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masterwords · 3 years ago

Text

shark infested waters

Summary: Mr. Scratch did a real number on Hotch. (Jessica does her best with what she's got.)

Warnings: hospital, memory loss, seizure, blood, vomit

Pairings: none

Words: 4.7k

Notes: This story is pure chaos, like Hotch's poor scrambled brain after Scratch. It's not all mean, but it's definitely not nice. A lot of hurt with some very nice Queen Jessica Brooks comfort. I have so many different ideas for how the aftermath of Scratch might play out, this is just one of them.

Read on AO3: shark infested waters

They never warned her, not really.

She'd get a text from someone, Rossi or JJ usually drawing the short straw, but they never gave her much to go on. “Hotch got a little banged up on this case,” it'd say, and she would wonder if he was coming home with a black eye, stitches or post-op care instruction and a six-week medical leave. It was anyone's guess really. The last time it happened, he had a deep purple bruise on his jaw and a pleasant outcome to tell them about. But then, not long before that, there was him collapsing in the conference room and she couldn't remember the exact wording Rossi had used but it definitely did not convey the seriousness of the situation, she remembered that clear as day.

“He's a little out of it,”JJ's text read, and all Jessica could do was wait to see what that meant. Every so often she would read the words again, wondering when he'd come walking in or if he'd be carried in. “Keep an eye on him.”

Jack was already in bed by the time she heard his keys fumbling in the door while she lay curled up on the couch in her kitten pajamas with a new book. She let her book drop slightly, inclining her head toward the door to listen. The key scraped against the lock, metal on metal, until she couldn't stand it and got up to let him in. The sight of him there startled her, blood stains deep maroon against the stark white of his collar. “Aaron?”

He stared through her; his brows pinched together in pained confusion. Too long, he stared into space for too long and in the low light she could see how black his eyes were. All pupils. Concussion, and by the looks of it, completely untreated. Unsurprising; she could see the pain in his features. “Yeah,” he whispered, giving his head the smallest shake and almost appearing to snap out of some trance. He finally looked at her. “Sorry. Long day.”

Her knowing scowl told him she didn't believe him, and he didn't push it, just stood there like he wasn't sure what the next step was. Or if he wanted to be there. Or if he should be there...what if he was still susceptible to Scratch's delusions? What if he was dangerous? His mind hadn't caught up to his body, and really his body was barely hanging on.

“Did you drive?” she asked, sliding the keys from his open palm and tossing them to the table before pushing him far enough inside the apartment to shut the door. Last thing she needed was his nosy neighbors finding something new to talk about; the old ladies whose condos surrounded him were far worse than any office water cooler gossip. The HOA ladies all had their theories about the FBI man who kept to himself, and of course all of the children in the building told their fair share of ghost stories. Too scared to invoke Foyet's name, as if he might appear with a knife in their own apartments like the boogeyman or Bloody Mary, they only called him the Masked Man and were careful to keep their mouths shut around Jack. "They say the bullet is still in the wall..." It wasn't like Jack didn't know or resent his father for never moving them to some place better.

“I uh,” he stammered, narrowing his eyes around the words dashing around in his skull like lightning bugs. “Drive? No. No...Dave...” His voice trailed off, attention grabbed by the sudden hissing and gurgling off the coffee pot in the cavernous kitchen. “What time is it?”

“Just after 11, but I had a feeling we might be in for a long night...”

The pause, the silence, everything was thick and syrupy in the cold hours of the night. He turned toward the hallway and peered into more darkness while she fumbled for the lights, noticing immediately a distress she hadn't anticipated. “Everything is okay, Aaron,” she started as he recoiled, covered his burning eyes against the sudden burst of hot white light. “Are you okay though?”

“Is Jack in bed?” He needed to know. It was the most important thing, and yet he stood like his shoes were made of concrete. Unable to go to Jack, to see him, he thought of the man who killed his own mother under the effects of this drug cocktail...the man who was supposed to kill his son and killed himself instead. What might he be capable of? Surely just watching Morgan die, choking on his own warm blood, wasn't enough.

“Of course,” she replied, keeping her distance. She couldn't figure it out, he didn't look too bad off. His cheek and brow were swollen, tiny white bandages holding together what looked like a deep gash that was beginning to ooze. She'd need to clean him up some, that was a given. Taking stock though, she couldn't put her finger on what was really going on. It was frustrating to be kept in the dark, the least they could do was give her something to go on, some direction because heaven knew he wouldn't offer it up willingly. None of them would, all cut from the same infuriating cloth. Some secret club to which she would never belong but was expected to somehow hold life together in the background of.

“Aaron, why don't you go take a shower while I make us a snack?”

“Not hungry,” he countered, still staring hard at the coffee pot slowly sputtering. She sighed as the night stretched out ever longer before her. If Foyet was the baseline by which she measured all other storms to be weathered, she could explain all the rest off as minor inconveniences. The look in his eye though, it was haunting and deeply angry, that violated and exposed look he got when he walked back into his apartment for the first time after the worst night of his life. Nothing outward to show for it, no weepy stab wounds she could find and yet...she wondered what she would find if she helped him out of his shirt, what she would find if she got the chance to look. Maybe nothing. That was a bigger problem.

He wounded easier on the inside than the outside.

“I only phrased it as a question to be nice. Go take a shower, Aaron. You're covered in blood, and I just washed the sheets.” He glanced at his shaking hands, pulled his fingers in toward his palms, wondering at the tingling sensation in his right hand. It seemed to be a fraction of a second behind the other. Curious but not concerning, not anything he was willing to try and find words for in his already failing vocabulary. A shower did sound nice.

Until it wasn't. Until his body was slamming hard into the porcelain tub, and he lay in a pool of deep crimson swirling down the drain. He tasted blood, hot and thick, pressed his hand to his gushing nose before everything went black. Jessica wasted no time rushing through the door, a very sleepy Jack hot on her heels, his eyes barely even open. She tried to shoo him out, push him away from the door so he wouldn't see his father lying naked in pooling blood, his eyes rolled back in his head. “Call 911, Jack,” she instructed in her best imitation of a calm adult voice. Cupping the back of his head with her hand, she pulled his stiff body toward her and rolled him on his side, whispering his name as if it might pull him back to her.

He woke in a hospital bed, unable to move or speak. His lips wouldn't work, and he couldn't seem to think around the sharp pain in the back of his head, an odd pain that sliced from the back of his neck to the front of his throat. Her fingers were wrapped around his, tight enough that his knuckles ground together beneath the pressure and it only got worse when she saw his eyes flutter open.

“You.” A desperate accusation, a glare, a tear-stained smile. She didn't know what to do and the way she sniffled the last of her emotional outbreak made her feel like a preschooler slighted on the afternoon snack. “Jack is with JJ and Will, before you even try to ask. Look I have no idea what happened to you at work tonight and I can't seem to get anyone from your team to tell me anything and you know what? I don't even care anymore, I don't. Spencer said the information wouldn't help because the drugs would be out of your system before any conclusive tests could be run, Dave said there was a lot they didn't know, Morgan wouldn't even answer his damn phone. So yeah, I don't care anymore. I don't. They can't find anything wrong with you, any reason for you to have a seizure in the shower...” She was mumbling, ranting with fresh, hot tears in her eyes. “Said maybe you had some sort of head injury tonight? The cut on your cheek? I don't know, Aaron. I don't know how I'm supposed to take care of you when no one will tell me what's going on.” She sounded so like Haley, he could hardly stand it. “What happened? What's going on?”

“I don't...” he started, his mouth moving too slow, connections severed. “I don't remember.” It was the truth this time. He'd been here before, lied about his memory to protect himself but he didn't lie to Jessica. He couldn't lie to her; she wouldn't allow it. “Sparks...” he whispered around a tongue that felt dry and heavy, his throat parched. “And darkness. Power went out.” Incoherent ramblings, she had no point of reference, nothing to go on. His eyes closed and he let out a low whine, twisting at the hips over a sudden throbbing and unexplained pain in his chest. It was the first he'd been awake for, but not the first time it happened, and his features twisted in panic. She knew better, they'd already run tests, done scans, couldn't figure any of it out. She squeezed his hand and tried to refocus him only to find herself desperately grabbing for the emesis basin while he dry heaved into its pink interior.

“You don't remember anything?” It was a funny balance, caring for him while pretending certain things just weren't happening. He could be skittish.

“N-no...what happened? Call Dave...” She had nothing to tell him, nothing that would fill in the gaps, and his insistence that she call Dave only convinced her that he was being honest. She had hoped he was lying, she could work a lie out of him. “Why'm I here, Jess?” He lifted his right hand, limp and too heavy, staring hard at the IV tubing taped to his skin. His left hand was trapped inside of hers. She didn't answer him, just watched him try to figure everything out, nothing she said would help him put together pieces of a night she wasn't present for. Tears clung to the corners of his eyes, big tears and she found herself mesmerized by them.

He was home by morning after a barrage of radiology and blood tests showed nothing out of the ordinary. Calm, easily handled, she'd never seen him so open to suggestion before. The doctors said he needed something, and he agreed without a hint of reluctance; she pulled a nurse aside to let her know how odd it was, how he was normally so argumentative, and the nurse had the audacity to laugh in her face. “Honey, that's a good thing, right?” She didn't think it was. It was hours before he could move his legs or use his right hand, and even when they left his grip was weak at best. Jessica had been quickly convincing herself he'd had a stroke until they assured here there was no sign of it. A few of the symptoms, sure, but nothing on the brain scan. He fell asleep and whispered nonsense, things that scared her, things she wrote down. He made me see things. Over and over, and she scribbled it onto the back of a chocolate bar wrapper dug out of her purse. Not even sure what she'd do with it...show it to one of his team? Ask them for answers for once in her life? She shoved it into her purse before wheeling him out the door, still undecided on what she'd ever do with it. Once he was asleep in his own bed, head to toe in ratty old sweats and fat wool socks, he assured her that he was fine, he was comfortable. He almost sounded like himself again and she convinced herself that the worst was behind them as she stood in his study and cried. Briefly, she looked up and from across the hall caught her reflection in the bathroom mirror all desperate ragged curls and puffy red eyes. The two of them made quite a pair.

She brought an ice pack and a cold wet rag when she heard him stir, knew she would find his puffy red eyes open and searching for something they wouldn't find.

“I'm okay, Jess. I'm sorry I frightened you.” His words had sounded heavy and tired, dull. He wasn't asleep long, not nearly long enough. There were moments of intense, sharp clarity. Moments when he thought he might burn alive inside of them, followed by pitch black nothing. Mostly, the world just looked gray except for the blood, he'd seen that. Images were slowly floating into focus, crawling out of the mist like a creature in a black and white horror film. Each picture was gray, soft, dripping in the murky nothing around him until one at a time they began to sharpen with no rhyme nor reason.

“What happened tonight?” It was becoming her mantra, and she was certain at some point she would wear him down. Gently, she set the icepack against the back of his neck and lay the rag over his eyes. He didn't seem to care for either one, and yet he didn't complain. Little victories.

He'd been dreading the question coming up again. Not because he didn't want to tell her, it wasn't any grand secret, not from her anyway. No amount of pride stood between them. It was simply that...he didn't know. What he thought happened had altered so many times over the last few hours, since being home from the hospital, since the night before. In the hospital everything was empty, a blank slate, his own name had eluded him for a time. Now things just felt wrong, indescribably wrong. His memories were fractured, either by Peter Lewis' grand design or some unintended side effect. He'd been sitting on the floor, but he'd somehow watched Reid and then Rossi and then Morgan go down from separate rooms. Seen their blood. Smelled it. Felt it. Morgan's blood on his cheek scorched his skin even still. “Aaron?” He watched them die, and he watched them walk away from the scene in a swirl of blue and white, a blanket of twinkling stars mocking him from above. They knew, they'd watched it all play out on their grand stage and were keeping their secrets. “Aaron?” She was getting impatient, finally seating herself on the edge of his bed after propping up the pillows behind him just so, hoping they might hold the icepack in place.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, his cheek pressed against the warmth of his pillow. “I don't know.” It was as honest as it was scary. “I can't explain it.”

“You can try...”

He couldn't. That was the worst of it. Words didn't seem to fit, not any he knew. “It hurts.” Tears clung to his lashes, tracked down his cheeks and she reached out, pushed at them with her thumb when they breached the line of the washcloth. Trapped, and she couldn't help him, she understood that. His job was something he locked up tight, did his best to keep to himself since Haley's passing. Once upon a time he'd allowed her in, she knew what he did and what he saw, and it consumed her...he wouldn't let that happen again. There was nothing she could do to make him open it up for her, and truthfully, she knew it was better this way, but it didn't exactly make it easy to help if she couldn't understand the problem. “My head hurts.”

“I know. How can I help?” There was cautious resignation in her voice. Hearing him admit to pain twisted her in knots.

Silence. A sharp intake of breath, a pitiful whine as he pushed his face miserably into the pillow, the rag falling with a wet slap against the carpet. She groaned and bent over, picking it up between two fingers.

“Stay.” It was nothing but a whisper, but she felt it in her bones. “Please.”

“Of course.”

It was late morning when he was well enough to stand unassisted and she followed him dutifully out of the bedroom and down the hallway, noting that he seemed, for the moment, to be in total control of his faculties. Pulling down a box of Pop Tarts, his favorite sneaky midnight snack, he opened a package to split while she poured the coffee she'd made the night before into mugs and threw them into the microwave. Better late than never. She thought the toaster pastries were dry, crumbly and unappealing but he delighted in them, and she wouldn't complain about him sharing. In silence she waited, hoping he would say something to her, give her some idea of what was rolling around in that brain of his.

“Did Jack finish his homework?”

His voice was shaky, insincere. He was losing whatever it was that had been tethering him in the moment, grasping for the mundane to hold him steady. “Yes, he did it right away. Aced his math test, too.” He hummed a response, words failing him. There was an odd quality to his eyes, glassy and faraway, the blister-like redness becoming more prominent, swelling as the day wore on. His hands twitched around the hot mug, like he wanted desperately to rub them.

“You can go home,” he offered finally, swallowing the last of his PopTart with some little pleasure. She slid her treat his way, barely picked at and smiled. "I'll pick Jack up from JJ's later. I'm sure you have things to do."

“I know I can go home. You want to play a game?” Poking at the newly offered treat, he glanced up at her and tried to gauge how serious she was. It made her laugh. “I mean it. We could watch a movie, but you look like you're about to vibrate right out of your sweats and I'm not quite over the sight of you butt naked and bleeding in the shower...SO... how about a mean game of Uno before we snuggle up on the couch?” She wanted to put him back to bed, put the night in the hospital as far away from them as she could, it was starting to feel less and less real the longer they wore on. She wasn't used to no sleep; the playing field was evening out. But she would keep him occupied, try to tire out his mind. His body was already on the fritz, his right-hand trembling and weak, his head a mess of intense pain. She needed to exhaust his mind so it could rest.

Uno. He wasn't sure he remembered how to play that, not really. The worst part was that they'd just played it a few days prior, on a day off, and Jack had slaughtered him. She dealt the cards in silence, throwing them nearly off the table and into his lap. It wasn't so hard, everything being gray and fuzzy around the edges, his tears clinging desperately to the corners of his eyes, the world didn't need color...at least until a game required it. Studying the back of the cards, he closed his eyes and tried to remember the order the colors appeared in the wheel, tried to assign the varied shades of gray names like red, blue, yellow and green. His heart thundered in his chest, and he finally reached up and swiped at his burning eyes, salty tears stinging the tender, raw skin.

“You first,” she announced, and they both lifted their cards in unison. He squinted at the card that lay face up in the middle, tried to match the shade with something in his hand and wondered how long he could keep it up if he managed to muddle his way through this first play. Or he could just admit that something was wrong, he'd brought some strange phenomenon home from the hospital, but then there would be more questions and he still had no more answers than he did before. “Aaron?”

“Sorry,” he muttered, and pulling a shaky breath into his lungs placed a card down. She accepted it, must have been the right color, and without missing a beat she placed her own card on top. He hesitated before putting his next card down, the green and blue shades looked so similar, and he was limping along in constant fear of being found out.

“You look tired,” she said, halfway through the game. She could feel his distress, no idea where it came from and yet it was there, and it was palpable. Too many options, not enough direction. “Let's pick up the game later huh?”

On the couch, side by side, she kept her eyes open until it was painful just to watch him fall asleep. He looked almost serene, arms folded over his chest, his chin tucked in tight against his collar bone. He hadn't meant to fall asleep sitting up but at a certain point, not even Robin Williams plotting the death of a big pink rhino piloted by Ed Norton could keep his heavy lids from sealing shut. Not a great movie choice in his current state, playing with his infirm grasp on reality. He would dream of Smoochy in madcap seizing grayscale, shuddering at the colorless rainbow while she watched on. When he woke to use the bathroom, the apartment was pitch black and while it took him some considerable effort to pull himself upright against a bone deep ache, bruised ribs and a stomach that roiled like he was on a boat in the middle of a storm, that wasn't the problem at all. She'd curled up at the end of the couch, beside him but away from him, like a cat who had enough of the attention. There was no way it was night, and yet to his eyes, it couldn't have been anything but.

He blinked hard into the dark, willing his apartment to come into view, spread out before him but it never did. Everything, gray and murky, was different, moved, and he wondered why Jessica would redecorate without his consent. Of course, she hadn't, but that knowledge did nothing to change what he could make out with his eyes. He managed to avoid banging his knee on the sharp glass coffee table, but the hallway...all of the doors looked the same, which one was the bathroom? He stood, frowning, trapped in a corridor with too many possibilities. There should have been four...or was it five? Three bedrooms and a bathroom. And a study. Two bathrooms and a study and a bedroom. Three bathrooms and a bedroom. His mind swirled endlessly, each option getting further and further from reality, and it stretched into eternity, identical doors repeated as far as his eye could see. It should have been the first door on the right, but he found it locked. Trying another and another, all locked, he turned and looked over his shoulder, the way he'd come, only to find that it had all vanished into the same mist that had settled in his skull. Fear crept through him awful and putrid, panic rising like bile in his throat.

The hallway stretched on, mutated into something monstrous and grotesque. All he could do was grab for the wall and hope he wasn't sucked up in its pull and stretch. If he closed his eyes too long, he was met with the corpses of his friends, long dead and decaying at his feet. He cried out in misery at the sight, utterly defeated.

Jess woke with a start at the sound of his voice, it was distant and quiet but so distressing she couldn't move fast enough. The front door hung open, and she could taste her heartbeat. Rushing up and out the door, she breathed a sigh of relief when she found Aaron crouching against the wall, not far past his own door, with his head in his hands. “Aaron?” she asked, approaching him. He turned his sad eyes up at her and he looked so lost she could barely stand it. Always having to be strong in the wake of his misery was taking its toll, she was crumbling. Slowly she slid down the wall and sat beside him. “What is it?”

“I got lost,” he admitted sheepishly. “I don't...Jess I don't know what's going on...” He still needed to use the bathroom.

“Well,” she began, rather matter-of-factly because there was nothing else to do. “For starters, you're in the hallway you silly oaf. Your apartment is a few doors back, and we should probably get you back inside because you're in your skivvies.”

He frowned, pinching the bridge of his nose and glanced down at his bare legs. Where had his pants gone? “How...”

“It's not important how, we both know we're not getting any answers right now. Let's just go back home and turn on another movie. In bed this time. If you promise not to wander off again, I'll allow Casablanca and I won't even complain.”

“Or fall asleep?”

“Or fall asleep. You're so needy sometimes.”

God, she was promising an awful lot now. Another pot of coffee and a tub of ice cream to share with two spoons, bowls be damned. Humphrey Bogart attempted to command her sleepy attention, but she couldn't pull herself away from watching Aaron. She hated every second of the movie, of his job, of all of it...but she loved him deeply and having him laying so heavy in the bed beside her, breathing deep and slow, it wasn't the worst thing in the world. The way he blinked lazy and teased her with sleep was amusing at least, that twitchy way his eyes would stay closed a beat too long and he's snort awake like he hadn't drifted off at all. He somehow managed to stay awake, making slurred comments and reciting mumbled lines through half parted lips, each time he got more than a few words in she'd shove a frozen bite of ice cream into his mouth to make him shut up so she could hear the movie she never wanted to watch in the first place. He relished the way it melted on his too dry tongue, soothed his parched sore throat. He tipped to the side, rested his head on her shoulder and yawned deep. Watching a black and white movie was pleasant, the first time he'd felt somewhat normal in longer than his faded memory could access, and he got the oddest sensation that she knew somehow. Whatever it was, he hoped it would return to normal after another few hours of sleep. Wake up and the world would have regained its color. Forgetting the seizure, the bloody nose, the pain and nausea once and for all, letting it join the rest of the night in amnesiac bliss.

“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world...” she muttered in her best old movie voice, running her fingers mindlessly through his hair. “She walks into mine.”

The sound of his snore punctuated the line perfectly and she cast her eyes toward the window, weary and tired, and thought she could see the sun beginning to set.

