s gone out with before. I’m hardly in the same league.”

“No your in a league of your own sugar.” Head nodding in understanding Donna comes over resting a hand on your bicep giving a gentle squeeze. “Compensating maybe even trying to replace the one he truly wants sweetheart. Don’t let a good man slip away especially since you love him.”

“I do, he’s,” head shaking at a loss for words to describe Marcus. “Amazing and sweet, the kind of man that’s so easy to love and care for. I’m lost truly without him.” Happy tears blur your vision for a moment thinking about him. How he’s always at your side just when you need him without notice at times. Sixth sense when you need those late night pancakes from the best diner in town. Watching old movies after a crappy break up, snuggled together with popcorn and beer, snacks of all kinds. Snap shot of his face filters across your vision, “I’m gonna tell him in fact,” glancing down at your watch finding end of day fast approaching. “Would you close down for me Donna I need to tell him now before loosing my nerve.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice sugar go get your man,” nodding towards the doorway you start for, coffee long forgotten in favor of someone more sweeter. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

“There’s things you wouldn’t do?” Cheeky grin highlighting your features, the sound of crinkling plastic reaching your ears so you look down. Frown replacing the smile at finding a small bouquet of blue tipped carnations laying on the ground. Bending to scoop up the beautiful flowers knowing only one man would’ve brought these. “Shit,” curse flying from your mouth while your feet start to eat up the distance towards the back doors bouquet held firmly in your grasp.

Missing Donna yelling about your keys and belongings, to not forget about the storm rumbling in the background. Wide smile forming watching you go hoping you’ll catch Marcus just in time.

While you pray with each step taken you’ll catch him in time to explain. Thoughts running rampant wondering what he heard and didn’t. If the reason for the dropped flowers has to do with the fact he thinks you love someone else. That last thought spurs you on into a run, thankful for the flats you wore today instead of customary heels you normally wear. Eating up the distance you burst through the back doors into a curtain of rain meeting your eyes as more curses fly from your lips. You pause eyes narrowing through the gloom looking for Marcus’s car, his back, hair surely plastered to against his head. Something to point you in the right direction. At the right moment a flash of lighting illuminating the darken skies, makes you jump but press on determined to find him. While stepping out into the pouring rain, clothes soaked through low rumblings of thunder taking your calls out for Marcus away with the howling wind.

Tears form and slide down cool cheeks, still franticly looking around but coming up empty till you catch the flash of grey out of your periphery. Whipping around you head in the direction calling out his name praying there’s a break in the rain so your voice carries to his ears.

And for a moment that one split second he catches a sound other than the storm raging around him. Sweet desperate voice calling out his name, giving him pause in dragging footsteps. Looking around but seeing nothing but the driving rain, drops soaking his suit and blurring his vision. Before turning to resume his path the voice calls out again, nearer and stronger than the last time.

His doubts cloud the mind, accusing him of hearing things the wind brings from other parts of the parking lot. Till a vision dressed in black slacks, creamy silk blouse, hair and clothes plasters to your body appears in front of him. Hand raised in the vain attempt to keep the rain from your face as you search for him.

Eyes lock surprised deep chocolate orbs meet the relief in yours, “You’re gonna get sick sweetheart go back inside.”

“No,” single word yelled out as you near Marcus, gripping his bicep and moving closer to speak into his ear. Warm breath making him shiver despite the cold rain trying to drown the both of you. “Why’d you leave?”

“Saw you busy didn’t want…” shaking your head Marcus swallows catching sight of the flowers in your free hand.

“You dropped these why?” Hurt lacing the tone in your voice as you bring the small plastic wrapped bundle up between you. “Thank you.”

Eyes dart between the flowers and your eyes unsure how to answer your question as so many of his own chase around his mind. Wanting the truth Marcus gather’s his courage to ask, “Do you love him?”

Confusion coats your veins, drawing up your brows with the same emotion till it clicks. “Yes, very much in fact you just doesn’t know it.”

“I’m done,” pain etched into his voice heart aching behind its prison of bone and flesh. Misunderstanding the look in your eyes and the words your spoke. “I’m done trying so hard only for you to never even look in my direction. I just can’t do it anymore it’s so much worse than any of the other.” Taking two steps back from your touch that sears the skin under heavy suit jacket and starch white cotton dress shirt. Gaze dropping to concrete unable to look into your eyes a second longer knowing he’s lost the chance. Internally cursing himself for waiting so long, letting other’s in his heart when the one woman he’s wanted all along stood by him through all life’s ups and downs.

Frowning at the loss of touch, his words sinking in you step forward he matches with one back. “Marcus,” soft achingly tender voice reaches out towards him. Heard now the rain has slowed to light drizzle. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to tell you I love you? Not as a brother or best friend, but in love with you.”

“What?” Single word choked off on a gasp, eyes reaching your smiling orbs trying to find the jest. Only seeing genuine love backed by worry and fear that he doesn’t truly have the same feelings. “You never told me.”

“You didn’t tell me either Pike so we’re kinda in the same boat,” carefully reaching out for his nearest hand tugging him back towards you. “So many times I’d try to tell you, to explain, to see if there’s a chance for us. Every time someone else got my shot. I gave up almost for good this time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Moving closer, warm palm coming up to cup your cheek from apple to jawline. Thump brushing slowly over soft delicate skin drowning in your eyes as you rubbing your cheek into his large palm. “Never would’ve guess you felt the same way.”

Not sure how to answer the first question, so you joke instead. “Not only good at picking out a fake piece of art but putting on a good show.” Trying to infuse a little lightheartedness into the tense moment. “Gonna call Oscar see if they’ll give me one of those little golden guys for my performance. Not Ingrid Bergman worthy but I can hold my own,” nervous little laugh leaving your lips that Marcus brushes his thumb over the bottom lip. Stuck dumb by the action breath shallow before held while trying to depict the emotions running through those sweet brown eyes. “Say some Marcus.”

The tremor in your voice shakes the shocked cobwebs from his mind to focus his thoughts. Picking up that you haven’t answered his first question, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Which time?” Breathy sigh leaving your mouth as you try to gather the right words. “Not to mention your my best friend Marcus I didn’t want to fuck that up especially if you didn’t feel the same way,” taking a breath fresh rain mixes with the warm subtle cologne Marcus wears. “Couldn’t risk loosing you and changing our relationship for a what if.”

“And now?” Cupping the other side of your face, keeping your chin tilted upward, eyes searching the depths of yours. Finding the peace he’s missed out on with everyone who came before. Home written in your embrace, sweet light flora scent wrapping around his senses reminding him of just who he needs.

Swallowing, pink tongue coming out to wet your lips, a path he follows with rapt attention. “I recently became enlightened by a good friend reminding me sometimes you need to take those chances.” Both arms wrap around his neck, flowers still clutched tightly, free hand carding through rain soaked strands at the back of his head. Blunt nails scratching gently over Marcus’s neck receiving a shiver that vibrates through your body and has nothing to do with the cool air or wet clothing.

“And you want to take that leap with me?” Inching closer with barely a millimeter’s breath between your lips. Eyes still wide open assuring each other and finally showing the truth and need.

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful love affair,” cheeky smile splitting your face at the crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes. Knowing full well you’ve gotten the quote wrong on purpose.

“Here’s looking at you kid,” deepened voice sending tingles of excitement racing down your spine. Slightest brush of his chapped lips to yours bringing a sigh and parting your mouth that’s captured and devoured.

Angling your head just right as he licks into your sweet coffee tasting mouth mixing the minty freshness of his. Low groan whispers between your lips, which moves and changes. Nibbling his bottom lip, slipping your tongue over the bruised skin to sooth before sliding back into the warm cavern of his delectable mouth. Dreams having no merit on the real kiss that makes your toes curl a moan of your own existing to join with the groan he’s let loose. Air becoming much needed and you part to rest foreheads together.

“I love you to have for a long time,” admitting his feelings frees a part of him held back for so long. “I’m sorry for all the missed opportunities but if you’ll let me I’ll make them all up to you.”

“Start by taking me home to change then out for pancakes,” bright smile blooming over your lips that press into his. Unable to stop yourself from giving another tender kiss while wrapping your arms around his shoulders tighter. “And kisses lots more kisses,” mumbling the words into his mouth while initiating another kiss for emphasis.

Only breaking when someone clears their throat you both turn to see Donna standing there with your purse in hand. “No making out in the parking lot you two take it home,” grinning extending your purse towards you. “Just remember don’t do anything I would,” before turning to start back towards the museum. “Congratulations by the way took y’all long enough.”

“There’s things you’d do I wouldn’t Donna,” you call after her shaking your head before looking back up at Marcus. Catching the look burning in his eyes, “I’m guessing pancakes won’t happen tonight huh?”

Soft smirk slides over those kiss swollen lips, “Later but right now I have other plans.” Tugging you against his chest for one last deep drugging kiss that leaves you weak kneed and panting.

“Care to share those plans?” Snuggling into his arms as you both head the last short distance to his car.

Opening then crowding you into the corner of the door hands braced on either side to lean in placing a soft chase kiss to your cheek. “Making up for all the missed time and then later,” pausing to brush his lips over your ear. Whispering the last words with gentle puffs of air floating across your skin. “I’ll make you those pancakes and lick the syrup from your lips afterwards and any other place you’ll let me.”

“Only if you’ll let me return the flavor,” mischievous smile stretching across your lips, ducking under his arms to slide into the car. Finding him still standing there, you tug on his jacket gaining his attention.

Darken eyes meet yours, “I’ll even paint you like one of my French girls,” sending you a playful wink while closing the car door and running around to the drivers side. Marcus slides in, key slipping into ignition, simple flick of his wrist the car flares to life and he’s backing out heading for home and a new start filled with promise.

#Request #Marcus Pike x Female Reader #Marcus Pike x FemReader #Marcus Pike x F!Reader #Marcus Pike Fiction #Pedro Pascal Character fanfiction #The Mentalist Fiction

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missjaystone · 4 years

Text

Old Faces

Summary: The love of his life, the one that got away, finally comes back into Sam’s life and he loves the life they build together, but something... is off... Word Count: 2,490 Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader Warnings: Angst, panic attack, anxiety attack, implied smut

(Hate to do this to my man Sam, I love him to death and he deserves the entire universe. Part one of two. (Find Part 2 here))

Sam could never forget the first time he met you; Riley brought him home after their first tour together since Sam didn't have a family to come home to. Not that Riley had one either, he only had one person; his goddaughter, you. Sam had a pretty good idea of who you were since, according to him, Riley never shut up about you. He was so proud of you; you got into Quantico at 21, two years younger than their typical admission age of 23! You picked them up at the airport in late November, almost a week before Thanksgiving and you wore jeans with a dark blue hoodie, the words 'FBI Quantico' written in white on the front. You were vibrant, full of life and excitement. By the time Thanksgiving was over and he was going to his own place, he was head over heels in love with you. The only guilt he had was that you were only 23 at the time, more than 15 years his junior. By the time he'd worked up the nerve to ask Riley for permission, they were already due for their second tour; it'd have to wait until they got back. But, they never came back, Riley never came back. The same Sam Wilson that left was not the man who returned.

Five feet was all that was between him and the love of his life. Five feet between him and the one that got away, the one he never thought he'd see again. You just waltzed right into the VA, out of all the Veterans Affairs offices in the entire city of New York and you just walked right into the one he worked at in his free time, when he wasn't busy being an Avenger. He hadn't seen you in at least five, maybe seven years and he could see how you'd changed just in the way that you moved and conversed with the receptionist. You'd gained some muscle mass, that much was obvious even with your jacket on. You must've injured your left shoulder too, he could tell moving it too much or too quickly was painful, or at the very least uncomfortable. You wore a tired expression on your face, but not tired like you hadn't gotten enough sleep, tired like you'd just gotten out after fighting an unwinnable battle for too long. He knew exactly how that tired felt. Something about the moment seemed not-quite-right, it felt off. He couldn't place it so he ignored it.

So he approached you hesitantly, giving a small wave to get your attention; he'd learned his lesson about startling soldiers when Bucky nearly choked him for entering the living room and sitting on the couch too quietly. He watched you look over him for a brief second before recognition his and you nearly tackled him in a hug. He heard you groan quietly at the sudden movement but just tried to avoid adding pressure to your shoulder when he returned the tight hug "you're a sight for sore eyes, (y/n)." "So are you Sam, is this where you've been hiding?" You asked him with a teasing smile. "Sam Wilson never hides, what about you? Where the hell have you been?" He countered with a wide grin. "All over the place; DC, New Orleans, and now with any luck, New York permanently," you answered him, the two of you walking slowly as you conversed. "What do you do these days? And what brings you here?" He was curious as to where you'd been all these years. He hoped to god you weren't already married.

"Hm, I wonder what could possibly bring me to the Department of Veterans Affairs, I can't quite place my finger on it," you sarcastically thought out loud, making him roll his eyes. He was still smiling "very funny, I meant New York." "Work. I've been going around to different colleges teaching things like military history, strategic intelligence, and general polemology, and I just landed a more permanent position at Columbia," you answered with a casual shrug. He started to ask where you served but Steve calling him stopped that "Sam, we're needed at the tower!" He sighed quietly and sent you an apologetic smile "give me your number and we'll-" He paused, looking at you in shock when he saw his phone in your hand. You gave it back after a couple of seconds and smiled "old habits die hard, we'll get together later." "You need to stop pickpocketing people," he said as he smirked at you before jogging over to his friend.

Sam finally got back to you a week and a half later and you two caught up over coffee. He was repeatedly left awestruck when you told him about what you'd been up to. Gradually, your get-togethers turned from getting coffee two or three times a week to grabbing dinner and just getting together to talk and reconnect. It took a while and a lot of prodding from Bucky and Steve before he finally asked you on a proper date. He actually asked you out on Riley's birthday, you both had a laugh at that. Your dates were frequent, mainly whenever his Avenger schedule allowed it. He couldn't wait to introduce you to everyone, he watched as you easily blended in with and meshed with everyone. It was perfect. You were perfect. Still, something seemed not-quite-right, it felt off. Yet, he still couldn't place it so he ignored it.

A year together flew by before either of you knew it. He'd already been contemplating when the perfect moment would happen but now, watching you look over the entire city from the Empire State Building Observation Deck with the sun setting behind you, he knew there'd never be a better time. He'd commit this moment to his memory for the rest of time. He got down on one knee while you were looking through one of the telescopes and took the little velvet box out of his pocket. He could see a few people stopping to watch out of his peripheral vision. When you finally did let go of the telescope and looked at him, you were visibly shocked "Sam? Are you-" You couldn't even finish the question as your eyes started to water when he nodded. His smiling face looked up at you as he, and all of the onlookers gathered around, desperately waited for a response. He watched as you nodded quickly, letting the happy tears fall "yes, hell yes!" He and the group that congregated around you cheered as he picked you up and spun you happily. He pointed over to where Redwing had been perched on a pole "Steve's been manning him so I could have this on video for us." You just laughed and pulled him into a kiss, feeling like you were both on cloud nine. This would be one of the greatest moments of his life. Still, something still felt off. He continued ignoring it. It must've been a little paranoia, so he brushed it off.

Both the wedding and the reception were small and intimate. Tony offered the compound for the tower for the venue and with much help from Pepper, he turned it into the most beautiful place you'd ever seen. Wanda, Pepper, and Natasha helped you pick out a wedding dress. While the three of them were eager to help you and Sam pick and plan, Steve and Bucky stepped back since they didn't have a clue. They helped Sam get the perfect suit; navy blue suit and jacket, white dress shirt, and a dark maroon tie. Planning started in January, a month after he proposed and you wed in May. He nearly cried when he saw you walking down the aisle, clearly holding himself back. You, however, didn't hold any tears back when you two exchanged vows, having to stop yourself at least eight times when you recited your own. Somehow, Vision got ordained, but nobody asked questions. The kiss you two shared was perfect, this was without a doubt, the absolute greatest moment of his life. Except, it felt off. But Sam was far too happy to pay any mind to the feeling he'd grown so used to ignoring.

Despite you and Sam both insisting a weekend away would be a good honeymoon, everyone wanted to send you off to somewhere nice for a couple of weeks. After collective brainstorming, they decided on and booked you two a 14-day all-inclusive honeymoon in Santorini, Greece. You were both pushed onto the Quinjet before you could object at all. Someone had already packed bags for both of you and loaded them on. The ride wasn't as long as you thought it would be and Clint bid you both goodbye and good luck. The hotel room was opulent; it was decorated beautifully with paintings and native flora and fauna, rose petals on the bed, a chilled bottle of champagne sat on the table; it honestly felt like a dream. "Well, Mrs. Wilson, shall we?" Sam asked but when you tried to step into the room, he picked you up bridal style and carried you inside. He set you down on the bed gently but quickly positioned himself over you, his forearm holding him up with his free hand stroked your cheek, looking into your eyes with such love and adoration it almost made you cry again. "I love you so much, and I always will," he whispered softly as he trailed kisses from your lips down along your jawline and to your neck. "I love you too, Sammy, more than anything," your voice was quiet, your mind too focused on the way he was kissing and paying special attention to that one sweet spot on your neck.

For the first three days, you and Sam spent the entire time in your hotel room, intertwined with each other in an intimate dance. Exploring the island was incredible, Sam loved watching you admire everything and really take in the culture. He never missed an opportunity to take new pictures of you. You were sending plenty of pictures to the team, thanking them a million times over for this gift. Sam particularly enjoyed watching you in the crystal clear turquoise waters. Watching you was like being ensnared by a siren's song, and it was a song he never wanted to end. Reality felt off but he'd long ago accepted it was just his subconscious waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Sam, wake up," your voice said as Sam was lightly shaken. Except, it wasn't exactly your voice, it sounded... off. He turned over and went to toss his arm around your waist and pull you close but was met with nothing. He furrowed his brows and looked around the room for you. Nothing. "(Y/n)?" Sam called as he got out of bed, pulling on whatever was closest to him. No answer. You weren't in the room or the bathroom, you weren't on the patio. He knows you would've left a note if you had gone somewhere. He starts to worry, he grabs his phone and scrolls through his contacts for your number but it's not there, neither are your text messages to each other; your pictures together are gone too. Even as Sam starts to full-on panic, he sees things around him starting to fade away; when he tries to grab something for stability, his hand goes through it. Soon, with everything gone, he's left in a white space with nothing around him. "Sam?" A distorted voice calls out, it's too masculine to be yours.

It sounds familiar, almost like Steve but not quite. "Sam, we need you to wake up right now," another equally distorted voice says and he swears he feels like someone lightly slapped his face. "Somebody go get Bruce!" a third voice calls, more of an order than a request; it was feminine but not yours, it sounded a bit like Natasha but not quite. "His vitals are spiking quite rapidly, he could be in danger very soon if we don't wake him up immediately," a digitalized voice said. Was it Vision, maybe?

Before Sam knew what was happening, he jolted up to a sitting position, gasping for breath. He was in his room at the Tower, everyone around him. He was soaking wet now and Bucky was holding an empty bucket behind his back. His eyes darted around the room anxiously as he questioned rapidly "where is she? What happened? How'd I just get here?" "Whoa, whoa, Sam, where's who?" Steve asked calmly as he gave his friend a towel. "What do you mean 'who'? My wife! My soulmate! Where's (y/n)?" He questioned, his anxious state making it come out harsher than he intended. Everyone still in the room shared a curious look before Steve cleared his throat "you aren't married Sam. You said you weren't feeling well last night so you went to bed early; you've been asleep for almost a whole 24 hours. We all rushed in when we started hearing things, then we heard screaming." Steve explained with a small frown. "We've been trying to wake you up for half an hour, whatever you were dreaming about must've been nuts," Bucky said, earning a look from Steve.

"His vitals are returning to normal, FRIDAY will keep a close eye though," Vision stated. Sam now sat in his bed in deep contemplative silence. "Do you need anything?" Steve asked, setting a hand on his friend's shoulder comfortingly. Sam shook his head after a long minute "no, I think I just need to be alone for a bit to process." Steve nodded and headed for the door, Bucky following with Wanda and Clint in tow. Natasha sent him a small smile and stopped on her way out "call any one of us if you need something, anything at all." He nodded, watching her close the door behind her. He felt a lump in his throat; the best year of his life was a dream. The love of his life, his soulmate, coming back into his life was a dream. He wanted to yell, punch something, cry, rip his hair out, do something/anything to get rid of the pit he felt in his heart now. He wasn't going on without you anymore, he'd done his best to forget and suppress so you could find someone who didn't have nearly two decades on you but he couldn't anymore. He knew you were his soulmate when he first met you but he suppressed it, assuming it was misplaced affection. He knew when he and Riley shipped out for the second time that you were his soulmate because now, he wasn't fighting for the country out of respect or loyalty, he was fighting so you specifically could have a good be safe in this country. Now, he absolutely knew you and him were meant to be together, and he was going to find you. He couldn't bear the pain of knowing who his soulmate was and not having you.

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ravenadottir · 3 years

Note

Yo! I had so many questions I wanted to ask you while you were gone but I of course wasn’t gonna send in asks while you were on hiatus! I wanted you to have peace. But I should have written them down!! 😭

Now I only have this one question. I saw your ask to Mango about Chelsea’s super power and now I want your take on this. Not on Chelsea but an islander or islanders of your choice. What super powers would you give your favorite islanders? They can have more than one power like super heroes do if you feel like it fits.

hi! i missed you!

oh oh oh oh!! anything you remember, send it my way! i need something to help me wake up from this brain coma i've been in. i blame cmm for that...

ok, so i love this question, thank you for sending it to me! i'll definitely focus on a lot of them because well, i love the genre, and i love talking about them 🥺

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lucas

fire. he's able to start it, besides dominating and bending it over to his own will. sometimes uses it for (partial) evil and more. being the anti hero i think he is, i would LOVE to see lucas playing with fire while delivering a speech that instigates the good guy in front of him. in a cool, well cut, all black suit with just one (1) red scarf on the lapel, or his neck, he would look amazing sending blazes everywhere! i even have a song for him: play with fire. aaaah the idea of lucas and fire sends me to heaven, hell, purgatory and back! he can be like tuxedo mask, regarding how he annoys everyone with his smugness.

gary

colossus. strength and possibility of turning into a dense metal at will? gary is perfect for it! he has the body shape and weight, and the skills for the maintenance. picture this: you walk down the hallway to go to the bathroom, only to hear him moaning in there. you're uncomfortable, thinking the worst, only to open the door and see him oiling his joints and almost falling on the floor. "a little help? i can't reach some places..." please, give me metal body gary, it would clear all my trauma! plus, as he is in the villa, he would exercise his comic relief role.

carl

brainiac with technology/time bending. (@lasswithumor's idea for 'time' makes me smile! thank you for the inspo!) not actual brainiac from dc though, let me explain. i always get the sense carl could be tony stark or bruce wayne, minus the assholery. he's much humbler and quiet, but still very capable. as for time bending being his power, it could make him overcome this sense of running out of time he always seems to have. he might have a hardship about it because he never seems to find a balance, so this skill is probably the only thing he could actually be good at, and benefit from.

noah

talking to the dead, like klaus hargreeves. something i would love to see is how tormented he would be while it happens. distressed noah is a beautiful concept, and part of the reason why he would be such a troubled character. picture this: he uses those people to fight in exchange of favors, like finding out who killed them, or to tell their families how peaceful they are now, among other things. noah and ghosts ring different to me, and the thought of him being troubled? even more! not like klaus, but definitely close to that. i love that "short temper" side of him, and in this context, it would be perfect. plus, his looks being similar to something from the 1920's, without the hat. so white shirt, suspenders, dark brown pants. ugh, he would look so good in it!

henrik

vines and plant banding, like layla williams in sky high. there's no other answer for him. i thought about making him avalanche, from x men, but i see him more connected to plants than any other element of nature. the way he would smirk and grow a small vine around his pinky while talking about a brilliant idea he just had? PLEASE. GIVE - IT - TO - ME, I LIVE FOR SMUG HENRIK! and you can be damn sure his looks would include this ponytail, by @juggalohenrik.

kassam

at first i thought invisibility, because of his personality and how he behaves in groups, but then it hit me, supersonic scream. he can take his frustrations out on a single booming scream and be done with it. i would love to see kassam being teased and beat up, only to get up from the ground, scrapes all over, bloody nose, only to position himself and close his fists to focus, before delivering a resounding scream to round it up real nicely. that's definitely a power he would find useful and excels in. the visuals definitely don't hurt either!

bobby

he's a very peculiar boy, and so his powers would have to be too. it might sound crazy, but hear me out! laughter inducement. the power itself can cause the person to laugh so hard, eventually the air is expelled from their lungs and they have quite the death! it's gruesome and i love it, it's the perfect juxtaposition between it and bobby's personality that is so bubbly. picture this: battlefield, gary smugly says "i guess that's the only way you could make someone laugh." to which bobby replies with a laugh "including you, tin can" while making colossus!gary laugh and fall on the floor because of it. it might require lots of energy, so bobby can't always cause mass laughter, just like in the villa... jk jk jk! i just know his uniform would be clown like, before priya adjusted to a beautiful dark teal piece. before that? goofy pink mask and cape with sprinkles, and tights everywhere else. he would also be the type of hero that is a comic relief. ironically, in this case.

lottie

rogue. the power and the visuals fit in so well! sucking up someone's power and/or energy SCREAMS lottie's personality all over! if i could adjust it so the girl doesn't manifest it unless she wants to, that's even better. lottie with dark hair and a streak of platinum, or the opposite, would look another level and i'm here for it! plus, the gloves... AAAAH THE GLOVES. she would smirk before taking them off and turning that grin into a determined smug expression before touching her enemy. PLEASE!

priya

TURNING - PEOPLE - INTO - GOLD. i said what i said. similar to medusa's power of turning people into stone. flowy dresses for the goddess looks, a smirk on her lips while she does it, and golden shiny eyes that glow bright when she throws her gold curse upon her enemy! she's goofy, so you know she has a cheesy catchphrase, but i can't think of anything right now. it's there, i just need to find it.

hope

mind control. CAN I JUST SAY? she practically has that power already. being persuasive and having the power of negotiation the way she already does would fit in perfectly. and if i may add, storm looks like the uniform and the "bright white eyes" while it happens???also! hope as the person who plans the attacks and defense.

marisol

persuasion. similar to allison hargreeves. one word and they will do it. at first i considered super strength, for being so unexpected to someone that petit, but if you account for her personality, persuasion as a super power is so much cooler! plus, she doesn't have to try hard, the seed of argumentation is already there. in her origin story you could have marisol having a moral grey area where she debates whether or not using those powers in court. i would love to see this dilemma and her going through it, since there's a clear distinction in what she considers right and wrong, and the ethically correct options to choose. as looks go, all she needs is a suit, similar to the prom one, and definitely a ponytail and gloves.

ibrahim.

flying and speed. something about rahim screams traditional super hero persona and i can't help but stir into it. he's perfect for the superman alter ego, the one that talks about justice and fights the big guy for the little ones. rahim has a way of going around and making people's lives better, at least that's how i see him. i asked for @itsrealityboo 's approval about this, because you know, she's the authority on golf boy, and she added something really cool that i hadn't thought about: "I will say that I could definitely see Rahim as a part of a team tho, like the fantastic four! I think because of his insecurities, he’s need some type of support system or even older mentor. He’d definitely go through that awkward phase of learning how to manage his powers if he wasn’t born with them lol"

i definitely agree after reading it, it makes so much sense! i don't know if that need comes from being the younger brother, or having those expectations at home (about being suave and all) but that would for sure be a part of his origin story as a superhero.

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

in case you missed the asks i sent about superpowers, here is chelsea, by mango, and elisa, by kc

#litg lucas #litg gary #litg noah #litg henrik #litg kassam #litg bobby #litg lottie #litg hope #litg priya #litg marisol #litg elisa #litg chelsea #litg ibrahim #litg #litg season 2 #love island the game #love island the game season 2 #queue

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laurensprentiss · 4 years

Text

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 5:

Warnings: Mentions of guns, lil’ bitta tension, lotta angst. Mentions of Haley.

Word Count: 2,262

------

“I don’t know what’s worse: to not know what you are and be happy, or to become what you’ve always wanted to be, and feel alone.” - Daniel Keyes

------

“Aaron would you just listen to me?!” The frustration seeps out of her pores, her hands running through her blonde hair.

They’ve been going around in circles for months now, ever since he took on your case, the irregular hours and time away taking its toll. It seems like a never ending cycle, she argues, he goes to work anyway, brings her back some flowers or gifts, they make up. Rinse and repeat. And she’s at the end of her tether.

He holds his hands up in defeat, setting his phone against the kitchen counter. “Haley! What would you have me do? I have a job, this is my career.” He says, almost condescendingly.

She slams the cupboard as her voice goes up a few octaves. “What is that supposed to mean? Don’t do that. Don’t you dare try to make me out to be the bad guy! Don’t you dare, Aaron.” Her eyes narrow and she’s seething, her face red and tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “You asked me to move in with you because you wanted to be with me. You wanted a future with me.”

“-I do.”

“Don’t interrupt me.” She hisses. “We moved from Seattle to DC so you could chase your dreams. I left my parents, my family, my friends to be with you. Because I believed you when you said you wanted a future with me.” Her tears spill over as she wipes at them frantically.

“Haley.”

“No. Aaron. I can’t. I understand you want to follow your dreams, I know this is your job, that this is who you are. But you need to seriously reconsider what’s important to you, because I can’t keep doing this.” Her voice cracks.

The sentence hits him like a freight train as he swallows the lump in his throat. “Keep doing what?” He asks hesitantly. He’s not sure if he even wants to know the answer. She’s all he knows.

“Going to bed alone.” She whispers. “I can’t keep living like this, I can’t keep being the only person all in for this relationship.”

His heart sinks. He crosses the small kitchen to hold her hands in his, a split second taking him back to when he held yours in the car that day. He shakes the thought from his head and seeks out her eyes. He doesn’t really know what to say, can’t quite find the words.

“I’m sorry.” He says defeatedly. He cups his hand around her cheeks and wipes the tears from her eyes as she leans into his touch, bringing her forehead to his.

It hurts him to know that she feels like this, but it devastates him even more to know that he can’t promise her he’ll do better. He wants to. More than almost anything, to give her what she wants, but his commitment to his job is almost hardwired into him, his need to uphold his oath. And the strange pull he feels towards you makes him feel like there’s too many parts of him being pulled this way and that, being spread too thin.

He feels torn.

She leans into his touch, both of them sharing a quiet moment after their blow up, their eyes closed, a glimmer of hope emerging in her chest.

But then his phone rings. He can almost see the disappointment rise in Haley’s shoulders as his eyes tear open at the sound, but Haley squeezes her eyes shut even more, knowing the answer. She already knows the outcome.

She knows who wins in this situation.

“Just go.” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

Panic rises in Hotch’s chest, the magnetic pull of his phone and his job tearing him away from his childhood sweetheart.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. Can we talk tonight?” He pleads.

She doesn’t respond, just keeps her eyes shut as he places a chaste kiss against her lips.

“I’m sorry.” And with that he leaves.

———-

“Oh, so big bad Hotch’s gonna teach me how to shoot, huh?” You huff out a laugh as you hand him your bag to load into the trunk.

“Yep.”

You squint at him, puzzled by his sudden change in demeanour, a knot forming in your stomach. You step into the SUV, securing your seatbelt, your anxiety taking over, suddenly.

You’ve noticed he’s been tense the past couple of days, but today especially. His eyebrows are pulled into a frown, he seems distant and unfocused and his jaw is set into a hard line, which ordinarily would get you into trouble with yourself, but today, it’s a sign for concern.

He checks his phone for the fifth time in almost as many minutes, rubbing a hand over his beard, inhaling sharply. His jaw ticks as he rolls open the window before putting the car into drive.

The car ride is literally and figuratively chilly, the spring air permeating the awkward atmosphere. Hotch doesn’t attempt to make any conversation with you, doesn’t even look at you, his nostrils flared and his mind elsewhere.

You feel awkward, uncomfortable and there’s a creeping sensation up your neck, a sharp contrast to a couple days ago when he had held your hand in his, reassured you that he’d do whatever he could to catch this guy. Now, the butterflies are an unwelcome sensation.

You continue on your wordless journey, pulling up to the shooting range. You take a beat and wait for Hotch as he unbuckles his belt and steps out of the car without even so much as acknowledging you. You swallow thickly, feeling an almost misplaced guilt towards his actions.

Was it you? Did you do something wrong?

———

“Okay, you’re gonna start with this one here.” Hotch explains, holding the Glock 42 flat in his palm, weighing it in his hands. “You’re gonna start with the smallest, get used to the trigger and the weight before we can move up.” His voice is monotone, unwavering. No hint of levity. You move up to the shelf, taking the gun from his hands.

Damn. What is with this guy today?

You clear your head.

Okay. Check the magazine, load, safety.

Done.

Stance, aim, push, pull and squeeze.

The smoke from the round wafts into your nose as you open your eyes to check the paper target in front of you, completely untouched.

Shit.

Hotch pinches his nose, the vein in his temple throbbing. “No, c’mon! How many times-“

He winces and stops abruptly. Stops before he says something he doesn’t mean, before he does something he knows he’ll regret. This isn’t him. And it isn’t your fault. He knows this, but he can’t help but feel that the misplaced frustration he has towards you is because of his guilty conscience, it’s compensation for the way he feels so torn. Still he pushes it down further.

He clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I-. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

You just follow his movements, watch him collect himself. He takes a breath and huffs out a dry laugh. “Alright. C’mere.”

You shoot him a puzzled look, the swift change in his mood taking you aback. Part of you wants to rip him a new one for treating you like this, but it wouldn’t do any good. Strange attraction aside, he was fast becoming your friend, one of the only people you could rely on, and knowing he wasn’t in the right headspace but not having the answer for him was frustrating.

He chuckles. “Come on. Come here.” He beckons you toward him. You plant yourself in front of him, as he moves in close, his body solid behind you. He grips your wrists from behind as your hands wrap around the glock, taking stance, his breath on your neck.

His voice is low in your ear. “Remember to follow through, okay?” You don't dare turn your head, he’s so close. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye to find him watching you, his eyes flirting to your lips for a brief second and you feel that familiar heat creep up your neck.

He moves back only slightly, giving him enough room to grip your hips, positioning your right foot back, angling your body at a slight diagonal. His hands are solid on your body, moving you with ease. You try your best to concentrate on the target in front of you and to hold the glock level, but Hotch’s presence so close is less than ideal when you need to focus.

He positions your arms once again, touch feather light this time, brushing your shoulders as he does. He nods for you to try again.

You keep your eyes on the target this time, trained on the marker body in front of you after you shoot and you can’t quite believe you hit it. You squeal with excitement and turn to face Hotch who looks proud but drops down quickly, seeing the Glock still in your hands.

“Yeah, lesson number 2. Never-“ He nods at you to punctuate his point, taking the gun from you. “-Never. Point a gun at someone without aiming.”

———

It’s dark when Hotch pulls up outside your building, the mood decidedly lighter than before but the unspoken heaviness still lingers in the air, carries all the way up to your apartment. You key the door open, switching on a lamp on your way in, Hotch making quick work of a window sweep.

“Two MPD officers are posted right outside, and there are two unmarked cars outside, too. Just in case.”

You nod as you walk into your kitchen, a sudden surge of bravery taking over. “Hey, Hotch?”

He doesn’t look up from his phone when he answers. “Yeah?”

“Hotch.”

He looks up this time, sheepish expression on his face when he realises you’re staring at his phone, too, cursing himself for not minding his manners.

“Sorry. What is it?”

“Are you okay?” You ask, earnestly.

He pretends to be oblivious, as you walk out of your kitchen and plant yourself on your couch, water in hand. He sits on the ottoman you use as a footrest opposite your couch, but says nothing. Just watches you, but you wait for him.

He runs his hands through his hair. It’s endearing, you think.

“That obvious?” He says with a dry chuckle.

You wait for him to go on.

“I know I’ve been ‘off’ the last couple of days. I’m sorry. It’s just- I don’t know. Stuff in my personal life, I guess - I let it affect my job. Won’t happen again.”

“That’s not what I mean. Screw the job. I mean are you actually okay?” You feel a strange pull in your chest, the vulnerability is written on his face. But you don’t want to push him. “Would you like to talk about it?”

“It’s- just this job, y’know. My girlfriend-“

“-Haley.” You’re thinking out loud but he looks surprised as to how you could know her name. “I think I heard you talking to her a couple times.” You shake it off.

“Yeah. Well. She’s struggling to cope with all of this, I guess. The job. It’s not like it’s a regular 9-5, and I don’t suppose it’s much fun going to sleep in an empty house most nights.”

I go to bed alone.

She goes to bed alone.

He curses himself for his lack of tact. “I mean I know where she’s coming from, I wish I could be around more but it’s hard trying to get the right balance y’know? And I don’t know, I have the feeling she might not want to stick around much longer - and I wouldn’t blame her.”

He whispers the last part, like he doesn’t trust his voice to betray him. He’s surprised he’s even opened up to you this much, this quickly and he realises his mouth has already betrayed him before his brain had even had a chance to catch up. He feels lighter though, maybe even optimistic.

But you feel your heart sinking. The naive little girl in you had thought maybe Hotch could have felt attracted to you, maybe even had some feelings for you. The realisation that he has a foundation, a home, a long-term relationship - even if it was on the rocks - makes your chest heavy. Makes it hard to breathe.

You don’t want to give him advice. Don’t even want to really think about him and Haley at all. But the sadness in his eyes and the worry in his voice speaks louder than the little voice in your head.

“You love her?”

He takes a beat, but nods.

“Then you know what you have to do, Hotch. Give her what she wants. Give her what she needs to stay.” You feel a misplaced, profound kind of sadness deep within you, and you can’t tell whether it’s because you feel utterly alone and like nobody would ever want to fight for you - or whether it’s because you know that person wouldn’t be the man sitting in front of you.

Still, you inhale deeply and stand. “Well, listen - I don’t wanna keep you.” You walk him to your door. “I hope it all works out.” You tell him as you watch him leave. And you only half mean it.

———

“Haley?” Hotch shouts through the door. He shrugs off his blazer and loosens his tie as he turns on the lights in their dark home, blinking as his eyes adjust. There’s no answer.

“Haley?”

Nothing.

He searches the kitchen, the living room, the bathroom, a sinking feeling taking over. Still, he calls out her name, to no avail. He turns on the light in their bedroom, the wardrobes open and hangers laying on a neat pile in the corner. He sighs defeatedly.

His eyes fall to a piece of folded yellow paper on the centre of their perfectly made bed. He picks it up and lets his body fall onto the mattress, unfolding the note.

Haley’s elegant, slanted writing reads:

‘I’m sorry too. - HB’

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cherrybracelets · 4 years

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Freefall

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

word count: 15.3k | warnings: smut!!!! alcohol mention, murder mention, rape mention, lots of typical cm violence!

inspired by: its called freefall by rainbow kitten surprise (i highly recommend listening to this song before or during reading!)

Anyway, you say you’re too busy saving everybody else to save yourself / And you don’t want no help, oh well / That’s the story to tell

ok i have put my blood sweat and tears in this lamfkndksjfj this has been my wip for almost 3 weeks this is my entry for @veraiconcos fic challenge!! her prompt fit so perfectly with this fic so i am so excited to share it with you guys. this is by far my most challenging piece and the one i worked the longest on. i really hope you all love it, feedback is much appreciate. i am tagging some moots to signal boost this, i hope u dont mind

Aaron-

This woman killed my dad. They said you’d be able to help. Please find her.

Aaron ran his fingertips over the letter one more time, feeling the depth of the pen, the engravement of each letter into the crisp stationary. He reread the words for a thousandth time, wondering if this time he could discover who actually sent the letter. But unfortunately, just like the past times, there was nothing to indicate who the sender was. The only other thing in the picture was a photograph of a young woman, the person Aaron believed was the murderer. Her face was mostly covered, and he was almost certain the short black bob that sat on her head was a wig. There was nothing about the photo that would help identify her, but on the back of the photo was a date- May 7th 2020, and a city, Sante Fe, NM.

He continued to stare at it, hoping some new information would pop out at him this time. But there was nothing, and he knew if he wanted to find whoever was responsible for this crime, he would need to involve the team. Whoever sent this clearly only wanted Aaron involved, even addressing him personally as Aaron and not Agent Hotchner.. Who could this person be? And who sent him Aaron’s way?

“You’re here early,” JJ hesitated, walking through the doors of the BAU to begin her day.

“Yeah… I’ve got kind of a… thing?” Aaron stammered over his words, trying to decide how he should go about this.

“What’s going on, Hotch?”

“Come take a look at this. It was on my desk yesterday.” Hotch waved JJ over to him, holding the letter tightly in hands. He handed it to her hesitantly, still not feeling comfortable sharing with the rest of the team. It could be a prank, a practical joke, somebody just trying to waste his time. But how did it find it’s way onto his desk? Who would be messing with him like this?

“Was there an envelope?” JJ asked, staring at the words on the paper.

“Yes, addressed to me, but no return address. It seems like it was hand delivered.”

“The handwriting looks like a teenagers, how would he have made it all the way from New Mexico?”

“Maybe somebody else delivered it?”

Aaron and JJ’s attention was quickly taken away when Spencer and Derek walked through the doors, their loud voices cracking through the quiet air of the BAU. They were arguing about something pointless, as they usually did. Aaron felt his head throbbing as the day started to begin, unsure of how much longer he’d be able to make it without some strong coffee.

“JJ, keep this between us for now. I’ll bring it to Garcia, see if she can find anything worth investigating. I don’t want to bring it to the team unless I’m sure we have a case.”

“Understood.” JJ smiled kindly at him, a look he was all too familiar with. Ever since Haley died, it felt like everyone was constantly walking on eggshells around him. Everyone felt bad, and they did whatever he asked without complaint. From a boss standpoint, it was nice, not having to argue your decisions to your team. But, they were more than his team. They were his friends, and he felt he lost them the same day he lost Haley.

Aaron greeted Spencer and Derek quickly, not wanting to get pulled into whatever discussion they were having. He was holding onto the letter tightly, afraid of losing it. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he just had a feeling about it. Like he had stumbled onto something huge, and whatever Garcia could find out would lead them to something unbelievable.

“Hey, Garcia. Any chance I could have you work on something… private, for now?” Aaron stood in the doorway of her office, all of the bright screens making him wince. His headache was only getting worse as the day went on.

“Of course, sir. Is everything okay?” She looked worried, for sure hoping that whatever secret task she was performing for him had nothing to do with Haley. Although he knew she would never say anything, he could tell she was worried about him.

“I need you to check deaths in Santa Fe, NM from May 5th - May 9th. Specifically look for men with teenage sons.”

“Just homicides?”

“No, any deaths. And see if you find anything suspicious.”

“Alright…” Penelope said, furrowing her brows in confusion. “It might take a bit. Santa Fe’s a big city.”

“Just get back to me when you can, Garcia.” Aaron smiled slightly at the technical analyst, before leaving quietly. His head was begging him for caffeine, or Advil, or a drink, even though it was barely 9 in the morning.

He walked quietly back to his office, not talking to any of his team, closing the door behind him as he got inside. There was a sick feeling in his stomach, most likely caused by the cigarette he snuck this morning on an empty stomach. He paced uncomfortably, dry swallowing an Advil he found in the back of his desk drawer. He knew it would take Garcia a while

to get his information, but he was feeling exceptionally frustrated and impatient. He started to walk towards the door, feeling the need to to pester his analyst to work quicker, but as he opened it, JJ stood pleasantly in the door.

“We got a case, boss,” she smiled, waving an envelope in the air.

“Alright, let’s get to the conference room.” Aaron closed the door to office, following his Agent into the annex. He felt sick as he took his seat, not ready for whatever horror was about to be presented. Some days he felt like giving up, like throwing in the towel. He has given this job everything he had, and what did he get in return?

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Aaron and the team left an hour later for their newest destination, solving the case within 3 days. They were headed back to DC on the jet when he got a call from Garcia. It was rare she would call him personally if they were not working a case, so he knew it must’ve been about the letter. He waited a moment before answering, anxious about what her news could be. What if she found nothing, and this was the end of the line?

“Hello, sir. I wanted to call as soon as I could.” She sounded nervous, a tone of confusion in her voice.

“What’s going on, Garcia?”

“Well, it’s about the letter. I found something… interesting.”

“Do you think we could have a case?”

“It’s a high possibility, sir.”

“Alright. Can you patch into the computer and share with the team. I’d like to bring them in on this as well.”

“Sounds good, see you in a moment.”

Aaron hung the phone up, walking back to the main part of the jet and back to the rest of the team. They were spread out, all enjoying the calming feeling of a solved case. Spencer and JJ were sleeping, Emily and Derek both with headphones in and Rossi reading a book. He hated to bother them, hated to disturb their peace they all deserved. But that was the job- there was no peace. They all had to endure constant chaos so that innocent people didn’t have to.

Aaron turned on the lights of the jet, alarming his team and causing several groans of frustration.

“What’s going on, Hotch?” Emily asked in desperation, her eyes squinting as they adjusted to the light.

“I’m sorry to bother everyone, but I think we might have a new case.” Aaron looked around the room, slowly watching the faces of his friends change from their relaxed state to the intensity of a profiler.

“Is this about… the thing from a few days ago?” JJ asked quietly, not wanting to bring it up if it wasn’t the case.

“The letter, yes.”

“Hello, my sleepy friends. I am sorry to bother you, but I have stumbled across something interesting that I believe requires your attention. Uh, Hotch… would you like to…” she trailed off, looking around for her superior to explain how they ended up here.

“I received a letter a few days ago… someone asking us to look into the death of their father. It was anonymous, there was a picture along with it but it still wasn’t enough to do much on my own. So, I handed over what I had to Garcia and…” Aaron trailed off, realizing now he hadn’t even asked Penelope what she got before bringing the rest of the team in.

“I guess that’s where I come in. So, as per our humble leader, I searched for deaths of men on the given dates with teenage sons, and as I expected, that list was quite large.”

“Why teenage sons?” Derek asked, still trying to fill in the gaps of information.

“The letter was clearly written by a young boy, no older than 16 was my guess,” JJ added, explaining her conclusion to the team.

“Garcia, were you able to narrow down the list?” Aaron asked, desperately wanting to know what she found.

“Well, I got rid of anyone whose death was expected. People who were sick or in the hospital, with underlying medical conditions, et cetera et cetera. Once we narrowed it down to deaths that were true accidents, I had a list of three.”

“How do we know this isn’t just a prank?” Rossi asked. It was a fair question, a question he frequently asked himself as well.

“Ah, well, if it was a prank I wouldn’t have found out what I did…”

“That looks like the face of someone who’s about to tell me I’m not going home tonight,” Derek laughed, turning to Emily, who rolled her eyes.

“Unfortunately it does seem like there’s a case here. One of the men that I flagged as ‘Could Be A Murder Victim’ has a… bad past.” One thing that Aaron always admired about Penelope is how she always managed to speak with such lightness, no matter how heavy the content of her words. “42-year old Derek Hood was killed on May 7th, ruled as an accidental drug overdose. There was some chatter that it may have been suicide, but there was no note and the family insisted he wouldn’t have killed himself.”

“So what makes you think it was murder?” Spencer asked.

“Alright, get this. Our man Jason was on trial two years ago for the rape of three different 16 year old girls. It was declared a mistrial, unfortunately, after all three of the girls refused to testify at his trial.”

“Is it possible he threatened them? This could be a revenge killing, if that was the case,” Emily added.

“Ah, I thought that too, my friend. But all three of the girls are now in college and far, far away from Sante Fe. So, that was kind of a dead end.”

“What about the parents?” Aaron questioned.

“We think alike, sir. All three of their families still reside in Santa Fe, and three weeks before Jason’s death, all three couples withdrew $15,000 cash from their banks. One family stated it was for a pool, the other for a car, and the last family stated it was for bathroom renovations.”

“Were any of those projects completed, Garcia?”

“To the best of my knowledge, no.”

“So this is what I think it is, then,” Rossi asked, looking up towards Aaron for confirmation.

“It’s most likely a hitman, yes.” Aaron looked around at his team, a feeling of worry drowning him. Hitmen were exceptionally dangerous, and so were the routes to get to them. It was an extremely well protected underground business, and the chances of catching one successfully, with no one hurt, were very slim.

“Wait, but our unsub is a woman. The photo very clearly showed a female, and even in the letter, the boy addresses her as ‘This woman.’”

“Could we see the picture, Garcia?” Aaron asked, staring at the monitor as he awaited the photo.

“Maybe they’re dressing as a woman to distract any possible witnesses?” Rossi added. The photo then popped up on the monitor, the same hidden person that was ingrained in Aaron’s brain. He couldn’t forget her, her shielded face, cheap wig, perfect body…

“That is definitely a woman, guys. You can’t fake that body…” Derek laughed, causing a wave of eye rolls and a slight shove of disgust from Emily.