#aaron hotchner #jessica brooks #mr scratch #criminal minds

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blissfulalchemist · 2 years ago

Note

“ what aren’t you telling me? ” your choice 👀

Not me coming out of the woods to bring a little Sahar content since the newest issue gave some inspiration and thoughts as to their relationship. Thank you Noah for the prompt and I hope you enjoy this little tidbit!

word count: 1.4k no warnings

Sahar flips to the next page of the latest gossip magazine, sneering at it while the words pass over her eyes. Dr. Badar made the decision to bench her after the showdown with Zodiac; it had become too dangerous in recent weeks for someone so new, according to him. Really all she saw was that he was attempting to regain his pride after being taken down so easily. Nevertheless she couldn’t well go out at night without being caught and so picking up more shifts at work became the solution.

Nearly every night since then is spent in the stale smells of coffee and deli meat, a forever yellowed edge among the blue tinted lighting reflecting off the linoleum, and the rare customer coming in for cigarettes or the munchies on their way home for the night with only two feet and some plexiglass to keep them at bay. She glances up at the clock, sighing that she has four more hours and still no Marc to come by and alleviate the boredom. Really she should go down there herself and see how he was doing after that night, couldn’t have been good but he was someone that seemed to need the reminder that there were people that cared about him whether he wanted them to or not. Maybe tonight after she’s clocked out, she can bring over some of the donuts the delivery guy sneaks for her with the ones for the store.

The bell chimes with the sudden intake of wind from the door being thrown open. Sahar not having a chance to look up before a piece of paper is slammed down in front of her. She moves her eyes up slowly following the dark umber arm to meet Reese’s narrowed red eyes. “Evening Reese,” she says, sitting up straighter, “can I get you anything?”

“Don’t try and play nice with me,” the vampire growls out, “You’ve been keeping things from me.”

Sahar’s brow furrows, “Keeping things-? Oh right, the vigilantism-.”

Reese shakes her head, “No. Not that. I knew about that a long time ago. I was the one that told Marc, remember.”

“Oh yeah….,” Sahar shakes the thoughts from her mind, “Okay then if it's not that then what are you talking about?”

She draws Sahar’s attention to the paper on the counter that shows a photo from days of old, pulled from an ex-coworker’s social media profile if she had to hazard a guess. While Sahar wasn’t the main focus of the photo it’s hard to deny that it's her in the designer long sleeved gold and maroon dress that hugs her body and comes to her knees, arm thrown over the shoulders of a man she hadn’t thought about in years, the two of them smiling in the middle of a laugh. Her lips twitch in a small smile as she catches the banner stating it to be a New Year’s party, the memories of which come back clear as day knowing that ten seconds after that photo was taken the countdown started and she’d kiss the business man that surprised her with his presence that night, and that she would see him once more after that before he seemed to just disappear from existence.

“That’s you is it not,” Reese asks, pointing directly at the woman she once was. Sahar nods, Reese’s finger moving to the man next to her, “Do you know who that man is you’re hanging off of?”

Sahar pulls the paper closer, looking at his clean shaven face, the way his brown eyes glittered, the softness of his brown hair as she ran her fingers through it, and the distinctive scar just above his left eye, “Yeah, his name was Steven Grant. He was my holiday party buddy.” She looks up at the expectant face of Reese, “That’s it. I didn’t know too much else about him….or well things that are appropriate to share in a public space. How did you even find this? This was a long time ago.”

“Really? That’s all you’re going to give me? I thought we were friends.”

“We are, but I don’t know what else you want from me.”

“Bullshit!”

“Look, you only asked me who this man is and I told you.”

“And you know more than you’re letting on! So tell me, Sahar, what aren’t you telling me?”

“I-. You mean about Steven Grant or my past?”

Reese slowly relaxes, looking down, “That man in the picture doesn’t look at all familiar to you in any other way?” Sahar shakes her head once again, Reese pinching the bridge of her nose, “Does he just not take his mask off when you fuck?”

“Uhh, well he pulls it up enough to allow for us to kiss, but no….he doesn’t really take it off.”

Reese blinks a few times, “You’re a little odd, Sahar, anyone ever tell you that before?” Sahar shrugs, as her friend lets out a deep sigh, “So you’re just as in the dark as me.”

“Reese, what is it you’re trying to tell me?”

“I think Marc and Steven are the same person.”

Sahar purses her lips, looking back at the photo, Is this the reason you didn’t flinch when I told you about me?, there were still too many possibilities as to just what was going on and it was enough to give credit to Reese’s theory. “I can’t call myself an expert on either man, just that, if there’s something Marc isn’t telling you he has good reasoning for it,” she looks up at the vampire, “even if it doesn’t make total sense to you. It does to him and it’ll do you no good to pressure him into telling you.”

“Then what can I do? I just want him to be honest with me. Isn’t that something you want from him also?”

“Just continue on as you have been. Whatever it is, it’s out of the dark and into the light, he knows that.” She sighs, “When that happens it takes a little time to figure out just how and if you ever want to acknowledge it with someone you care about. It's not an easy decision, trust me.”

“You act as if you already figured out just what it is he’s keeping from me,” the vampire crosses her arms, looking away, “from us.”

“I have a few theories, but I also know from experience. When you don’t have anything to outwardly say you’re different from everyone else it makes it harder to want to be honest.” Sahar exhales slowly, “We’ve all seen how people treat others that look dangerous, the mutants had to create their own island because of it, and I’m sure you’re feeling it a little now that you’re a vampire. You have no choice but to confront the truth with people, so when you can hide it….well wouldn’t you want to keep it hidden to seem like some kind of normal that people will accept.”

Reese hangs her head, “I just thought he’d have trusted me by now. Would have thought that he knew that I wouldn’t just abandon him, that I would be understanding, you know?” The young woman sighs, “I’m worried about him is all. Whatever it is he’s keeping to himself is making him reckless and I don’t want to see him….”

Sahar reaches out a hand, “I know. I worry about him too, but there isn’t much we can do until he’s ready to tell us.”

“And if he never does tell us?”

“Then we do what we can to protect him.” Sahar walks out from behind the counter, embracing the vampire before they part for the night. Sahar’s eyes narrow at the photo on the counter still once Reese leaves her eyesight, examining it once more with a frown. “I refuse to let you keep secrets from me Marc,” she grumbles, closing down the store for her break and changing into more suitable wear for tracking down a working Marc Spector. Slipping out the back door and onto the rooftops she easily makes sight of him, three rooftops over and easy enough to catch up too. She takes him by surprise, pinning him against the wall, arm across his throat, snarling, “Listen here, you may not want to tell Reese but you’re going to tell me just what it is you’ve been hiding under that mask of yours, Marc.” He fights her off when she grabs for his mask, something she keeps an iron grip on even after he pushes her away causing it to slide off anyway. Her knuckles turn white as she stares into the bruised but unmistakable face of an old friend, “Or should I just call you Steven Grant?”

#look sahar doesn't ask to many questions and shes valid for it #Thank you again for sending this in! It really got me thinking before I fell asleep last night!#sahar mahin oc #midnight mission impossible #six1six verse #the written word #now goodbye until I finish something else to post which will be in who knows when!

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liquorisce · 3 years ago

Text

High School Years, Ch 3: aftermath.

pairing: eren x mikasa (SnK)

rating: M. (nsfw)

Summary: for eren and mikasa, love was easy; they'd loved each other forever. but physical attraction? that's a whole other story.

read on ao3 | chap 2 | chap 1

The morning after the… “confrontation”, when they walk to school, they hold hands. It's a new dimension of their ‘relationship’, and the thought of calling it that, of calling Eren her ‘boyfriend,’ is something that makes her feel so many things.

“So um,” she begins, squeezing his hand a little bit, soft pink dusting her cheeks, as he turns to look at her questioningly. “... Are we going to tell the gang?”

For the briefest moment he looks confused, but when he sees her shy expression, not spelling it out because she doesn’t know how to say it yet, his eyes widen in understanding. “Ah that you and I...,” he colours, just a little bit, because it wasn’t until the words were literally at the tip of his tongue, that he realizes he doesn’t know how to say it either.

She’d said it last night, called him her boyfriend, and it did things to him, making his heart constrict with a nervous kind of excitement. Because he was Mikasa’s boyfriend, and that was something of an honour.

But another part of him, the part that recognizes what it means for a high school kid, just finds it completely lacking, he doesn’t want to announce that he’s ‘dating’ Mikasa Ackerman, the word simply does not do it justice. And he sure as hell doesn’t want to hear her name in the gossip rings, from the mouths of shallow, boring girls who have little better to do than keep track of their high school reality show or from the dirty whispers of teenage boys who can’t control their hormones (if Eren is one of them, he doesn’t acknowledge it).

“... Maybe we could just keep it quiet? Just for a little while…” He watches her expressions searchingly, and she does that thing that she does, hides into her bangs when she doesn’t want him to see what she’s thinking and he panics, just a little.

“Hey, listen,” he stops her by the wrist, before they round the corner onto the street of their school. “... It’s not that I want to hide it,” he whispers, resting his forehead against hers, because god forbid she thinks he’s embarrassed or ashamed or anything short of absolutely ecstatic, “You know that, right?”

She closes her eyes and she lets the waves of insecurity pass her by. Surely, there was nothing more to worry about. He’d made no secret of the depth of his feelings last night. “Mm-hmm.” She feels his minty breath cool on her lower lip and she reaches up to press her mouth against his. It’s tentative, the way she does it, reserved and shy but completely incomparable. It’s like everything she does, he thinks breathlessly, as he deepens the kiss. There’s no one like her.

She threads her hands into his already messed up hair, breathing harshly as she breaks away from his kiss. “I don’t mind,” she agrees, “... I think I’d like it to be just between us for a while…”

And because he’s so grateful that he’s in love with his best damn friend, who knows him and understands him like nobody else, he kisses her again… just because he can.

…

They know. He doesn’t know how they know, but they fucking know, and he mutters unhappily under his breath, “... fucking vultures, the whole lot of them.”

Armin smirks, not unsympathetically. They’d mutually decided to tell him (rather, he spotted them holding hands, and he’d almost cried in happiness), even though Eren had been somewhat sour about it, sulking when Mikasa had pointed out that they obviously needed to tell Armin. Eren was a brat, and a jealous one, especially where Mikasa was concerned, so despite having ample proof by now that the kiss between Armin and her had meant nothing, it remained a sore topic for him.

“Isn’t it easier this way? At least now you won’t have to stare down all the boys queuing up to ask for her number in the cafeteria.”

“... That’s not the point,” Eren sulks, even though he knows Armin has a point (he always does), the phenomenon he’d described was a canonical and frequent event that he actively loathes, because Mikasa was quite free with her personal details that way.

( It’s high school, Eren , she’d told him exasperatedly one day when he’d actually brought it up to her, if I don’t give them my number they’ll get it from someone else anyway. Besides, the block functionality is quite useful .)

Somehow Eren is fairly certain that knowing she was in a relationship wouldn’t be enough to deter potential suitors (/ fanboys) and as they walk towards their class, he spots the best example of this crass behaviour in none other than his horse faced friend chatting up his girlfriend, who seemed to be fairly liberal with her smiles.

Armin watches the scene from right next to him and snorts, barely able to contain his laughter. “... You’re so transparent, Eren.”

“Clearly the news hasn’t reached everyone,” he clears his throat, tearing his gaze away from the beauty and the beast, trying his best to remain civil and not scare his girlfriend away in less than 24 hours of them being, you know, together .

“This is what you wanted,” Armin reminds him, clapping his shoulder sportingly, barely able to contain his grin.

…

She tugs nervously at her hair, feeling ridiculously exposed despite the fluffy maroon scarf around her neck. She hadn’t been prepared for the events of yesterday, be it the emotional confession, or the heated kisses, or the possessive nips at her neck.

She certainly wasn’t prepared for the self consciousness that came with the marks he left on her, and had absolutely no knowledge of the make up skills required to cover it. (It hadn’t helped that it had taken Armin less than two minutes to spot the hickeys.)

But what she was least prepared for, is how almost everyone seemed to know, without her even having to open her mouth, and how they all seemed to have an opinion.

… Aw, but I was really counting on him getting back together with Krista… they were so cute…

… I wonder how long he’ll stay with this one…

… wait, Mikasa Ackerman? Aren’t they like practically siblings or something? Ewwww~

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to gag, or if she wanted to hide… or both.

She doesn’t hide. Because Mikasa Ackerman is a class act and despite feeling completely torn up listening to bitchy people talk about her like she does not possess hearing, she goes through the day looking outwardly untouchable.

But after trudging through the entire day of listening to absolute bullshit rumours and whispering, she’s pretty sure she feels a migraine incoming. Groaning to herself, as she takes out her notebook from her locker, she finds herself face to face with a chirpy voice that she once hated.

“... Hey,” Krista says, with a small smile. “... rough day, huh.”

Mikasa nods, it’s not that she dislikes the cute blonde in front of her (not too much, anyway), it’s just that today was not the day she wants to be visually reminded of her existence. Because watching her, in her white miniskirt and pink sweater, perfect blonde hair and her perfect smile, is reminiscent of all the days she hid in her room with only her insecurity for company.

“So um,” Krista begins, because Mikasa can be comfortable in her silence, just looking at Krista questioningly. “... Everyone’s talking about it, basically,” she blurts out, unable to help herself.

“And if you want to know whom to smack, it’s Hitch, because she says she saw you guys holding hands outside school and making out, and she snapchatted it to the whole world, because that’s what she does and,” - Mikasa’s eyes narrow and Krista takes a deep breath.

“Look, I just wanted to reach out, and you know,” she clears her throat, like it was obvious what she was doing here. Mikasa just looks blank, feels blank. “... Like, I don’t want it to be awkward or anything, between us,” Mikasa is genuinely confused at this point, because there didn’t have to be an us, between her and Krista, their social circles were comfortably distant enough to have as minimal interaction as possible. “... You seem like a great person, and honestly, I’m not even surprised you guys ended up together. It was just a matter of time, I guess.”

She smiles earnestly as she says this, and Mikasa finds herself liking the short blonde despite herself, and offers a smile back. “... Thanks, that’s sweet of you.”

“And um,” Krista offers, completely casually, “... I could lend you some concealer if you wanna… you know, cover that up.”

…

“Snapchat!” Sasha wails theatrically, “... I can’t believe this is what our friendship has boiled down to.”

Mikasa has the grace to look guilty. “Explain to me, bestie ,” Sasha can be quite scary when she has her manic face on, “why, I had to receive a snap from the school’s number one hoe, informing me of the fact that my best friend had finally hooked up with her absolute thirst trap of a roommate.”

She doesn’t have much to say to defend herself, she simply slinks lower into her seat. “... I’ll buy you lunch for a week,” Mikasa whispers, defeated.

“Oh you better,” Sasha declares, still fuming. “... Snapchat, are you fucking kidding me…” She turns around once more, sizing Mikasa up deliberately. “... What about that time I walked in on you guys, in the kitchen, and he didn’t have a shirt on?” Sasha narrows her eyes accusingly. “... Were you two already…? Did you lie to me back then?”

“No! God, no,” Mikasa vaguely wonders why she sounds so defensive and apologetic about her own love life, but she remembers that Sasha is upset and for what it’s worth, she loves her like a sister, so she says, “... I swear, there was nothing between us then. It only happened, like… last night.”

Mikasa blushes as she says it, and the twinkle returns to Sasha’s brown eyes. “You must tell me everything,” she commands, and despite her sighing and blushing and giggling, Mikasa does exactly that.

...

He waits for her as they walk back from school. This is new too. Well not entirely, they’d walk back together, the three of them, Him, Mikasa and Armin, everyday in middle school, but high school had brought them different routines, and a distance that he was happy to get rid of.

“So…” he says as he slips his fingers between hers. “So much for our plan to keep it quiet.”

She burrows her head into his arm, “... everyone knew. Literally everyone.” After a minute, she adds reproachfully, “The hickeys you left on my neck didn’t help, either.”

He grins despite the glare she gives him. Embarrassing or not, he didn’t regret it one bit, not the moments that led up to those anyway... the way she’d found herself on his lap, fitting so perfectly in his arms, and against his mouth. The way she’d gasped when he’d let himself explore the sensitive skin on her neck.

He understands her situation, but god, there was no way he’d apologize for the sheer sensation he’d felt in that moment.

Tugging at her scarf to see his own handiwork, he can’t help his disappointment when he sees only a faint outline of them on her pretty skin. “... I see you’ve covered them up.”

“Ah,” Mikasa grins, “... that was your ex, actually.”

She feels him still, letting go of her hand for a brief moment. “... What?” Eren blinks nervously. They don’t really talk about his ex, not much more than they did yesterday anyway, and he wishes they’d never have to, not now that he knows perfectly well how much it had hurt Mikasa.

“You… um, spoke to her today?”

Mikasa nods, “... She came by to say hello, yeah.” And because Eren looks extremely uncomfortable at the thought, she giggles and tells him, “She says she didn’t want things to be awkward between us.”

Eren groans, “... this sounds like the teaser to every high school drama ever.” But despite his sarcasm, he was worried because despite Mikasa’s unassuming popularity in school, she lived her life outside of the cliques, the gossip rings, the drama… and Krista, sweet that she was, was somehow always in the thick of it.

“Don’t worry,” Mikasa says sweetly, “... if you want me to tell you that we had a catfight over you, prepare for disappointment.”

He grins in relief and asks, “... Is it so wrong to indulge in the fantasy of you fighting with another girl over me?” And because he can’t help himself, he adds, “You’d win for sure, Mikasa.”

…

As long as she can remember, Mikasa had been in love with Eren. It wasn’t complicated, or confusing for her, she’d loved him and she’d always known it.

When she was younger she had less trouble expressing it, they played together all the time, and she shared her toys with him, her sweets, and promised his mom she would take care of him when he got into trouble.

During her darkest days (after losing her parents), he would look after her, keep an eye out for her, tuck her in sometimes and sleep by her side when she had nightmares. Back then it was easier to ask for his attention - Eren could you stay with me, she remembers her 12 year old self asking, sniffling in the night, with no inhibitions, just a young girl asking for comfort from the boy she shared everything with.

(He’d given her everything she asked for graciously, fussing over her in his own way, watching over her even when she didn’t notice.)

It’s the ‘how’ that increased in complexity, the way she wanted more and more as the years went by, until the point where her love for him was a complete stranger. It was frustrating when she first realized it, when she realized she looked at him more often than usual… when she realized she wanted him to look at her too.

Growing up they’d watch movies together, and she’d often wonder about the way the hero kissed the heroine at the end of the movie, and wondered if someday Eren would kiss her like that. Most of all she wondered if Eren thought about it too.

When he started dating, that became amply clear to her - he thought of kissing, and to her unfortunate attention, it became clear that he thought of much more too. Those months were incredibly difficult for Mikasa because not only did she have to go through life like nothing had changed - ostensibly nothing had, not between them - but she had to police every indiscrete thought when he walked around after his shower without a shirt on, she had to control her gaze every time it fell on his beautiful mouth, wondering exactly what it would feel like against hers.

And for the first time in the longest time, Mikasa could no longer love Eren the way she always had, openly and without shame, she could no longer ask of him his care and attention.

But it feels like overnight so much has changed, she can barely comprehend it. Eren is so generous with his attention (his love), she wonders if the last couple of years of distance was the doing of her own imagination.

He is so free with his touches, sometimes gentle on her waist, sometimes tender on her face, sometimes rough in her hair (this excites her most of all). She no longer has to wonder if he’d ever kiss her like in the movies, he kisses whenever he damn pleases, and it always, always takes her by surprise. And it is so much better than she has ever imagined.

…

He saunters in as she prepares the tofu carefully, and because Mikasa is a perfectionist in everything she does, she’s concentrating completely on flipping each piece at the perfect moment when they turn golden brown.

But because Eren finds literally everything she does impossibly cute, he wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her gleefully on the cheek. It has the desired effect, she gasps, dropping her fork, and he catches her in an open mouthed kiss.

He manages to distract her for a good couple of minutes until she smells the tofu becoming decidedly darker than golden brown. “Erennn,” she whines, “... my tofu is ruined!”

“I’m sure it’ll taste wonderful,” he says because she’s an excellent cook, but also because he’s slightly affronted that by the way she pulls away in complaint.

“Please. Go sit,” she swats him away, making him pout adorably. He does as he is told and waits till she plates the food minutes later, and he’s pleased to say that he was absolutely right, it did taste wonderful.

But he’s more eager to eat up as soon as possible and finish what he tried to start a few moments ago.

“What are you going to do after dinner?” The answer he wants to hear is I’d like to make out with my boyfriend , but just as he expected, Mikasa’s mind is on a slightly different wavelength.

“... Hmm,” she eyes him suspiciously, “... I guess I’ll finish cleaning up and read the latest chapter in English Lit before bed, and just drift off to sleep. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he states innocently. “... I’ll help you clean up.”