“A female hitman… that is exceptionally rare.”

“Maybe she’s killing for justice? I mean, Jason was a piece of shit. And he somehow got away with his crimes, maybe this is punishment,” Derek added, always the first to try to come up with some sort of explanation.

“Why would she charge the parents almost fifty grand, though? That clearly makes it about money,” Emily rebutted.

“Garcia, is there any way we can find out who they gave that money too?” Aaron asked, hoping for a quick and easy answer, but he knew nothing was easy at this job.

“Since they took it out in cash, there’s no way to trace it, sir.”

“We’ll need to talk to the parents.”

“They won’t say anything, you know how that goes,” JJ said.

“We’ll target one of them, whichever is the most unstable. Promise them immunity. That usually works in situations like this.” Aaron looked at the team, noticing how tired they were. He knew how bad they needed to go home, sleep in their own beds, wash their hair with something other than hotel shampoo. But this was big, he could feel it. And they probably did, as well. It was their life, they were all aware of how crazy this career path could be. But, just because he knew that, it didn't make it any easier on Aaron when he had to push them to their limit. “We need to turn the plane around to Santa Fe. If this person is local, it’s best that we’re on the scene.”

“Can we at least stop home so I can get some new clothes?” JJ groaned, looking at the team in desperation for support.

“Fine. Can we be back in the air in two hours?”

“We can make that work,” Spencer agreed.

“Alright. Thanks, guys.”

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Santa Fe was hot. The kind of hot that made it impossible to breathe, and your clothes felt like they had melted into your skin. Aaron could feel his skin on fire, burning hotter and hotter as he stood under the desert sun. Emily stood next to him, glistening in a thin layer of sweat. The two of them stared closely at a house across the street, taking in every detail.

“You ready?” Emily asked, her voice cracking through the quiet air like a whip.

“Uh… yeah,” Aaron stuttered, his brain feeling off. He had a feeling whoever this person was, she wasn’t in Sante Fe. This was a big operation that they had stumbled upon, and he had a bad feeling about the way it would end up.

Aaron followed Emily to the door, feeling exceptionally guilty as they entered the front yard of a family whose lives had been destroyed- and all they were there to do was destroy them further. He knew they only did what they did to avenge their daughter- and he understood. Sometimes he wondered if he should’ve done the same thing with Foyet.

“Are you alright, Hotch? I don’t mean to overstep, but you don’t seem like yourself,” Emily questioned, stopping in her tracks before they made their presence known to the family.

“Just have a bad feeling about this one, I guess,” he responded, rubbing his head with his thumb and forefinger. “Let’s get this over with…”

“Aye aye, sir.”

The two of them walked to the front door of the small house, knocking slightly quietly on the white painted wood of the door. An older man opened the door, immediately tensing up as he saw the two of them. They looked like Agents- or at the very least, local detectives, and the man was pretty quick to understand why they were there.

“Are you Bradley Mathis?” Emily asked, standing a few inches in front of Aaron, clearly trying to take the lead on this. It was probably for the best, since his head was not on right today. In all honesty, his head hadn’t been on right since Foyet.

“Who are you?” Bradley asked defensively, crossing his arms across his chest and backing away from the door.

“Mr. Mathis, I want to assure you that if you cooperate with us, there will be no trouble. We understand you did everything to protect your daughter, and we aren’t looking for trouble. We just want to find the person who did this for you.” As Aaron spoke, he realized how scary this must be for him. His daughter was brutally attacked, they found the man that hurt her, and then he threatened her into silence so he could walk free. If it had happened to Aaron’s kid, he would’ve killed the son of a bitch with his own bare hands.

“You promise me nothing will happen to me?” He asked defensively, his eyes darting nervously across the room.

“I never met her, okay. I swear,” he responded in relief, as if he’d been waiting for the moment he could finally tell somebody. It was exhausting caring around those kinds of secrets. “I got her info from a friend. You go to the website, submit your claim, and she’ll send an assistant out to decide if she’ll take you on as a client. If she decides to help you, you’ll give half the money up front, and half upon proof of… death,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he spoke the words.

“That’s pretty standard practice for what she is…” Emily added.

“How did you find her website?” Aaron asked, wanting to leave this man in peace as quickly as possible.

“There’s some… tricks to finding her. Give me one second,” he said, turning around quickly and darting to another room. Emily reached for her gun defensively, but Aaron put a hand on her shoulder and shook his head.

“He won’t run.”

“How do you know? He has every reason to dart.”

“I just know. He’ll be back. Trust me.” Aaron looked to his Agent, kindly suggesting but also ordering her to relax. She nodded, crossing her arms as the pair waited for Bradley. As Aaron suspected, he came back a few minutes later with a beat up piece of paper.

“Someone I know from the support group gave me this. It’s how to contact her.” He handed them a brochure that was in pretty bad shape, but still legible enough to understand where to go. From the outside, it looked like a brochure for a dental surgery. But there were certain words highlighted, most likely by whoever gave Bradley this in the first place. It mapped out clear instructions on how to contact this mystery vigilante.

“That’s all I know. I swear.”

“I believe you,” Aaron responded, noticining the calmness flooding over Bradley’s face as Aaron spoke. “You can never tell anybody this, do you understand?”

Bradley nodded, his mouth glued shut as the reality of the situation finally weighed on him. He noticed the guns holstered to Emily and Aaron’s hips, and quickly shut the door, no goodbye’s needed.

“If she’s sending people to meet potential clients before she meets them, she isn’t local,” Emily put together, shaking her head in shock as the pair walked back to their car.

“No, she’s not. Which means we need to get back on the plane ASAP. Send this over to Garcia, I’ll call the team and tell them to meet us back at the jet.”

“Sounds good.”

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“Hello, angels. Are you ready for all the answers to your prayers?” Garcia’s voice popped through the stiff air of the jet, breaking through the harsh waters like a ray of sunshine.

“Were you able to find her, Garcia?”

“Of course, sir. Our girl is fancy. You need five grand upfront just to meet with her. Her website looks like it was designed for a five star hotel. She is legit.”

“Can we actually find her, Penelope?” Aaron had raised his voice slightly, frustration starting to set in. He just wanted this to be over, he wanted to bring her in and end this.

“Yes, yes. Sorry. Our girl goes by the name Ananke.”

“That’s not very intimidating,” Derek laughed, shaking his head as he sat back in his chair.

“Well, kind of. Ananke is a greek goddess, specifically known as one of the most powerful deity’s to control fate and circumstance. It’s pretty fitting, giving what she does.”

“The only way to meet her is to submit an appointment request, which is easier said than done. She has a legit system, requires a birth certificate, social security number, and a license or passport.”

“And five G’s,” JJ added.

“Can we create fake documents and submit them? Maybe have someone undercover go meet her.”

“I’ll do it. This has been my case from the beginning, I’d like to end it as well,” Aaron said, assuring his team he would finish this.

“I can get everything made up and submitted before you land.”

“Is there any way to figure out where she’s located?”

“Unfortunately not at the moment. I am still digging though, it’s possible I missed something.”

“Thanks, Garcia. We’ll see you soon.”

The team made some more small talk after that, realizing there wasn’t much they could do unless they had a location. Aaron’s head was beginning to throb again, absolute exhaustion overcoming him as he sat down and let himself relax for the first time in days. He missed Jack, he missed the comfort of his own bed, the smell of his cheap laundry detergent. He realized he was digging his nails into his palms, his flesh barely intact as he released his tension.

The rest of his team had broken up into their own conversations, ignoring the crumbling mess that was Aaron Hotchner. He walked to the bathroom quietly, snooping through the cabinets and finding a small bottle of vodka. He downed it quickly, letting the liquor burn the back of his throat and take his mind off of everything else. Even if it was for a moment, the distraction was welcomed, and almost necessary for him to keep going.

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It was two full days- almost forty eight hours exactly- when they finally heard back from Ananke. She had agreed to meet with ‘Zachary Wilson’ who was looking for revenge against the drunk driver that killed his wife. And to the whole team’s surprise, it appeared that she was located in DC. Ananke herself said she would meet him, stating that she was ‘in the area’.

The address she gave them appeared to be a popular nightclub in college town, one that Aaron had unfortunately been dragged to on multiple occasions. The team agreed that Aaron should meet her alone, the team standing outside to come in if necessary. She wanted to meet him on a Friday night, which meant the place would be flooded with innocent civilians. It was safest if they stayed out of it, at first.

By the time Friday rolled around, Aaron had barely eaten in days. He was staying alive on coffee, tylenol, and mini bottles of vodka he could keep in his pockets. Oh, and the occasional cigarette was a necessity as well. He had waited anxiously for what felt like weeks to meet her. This case had been weighing on him since the moment he received that letter, and he wanted it to be over. He wanted the anxiety and the chaos to be over. But, once they solved this one, there would just be another after, and the cycle of chaos and anxiety begins all over again.

“I hope you know you can't dress like that,” JJ said, teasing Aaron with a light shove as she walked past him.

“Why?”

“It’s… a business suit, Hotch. And you're going to a nightclub. It screams Fed.”

Aaron looked down at himself, realizing JJ was right. His vibes screamed ‘Cop’, and that was exactly what he did not want.

“Don’t worry, sir. I have something you can borrow from my go bag,” Derek suggested.

“Hotch in Derek’s clothes? That’s something I’ll pay good money to see,” Emily laughed, JJ giggling alongside her as Derek rolled his eyes and threw clothes at the two of them.

“You think these will work?” Derek asked the girls, not bothering with Aaron’s opinion.

“Oh, it’s perfect. Hotch will love these,” they laughed, neatly folding the clothes and handing them to Aaron. He walked away in silence, heading towards his office so he could change. The clothes weren’t a perfect fit, but they were better than his suit. The shirt was way too tight, with a v-neck that was way too deep. His arms felt like they would rip right through the cheap cotton, and his ass felt like it was going to bust straight out of the denim.

He began to walk out of the office quietly, hoping that the rest of the team wouldn’t be waiting for his fashion show. But as he figured, they were standing by patiently for him to show off in Derek’s way too tight clothes. As soon as he opened the door, a riot of laughs and cat calls surrounded him. He felt himself blushing, which was something he hadn’t done in a long time.

“Damn, Hotch. Where have you been hiding those arms?” Derek laughed, his voice echoing through Aarons head.

“I think we need to start casual Friday,” Spencer added, staring in awe at his boss.

“Alright, enough guys. This is a serious case, and I need everyone to be on their best behavior.”

“I’m not sure I can act right with you walking around like that,” Rossi joked, causing the rest of the team to burst out with laughter. Aaron just rolled his eyes, secretly appreciating the light that they all brought to his life.

“Alright, you guys ready to go?”

“All set. Let’s go catch a killer, sir.”

The ride to the club was a bit of a hike, a little over thirty minutes by the time they parked. They were split in two cars, seperated to cover both entrances. The plan was for him to go in and assess the situation, hoping he can get her out without harming any bystanders. If he needed backup, he had an alarm he could trigger that would alert the rest of the team to come in. It was a simple plan, one they had executed a thousand times in the past. But despite that, he felt extremely anxious.

“Are you ready, Aaron?” Rossi asked, raising his eyebrows in concern.

“Yeah, let’s get this over with. Stay alert, guys.” Aaron walked out of the car and to the entrance of the club, staring directly at the large bouncer standing in front of the door. He was given very specific instructions on what to see when he approached the man, ones that would deliver him directly to Ananke and avoid having to deal with the actual club.

“You on the list?” The bouncer asked as Aaron approached, not even bothering to look up from his clipboard.

“I’m here to see… A,” he whispered, looking around frantically to see if anyone else heard.

“You got your ID and confirmation number?” He asked, setting his clipboard down and staring intensely at Aaron.

“Uh, yeah. It’s 73491. And here’s my drivers license,” he responded, handing him the forged Virginia license of one Zachary Wilson.

“Zachary Wilson…” the man whispered, making Aaron sick to his stomach as he awaited the man to deny him and send him away, ruining his chances of finding her forever. “You’re gonna go in this door, right here,” he said, pointing towards a hidden and seemingly locked door to his right. “Take the stairs all the way up, knock on the door twice. She’ll be right with you.”

“Thank you,” he responded, relieved as he began to walk past the guard and towards his end goal.

“Oh, and Zachary,” the man added, causing Aaron to turn around in confusion.

“Remember: lei è dalla nostra parte,” he said, a smile creeping on his face as he spoke. Aaron recognized the language as Italian, but he couldn’t translate what he was saying. The bouncer turned around before Aaron had the chance to ask what he meant, but he figured it would just be better to move on and go directly to her.

He slowly opened the door, unsure of what he would find on the other side. To his surprise, it was only an exceptionally narrow staircase in a small hallway, leading directly to another gray door. The sound of fluorescent lights buzzed in the air, making Aaron dizzy as he walked up the steep steps. He remembered what the man said- knock twice. He also remembered the phrase in Italian, lei è dalla nostra parte. And when he finally got to the door, he began to unravel the words in his head. He knocked twice, replaying the words over and over. And when he finally heard the door click open, he understood what the man had meant. She is on our side.

“Zachary?” A man asked, opening the door slightly, only enough to peak out at him.

“Yes. I’m here to see-”

“Ananke. Of course,” he interrupted, swinging the door open and revealing an exceptionally beautiful and ornate room. Aaron walked in slowly, in a daze, his eyes not sure where to look as every piece of the room exceptionally thought out. There was a beautiful chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the light reflecting rainbows from the crystals.

“She will be with you shortly. Feel free to have a seat somewhere. Can I get you anything to drink?”

Aaron felt like he was at a hotel, the service impeccable as he sat down on the incredibly comfortable and probably very expensive couch. Most hit men he had met with did not present themselves like this. Whoever she was, she had a lot of money. In that moment, he wondered how many lives she had taken- how many people finally got what they deserved. And for a brief and frightening moment, he wondered if she was doing things right?

His thoughts were interrupted when she walked out. Not only did he lose his train of thought, but his breath was literally ripped from his chest. She was no longer covering her face, or wearing a wig. She had finally revealed herself to him, and he was in awe. She was absolutely stunning- beautiful to a level that made his head spin and his heart cramp up. He stood up instinctively, feeling the need to stand and greet her face to face. As she walked closer, he felt his throat getting tighter and tighter.

“Hello,” she spoke, her words floating through the air like a flower in the spring wind. “I’m Ananke.”

“Mhmm, he,” he stuttered, sticking his hand out to shake hers. “I’m…” he choked, unable to get his words out.

“Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, right?” She smiled, and Aaron instinctively reached for his gun.

“Put your weapon away, Aaron. I’m no threat to you,” she instructed, and he complied. For some reason, he believed her. She had no intention of hurting him or anyone else in this building. He didn’t need his weapon.

“How do you know who I am?”

“The FBI has a list of Social Security numbers they regularly use for fake documents. It’s… a hard list to get your hands on. I’m lucky I have friends in high places.”

“So you knew who I was from the minute I submitted my application?” He was shocked, a sick feeling washing over him. Who was she? How was she consistently one step ahead of them?

“I’m sorry to break your sense of superiority, agent. It hurts when someone is smarter than you, doesn't it?” She tilted her head at him, a devilish grin pasted across her face. He wanted to hate her, he wanted to be angry, but all he could focus on was the fire burning inside of him and the hunger building itself, the craving overcoming her. Her skirt revealed a little too much of her thigh and her shirt was a little too low cut and the thought of her flesh on his rippled its way through his body.

“Well, we found you and I’m going to arrest you, so it doesn’t seem like you came out on top here,” he responded, avoiding eye contact as he tried to get his impure thoughts out of his head.

“Agent Hotchner, something you will quickly learn is that I only come on top.” She winked at him, pursuing her lips slightly and smiling. She held her wrists out to him, walking towards him until she was only inches away. “Are you going to arrest me, Agent?”

Aaron reached for the cuffs in his back pocket, pulling them out slowly and staring directly at her. She didn't take his eyes off of him, standing tall as he began to cuff her. Her hands were soft, almost comical as they brushed against his rough and untouched skin. He didn’t speak, and neither did she. He just closed the cuffs on her, her large eyes staring up at him like a doe. He felt dizzy again, the intoxicating smell of her perfume, the subtle hints of berries and vanilla surrounding him in a whirlwind.

He slowly grabbed his phone from his pocket, trying to dial Rossi’s number, feeling drunk as he pressed the button. What was wrong with him? And what was wrong with her? Why would she willingly let herself get arrested so easily? That was the problem. This was exceptionally easy. Nothing was ever this easy.

“Hey, Rossi. I got her. We’re coming down now.”

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Aaron wasn’t surprised that she remained silent the entire car ride back to Quantico. What he was surprised by is that she didn’t appear nervous or angry. She sat calmly, staring out the window, her body relaxed and her lips forming the slightest smile. It made him angry- he didn’t understand her nonchalance.

They tried to talk to her, ask her for her real name, about her crimes- but she would just look at them, tilting her head and smiling before bringing her gaze back outside. When they finally arrived back at the Bureau, she turned towards Aaron and Rossi, slowly speaking her first words in over thirty minutes.

“Am I allowed a phone call?” She asked, staring directly at Aaron, as if it was only the two of them in the car. For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the entire world.

“Who exactly would you like to call?” Rossi smirked, rolling his eyes, trying to get Aaron to look at him. But he couldn’t take his eyes away from her. He was drawn to her like a sailor at sea, listening to the sweet song of the siren. He understood, now, why the sailors always swam to their death. It was because it was so damn beautiful.

“I’d like to speak with the Director,” she insisted, her eyes finally releasing Aaron from his hypnosis as she looked in disgust at Rossi. He could sense the shift in her tone as she looked at the agent- she had built up a terrifying exterior that she had on display for most people. But when she looked at Aaron, the wall somehow didn’t exist. Why would she show her true self to a stranger? What was it about him that she was drawn too? Could she sense his pain? Did she know that he understood why she did what she did? That he, too, had felt the rush of ending evil with his own two hands?

“The Director? Of the FBI?” Rossi asked, shocked at her absurd request. “What exactly would you like to speak to him about?”

“I just think he’d be interested to know I’m here,” she spoke, calmly, sitting back in the seat of the car and looking out the window again.

“This girl is nuts…” Rossi whispered to Aaron before getting out of the car and grabbing ‘Ananke’ from the back seat. Aaron followed closely behind, his eyes locked on Rossi’s tight grip around her flesh. He could see the marks his agent was leaving behind, his fingertips dug into her arm. It made him sick. The thought of anyone harming her made him sick. But she was the bad guy- he was supposed to hate her, to send her away and avenge all of the lives she took. Why did he want to save her so bad? Grab her from Rossi, hop in the car and take her away from all of this. It didn’t make sense, the way he felt. And Aaron hated it- he hated feeling out of control of his own thoughts- his own desires.

As they brought her into the BAU, the rest of the team following behind, he immediately noticed something was off when he walked through the doors. The rest of the team must have noticed as well, because they all kind of stopped in their tracks as they walked in.

Derek noticed her first, pacing back and forth in Aaron’s office.

“Strauss,” he groaned, rolling his eyes at the sight of her.

“What is she doing here?” JJ asked, crossing her arms and tensing up.

“I’m not sure. I’ll go find out. Rossi, can you bring her into the interrogation room? Spencer, try and get something out of her,” Aaron instructed his team, watching them seperate and do their assigned tasks as he walked up to his office. When he got closer, he noticed the Director was also there as well. He got a sick feeling in his stomach, remembering his immediate thoughts when he first arrested Ananke. It’s never this easy.

He opened his office door with shaking hands, immediately slapped in the face with tension clinging to the air. The Director stood up as he entered, and Strauss stopped pacing.

“Aaron,” she whispered, her eyes darting nervously around the room.

“Erin,” he smirked, not sure why his brain was choosing this moment to crack jokes.

“It’s good to see you, Agent Hotchner. It’s been a while,” the Director said.

“Chris. It’s good to see you as well. Can I ask what you’re doing in my office?”

The two of them looked nervously at each other, as if deciding who had to tell him the unspoken secret. The first thought in his brain was that Foyet was back. He killed him, though. He remembered the life draining out of him. He couldn’t be back. He felt his body get hot, his breathing picking up as he remembered Foyet’s face…

“Aaron… unfortunately, we’re going to need you to let (Y/N) go.”

“Who?” He asked bluntly, confused at the name he was sure he had never heard before. Although his brain was still spinning, he was feeling calmer knowing whatever this was, it wasn’t about Foyet.

“Ananke. You need to release her,” Strauss clarified, her voice equally annoyed and apologetic.

“I’m sorry… I’m confused.” Aaron was realizing now how much easier it was to hate Ananke - or (Y/N) - when she wasn't right in front of him. He couldn’t see her, she couldn’t lure him in. Her spell had broken. “I know for a fact she killed at least one person. I’m not releasing her.”

“Aaron, this goes beyond you. She is no longer a person of interest.” Chris had raised his voice, clearly frustrated at whatever was happening.

“You can’t just take away my unsub and not tell me why. Do you think my team will be okay with that? Do you think I’ll be okay with that?” Aaron was angry, the thought of them taking her away with no reason making him crazy.

“Agent Hotchner, there are some secrets within the Bureau that even you don’t know about.”

“I don’t accept that.”

Chris and Strauss looked defeated, both accepting that they won’t win this battle. Chris shook his head slightly and closed his eyes, contemplating his words.

“What is going on, Strauss?” Aaron begged, the room beginning to spin again, his body craving the sweet release of nicotine and the bitter taste of vodka.

“Your unsubs real name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She is a government protected assassin.”

“What?” Aaron’s head was spinning, the room around him dancing in circles as the words floated through his mind. That couldn’t be real. There was no way the place he worked, that he believed upheld justice, would do something so… unjust. So immoral. They had to be lying. “It’s not possible. We met the man that paid her to kill someone. She was paid by a civilian to kill a civilian.”

“She sometimes takes on… side projects,” Chris muttered, clearly knowing his words would upset Aaron.

“And you allow that?” He yelled, his body fuming with anger as he paced around his office. It didn't make sense. Everything he had ever believed in was crumbling right before his eyes- all because of her.

“With the things she has done for us, Aaron, there is a little bit of lenience. Besides, Jason was a bad person, anyways.”

“That doesn’t make it okay. We have a justice system in place for a reason.” He felt sick, the realization that a system he protected for so long was seeping with corruption.

“Did Foyet get his chance for trial? Or did the justice system not count for him?” Strauss looked at him sternly, frustration written on her face. Aaron realized she was right. He took justice into his own hands with Foyet, and he didn’t regret it. How was she doing anything different? For a moment, nothing made sense to Aaron. His entire belief system had shattered right in front of him. He was speechless, his brain splashing around trying to find the right words to express his disbelief. But he was coming up empty, drawing blanks. There was truly nothing he could say that could capture how he felt. He just thought of her, the sweet smell of berries that lingered in her hair, the softness of her skin, the enticing aura that surrounded her when she looked at him.

“What am I supposed to tell my team?” He thought out loud.

“We’ll handle it. Let’s go out and talk to them now,” Chris instructed, walking out of the office and down towards the annex. Rossi noticed the three of them and quickly walked up to Chris, greeting him.

“Could you gather your team for me?” The director asked, Aaron still unsure of how he would explain this to them. Rossi grabbed everyone pretty quickly, dragging Spencer from the interrogation room, which Aaron could only imagine was going very poorly.

“Hello everyone, I’m sorry to bother you all, but the unsub you brought in today is a person of interest in several international crimes. She’s been on our watch list for a while, now, and we’re going to have to hand her over to interpol.” The Directors words were quick and precise, leaving no room for anyone to second guess him. Even Aaron was convinced they weren’t going to release her the minute they were alone.

“What has she done?” JJ questioned, intrigued at the mystery international criminal they brought in.

“It’s classified, Agent. And if you don’t mind, we’d like to get out of here rather quickly. If someone could grab her, please,” he ordered, causing Spencer to quickly walk to the room she was in and bring her back out to them.

She was smirking widely as she walked out, clearly knowing her freedom was inevitable. He had so many questions for her, so much he needed to know, but he had to keep his mouth shut. She was slipping right through his fingers, and he had only just begun to know her.

“I’m so sorry, Aaron. I know how much you enjoyed seeing me in handcuffs,” she whispered to him as she passed by, winking seductively before being taken away by the Director and Strauss.

Aaron felt miserable as she walked away, the three of them heading into the elevator and away from him forever. She now felt only like a ghost, a distant memory fading away as more time went by without her. The team moved on from the loss in a matter of minutes, but Aaron stood there, frozen in place, waiting desperately for her to come back.