He changes the topic before they have a chance to linger, and does good on his promise to clean up as fast as he can. It’s ridiculous the way he’s acting, and he doesn’t understand it himself, but he can’t seem to help himself. He can’t seem to stop looking at her, can’t seem to stop craving her, whether it’s the closeness of her body or the taste of her lips, and he’s pretty certain the way he’s acting right now is downright embarrassing, but somehow since its with Mikasa, he feels emboldened.

Or at least that’s how he’d felt until recently. Of late there’s been just the slightest amount of doubt that’s crept in. He finds himself wondering if it’s just him who feels this way, this inexplicable urge, and he wishes that she’d be the one reaching for him more often.

“Thanks, Eren,” she murmurs, breaking him out of his intense internal monologue, when she reaches over and brushes a chaste kiss on his cheek. It warms him instantly, immediately making him want more.

He dries up and follows her out of the kitchen, and as she turns into her room, he grabs her wrist and says, “... Mikasa, wait,” and when she flips her head to look at him, he nestles her against the wall and whispers, “... I just wanted to say goodnight,” before kissing her full on the mouth.

For all that he internally complains about her not initiating their kisses enough, she responds beautifully to him, opening her mouth to him, and slipping her tongue inside, gasping when his fingers slip under her shirt, brushing softly above her ribcage. She slides one hand around his neck and the other clutches his shirt, pulling him so close to her, he revels in the feeling of her body pressed against hers.

He doesn’t even know how, or why, because he isn’t thinking when he’s kissing Mikasa, just going with it, running on the sheer feeling of it all, because he just gives into her - but she’s got both arms around his neck and he’s pressing her so firmly against the wall, tongue shameless in its exploration of her mouth, he slips one of his legs between hers.

She likes it, likes the pressure between her legs and she finds herself moving against him, grinding almost, embarrassingly, and she doesn’t even register consciously, until she feels him hard and pressed up against her thigh. She makes an embarrassing noise, something between a gasp and a moan, and suddenly his eyes snap open, all too conscious of their position.

She feels him twitch against her, and she can barely breathe with the excitement of it all, the newness… the feeling. He looks at her like a different person, green eyes heady and searching, holding her in a heated gaze. But in the most crushingly confusing move, he steps back and whispers “good night,” before turning towards his own room.

Quite frankly, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Any more of that and she would’ve melted into jelly all over the leg that was between her thighs. And instead of pursuing that intense, boneless feeling, she finds herself catching her breath alone in the hallway with a confoundingly novel ache between her legs.

…

He watches her at the tennis court the next day; he drags Armin with him.

He’s never cared much for the game itself, only knows the basic rules because Mikasa’s been playing for years. She has a practice match today, against Jean, and he’d claimed he’d only wanted to see ‘his girl’ crush that horse face to the ground.

But the more he sits next to Eren, the more Armin feels decidedly uncomfortable. “Oi, Eren,” he says, when he’s fairly certain he’s had enough. Eren looks at him annoyed for being distracted from the game. “... What?”

Armin pinches the bridge of his nose before speaking, because how does he say this politely? “... You’re staring.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t huh me! You’re literally ogling her,” he hisses under his breath, “... it’s embarrassing, so please stop.”

He feels his face burn as he splutters, “I, I’m just watching the-,” he’s quite literally red by this point, “... Armin, what the fuck?” He just wants to hide, and so he hides his face in his hands.

He was right, he was staring, and he knew this because his mind had memorized the way she looked in that outfit, white tank top low cut and body hugging and giving him an excellent view as she moved. And he didn’t even want to comment on the way those shorts hugged her curves and how it flowed perfectly into her long, glorious legs.

If he could kick himself he would.

“What’s going on with you?” Armin asks, after he gives Eren a moment to recover from absolute mortification. Hesitating, he says, “... This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you staring at her like this recently.”

He looks at Armin helplessly, because he doesn’t know how to put it into words. “You can talk to me,” Armin coaxes him, “... you do embarrassing shit in front of me all the time anyway,” he supplies helpfully.

There’s conflict in his green eyes as he considers just how to say it, if he wants to at all. He’s still not a hundred per cent over the fact that Armin was Mikasa’s first kiss and if anyone could hold a (pointless) grudge it was Eren.

“However if you still choose to not talk to me about Mikasa because you are hung up over a stupid drunk kiss, then that’s completely fine with me too,” Armin says, reading Eren’s mind cheerfully.

“... You didn’t have to bring it up,” he says sullenly. Armin rolls his eyes. “... You’re thinking about it anyway, so I might as well talk about it.” He’s known him far too long to not understand the very simplistic nature of Eren’s thought processes.

“... I can’t stop looking at her,” he confesses, deciding to gloss over the discomfort of their kiss and focus on the main problem instead. “I hadn’t noticed,” Armin quips dryly, and Eren glares at him - so much for ‘ You can talk to me, Eren.’

“I’m losing my mind here, Armin,” trust Eren to always be dramatic, without fail, “... You can make fun of me all you want, but everytime I look at her, I,” he inhales sharply. “... God, I feel disgusting. It’s Mikasa for fuck’s sake.”

And It’s Mikasa whom his friend had always been slightly unhinged for, but Armin thinks better of saying this.

“... I feel like I just don't know how to look at her respectfully anymore,” and he says

this almost choked, so distressed, that Armin tries very very hard to suppress a laugh.

…

She wishes she hadn’t done it.

In a rare moment of weakness that she now regrets, she had given into Sasha’s ever curious inquisitions into her love life. And by love life here, Sasha was explicitly digging for the good stuff.

“Eh?!?”

Mikasa waits patiently for Sasha to return from her high pitched look of disbelief.

“... What do you mean you haven’t slept together yet?” Sasha asks, a bit calmer this time, but still urgently distressed about the matter.

“We just… haven’t,” Mikasa explains rather unsatisfyingly.

“So… do you like, want to wait or something? I thought you’ve been in love with him since forever…”

No matter how much she’s accepted that fact herself, it still makes her blush when she hears it out loud. “... It’s not like, I want to, um, wait or anything,” she confesses. Because she’s found herself thinking of the same thing every night since the time Eren had her against the wall, pinned against him and his hardness. It’s almost like it created a monster out of her, a monstrous desire that has her eyeing him out the corner of her eye whenever she gets the chance. It makes her seek him out more often, seek him out after his workout, after his shower, innocently, by accident of course, and she’s ashamed of herself.

“... You just need to jump him,” Sasha says, with the utmost seriousness. Like she knew anything at all on this subject. “And boy have I got the perfect thing to help you.”

…

Mikasa Ackerman is a huge fan of Marie Kondo. It was one of the curiously annoying yet cute things about her that Eren has an impressively large list of.

She’s watched the Netflix show more times than he can count, follows her on Youtube, and once he’d seen her pray to her room or some shit before she started cleaning. It mystifies him, and he doesn’t care enough to understand more so he just goes along with it.

Today she’s decided she has way too many clothes and she will only keep what “sparks joy” in her, so she’s strewn out her entire closet and demanded in the sweetest way that he helps her with her mission.

(She throws in the offer of trying out all her outfits before she throws them out, and Eren is horny for a fashion show or the moments in between so he readily agrees)

“... I’m not sure about this one,” she says, eyeing herself in the green dress critically.

Eren’s eyes bulged in disbelief. “... You’re kidding, you look like a fucking goddess, Mikasa.”

She blushes happily with the compliment, but Eren isn’t exaggerating. It’s a slinky strapless number which was incredibly short. And it had a slit. According to Eren, the slit could not be emphasized enough.

“... Your legs look incredible,” he says, providing her the only decent compliment he can muster. The rest he does his best to convey with eyes.

“... It just doesn’t feel like something I wear usually, you know… so I don’t know if it sparks joy...”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes, “Well, you should wear it. C’mere let me help you spark some joy,” he says, playfully pulling her down into the pile of clothes that made a poofy bed on the floor.

She giggles, settling over him happily, and for a moment his sappy little heart feels like it’s going to explode. He’s pretty sure her giggle is his most favourite sound in the whole world.

“... You’re insane,” he breathes, relishing in the way she feels on top of him, his hands sliding up her legs and resting just beneath the hem of her dress (just beneath her ass). She kisses him sweetly, tongue flicking gently on his lip and making him groan softly. His hands brush past her ass, caressing ever so softly as they come to rest on the small of her back.

She deepens the kiss, and he grabs her hips roughly, angling her mouth onto his in a way that suits him, gives him access and he sighs into her mouth. The view of her on top of him, is unparalleled, her thighs around his hips and her chest heaving temptingly with her harsh breathing. He closes his eyes and captures her mouth again before he makes a fool of himself in front of her again.

But she has her hands in his hair, and she’s pressing down, grinding down against his crotch, and he can feel himself pulse at every brush of contact, and he groans knowing fully well that there’s no way she can’t feel his length brush against her legs.

He doesn’t want to stop, or run away, because he’s ridiculously turned on at this point, and unwilling to let go of her, so he simply turns her around and pins her beneath him, taking advantage of the way she squeals, to slip his tongue into her mouth and taste her.

It’s so tempting having her beneath him like this, so he gives in and slips his leg between hers again, eager to have her rub against him like she did that day, with the faintest hint of a moan, like he hasn’t been able to forget.

His fingers entwine with hers and he stretches them above her head, wanting so much to just kiss her senseless, but they collide with a cardboard box and he spares a glance at it, in annoyance.

Until he squints and actually sees what it is. The label alone makes him blush, not to mention the contents that he could clearly see under the transparent plastic covering.

Mikasa looks up, dazed and a little bit disoriented from what was possibly the most intense make out session she had ever experienced. “... Eren?”

“Babe,” he rasps, choked, “... are you trying to tell me something?”

She follows his line of sight, and wants to hide, wants to die, wants to erase this moment from her very existence.

Her Sensual Pleasure kit, he reads, his mind effectively going numb as he comprehends the contents: a vibrator, a blindfold, some pink fuzzy handcuffs and what looks like a generous bottle of lube.

Somehow even though she forgot about this ridiculous thing, having stuffed it into her closet to forget all about the ridiculousness on her friend’s face when she gave it to her, it seems to have stumbled out into the light of day at the worst possible moment.

If she could murder Sasha and get away with it, she would.

“... I-It’s not what you think, Eren,” she mumbles, cheeks red and panicking, even though she has absolutely no idea what she wants him to think.

“I assure you,” he manages, “... I’m not really thinking right now, Mikasa.” Sure enough his mind had somewhat short circuited, barely able to handle the pressure of having his extremely sexy girlfriend beneath him and somehow simultaneously having discovered what appeared to be her sextoys .

Gingerly, he reaches for it, and he almost gasps, because the box had been opened and fiddled with. “Did you actually…”

He looks at her face, and it’s the colour of a tomato by this point, teeth biting her lower lip nervously, and he doesn’t know whether to laugh or if he is even more turned on.

“The vibrator, Mikasa, did you…?” His voice is so hoarse just imagining, it superseded any fantasies he’s had up until this point. “... Eren,” she whines, embarrassed, hiding her face in her hands.

“Please for the love of god, Mikasa, please just tell me, baby,” he’s pleading because he really needs to know at this point. He needs to know if he’s been going to bed in the room besides her without the potent knowledge that she’s been using this to relieve herself at night.

When she nods, just ever so imperceptibly, he’s pretty sure he’s going to combust. “... What did you think of when you were using it?” His voice sounds like a stranger’s.

She looks conflicted, looks unbelievably embarrassed, but he’s pretty sure he isn’t imagining it when he hears the faintest whisper from her saying, “... you.”

But that isn’t going to cut it, because he’s spent countless nights with a raging boner and raging guilt, as he jerked off to the most tantalizing moments he’s had with her… and he barely ever manages to look her in the eye the next morning. So he has to, no, he needs to know that he hasn’t been the only one in this absolutely ridiculous situation.

He kisses her hard, teeth grazing hers, mouth eager and greedy, and she responds to him with equal fervour. His head drops to her shoulder as he kisses her bare collarbone. “... If you knew how many times I’ve touched myself thinking of you, you wouldn’t be able to look at me the same again.”

His words are a deep, throaty confession that he whispers on her skin, and it brings a tingle down to her spine and all the way to her toes. She thrusts her chest upwards against him subconsciously.

“... I think of you too, you know… all the time,” she confesses, forgetting the very meaning of inhibition. It’s hard to remember it when he looks at her that way, heat burning from his verdant eyes, his grip firm against her hips. She doesn’t want to; doesn’t need it, if it means she can be this close to him.

“... Do you think you can show me?” he whispers, barely thinking through his requests through his lust-filled haze.

He sees her hesitating, contemplating, and he finds himself praying as his fingers inch up the dress and dig into the curves of her ass, lips delicate against the tops of her breasts.

“Only if you show me how you touch yourself,” she murmurs, and he can feel himself twitch in excitement.

She backs up against her bedpost and slips out of her panties, and Eren is absolutely, positively certain, he has never seen anything more appealing than when she slowly, deliberately, hikes up that beautiful green dress and spreads her legs.

He’s so lost in the sight before him, he forgets what he’s promised until she says, steel eyes determined, challenging him almost, “... your turn, Eren.”

He shucks his pants off gracelessly, he couldn’t make it look as artful as she does even if he tried, but he’s happy to be free of the restrictive material as he springs heavy and erect at the sight of her. “... Could you um, pass me the lube,” he asks, and she does, but not before squeezing some onto her own hand.

It’s hypnotic how she rubs it into herself, wet, and pretty and pink, and he jerks into his hand, slick and wanting, as he whispers, “... God, you’re beautiful.”

His words only serve to enhance the needy pressure between her legs, the tingling feeling that her slow circular motions were only making worse. She picks up the vibrator and turns it on, pressing it to her nub, the way she’s done a few lonely nights by herself, wishing it was him against her skin.

It’s different this time, because even though it’s her and the silicone toy, Eren’s gaze is like liquid fire on her skin, dark and licentious, and almost greedy. She throws her head back, shivering with pleasure and gasping.

“... What did you think of when you played with yourself?” He asks again, and this time she knows he wants a more specific answer.

“Your fingers,” she mumbles, and she finds the pleasure makes her startlingly more honest. He could ask anything of her, and she would tell him.

The idea, the thought of it, makes him twitch happily in his hand, and he jerks erratically, feeling an unbelievable urge come over him. “... Did you get wet thinking of my fingers on you, Mikasa?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nods, blushing prettily, high off the vibrating sensations. Without planning to, he crawls over between her legs and kisses her deeply, murmuring on her lips, “... then let me touch you, baby.”

It was her who was being stimulated, but he nearly groans into her hair at the feeling of her soft wetness, the way it feels against his fingers, the way her arousal coats him so eagerly.

“... I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” he murmurs hoarsely, rubbing delicate circles across her nub, diligently favouring the area she had favoured mere moments ago. “Then why didn’t you,” she gasps at the last syllable, at the sudden intrusion of his long finger having slid deep inside her.

“... Sorry,” he says, sounding far too turned on to be sorry, “... you’re so wet, Mikasa.” He’s in awe, almost reverent of how warm she is, how easy.

She hangs on to his neck now, teeth grazing his neck, whispering, “... I want you, Eren.” Her breath is warm and damp and he’s unmistakably certain of what she asks.

“... Are you sure?” He asks, panting, hoping to god she’s sure, because he’s so ready, he’s been ready for a long time now, and he can barely control himself from leaking onto his own hand, when she says, “Yes.”

He makes sure she’s comfortable, or as comfortable as she can be on top of her clothes, and he commits everything to memory, the way she looks beneath him, the way her breasts heave when he pulls off the entirety of that dress, the way her nipples stiffen against his warm kisses. “... Please,” she whimpers, when he takes his time with her, taking the peaks of her breasts into her mouth and teasing ever so slightly with his teeth.

“... I can’t help it,” he rasps, “I want to touch you everywhere, you’re so pretty, babe, I,” -

He chokes, cut off, by the feeling of her delicate hands circling around him, pumping slowly as she guides him to her entrance. “Shit, Mikasa,” he curses, closing his eyes as he feels the sensation of her warmth against his tip.

It’s not his first time, but he feels like a stumbling virgin, murmuring desperate things as he feels her sheathe him completely, pausing only to pay attention to her comfort. Barely coherent, he asks, “... you okay?” She nods quietly, and his eyebrows furrow, looking at her questioningly. “Feels… so full,” she manages, with a feeble groan, and he can’t help but grin at how irresistible she is.

“... That’s because I’m supposed to fill you up, babe,” he whispers, not caring how far gone he is, because he slides out just a little only to spread her legs for him again, and slide back in. He tests the rhythm carefully, watching her expressions for any sign of discomfort, but the way she squeezes her eyes, the way she throws her head back with a gasp, just makes him lose whatever little control he had.

“Please tell me if I need to go slower,” he tells her, but judging from her reaction, from her moans, she only seemed to be egging him on.

It’s too much, he thinks, too much for him to possibly handle, not with the way she bucks her hips, and definitely not with the way she clenches needily around him.

And in a moment that he’ll probably never live down, he groans, “Fuck, babe, I’m going to,” - barely realizing with some consciousness to pull out of her tight, wet, core, and spills onto her stomach.

Mikasa’s never seen him make a face like that.

When he opens his eyes, she’s looking at him in wonder. And he’s looking at the mess he’s made on her stomach, and even though a small part of him only feels arousal at the sight of that, today he just feels like a massive asshole. “Shit,” he curses, not happy with how this played out at all. He reaches for the panties she’d so easily discarded and mops up his sticky release, mumbling, “... God, I’m so sorry, Mikasa. This was your first time, I can’t even believe,” -

“Eren,” she interrupts, because she doesn’t have time for this, his self-derision can come later. “... I, um…,” she clenches her thighs together, and he suddenly realizes that he hadn’t yet completely fucked shit up, he could still make her feel good, and that’s all he wanted.

He settles himself between her legs and spreads her folds open for him, feeling a familiar twitch at the pretty sigh in front of him. “I’ll take care of you, baby,” he whispers earnestly, before she feels his mouth on her folds. He kisses her like how he kisses her lips, like he wants to consume her, and if she thought it felt good against her own mouth, it felt only a million times better down there. He’s generous with his tongue, probing circling, sending her into a frenzy that only he could have managed.

She threads her fingers into his hair, gasping his name, prettily, holding on to him as she rides wave after wave of pleasure against his tongue.

When he lifts himself up and looks at her, he grins, his mouth shining because of her juices, and she closes her eyes swearing to herself that she will never forget that sight.

He collapses next to her, this time of a happier countenance because somewhere in his mind he’s judged this to be a fair exchange, and because Mikasa knows him so well, she can’t help but giggle.

“I’m not usually like this,” he asserts, once he’s caught his breath, and she’s barely managed to catch hers. She raises an eyebrow at him, amused. Trust Eren to be bothered about the unnecessary mechanics of his ego, barely minutes after their first time. “... I swear, next time I’m not going to let you go unless you have at least three orgasms. Minimum.”

“I guess I’ll have to hold you to it, Eren,” she murmurs, chuckling. “And before you freak out about the other thing; I’m on birth control, so don’t worry.” There’s silence, remarkably guilty silence, because he hadn’t thought about it, and that’s ridiculous because he’d never done it without a condom before, and if he ever feels like the biggest idiot on the planet, it’s at this moment.

“... I fucking love you, Mikasa,” he says sincerely, thanking the gods and this insane goddess right beside him, and this time she can’t help but laugh out loud.

a/n: edit: two whole weeks after posting ao3, i finally got around to putting this on tumblr.

to all those who have been on this journey with me, thank you so much. it's been so fun with these guys in the hsy verse.

i can't believe the story is over; i'm not ready to let go. going forward i may or may not right 3 more chapters each focusing on armin, historia, and jean respectively. i'm still mulling over it :)

i've recently been made aware that some people who read my stories are minors and i should be more mindful. so the note below -

i'd just like to clarify that it's fairly normal to be 18 yo in senior year of high school (at least where i'm from), which is when this last chapter takes place, so i did not feel the need to write age anywhere. i just want to clarify this; im no one to lecture any body on the appropriate age to be sexually active - as long as the person who you're with treats you respectfully and honours your consent. and respect your own limits and body.

HOWEVER I WILL ABSOLUTELY TAKE THIS MOMENT TO LECTURE YOU ON THE USE OF BIRTH CONTROL - PLEASE USE CONDOMS. please discuss birth control or std prevention with a sexual partner. DO NOT BE LIKE EREN AND FORGET JEEZUS. i'm 27 when i'm writing this so the last scene was just meant to be funny, especially his unbelievable sigh of relief when he finds out she had the foresight to be careful.

anyway, see ya and if it might interest you pls check out my mikasa stripper au ;) i'm very excited about it.

#eremika #liquorisce fanfiction #eremika smut #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #high school years

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blissedoutphil · 3 years ago

Text

Tops Only

Dan’s favourite actor just opened a new bar right by the street near his apartment, and he couldn’t wait to check it out. One problem though, it was for Tops only, and Dan wasn’t one.