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Five days. He was able to wait five days before he went to see her. He tried so desperately to forget about her- it seemed everyone else had. But she seeped into his dreams, tossing and turning as he tried to sleep, her voice, her face, her body, calling to him. He needed to see her again, just to ask her why. He wouldn’t sleep ever again if he didn’t.

So, five days after she walked away, he waited until Jack was asleep, explained to Jessica that he had some paperwork to take care of, and headed to see her. His brain continuously tried to tell him it was a bad idea. He should turn around, go home, and forget her. But he knew it was easier said than done. This was the only way.

When he got to the club, he noticed the same bouncer from before was sitting outside the door. Aaron felt a bit relieved, hoping the man would recognize him and he could lie his way up to (Y/N)’ door.

“Hey, man,” he said casually, trying to sound as calm and not suspicious as possible.

“Can I help you?” The man grunted, clearly not amused by Aaron’s attempt to be friendly.

“I’m here to see A. We met a few days ago, I need to drop my money off,” he whispered, praying to whatever God was listening that this guy would believe his story.

“A isn’t supposed to be meeting anyone tonight,” he groaned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. Aaron could tell it was a long shot, but he had to do whatever he could to see her.

“Call her. She’ll tell you,” he stuttered, looking anxiously at the large man standing between him and (Y/N). It was possible he could take him down if he had to, Aaron thought. It would be a hell of a fight, but he’d brought down bigger men. He shifted instinctively, trying to casually feel his hip and make sure he was still armed.

The man pulled out a small phone that appeared to be very old- most likely a burner they used to communicate. He dialed a number quickly and stared at Aaron, as if hoping his boss would give him the go ahead to kick Aaron’s ass.

“Hey, it’s me. Some guy is here to see you. Said you talked earlier today. Can you check the cams,” he asked, trying to speak quietly, but Aaron was still able to hear every word. He waited patiently for her response, trying to keep his face calm.

“Alright, thanks A.” He hung the call up and placed the phone in his pocket, taking as long as possible to give Aaron his answer. It felt like hours, excruciating pain as he waited for his fate.

“You’re clear to go.”

Aaron was almost positive she would send him away. If she had cameras, she knew it was him. Why would she allow him to come up? Did she want to see him, too?

He knew if he stood there any longer contemplating the situation, he would look suspicious. So despite all of his common sense warning him that something was wrong, he walked through the secret door and up the narrow staircase, knocking twice at her door and awaiting to enter her world.

He was greeted by the same man from earlier, who was smiling brightly as he opened the door and let him in. He offered him another drink, which Aaron politely declined, finding a seat on one of the couches and unable to sit still as he waited for her.

She left him waiting for quite a while. Although it felt like hours of agony for Aaron, his watch assured him he had only been waiting around twenty minutes by the time she finally greeted him. She was wearing a short red dress, golden heels wrapped around her feet as she floated towards him, smiling devilishly as she poured herself a drink.

“It’s nice to see you again, Agent,” she teased, taking a sip of her liquor of choice and taking a seat across from him.

“I needed to talk to you.”

“About what?” She tilted her head, soft lips creating a pout of confusion as she stared at him.

“You knew I was going to arrest you the minute you got my application to meet… if you knew you couldn’t get in trouble, why would you let all of that happen? You could’ve called the Director the minute you knew who I was. Why didn’t you?” Aaron needed to know why she went through the trouble of setting up a meeting with him, allowing herself to be arrested and brought to the Bureau. It didn’t make sense, allowing herself to take such a big risk.

“It seemed… fun. Sometimes my life can be quite boring.” She smiled at him, her flirtatious grin that she seemed to save just for Aaron.

“Wasting my time, my team's time… that's fun to you?” Aaron was getting angry again, his body fuming as he looked at her.

“Well, maybe a part of me wanted to meet you. I mean, we’re not so different, Aaron.”

“Hah,” he laughed, rolling his eyes at her. “You think you and I have anything in common?”

“Oh, are you not the same SSA Aaron Hotchner who killed George Foyet with his own hands?”

“How the hell do you know that?” Aaron had stood up at this point, his anger and frustration causing his body to become restless.

“It’s on your record, Agent. It’s not too hard to find…” She took another sip of her drink, finishing the last of the cups content and standing up to face him. For a moment, they were inches apart, the air between them stock full of tension, anger and attraction swimming around the two. But as he prayed he could control his compulsion to touch her, she walked away, over to another corner of the room, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it.

The smell of smoke intoxicated him, making his knees shake as he craved the burn of nicotine in his throat. She floated back towards him, taking her place back on the couch and burning quickly through her cigarette.

“You seem so angry, Aaron.”

“Because you’re killing people, and somehow the people I look up to to maintain law and order don’t care.”

“Have you ever thought that you’re more angry at yourself than at me? I mean, a part of you gets it, right? You understand what I do, why I do it… and that makes you sick, doesn’t it?”

“I would never justify what you do.”

“Mm,” she hummed, standing up and walking towards him again. She placed a soft hand on his face, Aaron realizing her touch was the first he’d felt since Haley died. The feel of his flesh being caressed by someone, being held by someone- it made him melt.

“Maybe it’s not that, though. Maybe you really do hate me, hate what I do. But a part of you can’t stop thinking about touching me, feeling me… fucking me.” She moved her hand down his body, trailing her fingers down his chest and stopping at the base of his groin. He felt chills down his body, blood rushing to his cock at the slightest touch.

“That’s not- it’s not that,” he stuttered, trying to back away, knowing how dangerous it would be for him to get roped into something like this.

“Right, of course,” she whispered, taking her hand away from him and turning around, walking away. He watched her body as she floated across the room, his eyes glued to her ass that was begging to be touched by him.

“(Y/N)...” Aaron whispered, calling for her, unable to stand the feeling of her being away from him. She turned towards him, walking back slowly, taking her time and letting him simmer in anticipation as she made her way back to the center of the room. When she made her way back to him, he grabbed her chin with his hand, tilting her face up towards him, her lips inches from his.

“I would never want somebody like you. You are a bad person, no matter what you try to say to me.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Agent,” she smirked, her lips almost brushing against his as she formed them into a smile.

At that moment, it felt like any self control Aaron had flew directly out the window. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her body into his and kissing her. It was a kiss that was draped in desperation, anger, lust. His tongue made no attempt to be gentle, selfishly exploring her small mouth and he picked her up and sat her on a table. He tore his shirt off, his desire to be touched, to touch her, overcoming any restraint he had before.

He picked her up, her small frame easy for his trained body to carry swifty to the couch. He threw her down on her back, her body writhing under his, moaning his name so loud that he was sure the club goers downstairs could hear. He wrapped his hands around her neck, gripping gently, listening to her gasp for air as he slid up her dress to reveal nothing underneath.

“You’re just begging for me, aren’t you,” he teased, pulling his hard cock out from his boxers and teasing her entrance with his tip. She nodded slowly at him, unable to speak as he still had his hand gripped around her throat. He was aching to hear her voice again, so he released his hand, getting turned on at the mark he left on her.

He slipped into her slowly, no time to waste on foreplay. He knew he needed her now, that their time was limited and it was only a matter of time before his common sense kicked in and he got out of there. But for the moment, he was sloppily pounding into her, not caring who saw or heard, desperately needing to be as close to her as possible.

He came quickly, the euphoria of feeling another woman for the first time in months too much for him to control. She came too, though. He could tell she wasn’t faking- he could feel it. After they finished, he quickly put his clothes back on, (Y/N) continuing to lay breathlessly on the couch. He watched her for a moment, waiting for her to say something- ask him to stay, kiss him goodbye. But she just pulled herself up and walked towards the other side of the room, grabbing and lighting another cigarette.

“You should go.” (Y/N) instructed, not even bothering to look up at the man who just came inside her moments ago.

“You shouldn’t smoke those, you know. They’ll kill you.” Aaron’s mouth was dry, watching the trail of smoke that followed her as she floated around the room, refusing to give him even a second of her time.

“What do I have to live for?” She asked, finally dragging her tired eyes to his and smiling, one of the first real, and saddest, smiles he had seen from her.

Aaron tried to think of something else to say, racking his brain for the correct words to say. But he continuously came up empty, and he realized he was starting to look more and more suspicious the longer he stood there. He decided to walk away, ignore the part of him that refused to tear away from her.

He walked soberly down the stairs, out onto the street and to his car. As he sat in his drivers seat and started the engine, feeling his face get hot, the rare feeling of wet eyes as he began to cry. And then he started to laugh. An uncontrollable cackle that spilled out of him like a waterfall. It was comical, to look back over the past few months and relive all of the bullshit he had been through. He didn’t even recognize the person in the mirror anymore. And maybe that was a good thing, because the person he used to be was the same person that let Haley die.

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Aaron tried to pretend he didn’t spend every day over the next week thinking about her. The way her soft skin felt when he touched her, the way her lips tasted like bubblegum and her hair smelled like cherries. When he imagined her in his head, everything felt so distant, like he was barely holding on to a dream of her. He could feel her memory slipping away every second, and he couldn’t let that happen.

He had to see her again, and soon. He wondered if she was thinking about him as well, if she remembered the mint chapstick he was wearing, or the Dolce cologne he was wearing. It made him sick, thinking that she forgot him. (Y/N) had slowly become everything to him, what if he was just a passing thought for her?

The team had landed back in DC an hour ago, solving a case in Miami that was one of the easier ones they had had this year. Aaron was grateful for the slight break, his brain not completely in the right headspace.

He rushed to finish up the closing paperwork, scribbling his words sloppily and without much care for grammar. He knew as soon as Strauss read his, she would call him and question his mental state. But he didn’t care. He just needed to get the hell out of here tonight, and if that meant sitting through another of Strauss’s evaluations, it was worth it.

As he was signing the last of the documents, he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He grabbed it with caution, not sure who would be calling him this late at night. The call was coming from an unknown number, and Aaron immediately worried something had happened to Jack. He was away at his grandparents this week, planning on staying a few more days. He answered the phone nervously, preparing for whatever horror was to come.

“Hello, Agent,” a female voice said, a voice he instantly recognized as (Y/N)’s. Her voice flowed smoothly like silk even over the phone. It was truly hard to believe how she had managed to perfect every aspect of herself.

“Why- how are you calling me?” He looked around cautiously, making sure no one could secretly hear any part of the phone call.

“I’m flying to Paris this weekend, a little well deserved vacation. I was calling to see if you’d like to join me.”

“I… Paris? I can’t just fly to Paris.” Aaron chuckled into the phone, the idea of someone just getting up and deciding to fly halfway across the world with no plan truly comical to him.

“Oh, I didn’t realize I’d called the Fun Police. I thought this was Aaron Hotchner,” she teased. He could feel her smiling through the phone, a warmth that somehow seemed to wrap him even though he could only see her in his thoughts.

“I can have fun…” he argued, biting his lip awkwardly, not wanting to seem inferior to her.

“When was the last time you did something for yourself, Agent? Have you ever just… been spontaneous?”

“(Y/N), you don’t understand-”

“Call me A on the phone. It’s safer,” she instructed, her voice losing its soft luster as her professional side kicked in.

“A… my job, my life… it doesn't leave room for spontaneity.”

“No, Agent. That’s your choice. I’ll be at the jet runway at Dulles in two hours. Think about it. I’ll wait for you.” She hung the phone up, not giving him room to protest. He set the phone down on his desk, instantly missing her even more than he did before. Jack was going to be with his grandparents for three more days, and he did have some saved up vacation time. But what would he tell the team? What would he tell Strauss?

His phone vibrated again, this time only a single buzz to indicate a text message. He flipped his phone over and saw a new message from an Unknown number.

Life doesn’t have to be so complicated, Agent. It is much too short to spend this much time suffering. Learn to enjoy your days.

He reread the message a thousand times, knowing the words would still reign true no matter how much he tried to convince himself she was in the wrong. He had spent his whole life serving others, and he was okay with it, until now. Maybe if he had lived without complication, and enjoyed his days, his life would be completely different…

He ran home and quickly packed a bag, letting Strauss and Rossi know he needed some ‘alone time’ for a few days. They didn’t question it- one nice thing about having a recent trauma, he thought. He took an Uber to the airport, praying that (Y/N) kept her promise and waited for him.

When he finally arrived on the runway, he noticed her immediately. It was as if even being near her set an alarm off inside of him, like every part of his brain was awake, feeling her energy from a hundred feet away.

He thanked the Uber driver and ran to her, bag in hand. As he got to her, he noticed her face. She wasn’t surprised or shocked in the slightest- she knew he’d come. She somehow knew every move he would make. Was he that predictable… or was it something special between them?

“I have to be home in three days,” he said, breathlessly, overjoyed at the sight of his girl.

“We can do a lot in three days,” she responded, smiling wickedly. She walked towards him, wrapping her arms around his torso and embracing him. It was such a nice feeling to be held, comforted. He felt like he could stay there in her arms for years. But she broke the hug pretty quickly, motioning for one of her men to take care of the bags and began walking towards the jet.

As he followed her up the stairs and into their own private world, he started to remember everything he was leaving behind. The realization of just how impulsive this was dawned on him as he looked back at the city behind him. He felt dizzy, leaning on the railing for support as he shakily walked up.

“You alright?” (Y/N) asked, placing a hand on his arm to steady him.

“This is crazy, (Y/N). I just can’t believe I’m doing this.”

They continued to walk into the jet, her hand intertwined in his as they sat down and the door closed behind them. A man came out from behind the curtain, who Aaron immediately recognized as the same man who greeted him both times he met her.

“Aaron, this is my… well, assistant, I guess. Jay, this is my new friend, Aaron.” She waved to Jay slightly, instructing him to come closer.

“It’s good to meet you sir. Can I get the two of you anything to drink?” Jay was a short boy, couldn't have been more than 25. He clearly worshipped the ground she walked on, which seemed to be par for the course with men she knew.

“Oh, hmm,” she thought, closing her eyes for a moment as she racked her brain for a decision. “Whiskey sour. What would you like?” She turned towards Aaron, the subtle tilt of her head reminding him of how pretty her neck looked with his hands around it.

“I’ll do a Scotch, neat,” he ordered, something so enticing about ordering a drink on a private jet to Paris.

“I’ll grab those for you now. Matt is ready to take off, A, are you all set?” Jay turned back towards his boss, his eyes widening like a puppy as he waited for her words.

“I’m ready to go Jay, thank you,” she smiled, looking at him quickly before bringing her attention back to Aaron. Jay took her disinterest as a sign to leave and make their drinks, so he shuffled away quickly after she looked away.

He came back with their drinks a moment later, leaving quickly after and closing himself in the cockpit. The jet began to take off shortly after, and Aaron took a long sip of his drink, hoping the alcohol would calm any nerves he had left. He started at (Y/N) dreamily, as she shuffled through her phone and a pile on various paperwork on her lap.

“Sorry, Agent, just finishing up some work,” she whispered, her eyes still staring down.

“Mmm, it’s okay,” he responded, just happy to be in the same place as her again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she smiled, setting her work aside and bringing her attention to Aaron.

“Why did you kick me out the other night? After…” His voice trailed off, shifting awkwardly in his seat.

“I figured it be best for you. I didn’t want to wrap you up with my life… with me. But in all honesty, I can’t stop thinking about you. I called you tonight, and told myself if you didn’t show, I’d move on. But… you’re here.”

“I’m here,” he whispered back, his eyes tracing down her body, craving her once again.

“I feel like we have something special, Agent,” she whispered seductively, climbing out of her seat and walking towards him.

“I missed you… I couldn’t stop thinking about you…” he moaned as she bent towards him, her lips kissing down his neck and playing with the collar of his shirt. She unbuttoned the top buttons, kissing his chest and moving her hand to his inner thigh. She trailed her fingers up his thigh, teasing his cock with the slightest touch. His hips bucked uncontrollably, blood flowing down to him as his desire took over his body.

She got down on her knees, toying with his belt buckle. She was clearly trying to make him wait, the suffering and craving all a part of her game. But he was impatient, so he ripped his belt off himself, undoing his pants and pulling his erect penis out.

(Y/N) licked her lips in anticipation, wanting to pleasure him as much as he wanted to be pleasured. She played with his tip slowly, toying her tongue around him as he moved underneath her. He wrapped his fingers in her hair, slowly pushing her mouth down around him. He wanted her to take all of him, to feel the back of her throat as he shoved his length in her mouth. She moaned quietly as she took him, bobbing her head up and down quickly and sloppily.

Aaron couldn’t remember the last time he got a blow job- let alone the last time someone enjoyed giving him one. (Y/N) was toying with him, clearly enjoying the pleasure she was able to give him just with her tongue. She looked up at him as he was about to cum, winking as she dragged her tongue up his shaft. The eye contact sent him over the edge, causing him to release himself in her mouth. She swallowed his cum happily, kissing him on the cheek and sitting back down on her chair.

He wanted to go to her, give her what she needed now. But he was exhausted, the exhilaration of her taking away all of his energy. He took another hefty sip of his drink, leaning back in his chair and wiping the sweat off his forehead. He buckled his pants back up and readjusted himself in the seat.

“Don’t hate me, handsome, but I do have to get some work done. Feel free to sleep on the couch, or watch a movie. I’ll let you know when we get there.” She blew him a kiss, teasing him with a wink before losing herself in her work. He wondered what part of her job she could possibly be doing from the seat of a plane. There was truly so much he didn’t know about her, which made it so much more exciting.

He finished his drink, watching her work in awe as the plane soared over the Atlantic. He felt himself drifting off and didn’t try to stop it, wanting to be fully rested so he could make the most of his time with her.

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Paris was unarguably Aaron’s favorite place on Earth. Whenever he told people that, they always kind of chuckled. It was kind of a feminine city, at least that’s what everyone told him. But god, he loved it here. The food, the architecture, the people… but most importantly, it was her.

She had made every second of his life magical. When they landed, she brought him to a small bakery near the Louvre, where they sipped wine and ate the sweetest fruit he’d ever tasted. It was only 10 AM when they got there, but nobody seemed to pay them any attention as they drunkenly strolled down the Parisian streets, giggling and kissing and living.

When they finally sobered up, they made their way to a gorgeous hotel, where (Y/N) got the nicest suite available. They ordered a few bottles of champagne, popping them open as soon as they got inside and helping themselves to many glasses. They drank out on the balcony, overlooking the whole city as they downed more alcohol.

The suite came equipped with a jacuzzi tub in the bathroom, which (Y/N) was begging him to take advantage of. She stripped down in front of him, lighting candles and drawing a tub of steaming water. She took a bottle of champagne into the bathroom and soaked herself in the tub, lavender scented bubbles surrounding her. Aaron couldn’t resist the temptation of her body, so he quickly followed after her, stripping down and slipping in the bubbles with her.

She sat on his lap, he kissed down the back of her neck and nibbled on her flesh. She moved her butt into him, the softness of her flesh pushing into his cock.

“I told you, sometimes it’s fun to be adventurous.”

“I never doubted that. I just think this is all… crazy…”

“Are you not enjoying yourself?” She giggled, pushing bubbles towards him and splashing around the water.

“Oh do not play games with me,” he laughed, splashing water towards her. She squealed when the water hit her face, scrunching her nose as she wiped the bubbles from her cheeks.

“Let’s go,” she smirked, standing up and carefully stepping out of the bath. Her skin was glistening from the water, bubbles dripping down her flesh. He stared in awe at her, obsessed with every curve, every inch of her more perfect than the last. She walked slowly out of the bathroom, her butt wiggling with every step. She was clearly calling for him, begging for him to follow her wherever she went. And he would. He did.

He ran after her carefully, finding her naked body wrapped in the fluffy comforter of the bed. She smiled when she saw him, sitting up and wrapping her hands around his neck. She brought his face towards her, kissing him slowly, allowing their lips to enjoy every second they had with each other.

Aaron’s hands were gripped on her hips, his naked body grinding into hers. He hadn’t known this feeling for a long time- the feeling of complete and total calm. For the first time in an absurd amount of time, he wasn’t worried. He wasn’t thinking of every terrible thing that was happening around him. He was only thinking about her- the way her lips felt on his, the way her body moved… his whole life had so suddenly become wrapped up in her.

But, the trouble was, nothing good in his life stayed. And it was only a matter of time before the universe took her away, too.

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The rest of their time in Paris went by in a daze. Most of their time they were either drinking or fucking, taking breaks to walk aimlessly around the Louvre and stroll down the Seine. He was heartbroken when he had to go back, but he did miss his son, and was sure the team was falling apart without him. When they landed back in DC, (Y/N) had a car ready to take Aaron home.

He had a good hour before Jack would be back, so he used his time to take a long shower and brew a strong pot of coffee. It was almost 7 at night, but his body was still messed up from the change in time zones, and he knew he wouldn’t get much sleep that night. He was already missing her, checking his phone every five minutes to see if she would whisk him away on another adventure.

But, as he quickly learned, she was the type of person to disappear for a while. Aaron didn’t hear from her for seven full days after Paris. Seven full agonizing days of wondering where she was, who she was with, and most importantly- what she was doing.

Being away from her made it easier for him to realize the reality of their situation. She was a killer; and yeah, maybe she only killed ‘bad’ people, but did that really make it any better? At least, that was the question he was asking himself. Surprisingly, as more time went on, the harder time he had convincing himself she was a villain. Maybe it was because he was falling in love with her, maybe it was because he understood the anger of watching guilty people walk away from things completely unscathed.

They didn’t speak about work once during their time together, although it was clear Aaron had a lot of questions. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend what she could be doing for Strauss and the Director. Who was she killing that they couldn’t get to the normal way? He wanted to know her life, understand the secrets she spent her existence protecting- but it wasn't for him. And maybe that was for the best. The mystery of it all made it… hotter.

So when he finally heard from her, seven full days later, he felt like a kid on Christmas. He recognized the ‘unknown’ number as it popped up on the screen, stepping into his office so he could speak with her privately.

“Hi, Agent,” (Y/N) spoke, her voice singing to him. He loved the way she called him Agent. He loved everything about her.

“I’ve missed you. Where have you been?”

“Oh, working. You know.” He could tell she didn’t want to speak any more about work, so he changed the subject.

“Are you back in DC?”

“For a bit.”

“Can I see you? Let’s get dinner somewhere. Anywhere.”

“I… we probably shouldn’t be out together like that… if we saw anyone we knew… your team…” She spoke her words carefully, not sure how to tell him that their relationship wasn’t exactly approved of. Aaron had never really thought about it, but the reality made him sick. Would he never be able to love her publicly? Hold her hand at the park, take her to eat at his favorite restaurant, introduce her to his friends?

But the adrenaline, the euphoria of being with her- it was worth any negatives. He would eat in the dark with her, hide her in his house, runaway with her…

“Come over to my place, then. We’ll order pizza, watch a movie.”

“Hah,” she giggled, her laugh airy and full of light just as he remembered. Hearing it made him smile. “I can’t remember the last time I ordered pizza and watched movies with a boy…”

“Well, given the circumstances, I have to get creative A.”

“What about Jack?”

“Oh,” Aaron responded, forgetting for a moment that she had yet to meet his son. He didn’t think twice about it, wanting his son to know the woman that was bringing him so much joy. But was it safe? And did she want to know him?

“I don’t want to put you in an awkward situation.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“What is happening between us? Are we just messing around… Is there feelings?” He hated to ask her such a loaded question over the phone, but he needed to know the answer- he had to know if she was just as head over heels as she was.

“Agent, no man I’ve ever ‘messed around’ with has this number.”

Aaron chuckled, the nervousness in his chest subsiding.

“Come over tonight, please,” he begged, craving the way her lips felt on his.

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight, Agent.”

“I’ll see you tonight, A.”

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Aaron didn’t expect just how wonderful (Y/N) would be with Jack. He had never really seen a maternal side to her before, but she was incredible. Jack took a liking to her as well, even falling asleep between the both of them as they watched Finding Nemo. After they were sure he was asleep, Aaron carried his son to his room and put him to bed, (Y/N) following close behind, in awe of the way Aaron cared for his son.

“You want a glass of wine?” Aaron whispered to her, the two of them hand in hand as they walked back to the living room.

“Please!”

He poured the two of them overly generous glasses of Riesling, snuggling up on the couch next to her and kissing her on the forehead. They tried to find a movie for a bit, scrolling through endless channels before giving up.

“Can you stay the night?”

“I wish, but I have to catch an early flight tomorrow,” she frowned, her pout showcasing her perfect lips that he couldn’t get out of his head.

“Where are you going?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. Her face turned pale and emotionless as she thought of a response, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes.

“You know I can’t tell you that,” she responded.

“I’m sorry.” He felt uncomfortable, not sure exactly what to say to her. They had never had an awkward silence before, and it made him sick as he waited in the quiet for her to respond.

“I probably should get going,” she finally said, setting her almost empty glass of wine down on the coffee table.

“Oh, c’mon, we just got some time alone…” he pleaded, but he could tell by the look on her face he had already lost her.

“I’m sorry, love. I just have a lot to prepare for this case.”

“I understand. Will I see you soon?”

“I’ll do my best, Agent.”

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California was a popular hot spot for serial killers. It seemed like Aaron and the team were there every other week. This time, San Francisco was the lucky city. He had already been there for two days, stuck on an incredibly weird case, when he got the call.

“Good morning, Agent,” (Y/N) spoke.

“A… it’s good to hear from you.” He was relieved at the sound of her voice, the dark energy of this specific case seeping into him, choking any optimism out of him.

“How are things?”

“I’m working on a tough case, to be honest. It’s taking a lot out of me.”

“Would it be better if I was there?”

“How is that possible?”

“I was… in the area. Set some time aside to stop by.”

“I’m going to be really busy…” he frowned, realizing now how difficult it would be to actually see her.

“Oh, Agent, I sure hope you can make time to see me,” she teased, giggling through the phone, her laugh wrapping him in warmth and shielding him from the darkness of reality for a moment.

“Well, I have to sleep at some point,” he responded, laughing himself.

“Call me when you get back to your hotel. I’ll be waiting.”

Aaron hung the phone up quickly, peeking around the corner of the SFPD office they were currently set up in. Luckily, everyone was too busy to listen in on his personal conversations. He wondered what his team would think if they knew what was going on behind closed doors. Would they still stand around and trust the system they were working so hard to uphold? Because Aaron could barely stomach it.

“Hey, we’ve got a problem,” Derek said, coming around the corner lookingfor his superior.

“What’s going on?”

“C’mon into the conference room. Garcia will explain everything.”

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He didn’t make it back to his hotel for another 12 hours. It was nearing 11 PM by the time he finally closed the door and could be done for the day. Although with his job, he was never really off the clock.

He called (Y/N), pushing aside any exhaustion he had for a moment with her. She was there within twenty minutes, sneaking through the door, giggling and kissing quietly, trying to be secretive. It was risky, extremely risky for them to be together with his team just on the other side of a thin hotel wall. But he couldn’t help himself. A part of him wanted to get caught, be exposed, so they could stop sneaking around. He wanted to love her in front of everyone.

He forgot about the case briefly as he lost himself in her flesh, kissing her soft skin and making love to her - twice. When the exhaustion finally overcame him, he crawled into her arms and let the horrors of his job overcome him.

“It’s a bad one, this case,” he divulged, knowing he shouldn’t be telling her the details, but needed a release. He needed to scream, and she was the only one around to hear.

“What’s going on?”

“Some CEO’s kid has been going all around the country killing teenage girls. Eevrytime the police get close to him, he just runs. Five different cities, and he’s escaped them all. Thirty six bodies that we can find. Probably more. And he’s going to get away, here, too. Garcia found out he sold his house a few days ago and bought one in Miami.”

“Well if you know it’s him, why aren’t you arresting him?” (Y/N) had a confused look on her face, her eyes wide and her lips forming a slight pout as she waited for him to respond.

“We don’t have enough physical evidence. He fits the profile perfectly, and we are able to trace bodies to him in every city he’s lived in. But that’s not good enough for the courts. He’s just going to keep getting away…” Aaron felt his heart pounding, the face of Foyet flashing over and over in his head.

“Sometimes… the system doesn’t help everybody.” She wasn’t looking at him, her eyes darting nervously around the room.

“That’s why people like you exist, right? To serve justice to those who escape it.”

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

Aaron looked at her, her cheeks flushed and her breathing sporadic. They were thinking the same thing, it was only a guessing game on who would break the silence first. He didn’t think it would be here, she was too nervous.

“(Y/N)...” he whispered, placing a hand on hers.

“What are you asking me to do, Agent?” She finally looked up at him, her face flat and emotionless, a side of her she had never shown him before. It was her work face, her business face.

“I want you to do your job, A.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“It’s the only way to stop him.”

“Okay. I’ll take care of it.” She got up out of the bed and started putting her clothes back on, slowly redressing herself as she prepared to go back to work. She grabbed one of the three phones she carried, hastily dialing a number and putting the old cell to her ear.

“Hey, it’s me. I need the car here ASAP, and the bag... Yeah, it’s a change of plans. … I’ll tell you in the car.” She hung the call up and put the phone back in her bag, refusing the look at Aaron the entire time she was preparing herself.

“You’re doing this now?” He laughed, getting up and trying to stop her from leaving. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her towards him, her body struggling to get away. She felt tense, tired. Her body was no longer surrounded by it’s usual warm glow. She was cold, and dark. She wasn’t her.

“Agent, if this is what you want, I need to handle it my way. Please let me go.”

“Will you… can I see you after?”

“I need to leave the city immediately after it’s done. And it’s best we don't talk for a bit. I can call you when I think things are safe.”

“How long is a bit? I mean, I don’t want to give you up.”

“You can’t have both, Aaron. Either I’m (Y/N) or I’m Ananke. Do you want more girls to die? Or do you want a girlfriend?” She was yelling, her voice a loud and intense version of itself that he was unfamiliar with. It made him dizzy. He sat down clumsily on the bed and put his face in his hands.

“Kill him,” he mumbled. She was quiet for a few seconds, and so was he. And awkward silence. Something they had never had. He felt like she was staring at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

“I’ll call you when I can, Agent. It’s been wonderful working with you.”

Aaron swore as she walked out the door he could hear her cry. Maybe he was making it up to make himself feel better. There was no way she could walk away that easily and not … hurt. He hurt, so terribly bad. How long was a bit? A few weeks, months? Would he ever see her again?

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Aaron awoke to a loud banging on his door and his phone buzzing like crazy. The ringer was on, but not loud enough to awaken him from his alcohol assisted slumber. He shouldn’t be drinking on the job, he knew that rule better than anyone. But he had to shut his mind up.

He opened the door to a rattled Derek Morgan, his forehead sweating and hands shaking.

“You are not going to believe this,” Derek said, chuckling slightly.

“What’s going on, Morgan?” Aaron knew what he was going to say, but he had to pretend to be surprised. Would Derek know? He was by far the best profiler on the team. How long could Aaron keep up a lie before Derek figured something out?

“Our unsub died last night. Car accident. He hit a railing and his car just… exploded.” Derek held his tablet out to Hotch, showing him various photos from the scene. His car was completely crushed and torched. You could see his body, but there was absolutely no way to tell what was happening at the time of the accident. The damage of the car was far too elaborate to find any remnants of explosives- if that’s what she used. But whatever she did, it was brilliant. There was no way anyone would think twice about this. She was brilliant.

He could feel himself smiling, being impressed with her work- but he remembered Derek was still standing there, unknowing of the secrets Aaron held.

“Well, I guess we can finally get the hell out of San Francisco,” Aaron laughed.

“You think this is the end? He just dies in a freak accident and it's over? Are we that lucky, Hotch?” Derek’s eyebrows were furrowed in the classic way his face always looked when he was suspicious.

“He’s not around to hurt anyone else, and that’s the end of it. Our jobs are done here. I want wheels up in an hour.”

Derek just nodded in agreement with his supervisor, realizing it wasn’t worth the argument. Aaron was right, the bad guy was gone and that was good enough for him.

Aaron closed the door to his hotel, grabbing his phone and dialing her number. He had assumed she’d already disconnected the line, severing their connection for the time. But it rang, and somebody answered.

“A…?” he whispered, waiting for her voice.

“You shouldn’t be calling this number,” a man responded, a voice he recognized as Jays.

“I know, I know, but please. Please just tell her something for me.” Jay was silent for a moment, deciding what to do.

“... What?” He asked, quietly.

“Please just tell her I said thank you. For everything.”

And then the phone disconnected. The call was over. She was gone. For who knows how long?

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One week later, SSA Aaron Hotchner was sitting in his office when Erin Strauss walked through his door. She didn’t knock, which made him jump. She walked right in and sat down on his couch, taking a deep breath. A disappointed sigh.

“Hello, Erin.”

“Agent Hotcher.” She looked at him angrily, her lips pursed and eyes tight as she thought of her words.

“What can I do for you?”

“In all honesty, Aaron… did you think we wouldn’t find out? You are a federal agent. Your passport is flagged any time you enter a foreign country. You were in Paris at the same time as her. And then San Francisco? She was there on assignment and your uncatchable unsub just happens to turn up dead?”

“Am I fired?” He asked, his only thought on what they were doing to her.

“Aaron… what are you doing? You are losing yourself! If this is about Haley…”

“Just tell me something. What are you going to do to her?” He bit his lip nervously, Erin avoiding his eye contact.

“Right now she’s being relocated, on a six month assignment. We’ll see what happens after that.”

“Where?”

“You know I can’t tell you that!”

Aaron sat for a moment, completely unsure of what to say next. Maybe Erin was right, he had lost himself. He would’ve never imagined himself in this situation.

“What do I do now?”

“You move on. And you do your job, the right way. I’ll cut you some slack this time, Aaron. But if this happens again… there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Erin walked out of his office quietly, closing the door as she left. He waited a moment, a long moment, before pulling out his phone. He had to at least try to talk to her. Even if the number didn’t work. He had to try.

But it rang. And this time he knew it was her who answered.

“Agent.” She answered sharply.

“Where are you?”

“I’m still in DC, as of now.”

“If I asked you to stay, would you?”

“You know it doesn’t work like that. Either I go, or they send me to prison. I’m sorry, Aaron. But this… was destined to fail from the beginning.”

“No, (Y/N). I don’t accept that. I love you.”

“You can’t. I’m sorry, Agent. This is goodbye.”

#vicficwriterchallenge #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fanfiction

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hains-mae · 4 years

Text

Flowers

(Damian x Reader) Soulmate AU

Rating: T

Ages: Damian and you are 16, everyone’s ages follow after.

Summary: Soulmate AU where the wounds on your soulmate turns into a flower tattoo on your skin, if it heals with no scars the tattoo goes away, if it heals with a scar then the tattoo stays. You are just an ordinary girl, with an ordinary life, so one might think it only makes sense that your soulmate is just as ordinary as you. But that isn’t the case. Especially not when your body is constantly littered with flowers. Some of them fade over time, some stay, but one thing is for certain – your soulmate seems to get hurt. A lot.

Notes: Hey there you guys. Recently I’ve been caught up in a Batman fever, and I can’t do anything about it. I ended up creating a challenge for my friend @mrevaunit42 which was an “Character x Reader” Soulmate AU. Seriously, it was all in the name of fun.

And then I got caught up in it, perhaps a little too much – and created this. I’ve never written a soulmate au before, though I really wanted to. (Now I have! Yay~) So please forgive my writing since I’m a little rusty, and I hope you enjoy.

Stay safe everyone.

Disclaimer: I do not own DC. If I did, I wouldn’t make it as confusing as it is now.

I woke up to a burning sensation on my lower ribs in the middle of night. Hissing in pain I slowly pushed my feet out of the warm covers and turned on the lamp beside my bed. Pulling up my shirt I assessed the damage.

It was purple lilacs this time, stretched across the middle of my torso going horizontally to my side. I winced as the tattoo completed itself and just as the heat came, a cold chill ran through it and down my spine. Somehow it soothed the burn.

God, another one? I frowned at the beautiful flower and sighed. It worried me that my soulmate was prone to getting hurt. Sometimes the injuries made sense, like when I found them on my knees, I could easily chalk it up to falling and scraping – but injuries like these were more difficult to decipher.

How does someone normal get hurt this way?

They don’t.

“Unless they’re a criminal.” One of my friends stated dryly days ago.

“Or a hero!” Another said quickly.

Needless to say, I wasn’t in a rush to find out. Whoever this person was, I knew from the start that they were trouble.

The next time I woke, it was to the early morning rays that escaped my curtains and played a fiery dance on my eye lids. I groaned and pulled the covers up wishing I could sleep in for a couple more minutes, but I knew I couldn’t.

A few weeks ago my school, Gotham Academy, announced that they were holding their annual science fair at a convention centre as opposed to the regular school gymnasium, because surprisingly enough, Wayne Enterprise offered to fund the event.

It was no secret that Gotham’s economy was hitting below the desired margin. Many people don’t have jobs which resulted in an influx of crime in the past years. And so Wayne Enterprise collaborated with Gotham’s Department of Homeland Security (DHS) to raise awareness and encourage young minds to strive for a better, innovative future. They shouldered the expenses needed and created an international affair, to top it off; Wayne Ent. also offered scholarships to future college goers and internships in all their branches.

Which was why I couldn’t sleep in today. I had project to work on. In line with our team of sponsors, I decided to invent a weapon that could help the GPD when catching criminals. A gun that projects thin plastic case marbles filled with a chemical concoction that erupts into a quick hardening foam upon impact. The foam itself is not toxic, but it works with catching and detaining. It turns as hard as stone but there was another type of compound that I was in the process of creating to counter act it as a measure of safety.

I got up and started my day.

“Good morning sweetheart.” My mom greeted as I entered the kitchen. She smiled warmly at me as she placed a plate of eggs and bacon on the table.

I couldn’t help but return the gesture, walking up to her and placing a kiss on her cheek. “Morning Mom, are you working tonight?”

“I have to, but don’t worry I’ll be leaving something in the fridge for dinner.”

I thanked her and took my plate into the living room. Turning on the T.V., I easily found the news channel and watched the latest reports on Gotham’s activities.

Mom sometimes had to work on weekends just to make ends meet, which was one reason why I was so hard to get that scholarship and hopefully the internship as well. The other reason was…

A family picture caught my eye in the middle of the news and I bit back a sigh. My dad, my mom, and me. We all were smiling at the camera.

Dad was part of the Police force and died during a heist. Reports stated he was running after the criminals and got shot before he could capture them. That was another reason I chose this as my project. Dad always wanted to fight for justice, hopefully this invention could help.

I finished up my breakfast and helped my mom with chores before I slipped into science mode and continued tinkering with the project. The projectiles were complete and I was able to make 3 in total, which I stored in a small box encased with extra padding.

It was around evening after my mom left that I got another burn. I dropped the screwdriver I was holding and bit my lip. Gasping for breath I pulled my sleeve and watched another flower blossom on my forearm.

The pain was gone in an instant and the cold tickled the skin that was branded. I sighed and slowly straightened my poster. This person, after all these injuries, they better not die before I meet them. I grumbled to myself when I realised I was short on supplies. Poor planning on my part.

I grabbed my bag and locked the front door before I headed out to the nearest hardware store, careful to keep my marks hidden from view. I’ve lived in Gotham my whole life, and I knew that standing out, even in the smallest way, would lead into trouble.

The walk to the store was short and uneventful, thankfully. There were only a few customers. I manoeuvred my way between the isles and picked up what I needed. After paying at the counter I hauled my goods and ducked back into the streets. I almost wished I didn’t stop when I heard that woman cry out for help. I was unarmed, unprepared, and every cell in my body screamed at me to walk – no – run away from the scene that was unfolding before my eyes.

But she was helpless. Clad in a trench coat and rain boots, she didn’t look like much but her bag was definitely designer. The thieves in question had a knife pointed at her face. There were 6 of them. All were towering and bulky next to her petite frame. Their menacing stares struck a cold shiver in me and my hand involuntarily clutched the projectiles I was working on in my pocket. I had a feeling it would be safer with me than it would be at home, however this was not how I imagined I’d first be using them.

The woman screamed again and I clenched my palm.

I sucked in some air and got ready to shout at the perpetrators – until I felt the wind rush past my ear.

In a flash someone had swooped into the scene and kicked the man holding the knife to the ground. The sound of blades being drawn stole my attention. It was Robin. He took a stance between the woman and the men.

“Run. Now.” He told the lady.

She whimpered and scrambled up to her feet dashing towards me, towards the entrance of the alley. She zipped past and didn’t stop running till she turned the corner. I should be running too. But my eyes were fixed on the fight that was about to happen.

Robin seemed no older than me. In reality there was no way he could win against 6 huge men. But then again, this was Robin. No normal teenager.

“6 against 1.” He mused, the grip on his katana tightened. “That hardly seems fair.”

The one who held the knife, possibly the leader of the gang, growled thickly. “Get‘im boys.”

They all rushed towards him at the same time, hands in the air and weapons ready. Robin whipped his blade and easily knocked two knives down, the remaining used their strength and threw punches that looked like it would strike anyone straight to next week. The masked boy effortlessly dodged all their hits. Crouching, jumping, twisting, exactly when needed and not a second too late. His movements were precise; a quick jab below the rib striking the kidney with the handle of the sword, a sharp slam of his elbow to the chin, and to close the deal with a blunt blow force to the side of the neck. The goon fell like a tree that’s been cut down.

I gaped in awe.

The others rushed to avenge their fallen comrade, but Robin was quicker and used his blade to disable them. He kicked one of them into the brick wall, a sickening crunch echoed as the goons’ head smashed into it, then a howl of pain when Robin sliced his back. I cringed at the sight of the blood. It was a superficial wound, at least from my vantage point. The cut was deep enough to hurt and draw red, but not enough to kill.

The next lunged himself and grabbed Robin’s wrist, the boy growled and kicked him the face, forcing to free himself. He couldn’t see the other one running towards them from behind, the weapon aiming straight for Robin’s back.

“Robin!” I found my voice and screamed. “Behind you!”

He did a roundhouse kick and slammed the head of the one holding his wrist, then using the momentum back flipped and kicked the one who was behind.

I sighed in relief.

“What are you doing just standing there?!” He shouted at me as he readied himself again. “I said run!”

That got all the men’s attention. The ones that fell got back up and huffed angrily.

“Get the girl!” The leader shouted. “We can use her.” His leer sent bile rushing up my throat.

I squeaked as 3 of them started to chase me. Finally my legs listened and I dashed across the street onto the other pavement.

They were too fast though, their thundering footsteps grew closer towards me. My lungs burned as I tried to inhale some much needed oxygen, physical sports like running really weren’t my thing. I nearly tripped on an uneven tile as a scream rippled out of my throat. I braced myself for impact but it never came. Instead I felt a rush of wind across my face and a lightness below me. The ground was getting further and further away.

I realised I was being carried. Looking up, I was face to face with Red Robin.

“God thing I saw you when I did or you’d be dead meat.” He said dryly as we landed on a roof.

“Th-thank you.” I breathed, trying to gulp in as much needed air as I could. “Robin – he –“ But I didn’t know how to articulate. The adrenaline rush was messing with my head, and I could barely think straight.

Yet Red Robin nodded, understanding. He jumped off the roof and shot his grappling hook. I peered down and saw the fight started to move, from the alley to the side walk. The goons cornered Robin into a store front and were relentless as they threw punch after punch. The other 3 that were chasing me were already fighting Red just below the building that he deposited me on.

I watched in horror as the glass shattered everywhere around them. They weren’t just normal gangs I discerned, they knew how to fight. And unlike the birds and bat, they didn’t mind taking a life.

Clutching the projectiles again in my pocket, I brought them up with trembling hands.

“I hope this works.” I whispered to myself and pulled out my elastic hair tie.

Hooking one of the orbs onto the elastic, I aimed for the goons attacking Robin, and pulled as far as the band could go. Willing my hand to stop shaking, I said a silent prayer and released my hold.

Time seemed to go into slow motion as it flew across the air. I held my breath.

It hit the ground between two goons and burst into a big foamy cloud of vibrant cobalt, instantly seizing the men and solidified their prison as the concoction cooled.

Both fights stopped for a split second, as they watched the chemical reaction, which now looking back was a mistake on all parties.

I gasped and thanked whoever was listening.

The leader roared and pulled a pistol. I felt my throat tighten as the gun set a bullet free.

Robin and I cried out in pain as the bullet dug into him. Tears threatened to roll down my cheek as I clutched my burning shoulder.

A birdarang zipped towards the leader, catching his wrist and making him let go of the weapon. With a grunt, Robin kicked him hard across the chest stealing the perpetrators breath and with a quick turn, smashed his foot onto the mans jaw, cracking it before letting him fall with a loud thud.

The fight continued and Robin easily subdued his last opponent. Then he ran across the street to finish up with Red. Both of them moved in fluid motions like well trained dancers as they fought while protecting each others weak spots. They took down the last 3 goons and tied them up just as the police sirens blared within the distance.

I jumped up from my spot and turned to run but stopped when I saw the two Robins in my path.

“You.” The younger one started. “You were the one who shot the…”

I nodded wordlessly, still feeling the adrenaline coursing through my body. A nasty red splotch caught my attention and I believe they both noticed as I glanced at it. My own hand went up and clutched my shoulder unconsciously, a cold sensation rippled through where the bullet was.

“Oh my god.”

---

to be continued...

Part 2, 3, 4, 5 (end)

#Damian Wayne x Reader #Damian x Reader #Soulmate AU #fanfiction #my fanfiction #challenge #DC #Batman #Robin #Red Robin #my fan fiction

537 notes · View notes

blkmxrvel · 4 years

Text

Haven’t Forgotten My Way Home (19) - [CONVERTED]

Pairing: Kara Zor-El x Female!Reader

Summary: In the D/s society of National City, men and women abandoned by their Dom/mes or otherwise deemed unfit for life “outside” end up at the Mount Overland House for Orphaned Submissives. It is here that Kara Zor-El finds Y/N Hastings, broken and fearful from mistreatment at the hands of her former Dom. Can Kara coax Y/N back into the world that once so terrified her, and show her the true meaning of care and submission?

Warnings: Domestic Violence (Flashbacks, Mentions and Descriptions), Misogyny, Domination/Submission.

It seemed that she had spent the last three hours pacing her living room floor. Every now and then Kara would stop and squint downward, to see if she had worn a path in the carpet. And then she would glance at the door. Finally, she’d start pacing again. It had been the same routine since eight that morning. Her mind hadn’t rested since two twenty three.

Since she’d called Y/N.

“A-are you all right? Do you n-need anything?”

“Yes. Yes, Y/N, I do need something.”

“You’re not hurt, are you? Sick?”

“I need you to come see me. So we can talk. About everything. Can you do that for me, Y/N?”

“Okay, Kara.”

“Come to my house at eleven tomorrow morning? Not a moment later or earlier.”

“Yes.”

It wasn’t too late to back out, Kara thought. It was only 10:50, she still had ten minutes to come to her senses and put an end to all of this. It would be so easy just to tell Y/N that she was sorry things had turned out the way they had, and that she wished Y/N luck with finding a Dominant worthy of her.

But damn if Lena’s words kept replaying themselves in Kara’s head, over and over like a prayer.

Kara, you’re more than good enough.

And Kara kept seeing Y/N’s face, hurt and lost as it had been that day three days ago when Kara had buttoned up her coat and adjusted the collar, then sent her out into the rain. Away from her, away from them. She thought of herself, how big and lonely the house felt once again, even with Theo sticking close to her side because he was remarkably good at sensing her sadness. Kara thought of Y/N, of kissing her and holding her close, of wanting to see those Y/E/C eyes looking at her with love and trust.

And even before she heard the soft knock on the door ten minutes later, Kara knew there would be no way she’d back out.

Still, her hand trembled on the knob as she pulled open the door. But if Kara was nervous, Y/N was even more so, as she couldn’t even bring her eyes up to meet Kara’s. But she finally did look at her after a long minute, her gaze searching and unsure. Kara smiled, and slipped her hand down to grasp Y/N’s, locking their fingers together.

“You’re not wearing a coat,” she said softly, pulling the girl inside and closing the door behind them, locking it. “It’s cold out; I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I forgot,” Y/N said with a shrug. “I’ve kind of been anxious all morning? So I guess I just didn’t think about it.”

“You too, huh?” Kara’s smile didn’t waver; she willed it to be more reassuring, wanting Y/N to lose that uncertain expression, because it hurt. Seeing Y/N wary of being with her made something twist in Kara’s gut and she’d do anything to be rid of it.

“Come on, why don’t you sit down, I’ll make us a drink. Hot chocolate?”

Y/N sat and giggled a little as Theo immediately pounced on her with licks. “Hot chocolate sounds really nice,” she said, giving Kara a genuine smile, and Kara’s heart fluttered.

She made the hot chocolate quickly, listening as Y/N baby-talked Theo in the living room, and her hands shook less as she carried the two mugs back and handed one to Y/N. “Down, you big oaf,” Kara said, gently pushing Theo to the floor. “I want Y/N time too, I’ve missed it.”