This day exactly 6 months ago, we had the iconic Stereo show where Phil accidentally came up with the concept of a Tops Only Bar. Which means this idea has been playing about in my head/drafts for 6 months wow where did the time go. Finally got around to properly writing it! Enjoy :)

2948 words of Top!Phil, bottom!dan, AU where everyone’s born with a Type (top/bottom/switch, not like a/b/o but similar concept kinda? the Type takes the place of sexual orientation. don’t judge me this was Phil’s doing)

or read on ao3!

Despite walking past the area almost everyday to get back to his apartment, Dan still couldn’t believe that the renovation works that’s been happening for months was for Phil’s new bar. The Phil Lester. The best actor of his generation (though his friend Anthony would never agree with this opinion) was opening his very first venture outside of acting just ten minutes from his home?!

He stopped and stood idly by the bar on the way home from Anthony’s again. The renovation was all done and the place was due to open that weekend. He couldn’t believe his luck. He’d been a fan of Phil for years, and now he could possibly catch a glimpse of Phil just from walking home.

He’d watched and read all the interviews of Phil talking about his new project. This new bar was like his baby, from the ideation and planning to the execution - Phil was fully involved in every little part and his excitement for it definitely rubbed off on his fans. There was so much speculation on the internet on what the bar would be like, especially because Phil kept hinting at surprises and how unique it was.

Dan was no exception in the fanbase - he already planned to go to the grand opening of the bar as early as possible, if only to get a picture of Phil.

There were some people inside the place; Dan could make out figures walking around in the dimly lit bar. Before he could get his legs to work so he won’t look like a creeper stalker, the figures were already heading to the entrance.

It was almost 1am and the street was empty. Dan was certain nobody would believe him if he told them what he saw. Even he had a hard time believing it, and he was standing there wide-eyed taking it all in.

None other than the Phil Lester walked out, along with a group of people he assumed were his management team and perhaps the contractors of the place. Dan stood next to a fire hydrant at the edge of the pavement, just gaping at them like an idiot.

As if things couldn’t get more unbelievable, Phil noticed him. Obviously; there was no one around but him standing there like a creeper. Phil’s eyebrows shot up in confusion for a second, but he quickly realised Dan was most likely a fan, so he shot him a wink, smirking knowingly.

Dan was for sure going to cringe at this memory for the rest of his life, but in that moment he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t even breathe. He was looking at Phil with his own eyes, and Phil was real. Not someone on a screen. And Phil looked beautiful even when he was barely visible in the dimly lit path. He looked amazing in person, the cameras don’t do him justice. And he fucking winked at Dan!

Dan swallowed, feeling his cheeks heat up. It felt like a very long moment where everything happened in slow motion, but when Dan snapped back to reality, he realised it was probably only the few seconds it took for the group to walk from the bar entrance to their van parked a short distance from the fire hydrant Dan was standing by.

He blinked as the van’s lights blinded him, and they drove off within seconds. Dan just stood there for a long time after the car had gone, wondering if he was dreaming.

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

The weekend came quickly, and Dan was more than ready to see Phil again. Now that he knew how perfect Phil looked in person, he felt more prepared. He was not going to make a fool of himself by standing still like a statue too awestruck to even wave hi.

The grand opening of the bar was at 7pm so he left his apartment at 4, wanting to get a good spot where he can see Phil and maybe take a photo with him.

He greatly underestimated just how many fans were willing to show up early, disappointed when he saw the crowd already forming near the gates. There were barriers and a red carpet leading up to the bar’s entrance from the road. There was a designated spot for photographers and interviewers at the other side of the carpet. Dan had never seen this part of London get this much attention before.

He somehow made it to the second row, and he didn’t even care if he was going to block other fans behind him. His height was a blessing and a curse at the same time. He could get a clear view, but he was sure the people in the immediate area behind him would hate him with a passion. But he didn’t care, this was Phil he was seeing.

Time dragged on like it couldn’t go any slower. He scrolled through twitter, getting updates from the journalists just across the red carpet on the anticipated opening of Phil’s bar, the speculation on what Phil was going to wear and which celebrities were invited to the opening.

The fans around Dan were also gossiping excitedly. The row of fans in front of him caught his attention. They were conspiring that the surprise element of Phil’s bar would be that it was only for Tops. One girl was upset by this notion since she was a Bottom, and another girl was hoping Switches could enter too since technically they were some percent Top. The guy who mentioned this theory then showed them ‘proof’ of why he’s so convinced he’s right. Dan scoffed silently. Phil wouldn’t be that exclusive, he loves all fans equally and he definitely wouldn’t create something so grand just to leave out a huge group of his fans. Dan was sure of it. The group in front of him were probably new fans who didn’t know Phil all that well.

Enduring the conversation by those fans did help time pass quicker, and soon the celebrities started strolling in. Most of Phil’s family, friends and co-stars were there. All that’s left was the man himself. Dan was thrumming with anticipation as he waited.

And then the time came. A limo stopped at the start of the carpet, and applause and screams erupted as none other than Phil stepped out. Phil looked stunning, and despite mentally preparing himself, Dan couldn’t help reacting the same way as the night he saw Phil the first time.

Dan drank in the sight before him. He didn’t have to crane his neck to get a good view as he stood out in the crowd like a sore thumb. Phil’s current co-star stepped out with him, and he easily slid his arm around her waist, waving at the crowd with a big grin plastered on his face.

“Oh my god so is he with Rose for real now?!” One of the girls in front of Dan squealed, and he rolled his eyes. No way were they together for real, it was obviously for publicity for their new movie. Besides, Rose was a Top, and though Phil had never publicly addressed his Type, he did give off Top vibes as well. Dan would know a Top when he sees one, it’s just the instincts he was blessed with as a Bottom.

Dan’s eyes were glued to Phil as he strode down the carpet leisurely, posing for the cameras and stopping by some interviewers. He looked so good in his dark maroon suit, and his quiff was styled perfectly.

Dan scrambled for his phone when Phil started walking over to the fans. He took a video, not caring how shaky his hand was. Phil was signing as many things shoved towards him as he could, while smiling at every camera pointed at him. He did it so effortlessly, making his way down the row slowly. Dan felt like the air was running out as Phil got nearer to him.

Phil finally reached his area, and Dan fully forgot to breathe. He’d planned to ask for a photo, but his hand was frozen in place, filming Phil signing stuff for the group in front of him instead.

When Phil was done with the group, he looked up and for a moment his eyes met Dan’s. Phil’s smile faltered a bit as he looked like he was trying to recall why Dan’s face seemed familiar. It could’ve been Dan’s imagination, but it looked like realisation dawned upon Phil after a split second, and Phil nodded at him and raised his eyebrows knowingly, giving Dan the same smirk as the other night.

Dan’s heart leapt in his chest, but before he could get his brain to work, Phil had moved down the row to the next group of fans. The fans in front of him were squealing, but it felt like background noise as Dan’s mind was processing what just happened. Did Phil remember him? He didn’t know whether to be happy or to drown in embarrassment.

Phil was kind to make sure he got to interact with as many fans as he could, and he was done before Dan could conclude whether Phil really recognised him or whether Phil just gave fans that sort of look all the time for fun.

Dan snapped out of it in time to see Phil cutting the ribbon of the front entrance of his bar. He announced that his special guests - all the celebrities who were invited, along with his family and friends and a select few journalists - were going to have a screening of his new movie in the bar, along with the full Phil bar experience. In that moment, Dan wished he was a journalist or something.

It was pretty anticlimactic once all the important people had gone inside. Fans waited outside for a while, but groups slowly left as time went on. After another hour and a half, Dan started to feel tired from standing that long. But just like the remaining fans there, he didn’t know if the celebrities would leave through this entrance, and he didn’t want to miss it if they did. When it was half past 10 and there was still no sign of anyone leaving the building though, Dan finally decided to head home.

He spent the night posting his stupid video online and looking at all the photos already posted by fans and journalists while having supper. Except his video wasn’t all that stupid. It was shaky and blurry at times but he actually managed to catch Phil smirking at him. Safe to say he replayed that bit about a hundred times before finally going to sleep.

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

The next morning, there were already posts about Phil’s bar by the guests who were invited in.

Dan watched the instagram stories of the celebrities who were invited as he ate his breakfast, making a map of the bar’s interior mentally based on what he could see. Boy he couldn’t wait to go. It was now open to the public but he was sure it would be filled. He thought to wait until the hype died down a bit, but a bigger part of him wanted to be one of the first fans to experience Phil’s bar.

Then he went to twitter and saw that Phil was trending, and he almost dropped his spoon. He couldn’t believe it. He refused to believe it. No... those fans at the front row could not be right.

His cereal was forgotten as he read about how Phil’s bar was... named Tops Only. What the fuck does that mean? He sped read through his timeline, gathering the fact that Phil had finally confirmed that he was indeed a Top. No surprise there, Dan would know even if Phil wasn’t a celebrity and he just saw him in person as a regular guy.

But was his bar... exclusive to his Type only?

“Bullshit,” Dan exclaimed, feeling his heart sink.

He had adored Phil for so long, only for Phil to be exclusive like this? He thought Phil would be different - the way Phil always dismissed talk about the Types and the hierarchy or stereotypes that came along with them always comforted Dan. Phil was the one showing the world that it doesn’t matter what Type they were born as, it’s who they are as people that mattered. But this bar seemed a complete 180º from that attitude. Did he even know Phil the past years?

Dan sat back in shock as he tried to take in all the information.

One article was by a Bottom journalist who claimed he felt lucky to be able to enter and enjoyed the night even though it didn’t cater to him. Detailed descriptions followed of the staff being Bottoms and how the entertainment was clearly for Tops, complete with pictures of topless waiters winking at the camera and dancing with the guests.

It upset Dan that Phil was being exclusive all of a sudden. He definitely had to see this for himself, and make the painful decision of whether or not to unstan Phil.

He felt bummed out as he made his way to the bar that evening; he was really looking forward to patronising the place often. A part of him still believed that Phil wouldn’t alienate a huge group of his fans just like that. Perhaps the bar was named that way as the entertainment was mainly catered for Phil’s taste, but everyone would be allowed to enter all the same?

He arrived and was sorely mistaken. There was a terribly long queue, and it was made worse because of a hold up at the entrance. Dan watched from afar, not really joining the queue yet. The crowd made him decide it wasn’t worth queueing anyway.

There were 2 big bouncers at the entrance preventing 2 girls from entering. Dan instantly recognised them as the ones in front of him the previous day. They were arguing loudly about how big of fans they were of Phil, and that it was unfair to not let them in just because of their Type.

All of Dan’s hopes to enter the place dashed right then. He shook his head in disbelief. A Top in the middle of the queue yelled at them to get on with it, and one of the bouncers promptly removed the girls from the scene while the other checked the ID of the next person in line.

Just then, an idea formed in Dan’s mind.

Types were mostly straightforward and people could usually tell someone’s Type if they bothered to get to know the person enough. It was an identity everyone was born with, there was no way to change it just like there was no way to change one’s blood type. There were certain behaviours that clearly define people’s Type, things that other Types simply wouldn’t do. People would be attracted to the opposite of their Type, and not their own. The only people who weren’t so straightforward were Switches.

Dan clearly radiated Bottom, but there had been moments in his life where people mistook him for a Switch at least. He briskly walked back home to create a fake Switch ID.

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

Back at the queue a few days later, Dan couldn’t help but feel nervous. He didn’t know if the bouncers would be fooled by his fake ID. He did try to make it look as legitimate as it could be, and he hoped that after a few days they would be a bit more lax.

What worried him more was his own vibes. He sucked at acting, and he had no idea how not to give himself away as a Bottom. Be more confident, for one, he thought. He took a deep breath and gathered himself as the line moved.

There were still a number of fans who weren’t Tops trying to get in, but the bouncers held firm. Bottoms wouldn’t dare cross Tops anyway, and everyone knew that. All the bouncers had to do was speak in their commanding tone and it would kick in like instinct for Bottoms to listen. Dan swallowed his nerves down as he heard the bouncer’s booming voice, finally having had enough of the fan arguing with him.

Then it was finally Dan’s turn. He hoped to god the bouncer didn’t notice the way his hand trembled when he showed his fake ID. He glanced up at the big man and was met with an unimpressed gaze.

“Switches aren’t allowed,” the bouncer said in a bored tone, tossing the card back at him.

“But I’m like, half Top,” Dan argued weakly.

“Yeah which means you’re half Bottom, aren’t you? And that’s not allowed,” he sighed, looking over Dan to the next person.

“That’s not fair!” Dan couldn’t help the outburst. He had to try. He felt so indignant, and he suddenly understood why all the ones rejected before him bothered to argue. Even though he’d seen plenty of people get rejected and knew he didn’t have a chance either, he still had to show some pride.

“You’re sounding more like a bratty Bottom to me,” the bouncer smirked in amusement.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Dan yelled, offended by the remark.

“Leave,” the bouncer commanded, all traces of amusement gone as his expression turned dead serious.

Dan stilled, instincts telling him to listen to the Top towering in front of him. But when he didn’t move, the bouncer merely beckoned the next person over, and easily let the Top behind Dan enter.

Dan huffed angrily and stomped away, not caring that he looked like a bratty Bottom. The bouncer could tell already anyway.

He had to do better next time.

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

Hope you enjoyed, I had fun writing something different from my past works :) though listening to this stereo episode while writing this made me miss their stereo shows :(

let me know what you think! There’ll be Part 2 in 1-2 weeks, see ya then! <3

#phan fic #My fic #Phanfic #phan #Dan and Phil #stereo #Tops Only

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hidden-otaku-stuff · 4 years ago

Text

Knowledge and Ambition

tw: Cursing, anxiety, insecurities, bullying/gossiping

Word count: 6.75k

Genre: Fluff, mild angst

Pairing: Ravenclaw Kuroo x Slytherin Female Reader

AN: It’s September 1st, aka the first day of school at Hogwarts! I’ve been procrastinating on this fic for like a month or so, so I forced myself to finish this at 3 AM LMAO.

The sound of turned pages stuttered by scratching quills clung to the darkness as flames flickered around the room. You kept blinking, eyes drying from how long you’ve been focused. A sigh, and you slumped against the back of the chair. You had been sitting in this dark corner for the past three hours, pouring over text after text as you tried to wrap your head around the contents. Another sigh left you as you re-read what you wrote, dipping your black quill into the blue ink to make corrections. “It’s almost curfew, wrap it up.” Madam Pince poked her head around the bookshelf, peering over her spectacles at the tower of books you had surrounding you.

You pulled a note from your bag, standing up to give it to her. “I’m sorry Madam Pince, Professor Snape gave me permission to stay here past curfew.” She gingerly took the note from you, a scowl shadowing her face as she scrutinized it for legitimacy before turning on her heel with a huff to head back to her desk. Since you were already standing, you decided to stretch your legs and go look for that last text that should help push your claims about alternative ingredient usage and the degree of change to the potion.

Snape had always liked you as a student, especially after third year. He had caught you switching out certain roots for other herbs which still ended up with perfect potions every time. Since then, you had to be honest with your professor. You wanted to impact the Potions community, whether as someone who created a new Potion or as someone who wrote the new standard textbook. You were fortunate enough that Snape preferred Slytherins, otherwise you might not have been afforded the same opportunity that he had granted.

You sighed, (e/c) eyes scanning the shelves. Snape had recommended a very specific one. Its maroon binding caught your attention. With fingers reaching for it, they brushed against another hand. “Sorry!” You yanked your hand back, eyes following the hand up to the person. Looming over you was a familiar sight. Quidditch Captain, Prefect, and heart-throb of the school Kuroo Tetsurou stood over you.

“Sorry, I should have paid more attention.” Kuroo pulled the book out, offering it to you.

You shook your head, glancing back at your table. “It’s ok, you can use it.”

His hazel eyes followed yours, “are you sure? It must be important if you need this specifically amongst all the other ones.”

You flushed, avoiding his eyes. “It’s not that important.”

Kuroo’s finger dragged down the maroon binding. “I was just planning on doing some light reading.” He hands it to you, clearing his throat. “What are you working on?”

You offer him a small smile. “I’m working on a research paper.”

“On what?” He looked down at the book. “I’m assuming it’s something Potions-related.”

A soft giggle left you. “Yeah, I’m conducting research on alternative ingredients use in potions and the effects of using such alternatives.” Kuroo’s eyes widened. As he opened his mouth, Madam Pince hissed another demand for silence. A loud yawn overtook your features, eyes squeezing shut. Glancing at your watch, you clicked your tongue. “It’s getting late. I’ll probably finish whatever else I can in the common room.” Kuroo frowned, he had just been about to ask if he could study with you. “Nice to meet you, Kuroo.” You scooped your books into your arms, cramming whatever would fit into your bag before sending him a wave. The maroon book felt heavy in his hands.

****

“Are you looking at (Name)?”

Kuroo flushed, whipping his head to face his best friend. Kenma just continued eating, not looking at Kuroo. “No.”

“Yes he is.” Yaku slid into the seat across from Kuroo.

“No I’m not!”

“You’re blushing.” Kai sat across from the trio, smiling pleasantly at them. Akaashi sat beside him, flipping through one of his books as he ignored them.

“Ok, maybe just a little bit.” Kuroo angrily stabbed a potato, chewing on it as he avoided his friends’ eyes. He couldn’t stop himself from peeking over at you every few seconds though. You were seated at the Slytherin table, throwing your head back in laughter as you teased your housemates.

“Isn’t she known as the Cold Princess?” Akaashi inquired, still not looking up.

Kuroo glanced over at Akaashi then to the rest of the group when he heard them all agreeing. “‘Cold Princess’?”

“Yeah, heard she’s like super mean to everyone outside of her house.” Yaku commented, sipping his pumpkin juice. “Even some of her house-mates are scared of her.”

Kuroo frowned, not seeing why they thought that. “She seemed pretty nice to me.”

“Is that why you can’t keep your eyes off of her?”

“That’s besides the point.” Kuroo scowled, elbowing Akaashi.

“Who knew we’d find a day where Kuroo Tetsurou would be smitten with a girl.” Yaku’s eyes sparkled with humour. “Let alone the Cold Princess herself.” Yaku and Kai laughed.

“I’m not smitten!” Kuroo insisted. “She’s just...different.”

“Didn’t think you’d go for a Slytherin though, Kuroo,” Kai remarked, eating some eggs.

Kuroo shrugged. “Y’know I don’t care about all those house rivalries outside of the Quidditch field.”

Kenma snorted, “yeah cause all you care about is Quidditch.”

“And my education!” Kuroo argued.

“How’d you meet her anyways?”

He looked up to Kai. “I met her a few weeks ago in the library.” Kuroo pushed his food around on the plate, glancing between it and you. This time, you were patting a blonde male on the head. He didn’t recognize him, figuring that it was probably someone from your year. Was that your boyfriend? Kuroo wondered to himself.

Kai hummed. “I see her in the library often. She always sits by herself.”

“Seriously?” Yaku glanced over at you. “I never see her.”

“She sits in the corner,” Kai replied.

As the conversation changed to their homework, Kuroo blanked out. It had been a few weeks since that chance meeting between the two of you. He’d gone into the library most days since in an effort to talk to you, but he always found you buried in your books. Kuroo hated when people interrupted him in his readings, so he would just find a table where he could observe you - in the most nonchalant and least creepy way possible - to see if he could catch you before you left. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had much luck with that. He’d accidentally immerse himself in his own work, and by the time he took a break, you were either already gone or headed out the door. Hey, he was a Ravenclaw for a reason. Once he got into his reading, he was gone to the world. With a deep sigh, he resigned himself. If you guys were meant to be friends, it’ll happen. He should worry about his own work instead of a pretty Slytherin kouhai that he had only talked to for a few minutes.

****

“Miss (L.Name).” You look up at your professor’s voice.

“Yes, Professor Snape?”

“Come to my desk at the end of class.”

“Yes, sir.” Snape’s robes billowed as he turned, slinking back towards his desk. You turned back to your cauldron, waiting for your potion to change to orange. Carefully, you added powdered porcupine quills until your potion turned white. Today, Snape had your class brewing the Draught of Peace since it was one of the potions that would commonly come up during O.W.Ls. You sat back, stirring slightly before letting the potion simmer. It was a difficult potion only because getting it wrong would be dangerous. The wrong mix of ingredients, being heavy-handed with the porcupine quills or powdered moonstone could lead to irreversible sleep. The bell rang just as you added the 7 drops of hellebore. You observed your potion, satisfied. It had come out perfectly. Bottling two samples in a glass flask for Snape, you quickly cleaned up your cauldron and the area around it.

“Ugh, you’re so lucky (Name)!”

You turned to your classmate, eyebrows furrowed. “And why’s that?”

“You’re so gifted in potions.” Nishinoya, a Gryffindor in your class, glared at his potion. You stifled a laugh. His potion had somehow turned out an ugly chartreuse color. Even the fumes looked toxic as orange smoke billowed from it.