The mug paused halfway to Y/N’s mouth. “You have?”

“I have,” Kara nodded. “It would be an understatement to say that I have grown rather fond of you, but other words seem to fail in describing my current emotional state.”

“You could try using less of them?” Y/N rolled her eyes, one corner of her mouth turning up a little as she took a sip of the hot chocolate.

Apparently Lena had been right; Kara really had met her match. It made her giddy, the thought of it, even as she pouted only slightly at the mild insult; but one look at the sparkle that had suddenly returned to Y/N’s eyes and Kara realized it was going to be easy to fall fast and hard for this brat.

“I’ve missed you,” she said honestly. She took a long drink of the hot chocolate, trying to use the heat of the liquid to muster up enough strength to say what she needed to. But Y/N stopped her before the words even came.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, sounding on the edge of tears. “I’m sorry I was so disrespectful, I’m sorry I tried to push you, I’m sorry I was so awful, I—“

“Y/N, stop.”

This was not how she wanted this to go. The time for apologies would come soon enough, from Y/N at least, but the time wasn’t right then. Kara set her mug down on the coffee table and shifted on the couch so that she was sitting facing Y/N. Y/N was looking at her, almost frightened, a few stray tears trickling down her cheeks. Kara flexed her fingers, then reached up and brushed the tears away with her thumbs.

“I’m scared.”

And there it was, the two hardest words Kara Zor-el would ever say in her life. Even harder than “I’m sorry,” because she’d gotten quite a lot of practice – and baking experience – out of those. They were words that she’d always felt she wasn’t allowed to admit, even though that had been the first thing Lena had stressed to her – that if you didn’t admit you were scared, you could never learn to be strong.

And the other thing Lena had taught her: If you’re not strong when she needs you to be, your relationship will never work.

“Of what?” Y/N asked, sounding surprised and more than a little confused.

“Of everything?” Kara shrugged. “Mostly…” She toyed with her hands in her lap, and then glanced up when Y/N grasped her hands in hers. “Mostly of never getting to New York. And mostly… of this. Us. What if I mess everything up between us?”

“I’ve already messed things up between us.”

“No.” Kara shook her head. “No, you haven’t. I should have talked to you, I should have told you everything I was feeling and instead I… shut you down.” She’d have to tell Lena she was right. Again. Damn it.

“I’ve thought about New York every day since I was four. Then I turned eighteen and well, you know. I am incredibly used to doing my job and not thinking about how much I wish I was on stage. Then this Y/H/C haired Y/E/C eyed brat walked – well, rolled—“

“Hey!”

“—walked into my life, and now look at me.” Kara shrugged. “You’ve made me want everything just that much more, you’ve made me want you more than anything, and I am terrified of messing everything up and ending up with nothing.”

“Or…” Y/N spoke softly, haltingly, her gaze never leaving Kara’s. “You could stop looking at it as you doing it all. Maybe it’s… you and me against the world, Kara, like two awkward superheroes who only win the battle if they’re together. If we have each other, maybe we’ll end up with everything.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a dork?” Kara sniffed, not realizing she’d been crying until she reached up a hand to wipe at her eyes. “I mean, you’re adorable, but you really are quite a dork.”

“Just you, Kara.”

“Well, I’ll be quite happy to be the only one.”

“So does this mean…” Y/N trailed off, and Kara’s heart melted, seeing the hope written all over the girl’s face.

She took a deep breath. “I need you to choose a word. Or a phrase. Something that you would never find yourself using in every day conversation.”

It was now or never. Stay or jump. Sink or swim. Fall… or fly.

“I don’t understand,” Y/N said, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Just a word or a phrase, sweetheart. But I need to know what it is.”

“Um… Barbra?”

Kara blinked. “You are not using The Streisand as a safe word, Y/N Hastings.”

Y/N gaped. “S-safe word?”

Jump. Swim. Fly.

Kara nodded. “There are so many things we have to work out,” she admitted, “And I’m not going to use this dynamic with you anywhere but in my home. This means in public, or when you’re alone at Nia’s or out with friends, you make your own decisions and you don’t answer to me.”

“But—“

“No, Y/N. That’s the way this is going to work.” Kara turned one of her hands over and squeezed Y/N’s. “You still have a lot of healing to do, and… so do I. There’s a big world out there waiting for you, and I want you to discover it all. But I-I want this with you so much, and if you still do then… maybe we can try.”

She let her words rest there, as if she had put all of her cards out on the table and was now waiting for Y/N to fold. There was silence, nothing but the quietness of Theo snoring over on his mat in the corner, and Kara felt herself begin to panic. Maybe this had been a bad idea. Maybe Y/N didn’t want this after all and had only come over to tell her so. Maybe Y/N would leave in a huff and they’d never see each other ag—

“Supergirl.”

Kara blinked. “Supergirl?”

“For my safe word. Supergirl.”

“Supergirl,” Kara repeated dumbly, watching as the corners of Y/N’s mouth quirked upward into an amused smile.

“That is what I said. Supergirl.”

“You do realize I’ll never be able to see any DC production the same way again, now?”

“Yep.”

“… brat.”

“But I’m your brat, Miss Kara.”

She gave out something that sounded between a half-laugh and a half-sob; those two words had never sounded more like the most beautiful music in the world to her ears. Miss Kara. She hadn’t even realized how much she’d missed them. How much she’d missed her. And now Y/N was looking at Kara with a mixture of apprehension and contentment, and Kara moved quickly to hug her, to press her lips against the other girl’s. She’d have been happy to kiss for hours, to hold Y/N in her arms for the rest of the afternoon as they just kissed, softly and gently, but then Y/N pulled away with an unreadable expression on her face.

“Y/N?” Kara fought down the panic, the fear that Y/N was already changing her mind.

“I was so rude to you…”

“What? No you weren’t,” Kara said, confused.

“Yes, I was,” Y/N insisted. “When I left… what I said to you, I was so disrespectful, Miss Kara.”

“Oh, that,” Kara said, feeling relieved. “Y/N, we were both incredibly stressed out. It’s all right, really.”

Y/N shook her head. “It’s not all right to me. I haven’t been able to stop t-thinking about it. You’re so good to me, and I treated you that way… it’s not all right.”

Kara thought she already knew the answer, but she asked anyway. “What would make it all right, Y/N?”

She looked away. “You know what would.”

“I want you to tell me.”

“If you punished me.” Y/N’s voice was small, taking on a tone that Kara had never heard before, and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t send a pleasurable thrill over her skin.

“Are you sure?” Kara pressed, wanting to give Y/N every available out she possibly could. Once they did this, there would be no turning back. There would be no chance for Kara to stop herself from doing anything that could potentially hurt someone who was slowly becoming one of the most important things in her life.

She focused on Y/N, looking for any signs of discomfort as the girl bit her lip, but then Y/N took a deep breath, drawing herself up, and nodding.

“I’m sure, Miss Kara.”

Kara nodded herself. “What’s your safe word?” she asked.

This time, there was no trace of amusement in Y/N as she responded, “Supergirl.”

“Good.” Kara thought for a moment. “Go to my room. There is a bandana sitting on top of my desk. I want you to get it and bring it back to me.”

The change in Y/N was immediate as she stood. Kara had never seen the girl fall into herself so easily, had never seen her eyes so steady and her steps as purposeful as she said “Yes, Miss Kara,” and walked to her bedroom.

In seconds – seconds that seemed to take too long – Y/N was back, the argyle bandana fisted lightly in her hand. She held it out to Kara, but didn’t sit down when Kara took it.

Kara laid the bandana next to her on the couch, and then paused. Knowing that Y/N was watching her every move, Kara grabbed a pillow from the couch and sat it on the floor at her feet. She looked up at Y/N.

“Will you kneel for me, Y/N?”

There it was, the last out. A request, not a demand. The chance for Y/N to leave, for her to establish a clear boundary between herself and Kara. By the quiet inflection at the end of the question, Kara was telling Y/N that it was okay for her to decide, it was okay for her to make the choice that what they were doing wasn’t right for her.

Y/N met Kara’s eyes with her own, and slipped wordlessly to her knees on the pillow. She trembled, her head ducking and her hands moving to grasp her wrists behind her back.

Kara stood up, bracing herself momentarily on the arm of the couch, because her own legs were shaking so that she could hardly stand. She stayed next to Y/N for a moment, looking down at her, studying her form, before shaking her head. Reaching down, she gently untangled Y/N’s hands from themselves and brought them to the front, resting them palm-up atop the blue fabric of her dress over her knees. Y/N’s fists were clenched and Kara slowly, carefully unclenched them, leaving the girl’s hands open. Offering. She cupped Y/N’s chin in her hand and lifted her face so that Y/N was looking at her.

“Head and eyes up,” she said softly.

“Yes, Miss Kara. I’m sor—“

“Shh.” Kara touched Y/N’s lips with her index finger. “You’re doing just fine, Y/N. It’s all right.”

She stepped back a little to study Y/N again, and caught the flicker of insecurity that touched Y/N’s face. Kara smiled and reached to run a steady hand through Y/N’s hair.

“You,” she said, pronouncing each word firmly and carefully, “are so beautiful, little one.”

“Thank you, Miss Kara.”

The flush of Y/N’s ears to a deep pink told Kara that she had said the right thing. She stood there for another minute, lovingly stroking Y/N’s hair, before sitting back on the couch in front of her.

“Hands on my knees, Y/N, and look at me.”

“Yes, Miss Kara.”

Immediately Y/N did as she was told, looking at Kara with eyes that were wide and trusting, and Kara felt as if her heart was being shattered into a million pieces and being rebuilt even stronger, all at the same time, over and over again. She wanted to cry, to fold Y/N into her arms and hold her, but there would be time enough for that. She had to focus on Y/N’s needs, now; her own could come later.

“Limits?”

“Miss Kara?”

“What are your limits?” There’d be time to work on a comprehensive list later on, but Kara needed to know immediate ones.

“D-don’t hit me,” Y/N said, her voice faltering a little.

“I will never,” Kara said quietly. “You can trust me on that, Y/N.”

“All right.” Y/N took a breath and her hands tightened briefly around Kara’s knees. “All right.”

Kara leaned down and softly kissed Y/N’s forehead. “Do you know why you’re being punished, little one?”

“Because I was disrespectful to you the last time we spoke, Miss Kara.”

“That’s right,” Kara said. She looked into Y/N’s eyes. “Do you know why that hurts me?”

The look of shame was instantaneous, as were the tears that began to fall. Kara’s immediate instinct was to stop everything and pull the girl into her lap, but she struggled against it. Y/N needed this, needed Kara to establish her command, and everything they did from this point on would be for naught, if Kara didn’t take control.

“I—“

“Hush.” Y/N went silent immediately, her gaze darting to Kara’s hands as she picked up the argyle bandana and began to fold it. “Open.” When Y/N hesitated, Kara said, more firmly, “Open your mouth, Y/N, now.”

Y/N did as she was told and in seconds she was gagged, the bandana tied lightly but securely around her head. Her hands trembled violently on Kara’s knees, and Kara settled her own on top of Y/N’s.

“If you need to safe word, you will put your right hand on top of your head, is that understood?”

Y/N nodded.

“For years he took away your voice,” Kara said quietly. “He took away your right to speak your needs, your desires, and your fears. Everything. And when I came to visit you at the House, what did I want? For you to talk to me. I came every day, just because I wanted to hear you talk.” Kara leaned forward, saying evenly, “I will not tolerate disrespect, Y/N Hastings. When you speak to me it will be without attitude. I have not worked so hard to hear you speak, I don’t love your voice so much just to have you talk to me the way you did. Remember what it’s like not to have a voice, Y/N, and adjust yourself accordingly once this gag is removed.”

Y/N was crying fully now, the tears coursing down her cheeks and wetting the gag; Kara blinked back her own tears as she stood up, feeling Y/N’s hands slip from her knees. “Come with me,” she said, but stopped when Y/N moved as if to crawl behind her. “No,” she said, gentling her tone and leaning down to grasp Y/N’s hand.

“Stand up and walk, Y/N.” She picked up the pillow on the floor in her other hand, and led Y/N over to a far corner in the living room. She sat the pillow down, and pointed.

“On your knees, Y/N.”

Once again it was effortless, and Kara gently pressed her hand to the back of Y/N’s head, guiding her nose to the wall.

“I want you to stay there and think about your attitude, and how you can better express your emotions when you are under duress.”

She moved to walk away but was stopped by hands gripping at her waist, at Y/N shaking her head, garbled sounds coming from around the gag and her eyes wide with fear. Gagged or not, Kara understood what she was saying.

Don’t leave me.

Slowly she pulled Y/N’s hands away from her and once again guided the girl to the wall. She kept one hand on Y/N’s shoulder.

“If you want to safe word,” Kara said, “You know how to do it.”

She waited, but Y/N’s hands didn’t move from her sides. Kara could feel Y/N shake as she cried, and her heart ached. None of her classes had really prepared her for what it would be like to punish a submissive, and all she really knew about it she’d learned as a sub, with Lena. She knew she had to be strong, unyielding if there hadn’t been a safe word, and most importantly, she had to be there.

“I’m right here, little one,” Kara said tenderly. “You’re okay. Just stay there and think about things, okay?”

She felt Y/N go limp, felt her slump against the wall, and she smiled a little. She waited thirty seconds, and then dropped her hand from Y/N’s shoulder. She moved back, just a few steps, watching as the tension rose in Y/N’s body.

“I’m right here,” Kara said again, and again Y/N went limp, even as she was still crying.

She was beautiful, Kara thought. So breathtakingly beautiful, knelt in the corner with her blue dress bunched up around her knees and her slim, delicate hands once again slipping behind her back. Her eyes were closed, her lips tight against the gag in her mouth, Y/H/C hair almost melding with the white fabric of the cardigan she was wearing over her dress.

She looked, Kara thought, like an angel.

Moving back again, she sat on the coffee table, her eyes trained on Y/N. She watched as the girl grew a little restless, watched as Y/N dared to sneak a look over her shoulder. Kara raised an eyebrow when Y/N saw she’d been caught leaving position and she snapped back around to the corner, a flush rising at the base of her neck. Kara fought off a giggle.

“I’m right here,” she said once more.

After a few more minutes, Y/N had stopped crying, and all the tension had left her body. She was leaning against the corner now, relaxed, her breathing coming deep and shallow and for a moment Kara wondered if the girl had fallen asleep.

“Y/N,” she called softly, and the girl lifted her head. No, she hadn’t been asleep. “Come here, Y/N. Bring the pillow with you.” Kara didn’t wait to see if Y/N obeyed her; she knew she would, and so she got up from the coffee table and went back to the couch. By the time she had sat down, the pillow was on the floor and Y/N was kneeling in front of her.

Kara reached up and quickly untied the gag, pulling it from Y/N’s mouth. Y/N licked her lips but said nothing, staring at Kara. Waiting for instruction.

“Do you have anything you wish to say to me?”

“Yes, Miss Kara,” Y/N said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I was disrespectful to you.”

Kara nodded. “And will it happen again?”

“No,” Y/N declared. “Never.”

Kara just barely managed not to roll her eyes; of course it would happen again. It was one of those things that would always happen, she knew. But that was all right. They’d deal with it. In the meantime, Y/N was still staring at her, waiting, expectant, and Kara leaned down, wrapped her arms around Y/N, and kissed her.

“Good girl,” she murmured against Y/N’s lips. “That’s my good girl.”

Y/N’s arms came to wrap around Kara’s neck, clinging tightly as she pressed her face into Kara’s skin, once again crying softly. Kara tugged until Y/N came off her knees and climbed onto the couch, settling herself into Kara’s lap. She rubbed Y/N’s back, stroked her hair, once again saying those words, over and over.

“Good girl, Y/N. Good girl.”

And then Kara was pressed back into the couch with the force of Y/N’s sobs, loud and anguished, and she had the sudden realization that something had just broken. It wasn’t the punishment, it wasn’t what they were doing, it was Y/N feeling, lost in the fact that no one had ever held her after a punishment before. Kara suddenly knew that Y/N was lost in memories of the past, of other punishments, and that something had awakened in her and now Y/N was… She was grieving. Grieving for the past, what she had thought her future would be, the child that was and the woman that was only now allowed to be.

Kara kept her arms strong and firm around Y/N, remembering herself just after her first punishment with Lena, how Lena had held her close, whispering reassurances in her ear. But Lena had never dealt with this; Kara had never been broken. And now Kara felt helpless, powerless to stave off the sobs that wracked Y/N’s body in wails and hitched breaths, and as she kept stroking her hair and trying to whisper words of comfort, Kara finally reached for the one thing she knew better than breathing.

“There were bells on the hill, but I never heard them ringing,” Kara sang quietly, pressing her lips close to Y/N’s ear. “No I never heard them at all, till there was you… “ She began to rock Y/N, smiling a little when Theo leapt up onto the couch and laid his head on Y/N’s leg, looking at Kara mournfully. She’d have to give him a treat later.

“There were birds in the sky, but I never saw them winging, no, I never saw them at all, till there was you…”

Her voice was stronger now, clear, as if she wasn’t singing in her house but on a stage in New York, to an audience of one. And Y/N was calming, her hands fisted in Kara’s shirt, her cries gradually subsiding as she listened.

“And there was music, and there were wonderful roses, they tell me, in sweet fragrant meadows of dawn and dew…”

Y/N had lifted her face now, hiccupping quietly, but she was smiling, and Kara gently brushed the tears away with her fingertips, kissing her. She held Y/N’s face in her hands, smiling at her as she sang the last lines.

“There was love all around, but I never heard it singing. No, I never heard it at all, till there was you…”

She touched Y/N’s lips with hers in a soft kiss before pulling the girl’s head back down to her shoulder. Never mind that it was probably too soon to say the word love. Never mind that she still wasn’t sure what they were doing was the right thing. Never mind that there was still so much for them to talk about, rules to establish and limits to set. Never mind that she had no clue how she was going to dominate Y/N only in her own home, but not in public or anywhere else. Never mind that she felt her stomach growl and she remembered she hadn’t eaten breakfast, because Y/N felt it too and was giggling against Kara’s neck, and all Kara could do was hug her tighter.

She’d once thought she’d forgotten how to sing.

Now there was Y/N.

#kara danvers #kara zor-el x reader #kara danvers x reader #kara danvers imagine #kara zor el #supergirl #supergirl x reader #supergirl au #madi converts

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recurring-polynya · 3 years

Note

For the AU request, whichever one(s) you prefer (for RenRuki of course):

the X-Men universe

the Mafia/criminal underworld

the circus

as FBI agents (the X-Files world perhaps)

So, I got this ask, and I immediately wanted to go for X-Files, because I was hugely into X-Files when I was a tween/teen, and I think that my actual first published work of fanfic on the internet might actually be X-Files. (I didn’t even post it myself, I was like 12 and I didn’t have the internet at home, but a friend of mine posted it on Usenet for me, I have no idea whatever became of it). Anyway, I was going back and forth in my head who I wanted to be Mulder and who I wanted to be Scully, and then I got this ask:

@ulkoilla said:

I though the 10 would be full in about 1 microsecond so I didn’t even try :D This is maybe not AU enough for the purpose but I'd love to see your take on Bleach world where the shinigami work among humans as if they were in gigai -> they'll have to balance the supernatural, perhaps violent elements of their life with the modern day laws and such (like in Supernatural). Renji and Rukia have ofc gotten in trouble with the non-supernatural law (meet: Detective!Aizen?) and are on the run…

It suddenly occurred to me, What If: X-Files World, but Renruki are the cryptids. And it suddenly popped into my head exactly who I wanted to be Mulder. Anyway, I am sorry missrambler, if I messed it all up, I hope you like it anyway.

Also, I somehow thought that I would save myself some trouble by combining two prompts, but then it ended up… really long. (Forty! Eight! Hundred! Words! Go to Talks-Too-Much-Jail, Polynya!!)

PS: This takes place in D.C. because it’s X-Files and also because I am familiar with D.C. and I never get to write about places I know about. A half-smoke is a local delicacy that’s halfway between a hot dog and an Italian sausage. They are delicious.

Read on ao3 or ff.net

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Ichigo Kurosaki had known that an office with a view of the Smithsonian might be too much to ask, but he had not expected to take have to take two separate elevators down to sub-basement C, and walk past a storage room, two broom closets and a weird old vending machine full of brands of snacks he swore he hadn’t seen since he was a child.

Maybe Agent Inoue has a huge lab, he told himself. Maybe it needs to be 50 meters below ground because she collides large hadrons down here or so that her work can’t be picked up by spy satellites.

He had to turn sideways to get past a rack of wire shelves full of banker’s boxes, but there, on the other side was a door sporting a handwritten cardboard nameplate reading “Special Agent Orihime Inoue.”

“Come in!” a voice called inside, just as he raised his hand to knock on the door.

Ichigo blinked twice, and then went in.

The office was cluttered, mostly with more cardboard boxes, but books were also stacked precariously on top of boxes on top of books. The walls were plastered with maps and graphs and photographs of hazy blurs in front of staircases. There was a large poster showing a UFO, with the words “I WANT TO BELIEVE” in block caps below it.

A woman with long chestnut hair twisted up into a bun and held in place with three pencils was hunched over a metal box full of diodes and transistors and other things you would buy at Radio Shack. Or rather, that other people would buy at a Radio Shack. Ichigo had never set foot in a Radio Shack in his life.

“Er, good morning,” Ichigo said, as the woman looked up and blinked at him owlishly. “Agent Inoue? I’m Ichigo Kurosaki. I’ve been assigned to work with you.”

“To spy on me, you mean,” Agent Inoue corrected, cheerfully shaking his hand with great vigor.

Ichigo bristled. Yes, he had been directed to ‘provide additional documentation on Agent Inoue’s activities,’ but that hardly counted as spying. She was known to be somewhat scatterbrained, and having an organized person around would probably be a great benefit to her. “If you have any doubts about my qualifications or motivations--”

“Oh, don’t take it personally!” Inoue replied, slotting a lid onto her electronics project, and attacking it vigorously with a jeweler’s screwdriver. “Just because you’re a spy doesn’t mean you aren’t a nice person. Also, I read your file, you have a very interesting background! Degree in literature with a focus on folk legends. Teaching at the academy for the last few years while working on your book.” She took a momentary break from her screwing to fix him with her big, soft brown eyes. “Tell me, Agent Kurosaki, what do you think happens after you die?”

Ichigo froze. “I would be buried? Maybe there would be a funeral first?”

Inoue started laughing so hard that Ichigo was sure he caught a tiny, adorable snort. “Sorry, sorry! I wasn’t clear!” She sniffed, and wiped a tear from her eye. “Do you believe in continued existence after the death of the body? An afterlife, religion-based or otherwise? The existence of ectoplasm, cold spots, spirit photographs, EVP?”

“Are you talking about… ghosts?” Ichigo asked hesitantly.

“Yes!” Orihime replied with a nod. “Ghosts.”

“We-elll…” Ichigo drew out. “I believe that people believe they observe certain phenomena, as part of the cycle of grief and--”

“Just say ‘no’ if you don’t,” Inoue interrupted him.

“Er, no. I don’t.”

“That’s okay. Are you good at carrying heavy things?”

“Am I... I guess?”

“Perfect!” She shoved the box into his arms, and Ichigo’s knees almost buckled under the weight. “Let’s walk and talk, I want to go get a reading over near Franklin Square before 9 am. We’re gonna pass a really good half-smoke cart on the way, do you like half-smokes?”

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“Take a look at this,” Inoue said, her cheek half stuffed with sausage, jabbing a finger at the LED read-out of her mysterious box.

It was rather hard for Ichigo to see, because he was holding the box and the readout was on the other side, but he did his best to crane his neck around. “What am I looking at? The squiggles? I’m sorry, it looks like nothing to me.”

“Exactly right!” Inoue announced, waving her half smoke in the air. “Not a sniff of spiritual residue!”

Ichigo pressed his lips together. “Um… is that good?”

“It is interesting,” Inoue corrected. “Five days ago, a sixty-four year old woman had a heart attack while sitting in that bus shelter.” On every day since, I have been able to record EMF fluctuations, and on Sunday, I was able to get a voice recording that sounded like a woman reciting a grocery list. But this morning, nothing! Nada!”

“Well, uh, ghosts gotta move on eventually, right? Otherwise, just about everywhere would be haunted, right?” It’s not that Ichigo had suddenly started believing ghosts or anything, but there was something about Agent Inoue that just made you want to go along with her and see where all this panned out.

Inoue shot him a finger gun. “Or, they get moved along.” She shoved a folded paper map at him. “You can put that thing down.”