“What the hell did you do wrong this time, Nishi?”

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Fuck if I knew, to be honest.” He bottled it, wincing at the repulsive smell of his potion.

You patted his back. “Well good luck with remedial potions.”

“Can’t you help me before it gets to that?” He whined. You and Nishinoya had been partnered in the third year of potions. Though you were typically more frosty, he had weaseled his way into your heart and became a close friend. Mostly by sheer persistence on his part. After all, who would willingly want to be friends with the Cold Princess of Slytherin?

“You know I’m busy.” You dead-panned, waving your wand over the cauldrons so that the contents disappeared. Together, you and Nishinoya walked up to Snape’s desk. By now, the majority of your classmates had left. Snape glanced at your potions, his gaze sliding over to Nishinoya’s and his face contorted in disgust.

“Another T, Mr. Nishinoya.” Nishinoya’s cheeks flushed pink, grimacing.

“I know, Professor.” His head hung low as he shuffled towards the door. “See you later, (Name).”

You offered the Gryffindor a wave that he didn’t see before turning back to your professor. “You asked to see me, Professor?”

Snape cleared his throat. “Yes. As you know, I rarely offer remedial classes to students.” A sneer made its way on his face. “However, Professor Dumbledore has...implored me..to be kinder this term. So, I have offered remedial classes and tutoring for struggling students this semester. As one of the more competent potioneers in my classes, I would like to request your assistance as a tutor.”

“Me?” The door opened, his next class filing in.

“That’s what I said, Miss (L.Name). Don’t make me take that back.” Snape’s eyes flashed dangerously as he began to put the flasks from your class away. “By taking on this task, I will be able to review the work you’ve assembled so far.” He cleared his throat, “and this would be a perfect opportunity for you to practice your teaching skills.”

Your eyes sparkled. Being able to dabble in academia seemed like a perfect opportunity for you to figure out where you wanted your future to go. “Of course Professor. Thank you for the opportunity!” Snape gave you a stiff nod.

“Now hurry up and get to class.” With a short bow, you spun on your heel to sprint out of the room. Your next class was Charms and you were most definitely going to be late if you didn’t hurry. Just as you reached the doorway, you collided into something tall and firm.

You yelped, stumbling back only for arms to dart around and steady you. “Oh, it’s you!” You glanced up, recognising him. “Sorry, I’m in a rush!” With a blinding smile, you patted his arms before dashing out under his arms and down the corridor.

“Get to your seat, Mr. Kuroo.” Kuroo’s head shot up, “and get that ridiculous look off of your face.” Pink crept up Kuroo’s face as he snapped his jaw shut, slinking towards his seat.

Snape began class, writing the instructions for the Potion for Dreamless Sleep onto the chalkboard. Yaku leaned over towards his housemate nudging him playfully, “you were staring again.” Pink turned to scarlet as Kuroo whipped around, shushing him. Yaku grinned, sitting back as he rewrote the instructions onto a piece of parchment. “She’s pretty.” Kuroo grunted in response, pulling out his ingredients. “Think she’s single?”

“Why are you so interested?” Kuroo snapped, glaring at the Keeper. “I thought you were scared of the Cold Princess.” Yaku just laughed, patting his back.

“No reason, Kuroo. No reason at all.”

****

“You’re late, Mr. Kuroo.”

“Sorry Professor,” Kuroo dipped his head. “Quidditch practice ran late today.”

Snape turned his nose, sneering. “Excuses do not belong in this classroom.” Snape turned on his heels, robes sweeping with the motion. “Hurry up then, or I will not grant you the extra credit.” Kuroo hurries into the classroom, glancing around at the dingy dungeon. He was glad that there were only eleven students. He froze, recognizing a familiar sight. Kuroo slips into the seat beside you, muttering a greeting to which you nodded in response. “With the exception of two students, you are all here because you have failed miserably to prove your worth in my class. However, this is your opportunity to redeem yourself.” Snape glowered at each and every one of the remedial students, sending chills down their spines. “Don’t squander it.”

With that, he turned and walked to the blackboard, writing down the recipe for the Shrinking Potion. Placing the chalk down, he sends one final glare to the students before going to his desk. You step in front of the blackboard, smirking at the students. “This is a simple potion that any third-year should be able to do. Follow these instructions, and Kuroo and I will be walking around to provide you help should you need it.” More chills ran up the students’ back at your last words. It was obvious that you weren’t keen on helping them should they need it.

Kuroo pinched his nose, looking around the room. As he walked around, a tall grey-haired fourth-year Slytherin caught his attention. “Can you please help me, Kuroo?” He begged.

“What seems to be the problem?”

The male winced as the potion billowed up green gas. “That,” he replied lamely.

“You added the Shrivelfig too early,” Kuroo’s eyes widened, casting a charm to dispel the gas. “You’re going to have to start all over.”

“What?! I don’t want to,” he whined. The slamming of a book caused them both to flinch, both sets of eyes darting to Snape who glared at them. “Aren’t you a Ravenclaw? Help me fix this!”

“You literally created poison gas,” Kuroo responded, pinching his nose.

Raising his wand to vanish the potion, a hand grabbed his wrist. “Lev, what did you do this time?” You pinched your nose with one hand as you stared at the potion.

“Something about Shrivelfig,” Lev muttered, crossing his arms. “I don’t see why I need to start over though!”

Your face softened. “Look, Lev, this potion has become dangerous. Do you want to fail this class and potentially hurt your fellow classmates?” You glanced at Kuroo who pulled his arm away and tucked his wand back into his robe pocket. “If it wasn’t for Kuroo’s quick-thinking, the fumes would have overtaken the class and we would be in some serious danger.” You patted the male’s head. “Here, I’ll stay with you and make sure you do it right, ok? That way you don’t have to stay extra long.”

Lev perked up. “Okay! Thanks, (Name).”

You grinned, before glancing back at Kuroo. “You can help the others now, Kuroo. Thank you for your quick-thinking.”

Heat crept up his neck as he shook his head. “It was nothing,” he replied dismissively.

You raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Whatever you say.” You turned back to Lev, vanishing the potion. “Let’s get started then, shall we Lev?” Kuroo stood there for a few moments, watching with slight amazement as you carefully guided Lev through the procedures. You looked in your element as you sliced the caterpillars and showed the younger student the best way to peel Shrivelfig. Another student called for Kuroo’s attention, snapping him out of his stupor. As Kuroo proceeded to help the others, he couldn’t help but survey you in the corner of his eyes. Perhaps there was a softer side to the Cold Princess after all.

****

Kuroo breathed a sigh of relief, stretching his shoulders. Due to the raging thunderstorm outside, he’d made the executive decision to cancel Quidditch classes. Exam season was coming up, and there was no reason to put his players’ health at risk if they could avoid it. Besides, they were doing pretty well this season. He walked up the stone stairs, following them to the library. As he entered, he couldn’t help the grimace that slid onto his face. It appeared that everyone thought to study today as the library was completely packed. He poked around, searching for an empty table only to find none. Kuroo sighed, contemplating whether or not he should go back to the dorms in order to study when he spotted you at your usual table. Luckily enough, nobody else had joined you at the table.

Steeling his nerves, Kuroo began walking towards you. As he made his journey, he picked up some whispers as people threw dark looks in your direction.

“Of course the Cold Princess would monetize an entire table.” A younger Ravenclaw scoffed.

“She threatened to hex me when I came too close,” a Hufflepuff whimpered.

“Me too!” Another Hufflepuff whispered in response.

“She said that people ruin her concentration,” a Gryffindor sneered to his housemates.

Kuroo stopped by your table, waiting anxiously for you to acknowledge him. Your nose was firmly buried into your parchment, and after a few awkward minutes of waiting, it was obvious that you weren’t going to say anything. Clearing his throat, Kuroo said, “hi.” Internally, Kuroo was screaming. ‘Hi’? Is that really all he was going to say?

You jolted, looking up at him and blinking rapidly with weary eyes. “K-Kuroo?” You stammer, rubbing one of your eyes.

Kuroo adjusted his bag awkwardly. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat, gesturing to the other tables. “Everywhere else is full. Do you mind if I join you?”

You stare at him with sharp (e/c) eyes. Seconds dragged on, a cold sweat swept through his body and he was regretting every decision he had made since entering the library until you gave him a stiff nod. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”

Relief washed over him as he grinned. “Thank you so much, I promise I won’t be a bother.” You only gave him another stiff nod before you moved your books around to give him more space. Sliding into the chair beside you, Kuroo pulled out his Transfiguration homework.

The pair of you work in silence for an hour before you get up, stretching. Students flinched as you make your way down the shelves, burying themselves into their books or ducking behind empty aisles in order to avoid you. Just as quickly as you had gotten up, you had already plopped back into your seat. “Y’know, you’re a lot quieter than I expected,” you comment, flicking through the latest volumes you had pulled.

Kuroo glanced up, tilting his head. “What do you mean?”

Clearing your throat, your eyes met his. “I mean that for someone as popular as you are, you sure are quiet.”

A red glow warmed his features. “I wouldn’t say that I’m popular.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Ya sure about that? Because I’m pretty sure being a Quidditch Captain, Prefect, and a top-ranking student are all qualities of popular students.”

At your comment, he raised his eyebrows. “Didn’t know you paid so much attention to me, kitten,” he teased.

You glowered at the nickname. “Don’t call me kitten.”

“Ok….kitten.”

****

It became routine for you and Kuroo to meet at the library now. It was very rare that either of you missed a session. Your dark corner was brightened by his presence. Once the clock rang a certain hour, you were already moving the stacks of books to the side to make room for the rooster-head captain as he slunk in after Quidditch practice. He’d used to come directly after, only for you to yell at him to go to his dorm and shower, which would end up delaying him by twenty minutes. With that extra time, you’d sneak into the kitchen and snag some food for you both.

Your quill scratched the parchment as you took down more notes from the text. The wooden chair besides you creaked, but your eyes remained on the book. “Hello, Kuroo.” You flipped a page, scanning the text for more information.

“Hey kitten.” The soft thump of his bag falling onto the ground had you looking up.

“You look tired,” you noted, surveying his face. Eye-bags darkened his face, not helped by the shadows of the flickering flames. “Maybe you should sleep early today.”

Kuroo shook his head. “No, I really have to finish this paper.” He pulled out his Transfiguration book.

“Do you have patrol later?” You chewed on your bottom lip, brows furrowed. Kuroo nodded glumly. “Alright, skip it.”

“I can’t just skip patrol,” Kuroo laughed, sipping at the pumpkin juice that you’d smuggle in.

“You can if someone takes it for you.” You looked back down at your books. “I’ll do your patrol for you.”

Kuroo choked, coughing. “W-what?” Madam Pince threw him a disgusted look as she hmph’d at her desk. “You can’t do that.” You shrugged, leaning forward to ruffle his hair. Kuroo let out a soft yelp. “What was that for?”

You pulled back your hand, carefully examining the hair. “For the polyjuice potion.” A few months ago, you’d decided to try your hand at brewing polyjuice potion on a whim. You hadn’t had a chance to use it yet, so this was the perfect opportunity.

“What?!”

“Shh!” Madam Pince hissed, looking up over her books at you both. You folded the hair into a napkin, carefully tucking it into your robes.

Kuroo lowered his voice. “What do you mean polyjuice potion? Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Well it’s not exactly like I have a time-turner,” you rolled your eyes. “Nor am I a Metamorphmagus.”

“You don’t have to do that for me.” Kuroo surveyed you. For someone who was advertised as just another ‘big bad Slytherin’, you had such an incredibly soft side.

You shrugged, pushing a sandwich in his direction. “Eat up.” You took a bite out of your own sandwich.

As you pulled your hand back, a warm weight dropped onto it. You swallowed, looking up. “Thank you.” His eyes sparkled. “I really appreciate you.”

Averting your eyes, your cheeks glowed. You hoped that the candle-light would hide it. “Just take care of yourself, rooster-head.”

****

“I heard what happened.”

You glanced up, grimacing. During potions, you had been helping Nishinoya only for his potion to explode everywhere. Snape ended up assigning him detention for the next month as well as remedial classes three times a week. You really weren’t sure how Nishinoya had fucked up his Wit-raising potion. But you’d walked away laughing, with admittedly terrible burns. You’d ended up teasing the boy saying that he needed to drink your wit-raising potion before he was allowed to speak to you again.

“How are you doing?” Kuroo pressed.

You let the utensils slip out of your fingers as you displayed your heavily bandaged hands up. “Miserable.”

Kuroo’s eyes widened. “Madam Pomfrey couldn’t help?” You shook your head, frowning. There was still a residual stinging in your fingers. “Scoot over.”

“What?”

“Only your hands are messed up, I’m sure you heard me just fine.” Kuroo waved his hands, forcing you aside. He took your seat, pulling your plate towards him.

“Kuroo, this is the Slytherin table, what the hell are you doing?” He shushed you, cutting up the meat on your plate. “Kuroo, I can take care of myself.”

He fixed you with a hard stare, pushing the plate towards you. “Prove it then.” You glared at him, as you picked up the fork and knife. Pain coursed through your fingers but you simply bit your tongue, not wanting him to win. You focused on keeping your face blank, breathing deeper than you wanted. With sluggish movements, you sawed through the meat. Hazel eyes surveyed you, flicking between your hands and your face.

“See?” You proclaimed, stabbing the meat and waving it in his face. He shrugged, holding his hands up.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” You glared at him, ice creeping through your heart. Eating it, you attempted to cut more meat only to drop the fork with a violent curse. It felt like someone had poured molten lava over your hands. Glaring at your fingers, you aggressively shoved the plate towards Kuroo who raised an eyebrow at you. “I thought you could do it yourself?”

“Help.”

“I didn’t quite hear that, kitten.”

You rolled your eyes at the pet-name. “Just help me, Kuroo.”

“I didn’t hear the magic word,” he teased, pulling the plate towards himself.

“Please,” you muttered, tears pricking at your eyes. Kuroo paused, taking a moment to pat you on the head.

“Of course, silly. I’m always here to help you.” You offered him a small smile, before whispers from the Ravenclaw table caught your attention.

“What’s Kuroo doing with her?”

“Doesn’t he know that she’s a cold-hearted bitch?”

“He’s gonna get his heart broken.”

“Bet you she’s going to curse him behind his back.”

“Or poison him.” They snickered.

More tears welled up in your eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked, turning your face away from him.

The clinks of cutlery stopped. “Do what?”

“Help me.”

A hand grasped your chin, tilting your face up. He leaned forward, warm breath humming against your ear. “Keep your chin up, Princess, your crown is falling,” he whispered before he pulled back, brushing your hair aside. Scarlet roses bloomed in your cheeks. Cold Princess echoed in your mind. Kuroo cleared his throat, turning back to the plate, hiding his own pink flush. “Besides, you saved my ass the other week. This is the least that I can do for you.”

You chewed on your lip. Of course. He was returning a favor. Just a favor. Nothing more, nothing less.

****

“I won’t be here tomorrow.” You looked up from the Honeydukes chocolate that he had brought you, tilting your head. “I have to patrol early, so I won’t be able to make this.” He gestured to the table. Your tower of books had slowly diminished in size, only a small stack remained. In between your rolls of parchment and his own books was an abundance of candies. You’d miss the Hogsmeade trip earlier that day due to another remedial lesson with Lev. Kuroo leaned forward, wiping away a bit of chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

“Don’t do that.” You whipped your face away, hoping that the darkness would hide the crimson glow. You cleared your throat. “That’s fine. It’s not like you’re of any help, you always distract me.”

“So I guess I should take back all this candy then,” Kuroo teased, reaching for it. You snatched it up, pulling it close to your chest. Kuroo let out a disgustingly loud bark of laughter causing you to cringe. Madam Pince snarled in annoyance at you both.

“Keep laughing like that and I’ll use a Silencing charm on you,” you threatened, tucking the chocolates away into your bag.

Kuroo reclined in his chair, putting his hands behind his head. “You say that, but you know you like it.”

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night, Kuroo.”

The next day, you couldn’t stop fidgeting. It was...too quiet. Of course, being in a library meant that it should be quiet. But you couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. The bell chimed, and like clock-work, you began shifting your books to the side. Mid-motion, you froze, eyebrows creasing as you frowned. Why were you moving your stuff? It’s not like anyone was joining you tonight. You cursed silently. Of course you’d gotten used to him. You vaguely remembered a Muggle psychology term: mere exposure effect. The more you became familiar with something or were exposed to it, the more you’d have a preference for it. You violently slammed the books back to where they were, earning another reprimand from Madam Pince. Studying by yourself just became excruciatingly difficult.

Meanwhile, Kuroo was absent-mindedly flying down the corridors. His long legs allowed him to stride down the halls in a dozen steps or so, forcing his partner to sprint in order to keep up. “Jesus, Kuroo, what’s got you in a hurry?” Bokuto, the Hufflepuff Prefect, puffed.

“Huh?” Kuroo paused, only to have Bokuto slam into his back. “Oh lord, I am so sorry Bokuto.”

The Hufflepuff winced, prying himself off of Kuroo’s back, rubbing his nose. “It’s fine.” Kuroo continued down the hall, slower this time. “What’s got you all distracted?” Kuroo shrugged, opening one of the classrooms and looking around. He shut the door with a sigh, before rushing down the hall once more, the slower pace already forgotten. Bokuto scurried after him. “Or should I say, who is on your mind?”

At this, Kuroo whirled around. “What do you mean?”

Bokuto bellowed with laughter. “I heard that you were talking to someone, but I didn’t know it was this serious.”

“Shut up.” The dark halls did nothing to save Kuroo as he stepped into a pool of moonlight.

“Aw, you’re blushing!” Bokuto cackled, bending over as his rambunctious laughter echoed in the halls.

“Shut up!”

Bokuto wiped a tear away from his eyes. “You really like this girl, don’t you?”

Kuroo huffed, blowing his hair up. “Maybe.”

The Hufflepuff clapped a hand over his back. “I’m rooting for ya.”

“I’ll need it,” Kuroo muttered. He pulled himself out of Bokuto’s grip. “C’mon, let’s just finish this patrol.”

****

“Alright, I’m off.” You waved to your housemates, picking up your books as you left the Great Hall.

“Make sure you come watch me play, sweetheart!” Atsumu shouted after you, waving eagerly. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. You rarely ever went to Quidditch matches, let alone to support someone. That’s something you’d reserve for romantic partners, not house-mates. The few times you’d gone were because Snape offered extra points to everyone who attended. You shook your head, taking a deep breath.

It was just any other Saturday morning and you would be headed back to your sanctuary: the library. A voice called out behind you, thundering footsteps following. You turned, stopping in the middle of the doorway. “Good morning, Kuroo.” You offered him a small smile that he returned.

“Hey (Name)!” He hugged you, pulling you into his chest; your heart pounded against your own. He’s never hugged you before. “Will you be going to the match later?” Kuroo released you and you took a few steps back.

Holding up the book, you shook your head hoping that he didn’t see your flushed face. “No, Professor Snape gave me this book so I was going to work on it.”

“Aw that’s too bad, I was really hoping you’d come cheer for me.” Kuroo grinned before he draped a blue and bronze scarf around your neck.

Your cheeks glowed like ripe apples, eyes wide. “Kuroo!” Your jaw dropped.

“See you there!” With a cheeky smile, he waved running back towards his friends.

An hour later, you found yourself walking down towards the Quidditch pitch. “Thought you didn’t go to Quidditch matches?” You crossed your arms, unamused. “And you’re wearing a Ravenclaw scarf? Talk about a traitor!” Osamu pinched your cheeks, tugging on it.

“Shut up, ‘Samu,” you scowled, shoving him away. “Are you finished yet?”

He shrugged. “Dunno why you even bothered to come.” He led you up the stands towards the Slytherin section. “Or why you’re sitting with us.”

“I’m a Slytherin!” You pouted, glaring at his back. Osamu just laughed.

“Yer still wearin’ a Ravenclaw scarf though. Don’t think I missed that display in the Great Hall.” He cackled as you slapped his back. “Didn’t know ya had a thing for the Captain.”

You cleared your throat as you guys arrived at your destination. You greeted your house-mates, settling besides Osamu. “Why aren’t you playing, ‘Samu?”

Osamu scowled, glaring at you. “Shaddup.” You chuckled, leaning back in your seat. Osamu was also on the team, but this year, the captain had decided to let more of the sixth and seventh years play. Atsumu was the only fifth-year on the team at the moment. You were grateful for the twins who had rapidly become your best friends since you’d started at Hogwarts. Both of them were ‘no-nonsense’ and didn’t care that you were plagued with nasty nicknames due to your ‘cold-hearted’ demeanor.

“Ooh, look they’re starting.” As the match goes on, you can’t help but let your eyes trail the Ravenclaw captain. To say the least, you were impressed. He radiated a different energy from what he normally did during your late-night study sessions in the library. During those, he just seemed goofy and studious. But here, you could see the whole other side to him. The way he communicated with his team-mates, how happy he looked everytime one of their plays worked out, the satisfaction that seemed to completely fill him after he scored. He simply exuded a different type of confidence that you’ve never seen from him before. Your eyes widened with awe as he shuffled between the other Chasers, throwing the Quaffle to each other and thoroughly confusing the Slytherin chasers. As Kuroo scored, you couldn’t help the, “Whoooo, go Kuroo!” that escaped your lips.