Ichigo eased the Spirit Detect-O 9000, or whatever it was called, to the grass and accepted her map. It was a street map of DC, meant for tourists, emphasizing all the local transit routes and popular attractions. There was also a great loop marked on it in orange highlighter, zig-zagging back and forth through the city. There was a little ‘x’ marked on Franklin Park, with “Tuesday, early morning” written in a bubbly hand.

“What is this?” Ichigo frowned. It didn’t seem to match up with any of the metro or bus lines. It didn’t even match with the sidewalks, it appeared to cut straight through large buildings like the convention center.

“As far as I can tell,” Inoue said, her brown eyes very solemn, “that is the patrol route of our local grim reaper.”

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“So I actually got interested in grim reapers,” Inoue explained, once they were back in the office, “while I was investigating violent ghost phenomena.” She was eating a bag of corn chips that she had gotten from that ancient vending machine by punching it and then shoving her own arm up the chute. (She’d gotten Ichigo a bag, too, but he was too afraid to eat them.)

Ichigo was sitting at a cluttered table that Inoue had told him “could be his desk.” Half of it was taken up by a large aquarium full of rocks and a water bowl, but no life forms that Ichigo could detect. The other half was covered with back issues of “Ghost Hunter Technology” magazine. “You mean like poltergeists?” he asked.

“Not exactly. Poltergeists are noisy, but they aren’t usually able to kill their targets.”

“Kill? Ghosts can’t kill people, aside from, like scaring them to death,” Ichigo scoffed. “I mean, folklorically speaking. As we established earlier, I am not a ghost-believer.”

Inoue tipped her head to the side. “They do, actually, it just tends to get blamed on something else.”

“By ghost-non-believers.”

“By everyone, really, and that’s what’s so strange.” Inoue pulled a fat binder from a stack of seemingly identical ones, and tossed it open in front of Ichigo. “Edison, New Jersey, 2014. An elderly woman dies ‘of a broken heart’ a week after her husband dies of cancer. Coincidentally, a telephone pole falls on her house the same night and rips a hole in her house.” She turned a page. “Norfolk, Virginia, 2017. A young woman dies in what the police rule as a suicide, despite the fact that she made a 911 call 48 hours previous, expressing fear of her ex-boyfriend. Three days later, the boyfriend is dead of mysterious causes. Coincidentally, his apartment complex suffered significant damages from ‘a wild cougar.’”

Ichigo squinted at the pictures. The walls of the building were scored with what did appear to be scratch marks. “Hell of a cougar.”

“Exactly! And I’ve got dozens of these historic cases. But about four months ago, I was able to investigate one myself-- a young man named Joe Wallace. He lives here in the city, over near Dupont Circle. Wallace had cut off his toxic dad years ago, and refused to visit him in the hospital as he was dying. Four days after his father’s death, a truck crashes into his house in the middle of the night and then drives away before the police can arrive.”

“And he died.”

“No!” Inoue held up one finger. “Scratches and bruises, but he doesn’t die!”

“Okay, great. So what does he remember?”

“He remembers a truck crashing into his house.”

Ichigo scratched his chin. “I am confused.”

“Look at this!” Inoue stabbed a finger at the pictures. “These are claw marks, not vehicular wreckage! There’s damage on the second story window! Wallace had scratches and defensive wounds, as if he had been fending off an animal! And look here, at the damage to the walls of the bedroom!”

“What am I looking at?” Ichigo asked, squinting at a photograph that looked like it had been blown up past the point of recognition.

“There were cuts and slashes in the walls and bedding as though someone had been fighting with a sword.”

“Like a Medieval Times sword? Was the guy a Medieval Times enthusiast?”

“More consistent with a katana. Do you like Medieval Times?”

“No one likes Medieval Times.”

“I like Medieval Times. You’ve probably never even been. But back to the ghost! Why would Wallace remember a truck crashing into his house, when nothing about the scene is consistent with that story?”

“He was...lying?”

“His memories were replaced.”

“His memories were replaced,” Ichigo echoed.

“Yes.”

“By… aliens?”

Orihime heaved a deep sigh. “By a grim reaper.”

“A grim reaper with a samurai sword.”

“How on earth did you come to this conclusion?”

Inoue raised one eyebrow. “Because when I placed him under hypnosis, Wallace didn’t remember anything about a truck. He did remember a monster with batwings and a mask made of bone and his dead father’s voice who tried to kill him, except that he was saved by a tall man dressed in black. The man had bright red hair and fought the monster with a sword that was also a whip and then he wiped Wallace’s memories.”

Ichigo stared at her. “You can hypnotize people?”

Inoue gave him a long-suffering face. Ichigo had the sudden flash that he was going to be seeing that face a lot in the days to come. “Yes, I am a certified hypnotist.” Inoue’s phone suddenly started playing “Tubular Bells”. “Oops, that’s an alarm. Come on, we have a meeting with some important people. Do you like diners?”

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Agent Inoue apparently did not care for public transit, but she walked very quickly. Ichigo was concentrating so hard on keeping up with her that he nearly collided with her back when she stopped very suddenly.

“You don’t mind if we make a quick stop, do we?” Inoue asked.

“You said the meeting was with important people.”

“Oh, don’t worry about them!” Inoue pursed her lips. “You see that bodega right there?”

They were in a part of downtown that was mostly mid-to-upscale restaurants and government buildings and FedExes. But sure enough, there was a dingy little bodega nestled between a Mexican-Indian fusion place and an Au Bon Pain, the windows stuffed with t-shirts from the last administration and a variety of cell phone chargers. The overhead sign read “Urahara Shop.”

“Y...eah…” Ichigo replied.

“That place is a hotbed of supernatural activity.”

“Is it?” Ichigo asked.

“I am almost positive that it is a supply point and meeting place for grim reapers, monster slayers, cryptids, alien hunters, and lycanthropes, but the owner is on to me.”

“I see,” Ichigo said levelly.

“Can you go in and pretend to be a customer? They have lots of good candy you can look through. Inoue dug in her purse and came up with a fiver. “Here. Buy a scratch ticket or something.”

“I’m not buying a scratch ticket, they’re a scam.”

“If the big guy is working the counter, he’ll glare at you until you buy something, so be prepared.”

As Ichigo pushed open the door, he realized he’d never actually agreed to any of this. Agent Inoue’s secret hypnosis powers, once again. Whatever. It was a bodega, there were a thousand of them in DC. They all had the same Nats t-shirts and coffee mugs with pictures of the Washington Monument on them. Ichigo pretended to be interested in a rack of comics. He tended to prefer indy comics over the big publishers himself, but even so, he didn’t recognize any of the books. Maybe they were by local authors.

Up at the front of the shop, a tiny, dark-haired woman was giving whatfor to the man behind the counter, a tall fellow with pale, straw-colored hair sticking out in tufts from under the saddest hat Ichigo had ever seen, a shapeless, battered bucket, striped green and white.

“Well, I can sell you a new battery for your phone, Miss Kuchiki, maybe that would help.”

“Not if it only lasts as long as the last one you sold me! I really need to get in touch with my partner, except that even if I could get my phone working again, his battery is probably dead because everything you sell is the same crap!”

“Ah, that’s too bad! You know, I think Mr. Abarai was in here a few days ago… I wasn’t in at the time, but Jinta said he came in, asking about…”

The man trailed off, and Ichigo glanced up to see the shopkeeper looking directly at him.

“...metrocards. But as you know, we don’t sell metrocards anymore.”

The woman made an aggravated noise. “You’re so useless! If I write him a damned note, will you give it to him if he comes in?”

“Oh, of course! Anything for you, Miss Kuchiki!”

The conversation trailed off as the woman hunched over the counter to angrily scratch out a note.

Ichigo stuffed the comic he was flipping through back on its rack. He skipped the enormous display of bedazzled flip-flops and started perusing the surprisingly extensive selection of gum.

“Here!” the woman finished and shoved her note at the shopkeeper. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

“Have a wonderful day!” the shopkeeper tootled, giving her a little finger wave.

Ichigo felt bad for the woman. “Er, excuse me?” he said as she passed.

She turned to scowl at him. For such a tiny person, she seemed to contain a remarkable amount of rage.

“Do you need to call someone? You can use my phone, if you’d like.” He held it out like an offering.

The woman blinked at him for a moment.

“I didn’t mean to be nosy! You were just kind of loud and you sounded worried about your, um, partner.”

“I’m not worried about him, I just need to find him.” Her face softened. “Thanks, Mister, but I can’t reach him on a regular phone. Don’t worry, I’ll track him down eventually.” She turned to leave, then stopped to jab an accusatory finger at Ichigo. “And that’s professional partner, not… you know! Whatever!” She stomped out.

What a strange, tiny person.

Ichigo selected a gum and walked up to the counter.

“Oooh, dragonberry lime, good choice!” the man trilled. “Anything else I can get you? Bottled water? Fanny pack? Spare phone battery?”

“I’ll pass,” Ichigo replied dryly.

“I imagine it’s against FBI policy to let a stranger use your cell phone,” the shopkeeper said sweetly.

Ichigo’s brows furrowed. “This is my personal phone. And how did you…?”

The man gave a chortling laugh that sent shivers down Ichigo’s spine. “Because headquarters is three blocks away and only an FBI agent would wear a suit that square.”

Ichigo took his change and his gum and shoved them both in his pocket. “Yeah, well, your hat sucks.”

The man laughed harder. “Doesn’t it, though?”

Once he was outside again, Ichigo handed Inoue the gum and her change. “The owner of that place is a creep.”

“The guy in the green and white hat?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s Urahara. You’re right, he’s the owner. Were there any other customers?”

“Just the short lady. You must have seen her come out. She was ripping Urahara a new one for some dodgy cell phone battery he sold her. I think she must have been NSA or something. She said she was trying to get ahold of her partner, but she needed a special phone.” As he said it, Ichigo realized it would be pretty odd for an NSA agent to be buying cell phone batteries from some shady bodega.

“No one came out,” Inoue replied.

“She definitely did! I heard the bell over the door ring.”

Inoue regarded Ichigo very seriously. “Agent Kurosaki. I was standing here the whole time. You were the only person who went in or out.” She looked at the gum. “Ooh! Dragonfruit lime! Do you want some?”

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They were late to the meeting.

Two men were waiting for them in the back corner booth. One of them had pinched, pointy features and piercing blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. His chin-length haircut was pretty dramatic, but not as dramatic as his pure white trench coat. A cup of black coffee sat on the faded Formica table in front of him, but it didn’t look like it had been touched.

His companion was an enormous, good-looking Latino who was shoveling pancakes into his face.

“Inoue,” the dramatic guy said. “Who’s this?”

“This is my new partner, Kurosaki,” Inoue replied. “Kurosaki, this is Uryuu Ishida,” she indicated the white trenchcoat guy, “and Chad,” Mr. Pancakes.

“Also known as the ‘Lone Archers,’” Ishida specified. “We are apolitical actors who are interested in revealing the truths that are regularly hidden from the general populace by secret forces that conspire within the machinery of the American government.”

“You can just call me Chad,” said Chad.

“Good morning!” the waitress said. “Can I get you folks anything?”

“Oh, yes! I’m getting mozzarella sticks! Do you like mozzarella sticks, Kurosaki? They’re so good here!”

“So’re the pancakes,” added Chad.

“I’ll just have a coffee,” Ichigo announced. He glanced at Ishida’s cup. “Black.”

“Double mozzarella sticks, please!” Inoue chorused. “And a cherry coke!” She leaned over to Ichigo and spoke out of the side of her mouth. “I’ll give you a mozzarella stick.”

“Do you want some pancake?” Chad offered to Ishida. “I never think to offer.”

Ishida waved him off with a hand. “Agent Inoue. At great personal peril, I was able to obtain a sample of the item we discussed.” He slid a small paper packet across the table. “There are two tablets inside, but one should be sufficient for your purposes.” Ishida leaned forward, his mouth set in a firm line. “I was cautioned very strongly against using this, unless one had a firm plan for handling the… consequences.”

“I understand,” Inoue replied, stuffing the envelope into her purse.

Ichigo wanted to ask more questions, but the conversation shifted very quickly to some USGS floodplain maps that Ishida wanted Inoue to obtain for him that were apparently not available from the public webportals, allegedly because of filesize. Ichigo could practically hear the air quotes around the word “filesize.”

“We’re going to look for Jersey Devils next weekend,” Chad explained, sounding pretty excited about it.

“There’s only one, Chad,” Ishida corrected. “It’s just ‘Jersey Devil.’”

“There could be more than one,” Chad shrugged.

Thirty minutes later, they departed. Inoue had an order of mozzarella sticks in her purse. Ichigo had an armload of backissues of the Lone Archers’ ‘zine, which was, conveniently enough, titled The Lone Archer. There was no doubt in his mind that at least Ishida was completely off his rocker. The jury was still out on Chad… he struck Ichigo as the sort of guy who just went along with Ishida’s nonsense because he was a good friend and also liked taking camping trips and doing layout for ‘zines.

“So what was that thing they gave you?” Ichigo pestered. The idea of that little paper packet had been burning a hole in his brain the entire time.

“You busy tonight?” Inoue asked, raising an eyebrow slyly. “Between 10 and 11?”

“What are we doing?” Ichigo asked cautiously, wondering if he would be able to charge his time.

“We’re going to try and attract an angry ghost.”

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“Are you… sure this is… a good idea?” Ichigo asked for the sixteenth time, as Inoue focused the thermal camera on him.

They were in an old, abandoned lot that had formerly served as a Metro service facility. It was pretty spooky all on its own, filled with train cars too dilapidated for salvage.

It was 10:25pm. Inoue had set up no less than 17 different pieces of ghost detection equipment. Ichigo was questioning his life choices.

“You told me you don’t believe in ghosts. If ghosts don’t exist, then what could possibly go wrong?” Inoue posed.

“Well… that’s true,” Ichigo granted. “And, for the record, I still do not believe in ghosts. But in the Pascal’s wager sense of things, I am considering the ramifications of what happens if there are ghosts that exist, regardless of my belief in them.”

“And?” Inoue asked.

“Well, you said that these ghosts have hurt and killed people before. It seems like trying to attract one without having any method of, um, fighting it, seems kind of… irresponsible?”

“Ah, but you see, I’ve specifically picked this time and location to coincide with the grim reaper patrol routes I’ve been mapping out. Our friendly neighborhood psychopomp ought to show up just on schedule to fight the angry ghost for us. We’re doing them a favor, as I see it.”

“How so?” Ichigo exclaimed.

“It’s not like we’re creating an angry ghost out of nowhere. We’re just attracting an existing one to our location. We’re saving the grim reaper the trouble of having to hunt it down.”

Ichigo pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was it so difficult to argue with Inoue? Possibly because she was so incredibly earnest in all her beliefs, and all her arguments were in completely good faith, it’s just that her logic came from some other dimension. This woman has solved multiple, high-profile murders, including several that were ice cold, Ichigo reminded himself. So she’s quirky. I am sure I can learn a lot from her.

“Okay, everything is in place!” Inoue announced, placing her hand on her hips. “Go hide behind that pile of moldy seats!”

Inoue took Ichigo’s place at the center of her recording equipment. “Agent Orihime Inoue speaking,” she said, for posterity. “It is 10:28pm. I am crushing one tablet of a substance called ‘Hollow Bait.’” She crunched the little white tablet, which looked an awful lot like an Alka-Seltzer, between her fingers, and then made a flying leap for the rotting pile of damp, orange upholstery that Ichigo was crouched behind.

“So, just out of curiosity,” Ichigo started. “How long would we have to wait, theoretically, with nothing happening, before we would declare this a bust?”

Inoue pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Usually, I would give it about two hours, but if you’ve got somewhere to be, I don’t mind if you leave early. It is nice to have company for a change.”

“No, I don’t have anywhere else to be,” Ichigo replied. “I mean… sleeping, I guess.”

Inoue gave a charming little laugh. “I don’t sleep very well. And hunting for ghosts is more interesting than most of the stuff on Hulu.”

The way that she said it gave Ichigo the distinct impression that Inoue was, well, lonely. But that didn’t seem correct. She was weird, sure, but she was also friendly and talkative, and, er, well, she was extremely cute. Surely she had tons of friends.

“How’d you get into ghost hunting, anyway?” he tried to be conversational.

“Hmm,” Inoue hummed noncommittally. “Let’s just say there was an incident in my teen years, where my memories don’t match up to the property damage.”

Oh. Ichigo wondered if he should apologize, when suddenly, a cold chill ran down his spine and a sound like a roar echoed in his ears, except he didn’t actually hear anything. “Did you hear that?” he gasped.

“It’s the EMF detector,” Inoue nodded, scrambling for the reader and Ichigo realized he could hear a faint beeping.

“No, not the beeping, it was like a… a… scream…”

“You heard a scream?”

“I didn’t exactly…” Ichigo trailed off as he heard two more, coming from different directions. “There’s more than one. Monster screams. Not human screams.”

Inoue stared at him, eyes wide. “I don’t hear anything. Have you ever been tested for latent psychic ability?”

There was a sudden change in the air pressure, and a fetid, rotting smell, even worse than the Metro seats. Ichigo grabbed Inoue by the shoulders and rolled out of the way, just as the pile of junk they had been crouched behind compacted like it had been through a car crusher. Or smashed by a giant foot.

“Whoa!” Inoue exclaimed, trying to push Ichigo off of her so she could see what was going on.

Ichigo blinked through the night. He couldn’t see anything, but there was an area of space that looked thick and hazy, like it wasn’t refracting the harsh glow of the sodium street lights quite correctly.

“We have to get out of here,” Ichigo gasped.

“Can you see it?” Inoue asked, her eyes wide and excited.

“Not-- not really,” Ichigo replied, pulling at her arm. The air blurred, and Ichigo had the sense the thing was jumping at them. He could tell it was fast, but he couldn’t see it, he didn’t know what to--

“Howl, Zabimaru!”

It was both there and not quite there, a liquid blade made of glass and starlight, that snapped through the air at the invisible thing. The monster bellowed, and whipped around, charging at a dark figure standing atop one of the old Metro cars.

“Pick on someone your own size, ugly!” the man bellowed, and as Ichigo squinted, he realized that their savior was dressed all in black. He was tall, and his hair was pulled back in a spiky ponytail. It was bright red. He was also wearing sunglasses, even though it was the middle of the night. They were pushed up on top of his head, to be fair, but Ichigo had a feeling this detail would stick with him.

“You can see that guy, right?” Ichigo asked Inoue desperately. “The guy who’s fighting the ghost? The guy that looks just like the guy in your report?”

“There’s a guy?” Inoue asked. “No. Where is he? Can you usually see ghosts?”

“I don’t even believe in ghosts!”

“Well, maybe you don’t believe in them because you can see them and you don’t want to, did you ever think of that?”

“I don’t think now is the time to interrogate my personal traumas!”

Suddenly, there was another drop in pressure, and Ichigo had the sense of heavy breathing and sharp teeth. “Inoue. I think there’s another one.”

“Well, can you get the guy to come fight this one, too?”

“He seems busy,” Ichigo squeaked.

Something black flashed by his vision, and there was a loud crack and a sound of something screeching in pain. A second dark-clad person had arrived, landing softly on sandaled feet. There was the same unreality to her, a sense that she wasn’t entirely there, as well as a certain familiarity that Ichigo couldn’t place. Her sword was bright in the darkness, like moonlight reflecting on snow.

“Oi, there you are, you big dummy!” she shouted at the first man and Ichigo realized with a jolt that it was the angry woman from the bodega. “I’ve been looking for you for four days!”

“I had a problem with my gigai and maybe you should check your texts once in a while!” the tall guy shouted back. Ichigo refused to think of him as a grim reaper. A grim reaper would not wear sunglasses.

“My phone died!”

“Can we-- ow! -- discuss this later? I’m glad you’re okay, I missed you. Why are there so many Hollows in this train yard?”

“You’re such a sap! And the Hollows are here because some stupid humans got ahold of some Hollow bait.” The woman turned, and glared at Ichigo. Her eyes burned with blue flame, like the burner of a gas stove.

That would have been the last thing Ichigo remembered, if he had actually remembered it, or any of the things that came before it.

👻 👻 👻

Ichigo was sitting at his desk.

Inoue was sitting at her desk.

The sun was streaming in the window. The clock on Ichigo’s phone read 7:12am.

Inoue frowned. She examined a coffee cup on her desk. She took a hesitant sip, and then made a face. “Why are we here?” she wondered softly.

“I hate to pull an all-nighter,” Ichigo said, stretching, “but it sure does feel good to be caught up on paperwork!”

Inoue regarded him. “Kurosaki,” she said, “how long have you worked here?”

Ichigo frowned. “Well, I guess this is my second day.”

“Right. So… how much paperwork did you have to catch up on?”

Ichigo blinked. He very distinctively recalled working through the night-- his hand cramping, the incredibly spicy Thai food they’d ordered, Inoue’s seemingly infinite Boy Bands of the 90’s playlist. “I… was helping you, I guess?” Come to think of it, why was he filling out paperwork by hand, anyway? His laptop sat next to him, the lid closed. It wasn’t even plugged in.

Inoue’s fist slammed down onto her desk. “Gosh darnit! They wiped my memories again!!”

#wacky au requests #my writing #in my youth i shipped mulder and scully so hard #and now it's like...girl #you could do so much better #it is not possible to do better than gillian anderson

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marvel-wlw · 5 years

Text

When You Kiss Me

Diana Prince x Reader

Requested by @trikruismybitch

Request: Diana Prince x Reader where reader was an avenger dating Wanda or Nat and they cheat on reader which leaves reader broken cause they’ve had past with getting cheated on and they get transported to Diana’s Earth and they fall in love and reader is really happy cause she finally found somewhere who truly cared && maybe bonus if you want to have the Avengers finding them & their reaction to Diana & Reader together w/ Bucky & Tony being readers bsf sorry if it’s too much

Warnings: Mentions of cheating

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters, they belong to DC and Marvel.

Tag list: @casey-anne-j @pharaoh-of-time-and-space @morbid-gaymer@geekycatlover @rainydaysrnevergrey @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov@alphalesbianwolf @dancurse @autumnjackson4 @1-danid

Diana tag list: @natxhiddles

A/N: I haven’t written for Diana in so long but I hope you guys like it! :) Also the song When You Kiss Me by Shania Twain kinda gave me inspiration for this request. (I know it’s not the type of music I listen to but I grew up listening to Shania Twain so XD)

What you saw in front of you, you couldn’t believe it. You saw Wanda kissing Vision. How could she do this to you? She knew about your past and how you’ve been cheated on before. You tried to keep yourself from crying but you couldn’t stop from sobbing.

When Wanda and Vision heard you they immediately pulled away from each other. Wanda tried walking towards you but you backed away from her. “Don’t come near me.”

“(Y/N) it’s not what it looks like.” Wanda tried telling you.

“That bullshit and you know it!” You growled. “How could you do this to me? Especially when you knew I’ve been cheated on in the past.”

Wanda looked down. “(Y/N) I’m sorry-”

“You’re sorry?!” You glared at her. “I can’t believe you, we’re done.”

With that you quickly left the room. You needed to go someplace where you felt safe. While you were trying to find a place you bumped into Bucky. Before you could fall his arms wrapped around you.

Once he got a good look at you he could see that you’ve been crying. “(Y/N), what happened?” He hugged you.

You hugged him back tightly and sobbed into his chest. “She cheated.”

That was all you could say but Bucky knew what you meant. He couldn’t believe Wanda would cheat on you, he wanted to go give her a piece of his mind but right now you needed him.

xxxxx

A few days later it was getting harder for you to stay at the compound. It was getting to be too much. You were with Tony in his lab at the moment. Tony and Bucky were your best friends and for the past few days you’ve been staying close to them.

You looked down at your hands, tears already rolling down your cheeks. Tony looked up from what he was working on and saw you crying. He frowned before coming over to you and wrapping his arms around you.

“It’s going to be alright.” He rubbed your back.

“It’s not Tony...” You pulled away and wiped away your tears. “I can’t stay here... I need to get far away form here to even be close to being okay again...”

As much as Tony didn’t want you to leave he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop you. “I think I have something that might help.” He went over to one of the drawers he had in his lab.

He came back over to you, he was holding some sort of device and a phone. You looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He chuckled. “I made this in case we needed to go somewhere to lie low for a while. It’s a device that can transport you anywhere and the phone is for you to keep in contact no matter where you are.”

“Tony, you sure?”

He nods. “Bucky and I will be the only ones to have a phone so we can talk. We won’t tell the others until you tell us to.” You smiled before pulling him into a tight hug.