Osamu jabbed you in the side, muttering, “traitor” but even that couldn’t wipe away the smile from your face. You were never interested in Quidditch, but maybe now you had a reason to be.

The game quickly ended with Kenma snagging the Snitch out from Oikawa’s nose, leading to Atsumu flying towards the stands where you and Osamu were sitting. “Hey, ya made it sweetcheeks!” Atsumu cheered, hovering above your head in front of you.

You cleared your throat. “Nice job out there, ‘Tsumu.”

“I know right? I was definitely the star, wasn’t I?” He grinned.

You pulled your cloak closer; it was getting late and cold. You desperately wanted to be back in the castle already. “If you were the real star, you would’ve won,” you shrugged. Osamu chuckled besides you as Atsumu squawked indignantly.

“Oi, Atsumu!” Oikawa called, flying over. “C’mon, hit the showers. You can try to impress your girl later.” Oikawa patted your head, “hey there, (Name).”

“Hey Oikawa.” You offered him a small smile. “Sorry about the game. You did great out there though.”

“Thank you~!” He sang, flying lower so that he could pull you into a hug. You yelped at the sudden intrusion. “Lemme just have this moment of comfort,” he whined as you clawed at his arms in an attempt to struggle out of his grip. Defeated, you let the captain hang onto you, awkwardly patting his back.

“You guys reek,” you muttered, looking away from the pair. “Go shower.”

Finally escaping from the clingy twins and Oikawa, you let out a sigh of relief. You tugged your bag higher onto your shoulder as you made your way down the familiar path. Just as you were about to enter the library, a familiar voice called after you. Turning, your eyes widened. “Kuroo?”

He slowed to a stop in front of you, winded slightly before he offered you a wide cheeky grin. “Hey there Princess!”

“What are you doing here, shouldn’t you be celebrating with your team?”

He shrugged, “I had to see my girl first.”

Heat crawled up through your body. You cleared your throat. “Your girl?”

“Well yeah! Especially after how loudly you were cheering for me,” he teased.

“And it’s Kuroo Tetsurou with the quaffle after a successful Sabryn steal from Miya Atsumu. He passes it to Sugawara Koushi, who passes it right back over Iwaizumi Hajime’s head. And Kuroo scores! Right through Matsukawa Issei’s finger-tips!”

Kuroo did a loop, whooping before he soared beside Suga, giving the male a high-five. Mattsun grabbed the quaffle, putting it back into play. Kuroo smirked, darting off towards Atsumu who had the quaffle. They end up on the Ravenclaw side, with Iwaizumi attempting to score. Yaku successfully receives the ball, throwing it at Kuroo. “You’re playing better than ever today, Kuroo,” Yaku grins. “Better keep on impressing your girlfriend.” Kuroo scowled at the keeper. He hadn’t even seen you in the audience, who was to say that you were there at all?

Kuroo rolled his eyes, glancing over at Suga and Akaashi. Giving the males a curt nod, they enter the Hawkshead Attacking Formation. “Another Thimblerig Shuffle by the Ravenclaws! The Quaffle is bouncing around. Akaashi. Kuroo. Suga. Akaashi. Kuroo. And Kuroo takes the quaffle and scores once again! Slytherin does not look happy folks.” Loud cheers fill the stadium from the Ravenclaw, but as Kuroo flies back around the field, a lone cheer from the Slytherin section catches his attention. His head whips around, eyes widening at the sight. There you were, bundled up in his Ravenclaw scarf and actually cheering for him. Emotions flood his body, he hadn’t expected you to actually come or to actually wear his scarf. He couldn’t help the grin that slipped onto his face. Kuroo let out another loud whoop, before doing a heart-shaped loop in the air. A Bludger zoomed past him, drawing his attention back to the game. He’d have to deal with his emotions later. He had a game to win, and a girl to impress after all.

You choked on air, averting your eyes. “Yeah well, you looked cool.”

Kuroo grinned, “thanks kitten.”

You stared down at your book, fingers tracing the binding. “Anyways, your girl? I didn’t know you were serious.”

It was his turn to avoid your eyes. “I mean! You were wearing my scarf,” he stammered.

“You gave it to me,” you fired back, amusement flickering in your eyes as you observed him. Kuroo turns completely red at this, kicking at the stone floors awkwardly. You clear your throat, eyes softening. “Take me to Hogsmeade next weekend and we’ll talk about our relationship status then.”

Relief floods his system as he eagerly nods. “I can make that happen.”

“Well good.” You smile, heading into the library only for Kuroo to follow you. “Again, don’t you have a party to get to?”

He shrugged, “rather spend time with you to be honest.”

“Don’t let your team-mates hear you,” you grin as you guys make your way to your usual table. Kuroo just ruffled your hair, smiling as you both took a seat. After an hour or so of studying, you snapped your book shut. “Actually, let’s do something.”

He looked up at you, raising an eyebrow. “Like what?”

You shrugged. “Find Hogwarts’ mysteries?”

Kuroo leaned back in his chair, a sly smile making its way onto his face. “Y’know, I hear there are some cursed chambers hidden in Hogwarts.”

“Breaking curses, treasure hunting? Sounds like my kind of date,” you smirk, packing your stuff away. Kuroo throws his head back in a boisterous laugh, only to be scolded by Madam Pince. You stood up, standing beside him before making your way out. “Y’know, you could have easily been a Slytherin,” you teased, bumping your hip into his as you held the textbooks to your chest.

He smirked, slinging his arm over your shoulder as you both walked out of the library. “Why’s that?”

“You have more ambition than I do.” You shrugged his arm off of your shoulder. “You leave the library just as late as I do after coming here after your Quidditch practices and then heading straight to your Prefect duties. Hard-work goes hand-in-hand with ambition, Kuroo.” He plucked one of the books out of your hand. “Hey!”

“Well, Little Miss Slytherin, you could definitely have been a Ravenclaw.” Kuroo held the book over your head, flicking through the pages. “Your thirst for knowledge is never quite quenched.”

You flush. “Well, a quest for knowledge is an ambitious one, isn’t it?”

He hummed, pulling the rest of your books out of your hands while ignoring your cries of protest. He tucks them into his right side, slipping his left hand into yours. “I guess us together makes the perfect Slytherin and Ravenclaw, doesn’t it?” Kuroo squeezed your hand, looking down at you. You grinned, giving him a light squeeze. Being together just felt right. He brought out your inner Ravenclaw, and you brought out his inner Slytherin. Knowledge and ambition went hand-in-hand, just like you and Kuroo.

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prettyboyreid · 5 years ago

Text

safe

Request: can you do a spencer reid imagine based on season 9 episode 23 and 24 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

Spencer experiences what is possibly the worst twenty-four hours of his life, and so does his wife.

Warnings: spoilers for Criminal Minds season 9 finale, lots of talk of blood, gun violence, normal Criminal Minds content

Word Count: 4,623

She almost didn’t even notice what happened. She almost kept firing at the unsub inside the restaurant. She almost carried on as if nothing had even happened.

Almost.

Spencer had pushed her and Blake out of the way at the very last moment, somehow knowing they were in the line of fire after only a few bullets had been shot at them. She thought he would’ve gone back to behind the car door he had been crouched behind, but the second she heard Morgan running towards them, her heart sank. She felt the weight of the world crash onto her shoulders that couldn’t bear it. She dropped her gun before running over to him, hoping the bullet had hit the Kevlar and not him, that the wind had just been knocked out of him and he would get up in a minute.

If only she had been so lucky.

Morgan held pressure to his neck as she scrambled over to his limp body, trying to assess the situation the same way her husband would have if it were the other way around. Her hands soon replaced Derek’s much larger ones before he ran into the building, chasing down whoever it was that had shot his best friend, his brother.

Spencer’s eyes looked heavy, like it took most of his strength just to look at her. She gave him a soft smile as she held him, doing her best to try and at least make him feel comfortable. He always told her that he felt safest with her.

“Hey, hey, keep your eyes on me, Spence. You’re gonna be alright,” she promised, repeating those four words to him over and over again like a mantra. The promise was more for herself, knowing she was the one that probably needed to hear it more than him. She watched as he tried to open his mouth and say something to her, but he couldn’t even muster up more than the necessary breaths that kept him alive.

“Don’t try and say anything, okay?” she soothed him, looking up only for a brief moment as she heard the sirens of the ambulance she assumed Hotch had called approaching quickly. “You need to save your strength. The ambulance is almost here, and we’re gonna get you some help.” She used the back of her hand that wasn’t pressing down on the fresh wound to wipe away a few tears she had let slip, not wanting him to see her cry right now. She was supposed to stay strong for him, and that was getting harder and harder the more she watched his gaze fluctuate between her and his eyelids.

The ambulance had arrived much quicker than she expected. Once the paramedics had reached Spencer, the ringing sound of bullets had long subsided. The buzzing of the possibly fatal hit, however, buzzed in her ear like radio static, and the longer she watched him the louder it became.

The EMTs quickly mounted him onto a stretcher and ushered him into the ambulance, holding cloth to his neck to stop the bleeding. She looked back at their Unit Chief quickly to make sure it was alright for her to go, and he nodded. Y/N quickly climbed into the car before the doors closed.

She laced her hand with Spencer’s much larger one, though it was just limp and nearly lifeless. He could hardly keep his eyes open, practically choking for any air he could get as he struggled to stay stable in the back of the ambulance. The vehicle lurched forward before quickly driving off towards the nearest hospital, the paramedic riding in the back with the couple continuing to hold pressure on the bleeding wound.

“We’re almost there, Spence,” she whispered to him, her gaze glued to him as she gave him a weak smile. By this point, since she wasn’t even sure he could see her, she let her tears flow freely. She felt weak, like she was about to break the second he left her side for surgery.

She didn’t want to let him go; she wanted to hold his hand through every step to let him know she was there for him. She worried that he wouldn’t feel her next to him in surgery, worried she had gone back to work, forgetting about him.

“Keep your eyes on me, okay? I’m not leaving. I’ll be right here. Eyes on me,” she told him, wincing slightly as the ambulance pulled to a stop.

The paramedic that had been driving ripped the doors open seconds after they had stopped, helping pull Spencer out of the vehicle and set the wheels down to the ground. She had hopped out of the ambulance and quickly followed them in, her mind tuning out the jargon they were yelling at the doctors as he was pushed down the white sterile halls towards the surgery wing. She focused solely on him, watching as his eyes slowly closed just as he was pushed past two large red doors, forbidding her from staying with her husband any longer.

She stood in that spot for a while - somewhere between five and twenty minutes, she wasn’t really sure - until a nurse carefully approached her. The young woman rested a hand on her arm, catching Y/N’s attention before she turned down to her.

“Is there anybody you’d like me to call? Family, maybe?” the nurse (who she had deduced was named Evelyn, based on her name tag) had asked. It took her a few moments to respond before she nodded, wanting to wipe her tears away the way Spencer would before she remembered his blood had been caked over her fingers.

“Uh… um yeah. Penelope Garcia. I have her card somewhere and I’m sure she’s on her way but… I just need to be sure,” she said, sniffling a bit before looking around the hospital as she dug through her pockets. She pulled out a few small pieces of paper, sifting through them before she found the one she had been searching for. She handed it over to the nurse with shaking hands, letting out a sigh before she let her eyes shift between her and her hands.

“Where’s the restroom?” she asked quietly, knowing she should clean herself up before she caught more than a few judgmental stares. The nurse pointed her in the direction of the nearest one, giving her a soft, sympathetic smile. Y/N thanked her quietly, following her directions before pushing the heavy door open with her elbow and making her way to the sinks.

She scrubbed the dried maroon blood from her nervous, shaking hands, the entire scenario replaying in her head as she watched everything swirl down the drain. Even after her hands were clean, she continued rubbing them down with thinly foamed soap and freezing water, hoping it would take away the memory of watching him hang on for his life by a thin, narrow thread.

It was wishful thinking, but it didn’t stop her from trying.

After a few minutes, she twisted the water off and grabbed a few paper towels from the automatic machine beside the sinks, rubbing off any excess water that still remained. She stared at her hands, wondering how long she would have the picture in her mind of her holding his neck, praying to whatever God there was that his eyes would stay open, that he would keep breathing. The very thought made her lose what little lunch she did have into the garbage can by the door, holding her hair back quickly as she coughed up anything left in her stomach.

She ran her hands back through her hair as she tried to at least get a hold of herself, splashing some cold water on her face and rinsing her mouth out. (She made a quick note to herself to ask Penelope to pick up a travel toothbrush and toothpaste set at the airport whenever she landed.) She looked herself over in the mirror, her skin pale and sunken in as if she had aged ten years since this morning, though given what she’s been through, it didn’t feel like much of a stretch.

She made her way out of the restroom and back to the waiting room, letting out a sigh of relief as she saw Alex sitting in one of the chairs waiting for her. Y/N gave her a soft smile, sitting in the empty chair next to her before leaning back into the plastic cushioning.

For a few minutes, she stayed silent. Both of them did. There were no words they could say that would comfort the other. They both felt an overwhelming sense of guilt, knowing that it should have been one of them that was on that operating table, not Spencer.

Spencer could do no wrong in either of their eyes. He was a protector and a lover. He didn’t kill anyone unless someone else was in trouble. He hated having to use his gun unless it was necessary. He always tried to talk people down as a first option, even if they came at him with a knife.

“He’s gonna be okay,” Alex assured her softly, her focus trained on a stack of untouched medical and gossip magazines across from them. She didn’t rest a reassuring hand on her shoulder, she didn’t try to give her a hug - not that she needed either. Her presence was all she needed right now, and that was enough.

Those were the only words spoken between them until the most colorful woman entered the hospital a little over an hour later, looking around nervously and curiously before her eyes landed on the two women in the waiting area. She walked quickly over to them, the clicking of her heels being the only sound in the room in the early hours of the morning.

“Any news?” she asked the two of them, digging into her purse before pulling out a toothbrush and toothpaste before handing it to Y/N. She gave her friend a soft smile, sticking the two items in her back pocket before shaking her head.

“No, not yet,” she said, clearing her throat as she checked the time on her phone. “They took him in a little over two hours ago. They should be almost done, ideally,” she added, folding her arms across her chest as she looked around the room. Only a few other people were there - an older couple who looked like they were grieving, a small family who looked anxious (but in a good way), and a middle aged man and what looked like his young daughter. Most of them were tired and exhausted. No one could really blame them.

“He’ll be alright. He has to be. It’s Spencer,” Penelope told her, sitting down next to her before resting a hand on her knee. The anxious wife gave her a smile, though anyone who could see her could tell it wasn’t genuine; it wasn’t her normal smile, one that would light up a room like a Christmas tree.

As if on cue, one of the doctor’s came into the waiting area, one of his hands shoved into the pocket of his lab coat while his stethoscope hung loosely around his neck.

"Y/N Reid?” he called out, reading the name off of a clipboard before looking up around the room. She stood up quickly and made her way towards the doctor. She held her arms crossed over her chest, sniffling a bit before shifting all of her weight onto her right foot.

“Is he okay?” She wanted to ask if he was alive, that was all she cared about right now. But she thought he was too selfish to ask that, so she asked the next best question. The doctor softly nodded, and Y/N let out a heavy sigh she hadn’t realized she was holding in.

“He’s stable. He flat-lined when he was on the table, but he’s alright now. A few centimetres to the right and he would’ve died. He was very lucky,” the doctor informed them. She squeezed her arm a bit as she listened to him, desperately wishing she was squeezing his hand instead. However, she nodded along as he spoke, telling her about his condition and how long it would be until he could be discharged.

“When can I see him?” she managed to croak out, her nose scrunching up a bit as the smell of the hospital finally caught up with her. She had been so focused on Spencer, she hadn’t paid attention to anything else, including the sickly intoxicating scent of the sterilized building.

“He’s still asleep, but you can come back to his room. We can’t say how long it’ll be before he’s awake, so it could be awhile if you need to go-”

“I’m not leaving until he’s awake,” she said a bit too quickly, mentally kicking herself as she thought of how rude she probably sounded. The doctor, thankfully, nodded understandingly, before leading her back towards where his room was.

She shoved her hands in her pockets as she followed him quickly, looking back towards Alex and Penelope before nodding back towards his room, indicating that they should come as well. Penelope gathered up her purse and offered her hand out to Alex before the two of them hurried behind her.

It was a short walk from the waiting area back to the post-op room where he was resting, but to Y/N, the trek felt like it took hours. Her body had been drained of all of her energy, and she wanted nothing more than to take him home, back to Washington, D.C., back to their house they had just bought and back to their bed. She wanted to make him dinner again, to pick out his suit for the day while he picked out a pair of mismatched socks that only the two of them would ever see. She wanted to sit on the couch and watch Doctor Who and Star Trek with him, listening to him make small comments about the science and physics behind every little detail and why it is or isn’t possible.

But it wasn’t about her right now.

The doctor pushed the door open carefully so as to not disturb the sleeping Boy Wonder, letting the three of them in before disappearing down the hall yet again. His wife quickly made her way to his side, her hand lacing with his limp, nearly lifeless one as she sat down in one of the uncomfortable chairs much like the one she had been in for the past few hours. Garcia reached into her bag, setting up a few little figurines from some of his favorite sci-fi shows on the table in front of him. Blake sat in one of the seats across from the bed, crossing one leg over the other as she watched Spencer patiently. None of them made a sound, hardly took a breath, as if their presence would wake him up immediately.

It didn’t take long for the three exhausted women to fall asleep, despite the freezing room and hardly cushioned chairs.

Spencer had woken up about an hour after they all fell into their deep slumber, smiling weakly at the sight of some of his closest friends waiting for him. He used his free hand to rub at his eye tiredly, the slight movement of his body enough to wake up Y/N, who hadn’t let his hand go even as she slept.

She let out a heavy sigh as she saw he was awake, letting her head rest against their intertwined hands. “You’re okay,” she breathed out, kissing his knuckles softly before she looked up at him. Her eyelids were heavy, her short nap not nearly long enough to make up for the drowsy feeling that overwhelmed her body.

“You told me I would be, didn’t you?” he said in a groggy voice, slowly and carefully pulling their hands up to his mouth to kiss the back of her hand. She smiled brightly at his comment, running a hand back through her hair with her free hand.

“Get some sleep, angel. You look worse than I do - which is saying something, considering I was just shot in the neck,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

He always knew that she took everything to heart, especially when it came to him. Even when they started dating - almost eight years ago by now - she was overprotective of him. Whenever he put himself in danger (which was far more frequently than she would have preferred), she did everything in her power to keep him safe. So, he knew that right now, she probably was physically pained to see him like this, that she wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep until she knew that he was going to be alright.

“I’ll be fine. Can I get you something? They have Jell-O downstairs, some pudding, I think Garcia brought-”

“Y/N.” His voice was as firm as it could be, but it came out more like a plea. She looked down at him, her eyebrows knitted together as she waited for him to continue.

“We both need rest, alright? I’ll take you up on your offer for Jell-O in a few hours, but you and I both need sleep, okay?” he told her, squeezing her hand three times softly. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she listened, but nodded after a few moments.

He scooted over on the small bed until his side was pressed against the plastic rail that prevented him from falling off. He patted the now empty spot on the firm mattress, tugging on his wife’s hand softly to pull her up to him. She smiled softly at his offer, standing up and sliding into the bed next to him. She thanked whatever God there was that he was the width of a toothpick, or else both of them would have never fit on that bed.

The second she was next to him for the first time in more hours than either of them would like, he pulled her flush against him with the rest of the strength he had. She rested her head on his flat chest, taking in the familiar scent of coffee and old books that followed him no matter where he went. Her arms delicately wrapped around him, not wanting to hurt him in case any part of him besides his neck was still sore. He did the same to her, letting out a sigh as he let his head rest against the rock-like pillow the hospital had provided for him.

Spencer fell asleep almost instantly, easily exhausted from everything he had gone through that day. Y/N, however, couldn’t sleep for the life of her. She worried that if she closed her eyes, something else would happen to him.

Instead, she listened to the steady sound of his heartbeat, a sound she’d forever be grateful for being able to hear. She assumed that was what kept her up - the beautiful sound of his heart that had stopped for only a few moments, the sound that proved to her that he was alive and that he was okay.

ー

Alex was the first of the three to wake up. Y/N looked at the digital clock on the bedside table once she noticed the older woman stirring, noting that it was just past three A.M. Blake sat silently in her chair, checking any emails and calls she had missed from the team.

Penelope was next. She gave the couple a bright smile as she saw Y/N curled up next to the doctor in his hospital bed. She fixed the figurines she had set out earlier just to make sure they were perfect for him, before sitting down in her seat again, patiently waiting for him to wake up so she could smother him in hugs and affection, grateful he was alive.

Spencer awoke for the second time just before four o’clock, rubbing tiredly at his eyes as he looked around at the surprisingly bright room considering the hour. Penelope rushed to his side, checking over his face and his injury to make sure he was alright. Y/N was forced to get off the bed as Penelope called for the nurse, who took his vitals quickly so he could get some more rest.

Once she was sure that Spencer was alright, Penelope insisted that Blake head back to the team to help them catch the people who had done this. Now that Spencer was involved, it was personal, and the BAU wouldn’t stop until they caught whoever had done this.

Penelope had flipped open her laptop so she could help the team from the hospital, and Y/N had left to get some snacks for Spencer, wanting him to be as comfortable as possible.

It wasn’t supposed to take long, five minutes max, but when the fire alarm went off, she was ushered out of the building, her arms full of Jell-O and banana pudding.

She tried to look around for Penelope and Spencer, but she grossly underestimated how many people a Texas hospital housed. She tapped her foot anxiously against the concrete as she waited for them to be in the clear to head back inside, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she looked at the other patients and families waiting.

She worried her husband was cold and uncomfortable, just wanting to rest a little more and have a snack. She worried that they weren’t able to get out of the hospital, that something had happened to them (despite her not being able to see any smoke or fire coming from the large building.)

The second they were permitted back into the building, Y/N ran to the elevators, pressing the button for the fourth floor quickly and repeatedly until the large metal doors closed, her feet tapping against the metal flooring as she held tightly onto the food she had nearly forgotten about by that point.

She snuck through the crack in the door once the elevator cart had come to a full stop, making her way through the halls as she searched for her husband's room. She could never understand why hospitals always seemed so hard to navigate. She had just made it down to the nurse’s station when she heard the sound that repulsed her, making her nearly lose her balance and her knees buckle.

Gunshots.

She dropped the little packages of food as she bolted down the hall, every last drop of adrenaline propelling her forward towards the sound that rang in her ears. She found herself in the doorway of Spencer’s room, letting out a heavy sigh as she saw Spencer safe and sat up in his hospital bed.

She looked down at her feet to see a nurse, a gun by his hand and a syringe by the other. When Y/N looked up again, she saw Garcia holding her husband’s revolver with shaking hands, Spencer carefully taking it from her before tossing it over towards his bag of clothes.

“...You saved my life,” Spencer breathed out to Penelope, hardly noticing his wife had entered the room. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I heard that. It makes it better. Thank you for saying that.”

“Thank you for doing it,” he said to her, giving her a soft smile before running a hand back through his tousled hair.

Penelope looked up as Y/N arrived at Spencer’s side, looking between the two of them as the doctor’s wife awaited an explanation as to why Reid had to be saved twice in less than twenty-four hours.

“That guy… he was disguised as a nurse. He tried to give me carbenicillin. We tried to tell him I’m allergic, but he didn’t listen,” he explained, still visibly out of breath. She couldn’t blame him; he’d been through too much for him to not feel drained. She grabbed a water bottle Penelope had gotten for them earlier when she had first arrived, twisting off the cap before handing it to Spencer and looking towards Garcia.

“Spencer hit it out of his hand, but then he drew his gun, and I didn’t know what to do so I just grabbed his gun and squeezed and now I feel like I can’t hear anything,” she explained in one breath, sitting down next to him as she tried to process the entire situation. Y/N looked down to Spencer, checking him over quickly to subconsciously make sure he was alright.

She wouldn’t have been able to take it if he had been shot again.

“Don’t worry about me,” he assured his wife, reaching out to hold her hand. She sat at the edge of his bed, lacing their fingers together as she let out a soft sigh when he gave her a smile.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, princess,” he teased her, doing his best to make light of the situation. Leave it to Dr. Spencer Reid to try and joke about his near-death experiences. She rolled her eyes, leaning over and kissing the top of his head softly.

“I’m never leaving your side again,” she told him, almost as a promise to herself. He grinned up at her, chuckling weakly as he laid back against the pillows.

“You say it like I would have a problem with that,” he smiled, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. Despite all he had been through that day, the bright glow of the LED lights in the room highlighted Spencer’s face perfectly, and if it weren’t with the large bandage on his neck with a maroon spot, you probably wouldn’t be able to tell he had gotten shot.

“C’mere,” he said to her, opening his arms out as he made room for her in the small bed yet again. She laughed a little bit, always loving how affectionate he would be when no one else was (or, in this case, very few people were) around. He was like a giant puppy that thrived off of cuddles and kisses. She could never complain, though.

She made her way into the spot he had made next to him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before finding comfort against his warm, thin body. Her head rested on his chest once again, waiting a few moments to make sure she wasn’t hurting him before finally letting herself settle down. His arm wrapped around her to keep her close while her fingers traced abstract shapes on his clothed chest, letting out a deep sigh as they sat there in silence.

Garcia had since left the room with the nurses who had escorted the “nurse” out of the room and down to surgery, leaving it to just be the two of them in the hospital room, the only sounds being their soft, heavy breaths and the hum of the bright lights neither of them could be bothered to turn off.

It didn’t take long for the two of them to fall asleep. Maybe it was the fact that they were finally alone together. Maybe it was the fact that she finally really knew he was safe, that the people who were trying to hurt him were being locked away or in surgery, where they couldn’t get to him. Either way, she let the buzzing hum of the lights lull her to sleep, letting herself relax in his touch for the first time in nearly twenty-four hours.

They both were as safe as they could be, and it was the most comforting feeling in the world.

@justkurotingz

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izzielizzie · 4 years ago

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Chapter Nine

Oh hey look a chapter are y’all proud of me? it’s short as heck but bear with me it gets better (also I just can’t write from Nate’s pov) also thank you so so much @natewynoou for helping me write this chapter

I hear the sound of a locker slam when I step out of my counselor’s office. I was dreading the meeting since talking about my feelings is awful and I’d rather eat crushed glass, but considering I wasn’t accused of murdering Simon this time, I guess it wasn’t that bad. “Hey Nate,” Maeve Rojas says as she falls into step next to me.

I glance down at her. “Hey.”

Maeve shakes her head. “You don’t talk much do you?”

“Neither do you.”

“Depends on the person.” Maeve gives me a breezy shrug and I look at her properly for the first time and nearly stop in my tracks.

“Jesus Maeve, did you raid Bronwyn’s closet?” She narrows her eyes at me.

“What?”

“You’re wearing a dress.” She is indeed wearing a maroon overall dress over a black shirt, the dress is the same corduroy kind Bronwyn wears.

“No shit Sherlock.”

I shake my head at her, bumping my shoulder against hers. She shoves against me, and adjusts her bag over her shoulder. Her hair is in a braided crown.

“So who are you impressing?”

“Who says I’m impressing someone? Can’t I just wear a dress when I feel like it? Anyway, if I was impressing someone I wouldn’t wear these.” She kicks one leg up in front of her, and I can see her scuffed, beat up Converses.

“Really? I thought someone once said that Converses are hotter than heels.”

Maeve turns as red as her dress. I can still remember the day Luis Santos said that before a school dance when Maeve insisted that she couldn’t wear her old shoes. She playfully slaps my arm, and I’m reminded suddenly of Bronwyn. I feel a rush of affection towards this girl next to me.

“That hurt darling,” I joke. Luis used to call her darling when we were younger.

“Oh yeah? And don’t call me darling.”

“Yeah.”

“Mhm.” Maeve pushes through the front door of the high school, and she skips blithely down the steps. I smile a little. It’s crazy how she’s still a little kid. She turns back to me. “Are you going to the parking lot?”

“No Maeve, I actually parked my bike on the roof deck.”

“Very funny.” She waits for me at the bottom step and she matches her steps to mine as we walk. We both look up when someone calls Maeve’s name. Luis Santos is perched at the end of his ancient Honda. He’s wearing his football jacket and his gym bag is resting next to him.

“Not impressing anyone huh?” I ask.

“Shut up,” Maeve grumbles.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Oh, Nate.” Maeve, who sped up to reach Luis, turns to look back at me. “My sister’s working today, and when you see her, will you tell her that I need to talk to her?”

“Sure,” I say before I can fully understand the implications of “when you see her”.

“Great, thank you!”

I nod at her, and my eyes shift over to Luis. “Hey Nate,” he says to me. His hand is on the hood of his car, and Maeve is leaning back against his arm. I just smirk back at him. He looks mildly unnerved for a second. Good. I turn back towards my motorcycle. I’m ready to get the hell out of this place, but not before one last thing:

“You two aren’t fooling anyone you know!” I call over my shoulder.

“Shut up!” Maeve calls back. I catch her flipping me off as Luis laughs.

With a chuckle I climb onto my bike as my phone chimes in my pocket. I look down to see a text from an unknown number: Hey Nate, this is Bronwyn. Maeve said you needed to talk to me? I’m at work right now, but feel free to stop by.

Maeve. That little meddler. Well, if she’s giving me a sign to talk to Bronwyn again, then I might as well take it. Beggars can’t be choosers and all that stuff.

“Where?” I text back. She responds instantly with the address, and after a moment of hesitation, I start my bike.

When I arrive at the door of the quaint little cafe Bronwyn apparently works at - why she works I have no idea, her family has more money than they need - I’m startled to find I’m not the only one who’s reaching for the door handle. My eyes meet with Cooper Clay’s. Addy Prentiss is sulking a few feet behind him.

“Hey,” he says to me awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s probably thinking about the last time the three of us were together.

“Hi,” I respond. I turn to Addy. “Hey Addy.”

Addy crosses her arms over her chest. “Hello,” she says as if she doesn’t really want to talk to me but is being forced into it. Fair, I guess.

“Well, um, we should go in?” Cooper asks, his southern accent kicking in.

“I guess so,” I say, pushing open the door and smirking as I wave them in like an usher. Addy gives me a halfhearted glare as she passes. I follow her, shutting the door behind me. I turn to see Bronwyn looking up from a book. She’s standing behind the counter, her hair on the top of her head in a messy loop, a spotted headband knotted in the front. There’s an apron over her white button down, and she looks… really, really cute.

“Hey,” she calls. We all pause, looking at each other.

“Hey,” Cooper finally responds.

“Well this is awkward,” I say dryly, and we all start laughing nervously, like we don’t know if it’s okay to be laughing after our last interaction.

“Well, if you guys are here, want some coffee?” Bronwyn asks, waving her hand up at the menu above her. I shake my head, and Cooper and Addy both say no. “Good choice, it sucks,” she tells us as she looks around the empty cafe. She puts her book down and pushes past the barrier separating the back from the front of the store. She leads us to a table.

“So why are we all here?” Cooper asks as we sit, Cooper and Addy sitting as far apart as humanly possible while still sharing a table. Bronwyn and I go for the opposite choice, her right thigh pressing against my left one.

“Maeve texted me that Nate wanted to tell me something.” Addy flinches when Bronwyn says her sister’s name. Bronwyn looks at Addy guiltily. “Look, Addy, I’m sorry I called you a bitch. I felt so bad about it. I mean, yeah you cheated but, if my boyfriend was as awful as yours I’d do the same.”

Bronwyn probably thought she was apologizing, but Addy just looks defensive.

“What does that mean?” she snaps. Bronwyn looks stricken. “Nothing, I mean-”

“Well at least I have a boyfriend, nerd.”

Bronwyn looks hurt and angry at the same time. Cooper and I exchange startled looks.

“Okay moving on, Luis told me to come here.” Cooper looks at Addy as if expecting her to answer the question.

“Luis too,” she says. Huh, so maybe Maeve and Luis don’t spend all their time making out. Just most.

“Well, they probably want us to talk,” Bronwyn says.

“About?” Addy asks, irritated.

“About the stuff at the police station,” Bronwyn starts, sounding like a lawyer. “We were all interviewed individually about stuff that hasn’t gone out yet, which probably means that we’re real susp-”

“Wait!” Addy says, sitting forward, her long hair bouncing pleasantly.

“What?”

“That stuff Simon was gonna post… it’s not posted yet?”

“No, Princess,” Bronwyn says, repeating Simon from detention. “Not yet. You’re still in the clear with your boyfriend.”

“Can we just stick to the subject please?” Cooper asks.

“Yeah, sure. Anyway,” Bronwyn switches back to her lawyer voice like she uses it often. She probably does. No wonder Maeve hates her now. “They probably want us to confess to killing so they don’t have to make a whole case. If we confess we’ll be dealt with and this won’t go public.”

“So you think there was foul play?” I ask, startled.

“I mean, has anyone given a reason for Simon’s death yet? We’ve already had his funeral.”

“No,” Addy says.

“Yeah, because they don’t have an explanation. Except, thanks to his Tumblr, now they do. And it’s us.”

“I don’t use steroids,” Cooper blurts out suddenly.

Bronwyn looks startled. “I didn’t say you did.”

“I’m just putting that out there,” he responds.

“Great,” Bronwyn says, eyeing him suspiciously. She shakes herself a little. “We need an action plan. They’re going to try to separate us and twist our minds until we blame someone. We need a united front. I think that’s why Luis and M-” Bronwyn glances at Addy. “And my sister brought us together. Because we can’t fight like this. This Tumblr stuff isn’t public, if we look hard enough I think we can find a law against posting private information.”

Bronwyn looks around at us, and I can see that Addy and Cooper are starting to believe that Bronwyn can give us an out from the shitstorm headed our way. I would too, except my phone buzzes, and I look down at it.

“Too late, Rojas,” I say.

“What do you mean?” she asks. I hold up my phone, opened to About That where the latest post was published less than a minute ago. It’s the gossip post about us.

Cooper swears under his breath and Addy buries her head in her hands. “We’re screwed,” Bronwyn says.

I don’t even have the energy to thank her for stating the obvious.

#one of us is lying #one of us is next #maeve rojas #nate macualey #luis santos #cooper clay #addy prentiss #bronwyn rojas #izzielizzie's fics

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beeholyshit · 1 year ago

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BEEE OKAY OKAY i want to genuinely learn more about maroon because im insane fr #iloveyoupokespe KAKSJSHSHAJAJA OKOK BUT LIKE has maroon ever been to johto before? has she met/heard of gold through red by the mt silver training or something else? does she have an opinion on silver and crystal? (though she probably knows crystal because of clear but you know!! just making sure...)

and how do you see maroon and jaide to be like if they were friends... mmm... just wondering mMMMMmmm like omg... your kid and my brother?? ayo... that's awesome 💅💅💅 AHAKKAAHHSJA

OKAY OKAY THESE ARE SO MANY GOOD QUESTIONS BC I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT SOME OF THESE THINGS WAAA

Okay, about Johto, this is something I've been thinking for a little while and it's that, what if Maroon was actually from Johto and when she ran away from home and started to travel she ended up in Kanto? I'm not too sure about it yet but anyways, in the future she goes to Johto AND THAT'S WHERE THE FUN PART COMES BECAUSE HEHEHEH....

A couple days ago I was talking with Nero about a possible scenario (located in the part where all the kids are together in the same place after the Price fight and everything) where Maroon calls Blue and asks him like "Oh, hello dear, how did everything go? Are you and Red okay?" And Blue talks with her and explains where they are and that they are okay so she decides to go there with Dragonite to bring them food and everything. When she arrive she is saying hello to everybody noticing that there were more kids than she actually thought, that's when she would meet Silver and Crystal and talk with all of them like "Oh kids I didn't bring too much food, why don't we go to my restaurant? I can make you all a big meal, you must be hungry" and she just keeps talking with the kids when she notice that Red isn't there and asks Blue about him, Blue explains that he left with another kid AND GIRL SHE STARTS PANICKING AGAIN LIKE "HE DID WHAT? AND DIDN'T TELL ME ANYTHING?" AND THIS IS THE FUNNY PART I WAS TALKING WITH NERO SKANJS. The moment she is panicking with Blue trying to calm her down Clear arrives to see Crystal and talk with her and Maroon notices he is a police officer and goes like "FINALLY THE POLICE, thanks for calling Blue" and Blue would be just 🧍I didn't do anything.

Maroon would explain the situation to Clear and the man would be just 🧍 "I just arrive what the hell.." and well Maroon asks him to help her look for her kid and tells Blue to go to her restaurant with all the kids so when she comes back everybody is in the same place. All the way to mt Silver she would be talking non stop with Clear about all the things her poor child has been before JDKANAJA.

ABOUT HER OPINION OF THE KIDS!!

Eventually she finds Red and Gold and talks with them about how dangerous that was (calling out Gold like a hundred times) and that they need to go with her and Clear.

AND BASICALLY THAT'S IT, you can imagine that dinner with all the kids and Clear in the middle

ABOUT HER OPINION ON THE OTHER KIDS!!

About Silver, she thinks he is a sweet and smart kid and it's happy to know that Green has a little brother and she can finally know him.

About Crystal, she's so happy with her, that girl really has a spot in her heart as well, she's so polite, strong and sweet. I could even imagine Crystal offering her help in the kitchen hehe.

And about Gold, she KNOWS that kid can be a little devil sometimes but she still loves him as well, she just keeps and eye on him so he doesn't end in trouble or making Red end in trouble as well.

AND MAROON AND JAIDE

OH I'M SO EXCITED TO TALK ABOUT THIS BECAUSE I IMAGINE MAROON ALWAYS KEEPING AN EYE ON HER

She makes sure Jaide is okay and of course she tries to visit her everyday bringing food and I KNOW she would gossip with her and ask her about Steven as well hehe

HOPE THIS ANSWERS EVERYTHING WAAA

#(🍰) *⁠.⁠✧ — Maroon #pokespe parents #📬

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peakyblinders1919 · 4 years ago

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First Time

This was so not like her. Drinking, dancing, flirting, beaded fringe shaking as she moved loosely around the bar.

Loose. Her dress was tight around the top in a way that was fashion-forward, modern, and the least bit risque, but loose at the knees, a shorter hemline then she was used to. Loose hips as she danced due to the peer pressure of her friend. Loose lips, singing to the melody, gossiping about the other BA secretaries. Loose morals (that doesn’t require much of an explanation, though her eyes were wondering).

She didn’t know what it was about him that drew her to him because it wasn’t just one thing, it was everything; the way smoke curled from his pink lips, his mousy brown hair gelled perfectly into place, his freckles like glitter in the dim light, green wandering eyes like her own, and an indiscernible air about him that suggested he owned the world so people ought to bow down to him. Through whispers and giggles she was informed of his real identity; Michael Gray of Shelby Company Limited and the air of confidence made sense. Normally she’d shake in her boots at just the sight of him, cheeks flushed when she was under his stare but tonight they locked eyes across the bar and she felt compelled to talk to him, all thanks to those damn loose lips.

And every innocent women knew where talking led you; apparently for her it was her bedroom. She’d never had a boy in the house, much less her bedroom, and before she knew it he was lying in bed on top of her. She knew nothing about him besides his name, his profession, and that his favorite color was maroon, and began to wonder if maybe she ought to know a bit more about the man who was going to take her virginity.

“Wait-“ her hand shook slightly as she pressed it against his chest, surprised at how built it felt, blushing as he cocked an eyebrow down at her.

“Is everything ok?” The moment was ruined now as he sat back and she noticed a shift in him that he didn’t want this anymore. But she did. She couldn’t believe it herself but she did, she just didn’t know what to do, where to put her hands, maybe back on his chiseled chest.

“Yeah, yeah, I just… maybe we should… I don’t know? Talk first?” The laugh that escaped her lips then suggested even she knew it was a funny suggestion. No one wanted to talk before it.

His words confirming it, “What is there to talk about?”, though maybe it was more of a sincere question. She could only hope.

“Uh, I’m a virgin Michael.” She had blurted the words out and just like that his night had changed. He knew she’d be a bit of fun when he saw her across the bar, all the other wondering eyes of men like Michael hungrily watching her dance. He didn’t know why she’d landed on him but he considered himself lucky, especially when she walked over. Though it may be shallow to admit, he was prepared for an outstanding one-night stand with no strings attached, one less lonely night shared with a beautiful girl.

But now he was the womanizer taking her virginity, laying on top of her as she trembled and blushed like a schoolgirl at his touch (though he found it endearing at the same time).

“Oh.” He didn’t know how else to react, fumbling foolishly to sit beside her. It was clear he was uncomfortable now, his tell the rubbing of the back of his neck. Painfully silent as they both figured out what to say, they locked eyes again. “Well…” he began. “Yeah, we can talk. I’ll tell you everything I’m going to do, unless you don’t want to.”

“No, I do. That’ll… that’ll be good.” She smiled, the words surprising even herself. She had no idea what had come over her, where she’d gotten this sudden boost of confidence, although hands shook as he began touching her again.

“Ok,” he smiled. This was new to him as well, but a nagging feeling in his gut told him to make it work. Usually he shut up and did the deed, fast and sloppily, not caring about the woman who’s hips he held while he got himself off. Now there was pressure on him to be good, an immense amount of pressure to treat her right and take his time or be labeled the man who took her virginity *and* was bad at it. He barely knew her and still he wanted her to have good memories of this. Now he was sweating, licking his lips as he looked at her. “Well… uh… I’m going to kiss you now,” he said quietly, like a whisper. He watched her nod in approvement, leaning forward and slipping a peice of hair behind her ear. He pulled her close as a hand rested on her jaw.