The next day you stood in Tony’s lab with Tony and Bucky. You had a few duffel bags with your stuff in them. You couldn’t stop the tears from falling. You couldn’t help it, you were going to miss them.

“Don’t cry, cause now I’m going to start crying.” Tony said before hugging you.

When he pulled away Bucky came over to you, he pulled you into a tight hug. “Please be safe and text us if you need anything.”

“I will I promise.” You hugged him back. When you pulled away you smiled at your best friends. “You both know I’m going to text you no matter what right?”

“We know.” Tony smiled.

You took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready.” You said goodbye to them before pressing the button on the device Tony gave you.

When you opened your eyes you were in a completely new place. You let out a sigh. Tony had given you some money so you could buy an apartment and some food and stuff to help you out.

Now it was time to start your new life.

xxxxx

It’s been a few months since you’ve arrived at your new home and you’ve been doing well. At first it was hard, you were away from your best friends and everything that you’ve known but after some time you started to like your new home too.

You were walking around the city, you smiled down at the phone Tony had gave you. You were texting Bucky, he just told you that he finally asked Steve out on a date. You were really happy for him.

You were so busy looking at your phone that you weren’t paying attention to where you were going. Suddenly you bumped into someone, before you could fall strong arms grabbed you.

“I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

You blinked at looked at the person who caught you. Your eyes widened when you saw the woman standing in front of you, concern written on her face. You also couldn’t help but think she was absolutely gorgeous.

“I-I’m okay. But it was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” You blushed.

“The least I could do is buy you some coffee.” She smiled at you.

You shook your head. “It’s okay really, you don’t have-”

“I want to.”

For some reason you couldn’t say no. She took you to the closest cafe. You both ordered and sat down.

“I never got your name.” She smiled as she took a sip of her drink.

You took a sip of your drink. “(Y/N).”

Her smile widened. “I’m Diana.”

xxxxx

Since that day you and Diana have gotten close. The two of you are almost always together. Over time you’ve started to realize that you’ve fallen in love with her. When you realized that it scared you. Ever since Wanda cheated on you, you’ve been scared to date again. But you couldn’t help but feel this time would be different, that Diana was different.

You’ve talked to both Tony and Bucky about this. They both told you to tell her how you felt. They just wanted you to be happy.

You were pacing back and forth in your room while talking to Bucky. “I’m not sure about this Buck...” You said nervously.

“You can do this (Y/N). I know you’re scared but from what you’ve told me about Diana and how the two of you are, I have a feeling she feels the same way.” You could practically hear him smiling.

“If she does and we start dating...” You trailed off.

“You’re scared she’ll cheat on you.” Bucky didn’t need you to tell him that. He knew you too well, you were his best friend after all.

You were about to reply when you heard a knock on your front door. “That’s Diana, I gotta go.”

“I know you can do it (Y/N).” Bucky said before the two of you said goodbye and ended the call.

You sighed. “I hope you’re right Bucky...”

You looked in the mirror and fixed your hair before leaving your room to open the door. You smiled when you saw Diana, she held up a bag of your favorite take out.

Once Diana was inside your apartment you both went over to the couch and began eating. The whole time Diana could tell something was on your mind. “Everything alright?”

You nod. “Yea, I just have some things on my mind that’s all.”

Diana could tell what was on your mind was distracting you, normally when the two of you are together you’re talking about your day or about anything. But right now you were being really quiet.

You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath. You opened your eyes and looked over at Diana. “There’s something that I want to say but I’m scared to.” You took another deep breath before continuing. “Diana I’m in love with you.”

Diana’s eyes widened, she smiled as she bit her lip. “I’m in love with you too (Y/N).” She reached over and took your hand in hers. “I know what your ex did to you, but I would never do that to you.”

You fought back the tears. When Diana said that you believed her, you knew she would never do anything to hurt you. This time was different, you could feel it.

xxxxx

After you and Diana had been dating for a year Tony and Bucky wanted to visit. They wanted to see you and to meet your girlfriend. You had told them they could come visit for a few days. You had a feeling that the others were going to find out and that they would want to go with Tony and Bucky.

“You excited, my love?” Diana said as she wrapped her arms around your waist from behind while you got ready to meet your old team.

You smiled and leaned back into her embrace before turning around in her arms. Diana leaned in and kissed you. You smiled into the kiss. When she kissed you, you felt the world disappear. You knew she was the one.

“I am.” You said when you pulled away from the kiss.

You were going to meet the team and bring them to your apartment. It wasn’t the same apartment that you had before, after you and Diana had been dating for six months the two of you got a apartment together. This one was definitely bigger than your old place.

You were excited to see the others again. You knew Wanda was going to be there and you were nervous to see her again but you didn’t think about it too much. You were happy now, happier than you ever were with Wanda.

Before you left the apartment Diana pulled you into another kiss, this one lasted a little longer than the one before. “I love you.” She said.

“I love you too.” You smiled before kissing her once again. You couldn’t get enough. “I’ll be back.”

xxxxx

You waited at the same spot where you arrived on this Earth. A few seconds later the team was in front of you. You smiled when you saw Tony and Bucky.

Bucky ran over to you, he pulled you into his arms and spun you around. “Hey doll.”

You smiled and laughed as you hugged him. “Hey Buck.”

Tony came over to the two of you, he pouts. “Hey what about me?” He opened his arms for you to give him a hug. You shook your head and laughed before hugging him.

When you pulled away from him Natasha walked over to you and pulled you into a tight hug. “I missed you, it’s not the same without you at the compound.”

“I missed you too Nat.” You hugged her back tightly.

Wanda watched you as you hugged the others. She couldn’t help but feel her heart drop, she really did regret cheating on you. She could also see how much you’ve changed since you left.

You brought everyone to your apartment, you opened the door and let them in. They were all in awe. As soon as you walked in, Diana walked out of the kitchen, she smiled when she saw you. You couldn’t stop the huge smile that formed on your face.

Diana walked over to you, she wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into her. You leaned into her before giving her a loving kiss.

The others eyes widened, everyone was shocked. Natasha looked at you with a smirk. “Who’s this (Y/N)?”

You blushed. “Everyone this is my girlfriend Diana.”

Diana smiled at them. “I’ve heard so much about you all.” But as soon as she looked at Wanda, she glared at her but that only lasted for a few seconds.

Everyone was telling you that they were so happy for you. Both Tony and Bucky had given Diana the ‘if you hurt my best friend’ talk, you knew they just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt again.

The whole time Wanda kept to herself. She could see how happy you were and how much you and Diana truly loved each other. She knew that she didn’t have any chance to get you back.

#diana prince imagine #diana prince x reader #justice league imagine #avengers imagine #dc imagine #marvel imagine

334 notes · View notes

missnxthingg · 5 years

Note

Tom Holland and Reader both get famous around the same time. Like her band just released their First album and are touring. They’ve got a tour date in Atlanta and Tom Holland is there shooting the captain America civil war.

FAMOUS

A/N: Okay, I took sooooooo long to get to this. I wanted to turn it into a mini series, but it didn’t work at all. But it’s a big one to compensate the long time I put this request on hold. I hope I got your request right and I hope you like it.

Summary: Tom drops everything just to go meet his dream girl, brand new celebrity, once she announces a tour date in Atlanta, where he’s shooting Civil War.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Singer!Reader

Words: 3.9K

Warnings: Swearing

masterlist | main blog | gif source

“Tom, have you seen this?”

It was the first thing Harrison asked once his best mate made it back to his trailer after long hours of shooting his first Marvel movie as Spider Man. Tom had left him there to wait for him to be done so they could go out and explore Atlanta together, and it seemed like Harrison had a good time doing absolutely nothing but going through his Instagram all day.

“No, what is it?” Tom sat next to him in the small couch they had, if it could be called couch.

“You know (Y/N), from that one band Harry is always listening to and you’re all obsessed with her.”

“Not obsessed, I just find her really pretty and talented.” Haz rolled his eyes and threw his phone on Tom’s lap.

“Well it seems like she’s going to be in town this weekend for a gig.”

And there it was, a simple Instagram post from that one account Tom have visited so much and liked so many pictures. The girl standing on a stage, a single light standing over her, who was holding her guitar and singing something, just like many other posts. But this one was different, and what was written below the picture was what made Tom open a big smile.

“@yourusername: Thanks for singing with me tonight DC, it was magical! Next stop: Atlanta. See ya’ Saturday.”

“Mate! We need to get tickets for this.”

“Hey, slow down Mr. Parker, you have work Saturday. You can’t simply drop it to go to a gig.”

Tom shrugged and his smiled faded away. Haz was right, he couldn’t drop work to go see a band play, even if it was his favourite band. So he dropped it for a moment, realizing he was too tired to mourn about it in that moment and that he had to get some rest for a long week of shooting. But he couldn't get it out of his head. So that night he had insomnia, and rolled in bed for a very long time until he gave up and got out of bed to look for some tea, and ended up scrolling through Instagram leaned against the kitchen sink. And she had posted another picture, one quite different from those she normally posts, where she’s on stage or rehearsing. This one she was laying on one of her bandmates lap wearing anything less than a Spider Man shirt.

“Shit!” He spilled some tea on his hand and had to drop his phone to clean it up. “I can’t believe this girl just got more perfect.”

The thing is that it happened with Tom what happens to a lot of people. They see a celebrity, and they find them super nice, funny and pretty and suddenly, they have a platonic crush on them. It happens to a lot of people, and it happened with Tom. It only took his brother listening to her songs on repeat and him enjoying some of them. He remembers asking whose song it was to Harry and him showing a video of her on stage. He’d been following her ever since, and he simply couldn’t believe he wasn’t going to be able to see her live, after admiring her for months through social media. But today he felt different about that one picture she posted, the one with the Spider Man shirt. The urge to comment on it.

“Okay, fuck it.” He held his phone again and commented on the picture.

“@tomholland2013: Loved the shirt, great superhero preference.”

Meanwhile, (Y/N) was chilling with some of her friend in her tour bus. They had finished a great gig that night and stopped at McDonald’s for some after show food before they could hit the road onto the next city. They had a lot of fun together, sang, took pictures and laughed together while having some burgers and some more food. But the end of the night, they were simply very tired. (Y/N) lied next to her best friend Amy and started interacting with some fans on social media, just because she couldn’t get any sleep. So going through some comments, she saw his. The guy who was announced as the new Spider Man just commented on her picture. Well, she noticed he had been liking her things for a while now, but it was the first time he commented on something. She had stalked him once or twice, and she already thought he was cute. So this time, (Y/N) replied.

“@yourusername: @tomholland2013 well thank you, and great spidey casting!”

Tom almost choked when he saw a reply to his comment, and soon a message on his DM. He needed to stop to breath and process what had just happened. But once he got it all together, he opened the DM and saw what she had to say.

“Hi Mr Parker, is Atlanta fun?” She asked, and he smiled at her message.

“Very very fun.” He said out loud while typing on his phone.

“So, I hope to see some webs around my gig this Saturday.”

“Sorry, I have work :c” He sighed while typing this one.

“Oh fuck! Not even a little bit for the encore?”

“Well, maybe just for the encore.”

“And some backstage meeting.”

“Okay :)”

“See ya’ Saturday!”

Harrison’s first action of the day was roll his eyes when Tom woke him up holding his phone in front of his face and rambling about running right after finishing work just to see her play. Haz thought his friend was insane, but on Saturday, there they were, rushing to some gig to finally meet the girl of his dreams. When they got there, it had already started and it was right in the middle of the set.

“I can’t believe you did this for a girl you’ve only known through photos. You’ve never properly talked to her.”

“I know, it’s just, I felt like I had to be here tonight.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off her during the whole concert. The way she held her guitar, or the way her body swayed while she sang. She looked just like how he had seen on Instagram a lot of times before. Those colorful clothes, a tie dye and light jeans, and a lot of glitter on her eyes. The ultimate alternative girl, just giving her all on stage. He couldn’t stop smiling, because she was just like he always imagined she would be. Funny, extroverted and really pretty, with such a stage presence. No wonder she and her band got famous quickly. They had a lot of talent, and everyone there could feel it. Once the gig was over, Tom went completely crazy over finding a way to go backstage.

“Maybe they won’t even know who you are. You’re not that famous yet mate.”

“Come on Haz, we have to try!” Tom approached the big guy standing between him and the backstage door. “Hey, I’m Tom Holland, could you please get (Y/N), cause I really need to talk to her.”

“Oh, I thought I’d heard an angels voice, but it was just you.” A girl said from behind them. “I was giving some autographs and saw you from far away. I’m glad Peter Parker got some time just to see me playing live.”

“I couldn’t miss it.” He smiled shyly and she stood her hand in the air.

“I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

“Tom, and it’s really nice to finally meet you.” They both stared at each other for a long time until Harrison cleared his throat. “Hm, and this is my mate Harrison.”

“Nice to meet you. Really great concert, amazing voice.”

“Thank you. Come on, let’s get inside and grab something to eat.”

They had a lot of fun around the band, getting to know each of them personally, and finding out that all of them were personally obsessed with one Marvel superhero, and that all of them loved Spider Man. That suddenly became a huge deal to Tom, to not let them be disappointed with him once the movie was out. That was also the night he got a picture he always dreamed of having. (Y/N) smiling at him while he was rambling about something, captured by the band’s photographer.

“Hey, can I have this one?” Tom asked while they were going through the pictures.

“I’m gonna post it on Instagram.” (Y/N) said. “I mean, I look so cute!”

“You always do sis.” Her brother said from afar, looking for some beer.

“Well, I think we need to go.” Harrison said. “We had a long day of shooting, right Tom?”

“Yeah, uhm… But I’m not tired though.” Tom said without taking his eyes off her.

“But you should go, Harrison looks tired and you do too.” She caressed his cheek and he smiled. “I’m gonna take them out and call a driver.”

(Y/N) followed them outside with one of her security guys and Harrison went ahead to find a taxi, and to leave some time for them to talk alone to each other, because he knew his mate needed to get more connected to her. He could see it while they were all together, the way they instantly connected. Tom walked alongside her while she finished a joke, making him laugh a lot.

“So you’re gonna be in Atlanta for how long?”

“One more day only, and we’re off to Texas.” She explained. “But hey, at least it was nice to see you around, even for so little time.”

“See, I have to admit something to you.” He glanced down to his feet and she kept staring at him in hope to get something out of him.

“What is it?”

“I’ve been following you for a while now, since my brother showed me your band. And I really think you’re amazing, and I have for a while.” She smiled to him and blushed hardly. He was being so nice. “And I really want to do something crazy right now.”

“How much crazy?” She furrowed her brows and he stopped, making her stop too.

“This crazy.” This way he stole a small peck from her lips, leaving her paralyzed.

“Wow.”

“Sorry.” He blushed immediately, rubbing the back of his head. Her hands went to cup his cheek and she pulled him to another brief kiss, but much more longer than the previous one.

“If you want to, I’m gonna be around for the whole day tomorrow, and I really don’t know many great places to have lunch here in Atlanta.”

“I know the perfect place.” He said with a smile on his face.

“It’s a date.” She caressed his arm and left one final peck before going back inside, leaving Tom with a dorky smile on his face.

“Come on mate, being paralyzed over there won’t make the moment last longer.” Harrison shouted from the taxi door.

“At least I had to try.”

(...)

“So, you got a date with (Y/N)? The (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” Harrison asked in breakfast when Tom was trying out different shirts for his date.

“Yeah, is it so hard to believe?”

“Hmm, kind of. I mean, she’s super famous and you’re not that much yet.” Haz sipped his tea and Tom rolled his eyes.

“I got to meet her anyway, and we’re going out for lunch, and now you should be the good friend and help me pick something to wear.”

“Just go with the black one, and maybe a jacket over.” Tom nodded and smiled, going back to his bedroom.

“Thanks mate! See you later.” Tom waved and Haz rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. Get that girl!”

“I will.”

While Tom finished getting ready, (Y/N) was getting her makeup done by her best friend, Willow, master of makeups, drums and dating advices. She always knew what to say to people, and she had so many great advices and some helps for those going on first dates. Willow did a light makeup on (Y/N)’s face, much opposite of those she does for when she is on stage, and chose a black denim skirt and a yellow shirt that just matched with sneakers, and were the perfect casual look.

“Aaaaand… Ready for your date with the cute Spider Man.” Willow said once she was done with (Y/N)’s makeup.

“All of them are cute.” (Y/N) glanced up with a smirk on her face.

“Well, he’s the cutest.” Willow helped her stand up and lightly tapped her butt to make her go in direction of a mirror. “You look gorgeous, as always.”

“Shut up Will.” She took a look at herself in the mirror, sometimes slightly turning around to check if everything was good. “I have to admit, I love when you go shopping with me.”

“I know I’m that good of personal stylist.”

“And thank God for those makeup classes you took when we were in High School. I look completely amazing!”

“You always do.”

And so there were knocks on the door, and Willow opened it up, showing (Y/N)’s brother on the door, with a big smile on his face, as if he was about to laugh at his sister’s face.

“Tom’s here.” He announced and (Y/N) nodded, finishing gathering her things like lip gloss and phone to keep it on her purse.

“Okay, bye Will, and I’ll see you later.”

“Have fun babe.” She said, sitting back down, but smiling for her bestie’s happiness.

“(Y/N/N), come here.” Her brother called and she stopped midway to turn back to him.

“What?” She approached him and he hugged her.

“Just be careful, you just met him. But also, have fun.” He kissed the top of her head and she smiled.

“I will, I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Tom was waiting for her in the sidewalk, walking side by side, the most nervous he has ever been in his life. He always dreamed of taking this girl out, but never really thought it was going to be for real one day. Once he saw her walking towards him, he could swear his heart stopped and he forgot how to breath. She looked different from every picture or video of her on stage. (Y/N) for once looked like a real life person, and it made Tom breathless.

“Hi.” She said shyly.

“Hey.” He smiled brightly, making her feel so much more comfortable. “Did you have a good night after I was gone?”

“Sooo good. Like, we cleaned everything up and I watched a movie with Willow drinking hot coco and honestly, it was last night’s peak.” She provoked, just to see his reaction.

“Really?” Tom furrowed his eyebrows and (Y/N) laughed. “No other good thing happened last night?”

“Nope.” She shook her head laughing and he nodded. “Come on, I’m kidding. I had a very good kiss last night too.”

“Humm… Good to know.”

“Let’s go, I’m starving. And, dying to know where you’re taking me.” She pulled him by the hand, making him smile.

“It’s nothing too great, really. I just hope you like burgers.”

“It’s my favorite food.” She smiled and he reached for her hand, guiding her to the car he rented with Harrison on the second day in America.

It wasn’t so far away from where (Y/N) was staying with her band. They had a calm car ride, listening to good songs and having a nice and casual conversation. It was like they’d known each other forever, it was so easy to talk to the other, and it made their day so light.

Tom pulled over in front of a small cafeteria, not crowded, but with a really nice and calm environment. Perfect for a famous person who doesn’t want to be bother on her day off. The place smelled like good food, and there was some known rock n’ roll songs like Led Zeppelin or David Bowie playing on the background. The few people that were there were focused on their work, or the people that were with them, so no one even noticed two famous people coming in. Tom guided (Y/N) to a booth in the back, close to the kitchen door, a little far away from the windom.

“This place is so nice.”

“Yeah, it was recommended by someone on the studio. They said it had good food and never was crowded. So I tried one day with Harrison, and it’s actually pretty great.”

“I really loved it. And it smells sooo nice.”

“I can’t wait to see your face when you try out their cheesy fries. It’s heaven sent.” She smiled and kept staring at him. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, no…” She shook her head and laughed. “It’s just… It’s weird, I feel like we’re old friends and we’ve known each other for like one day.

“I feel it too. Like, when I listen to your music, I feel so close to you. And I had the same feeling the first time I talked to you.”

“Maybe we know each other from other lives.”

“Maybe we used to work together.”

“Maybe we were married.” She lowered her sight to her lap and he smiled.

“Yeah, that’s more likely.”

“Tom, nice to see you around again.” The middle age waitress approached with a sympathetic smile on her face.

“Penelope, you know I’d be coming back for more of your cheesy fries.”

“So I’ll take notes to bring it to you right now.” She wrote something down on her notepad.

“Thank you.”

“So, who’s the pretty lady?”

“This is (Y/N), she’s passing through town this weekend and didn’t know where to eat. And you know, since here is so quiet and private, also really good.”

“It’s nice to meet you (Y/N).” She smiled to the girl next to Tom.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

“So, what can I order for you two?”

“Bring the cheesy fries, I want my regular burger and a chocolate milkshake.”

“Which one is your regular?” (Y/N) whispered to Tom, looking at the menu.

“This one.” He pointed the burger on the menu and she smiled.

“Okay, I’ll have the cheddar bacon burger. And, can we share a milkshake?” She asked and he nodded with a grin on his face.

“Okay.” Penelope smiled with their interaction and wrote down their order.

“I’ll be right back with your food.”

“Thank you.”

“Why didn’t you wanna order your own milkshake?”

“I don’t know. I always thought it was cute to share milkshakes on a date. But I never really tried it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I don’t go on many dates though. Like, me and my brother started chasing our dream around our band very soon, and since we started, I haven’t had time to date.”

“I know what it’s like. The same with me, for real. Once I got in my head that I wanted to be Spider Man, I had to let go of so many things, that including girlfriends.”

“The price we have to pay to be successful.”

Their conversation went on about their careers, and they had so much in common when it came to that part of their lives. So that’s where they connected the most, and they went on about it for long minutes, until their order came, and they stopped talking and focused on the food.

“God, this is amazing!” She said, rolling her eyes in excitement. “I was so starving, and this is like medicine for the soul.”

“You’re so cute.”

“I know.” She did a cute face to him, and kept eating. “And the fries are so good.”

“The best, right? Oh, and try the milkshake.” She leaned to take a sip of the milkshake and moaned once she could finally taste it.

“I never wanna leave this place.”

They sat silent, just eating and feeling each other’s presence, but it was so comfortable, that it just felt so right. They finished the food and left the milkshake for last, so they finished it locking their gazes on each other. Tom was mesmerized by her and couldn’t take his eyes off her, because in that moment, she was all he could see.

“Okay, I’m so full that I don’t even know if I can take another glass of water.”

“Good, that’s where I wanted to get.” Tom smiled once again, he couldn’t stop smiling, and his face was hurting.

“Tommy.” She asked, leaning back on the booth.

“Yeah.”

“Can we kiss again? Cause you know, I can’t stop thinking about the one we did last night.”

He leaned forward and used one of his hands to bring her closer. It was a soft kiss, but it got much deeper once she licked his bottom lip, asking permission to explore his mouth. It was much different from the first one they had in the parking lot, but their first real kiss was just… perfect. After a nice lunch together, light conversation, ending with something they both craved the whole day. And so they stayed there, for a really long time, just kissing and talking, without being bothered, until it was almost dark.

“I think we need to go. Phineas is going to be worried.”

“And you need to rest, because you’ll have a big concert tomorrow.”

“I can sleep on the road, I just wanna be with you right now.”

“When will the tour be over?”

“In a month. We’ll end it up in London.” Tom nodded, heart already aching, knowing he would have to bear a long time without her.

“So why don’t you take some vacations once it is over? A little time in London. You can stay with me.”

“Okay, I like the idea.” She smiled and he kissed her again.

“Come on, let’s get you back.”

He paid for the food after that long discussion on she wanting to pay and he refusing to let her pay. He ended up paying for the food and she left a very good tip for Penelope, leaving her really happy. Tom drove (Y/N) home, trying to take forever to get to the destiny, just to stick around her a little more.

“You know Tom, once I’m gone tonight, we won’t be able to see each other for a long time.”

“I know, but I’m done with Spidey in two weeks. Maybe I can go meet you, wherever you are.”

“Would you do that for me?” Her eyes sparkled and he nodded.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything before in my life, (Y/N/N).”

“In two weeks I’ll be in San Francisco, and maybe if we squeeze really tight, we can share my bus bed.” He laughed with her and nodded.

“I wouldn’t mind at all.” She kissed him once again, one to last until the next time they see each other again.

“Call me. Don’t leave me on ghost Spidey.” She pointed to him. “We can FaceTime, and everything. So please, don’t be a stranger.”

“Never again.” He kissed her one last time before she opened the cars door.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay. Good night darling, and have a safe trip.”

“Good night Tommy.”

And as Tom watched (Y/N) walk away, he simply knew that it was the start of something special. Something that would last through eternity. And he was so excited to see what was coming next from this brand new relationship, once like he never had before.

…………………

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