His lips were like berries on a summer day; sweet, warm, and wet. She feared she wouldn’t know what to do at first but it was second nature, lips pressed firmly against him. They moved in sync, her wrapping her arms around his neck. She was already hot, her heart beat racing when he moved a hand to her thigh.

“Is… that ok?” Feverish nod on her part. Quickly she felt his skin on hers, his hand on her thigh, brushing the silk of her frantic up slightly.

“I’m going to kiss your neck… I want you.” He trailed kisses from her lips, down her jaw, onto her neck as she started sucking a love bite against her delicate skin.

Her feelings were overtaking her, her head thrown back in pleasure and a low moan escaping from the back of her throat before she could stop it. She didn’t know if this was normal, sitting there and not doing anything back, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment though what was there to be embarrassed by? He was submitting into his pleasure as well, and maybe he even liked hearing her moan.

She slowly reached forward, hands grazing his sides over the soft frantic of his shirt. “Go ahead,” he reassured her against her throat, pressing featherlight kisses there and suddenly she had slipped her hands up under the cotton, hands tracing up and down his side, gripping him closer.

“Can I?” He asked as he locked eyes with her, his hand racing’s circles on her thigh as he looked at the fabric, rolling it further up her thighs till it looked at her waist, playing with the beads to kill time until she agreed. “Don’t, you’ve got not reason for that.” Once her dress was pooling on the floor she squirmed amid her own nakedness, trying to cover parts of her with limbs. “You’re beautiful.”

And she felt like it, laid there for the first time allowing someone to see her so intimately, intricate lace patterns against skin, him drinking in the sight of her.

“Take it off.” She nodded as she bit her bottom lip, taking fistfuls of his shirt and shimmying it off him, a hand running down over his chest. “Lay back. I want to kiss you, touch you…”

She did as he commanded, getting comfortable as he leaned down to press a deep kiss against her lips. He rubbed her leg, his other hand creeping up her side and she couldn’t do anything but sigh and moan lightly in pleasure. She knew what was next.

“Can I-“

“Yes, yes please. I want you. I do.”

“I’ll be gentle,” he assured her, taking it slow as he pushed himself inside of her little by little. “Is that ok?”

She was surprised by everything that was happening, her eyes watering and yet after a few minutes she finally opened her eyes and looked up at him.

Hands wrapped around his neck, she pulled him close as he began to move slowly, calculated, making sure he was hitting the right spot but also not enough to hurt her or anything. She kissed him hungrily, not caring if she was doing anything right or wrong. All she wanted was him, nails taking down his back as she kissed him, things slipping into his mouth, their lips moving in sync as he continued thrusting until she felt a tingling all the way in her toes. They’re bodies pressed together, chest to chest, lips to lips, she never let close to a stranger and she absolutely loved it.

This wasn’t a one night stand; it was love at first sight.

#peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #michael gray fanfiction #michael gray headcanon #michael gray fanfic #Michael Gray imagine

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hrtiu · 4 years ago

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Written for @foxiyoweek day one. The prompt is Routine: schedule, daily, familiar. Thanks to @wildhoneyprose for beta’ing!

Fox liked routine. Most people wanted at least a little bit of variety or excitement in their life, but for Fox variation meant risk, security vulnerabilities, increased patrols, that sort of thing. They were each alterations to the Coruscant Guard’s normal pattern that might, in their own special way, increase the probability of a clone trooper getting killed on his watch. And so he struggled and fought against that great beast variety, struggling each day to keep his life as boring, normal, and safe as possible.

Every day he woke up at 0500, did an hour of PT, used the refresher, debriefed with Stone on how the night shift had gone, performed a random inspection on one of the platoons, then gave out security detail assignments. The captains generally already knew what their assignment would be, but he finalized plans and announced any last minute adjustments.

Then just before lunch he’d meet with Chancellor Palpatine. He’d give a brief report, accept security requests from the senators, and receive any special instructions the Chancellor might have. The Chancellor usually only had a couple of minutes to spare for the Commander, but those few minutes represented the culmination of Fox’s work over the last twenty-four hour period. If the Chancellor was unhappy about anything the Coruscant Guard was doing, everyone would suffer.

As soon as he escaped Palpatine, Fox would scarf down a quick lunch on the run, then make it down to the Senate just before they opened session. Fox’s presence at the Senate was partly ceremonial, but he still watched diligently for threats as the senators held forth, conscious of every potential security breach or vulnerability in the system. When the session ended he stood at attention by the doors as the senators filed out, nodding if they acknowledged him but otherwise standing stock-still.

He’d eat a spare dinner of rations on his walk from the Senate back to GAR headquarters, spend a few hours filling out flimsiwork—requisitions, reports, disciplinary forms, that sort of thing—then meet with Thorn and Stone to discuss the day's proceedings. Then he turned in for the night around 2400, just in time to catch a solid five hours of sleep.

That’s how a good day went—PT, meetings, debrief with the Chancellor, Senate, flimsiwork, more meetings, and food sometime in between. On a bad day Fox was called in for riot patrol, extra bodyguard duty, security for a big event, damage control for whatever disaster had befallen the capitol, the subduing of a massive, city-destroying monster, and so on and so forth.

For several months now, counting from after the city-destroying monster incident, Fox had had a string of good days. PT, Senate, meetings, PT, Senate, meetings, PT, Senate, meetings. Then one day his whole rhythm was thrown out of whack.

It happened in an instant, as the senators were filing out of the Senate building, and it took Fox a moment to realize what was wrong. The senators were leaving with their normal amount of gossip, backhanded compliments, and scheming, and nothing seemed amiss at first glance. He looked hard at the retreating backs of a cluster of senators down the hallway and the sight of a gold-trimmed, maroon cloak lit a spark of recognition.

“Wheeler, take over this door for me, will you?” Fox commed the captain on duty with him.

“Yes, sir.”

Wheeler jogged over from his post just inside the building and Fox made his way down the hallway after the Senator. He wasn’t technically supposed to leave the door until all the Senators were gone, but he doubted any of them would notice the difference.

“Pardon me, ma’am,” he said when he caught up to the maroon cloak. The Senator turned around, her amber eyes wide with surprise.

“Is something wrong, Commander?” Senator Chuchi asked.

“Nothing’s wrong, ma’am, just wanted a quick word.”

“Certainly.”

She followed Fox away from her colleagues and into a side passage, then gazed up expectantly into Fox’s visor. Looking down into her cornflower face, the overhead light reflecting off of her golden jewelry and golden eyes, Fox forgot for a moment what he’d asked her here for.

“...Commander? What can I do for you?”

“Oh, uh…” Fox coughed awkwardly, then took off his helmet. Chancellor Palpatine didn’t like him taking it off while on duty (and he was always on duty), but he’d noticed the senators seemed more at ease with a face they could look at when he met with them one-on-one.

Fox tucked the helmet under his arm and cleared his throat again. “Nothing serious, ma’am. Just wanted to check in with you—see if everything’s alright.”

One of Senator Chuchi’s delicate eyebrows arched upwards and she looked at him sideways. “I’m fine, Commander. Was there something that made you think otherwise?”

Oh. Oh. He hadn’t thought about this part—the part where he had to explain himself. “Well, er, no, ma’am. You just seemed a little out of sorts.”

“Out of sorts?” she asked, even more confused than before.

Well, banthacrap. I guess I imagined it after all. “It’s nothing, ma’am,” Fox said hastily. “I just thought you seemed a little off, and-”

“How did I seem off?” Senator Chuchi asked, alarmed.

“Well, it’s nothing serious, I, uh…”

The Senator continued to stare at him with keen, discerning eyes, and it became clear that Fox was going to have to tell the truth. He sighed, fighting the heat he knew must be rising to his cheeks.

“Every day when you leave the Senate, you smile at me. But today you didn’t, so I thought something might be wrong.”

“Oh…” Senator Chuchi said, her eyes falling to the floor and a dusting of lilac spreading across her cheekbones. “Well, um, I suppose I must admit you’re right. I was hoping to introduce a rather important bill today on behalf of the Pantoran Assembly, but I haven’t been able to find the support yet to get it passed. I’m afraid some of my allies are not yet willing to put themselves at risk for my sake.”

Oh. Well, that was nothing so disastrous then, was it? At least, from a security perspective. Still, until Senator Chuchi was back to her normal self Fox knew things wouldn’t feel quite right.

“Well, in my years serving at the Senate I know it’s rare for a senator as new as you to do as much as you already have,” he said.

Senator Chuchi’s mouth quirked upwards in a dissatisfied smile. “Perhaps. But despite my inexperience, my people still need me to perform.”

“I understand, ma’am. ...If you don’t mind my asking, is the bill in relation to the crime lord Jaum’s occupation of Andelm IV?”

“Oh! You are familiar with the conflict?” Senator Chuchi asked in surprise.

“I attend every Senate session, ma’am.”

“I see… I didn’t know if it was always you or not,” she said, biting her lip. “Your armor all looks so similar. And yes, you’re right. The bill I was hoping to pass would formally denounce Jaum’s activities in the area as well as allocate GAR resources to Andelm IV to assist in his removal.”

An expansive warmth filled Fox’s chest as he realized that Senator Chuchi would smile that earnest smile of hers at any one of his brothers, and not just the most senior clone in the GAR. “You should talk to the senator from Kashyyyk.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t know much but… I understand that Jaum and the Wookies have some bad blood. They might be willing to help you.”

Senator Chuchi brought a dusky hand to her chin, the skin between her eyebrows furrowing in thought. “Hmm… I haven’t spoken much with Senator Hakkon, but he has spoken up several times when Andelm IV has been mentioned…” She looked up, a blinding smile illuminating her face and crinkling the elegant viridescent arches on her cheeks. “That is an excellent idea, Commander Fox. I’m so glad you spoke with me.”

Fox inclined his head. “Happy to hear it, ma’am.”

She made her farewells and fairly bounded down the hallways, a renewed spring to her step and enthusiasm to her smile. Fox watched her go, leaving his helmet off longer than he should. Then he got a comm from Stone—something about patrols being shifted around for a parade—and it was back to the grind.

He put his helmet back on and headed back to the GAR headquarters, thoughts already racing with to-do’s and schedules and the various needs of his men. It was a grind, but it was a good grind. Everything was back as it should be.

#foxiyoweek2020 #foxiyo #commander fox #riyo chuchi #fanfic

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floralseokjin · 5 years ago

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— crystallised 08 (m) final

crystallised /ˈkrɪst(ə)lʌɪz/ (verb) make or become definite and clear

Six weeks, that’s all it takes to forget about the threesome you shared with your boyfriend, Yoongi, and your past... fuck buddy, Seokjin. After all, it’s no big deal. Yoongi and you are doing better than ever, there’s no reason to regret such a night shared. That is until you hear some gossip in the library one day, and then slowly, little by little, everything starts to fall apart... Can you begin to make sense out of all this confusion, or is it too late?

pairing; kim seokjin x reader genre/warnings; light angst, smut; we have d in v ppl!!!! fluffy romance, the L word gets thrown around a lot, A HAPPY ENDING words; 7,473

sequel to; memoirs of a mistake and lostmyhead

chapters; 01 ⤑ 02 ⤑ 03 ⤑ 04 ⤑ 05 ⤑ 06 ⤑ 07⤑ 08 ✓

listen to; i.f.l.y

author’s note; here she is 😭the final chapter. My babies have come so far and I love them very very much! Thank you for following and sending this series lots of love. Hope you enjoy!!!! 💖

The next few days dragged by. Feeling hopeless and sorry for yourself. Seokjin didn’t want to talk to you. You’d tried calling him as soon as you’d woken up the morning after Hoseok’s birthday party. It just kept ringing and ringing. Going to answerphone. In the end you’d grown impatient, bombarding him with texts. He did reply after a while, but it wasn’t what you wanted to hear.

You (10:08am) Seokjin please pick up Can’t we talk? I’m so sorry about last night

Seokjin (10:27am) I just need some space for a while I’m sorry

You (10:27am) Okay. Please just tell me when you’re ready and we’ll talk ok?

It was silly, but the only thing that softened the blow was his apology. You mean, he couldn’t be angry at you or hate you if he’d said sorry, surely? But regardless, it didn’t make it any easier. With each passing day you were losing hope. Getting restless. If you didn’t talk soon you were scared that would just be it. Time would pass and things would end. Your relationship would end. Just before it’d even started.

You kept repeating what Lina – and Yoongi, had told you: An argument didn’t mean the end of a relationship. You couldn’t give up. Not when the thought of losing Seokjin killed you, but exactly how long was this space he needed going to take? You just wanted to understand what was going on his head. To apologise for all the things you’d handled wrongly and to just talk. You really wanted to talk to him and see him. Just see him. You missed him so much.

By Tuesday Lina was over it. Practically forcing you to just go to Seokjin and sort it out already. She was sick of seeing you so miserable, knew for a fact Jin was just the same. Miserable without one another. You told her you couldn’t. Not when it was his decision. Take some initiative. Those were her words. If you wanted everything to be alright then you had to fight.

So here you were the next day, loitering outside his 3pm class, waiting for him to be done. You figured being in a public place would ease your nerves a little. Wrong. Your heart was still pounding. You were still breaking out into a cold sweat when the doors opened and the class started to disperse…

You spotted him before he spotted you. He was talking to a friend from his class. Dressed in all black. Looked effortlessly good. Like usual. You almost had second thoughts, but Lina’s advice echoed in the back of your mind, getting louder. You weren’t a coward anymore. You wouldn’t run away.

“Seokjin!” His head turned in the direction of his name, recognising your voice. You waved at him, about five feet away. He stopped in his tracks, contemplating what to do next. If he walked off you wouldn’t know what to do. Thankfully he stepped closer, turning back only to say goodbye to the guy he was with. You held your breath until he was right in front of you, knowing you needed to actually speak words out loud instead of just thinking them in your head.

You smiled slightly. “Hey. I thought we could walk together?”

“I have work.” He definitely didn’t sound angry, so you took that as a positive.

“I know. I’ll walk with you.” You knew his schedule well. If he knew yours too, he’d know you only had one class on a Wednesday. It finished at 12pm.

He didn’t say anything though, so you just started following him. Out of the building and down the path that led to the main road. The gym was on your way back home. You’d thought it all through. Apart from the talking bit. You walked in silence for a good few minutes. Over half the journey, until he was the one who broke it.

“Sorry I haven’t messaged you yet. I was just…” He spoke quietly. Sounding awkward. Maybe even guilty.

It’s okay,” you reassured. He looked over at you in surprise. “I was thinking maybe we could talk a little now?”

He looked back at the floor, murmuring your name. “I’m not really in the right headspace right now. Like I said, I have work, and well,” he paused, glancing your way again. “Do you really think everything can be said in under five minutes?”

It was you who looked at the floor then. “No I don’t.” You shook your head. “I just wanted to see you.”

Seokjin didn’t reply, but he moved closer, his arm brushing against yours as you walked. It soothed your heart a little. Told you maybe everything would be okay. You could see the gym in the near distance. Damn you both for walking so fast.

“I feel really shitty for leaving you alone and storming off.” This time he definitely sounded guilty. Embarrassed.

“It’s fine,” you answered. “I got an uber. I was home before 12.” Tucked up in bed, quietly crying yourself to sleep. You left that bit out though.

“Still though. I’m really sorry.” You smiled in response. Building now seriously close. In no time at all you were stood outside it. “I’ll, um,” Seokjin began, itching the side of his face. “I’ll call you when I’m home?”

Your eyes widened a little in surprise. More hopeful now than ever. “Only if you want to.”

He nodded. His eyes were a little sad. Didn’t have their usual twinkle to them. You really wanted to hug him but chose against it. Things still weren’t okay, but you wouldn’t lose that hope. He smiled softly, voice just the same. “See you.”

You pushed yourself up from the wall you’d been leaning against when you saw Seokjin through the glass doors, his shift over. It was four hours later. Right now you should’ve been at home waiting for his phone call, and you’d had every intention of doing just that, but you were serious this time. You wouldn’t let this relationship die. He needed to see that. To hear it in person.

You walked over to him, smiling shyly. He looked vaguely puzzled. “Me again.”

He closed the gap between you, backpack slung over his shoulder. “You haven’t been out here this whole time, have you?”

You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. “No, I came back. I kinda memorised your schedule a while back,” you admitted awkwardly. His expression softened, as if touched. You carried on. “I thought instead of talking on the phone we could talk in person.” This time it wasn’t a question.

Seokjin nodded slightly. “Sounds like a good idea.” Your heart finally settled in relief. “I–Wanna come over my place? I need to shower and beats talking out here in the cold.”

“Thanks.” Gratitude your way of saying yes. “I have my car.” You’d brought it just in case. Somewhere private to talk if he didn’t want you to come home with him. Didn’t want to come home with you.

The ride was made in silence. Not that you minded. You figured small talk wasn’t the way to go, and besides, the journey wasn’t too long. Just being close to him was what mattered. Was enough for those few minutes.

Sandeul turned his head from the couch when he heard the door open, speaking before he’d really caught a glance. “Hey, man. You feeling alrig–Oh.” She stopped short when he saw you, saying your name as almost a way of realisation before he greeted you. “Hey. I didn’t know you were coming over.”

You put a smile on your face, totally understanding he knew pretty much everything, if not everything. “Hi, Sandeul.”

He smiled back, looking over at Seokjin next to you. “I can go to my room?”

God. Seriously, how awkward. Seokjin shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I need to shower so we’ll go to mine. Speak later.” You followed him as he made across the room, stepping inside his bedroom when he motioned for you to go first.

Whilst Seokjin was in the shower you had a lot of time to plan what you were going to say. Seokjin’s room always smelt nice and was always cosy. Just being here made you feel more at ease, but you guessed that was because you’d missed him so much. A few days ago you’d thought you’d never be in his bedroom again. You prayed this wasn’t the last time.

You knew he was out of the shower when you heard whispering. You couldn’t make it out but you could definitely hear it. Boys were never exactly subtle. However you pretended like you hadn’t once Seokjin pushed the door open and slid back inside. His hair was still damp and he combed his fingers through it in an attempt to tame the spikes that had appeared where he’d rubbed the towel over it. He was dressed in black sweats and a grey and maroon striped top, which you’d never seen before. It was evil. Stuck to him like an extra layer of skin.

You stayed perched on the edge of the bed. It seemed wrong to make yourself comfy, yet too awkward to sit in his desk chair. He smiled at you softly and sat down next to you. There was a moment of silence, one you took to psych yourself up. You had everything you wanted to say planned, all you had to do was open your mouth. But he beat you to it.

“I’m sorry.”

You looked at him in surprise. He looked absolutely beside himself. Jittery, apologetic and totally sincere. “What are you sorry for? I’m the one that should be apologising!”

He shook his head quickly, refuting you immediately. “I’m the one who was acting all irrational and stormed off.”

“I shouldn’t have spoken to Yoongi. I’m sorry you had to hear all that. It was beyond insensitive of me.”

“I overreacted.”

You took a deep breath. You were both going around in circles. How could you apologise if he wasn’t letting you. But then you guessed he probably felt the same. “I don’t think you did.” You said softly. Maybe nobody needed to apologise. Maybe you just needed to talk through the misunderstandings. “I just… I don’t understand what you meant when you said all that stuff.”

He knew exactly what you were on about. The argument here. The things that had come out of his mouth at the party. “That’s what’s wrong. With me. With us.”

He didn’t know how to continue so bravely you did so for him. You didn’t want to assume anything, but at this point it was obvious. “You don’t think you’re good enough?” He stayed silent but the look in his eyes said a thousand words. You scoffed in frustration. “That’s bullshit, Seokjin!” You weren’t mad at him. Just mad he felt that way. “Who am I? A nobody.” Of course he was good enough for you. He was perfect for you. “If you’re not good enough for me then I’m not good enough for you.”

He opened his mouth to argue but you didn’t let him. “If we’re both not good enough for one another then it cancels out and means we’re perfect for one another.”

“I don’t think it works like that.” But he did laugh a little. It was mostly silent, but you saw the curl of his mouth. It was enough.

You reached for his hand, shuffling closer to him. “Of course it does. I’m not going to let go. I’m going to fight for us.” You squeezed his fingers. “It’s taken us so long to get here, we’re not throwing it away.” This was how you handled conflict. You felt oddly at ease. Mature and proud of yourself.

“I don’t want us to throw it away.” Warmth flowed through your body when you felt him lace your fingers together. “I thought you’d be super mad after that party mess. Thought you’d hate me and want to end things, so I hid away and pretended like nothing was happening.” He explained. “If I could get through those months without you last year I could do it again. Only I couldn’t.” He looked at you, eyes still sad. “I knew I had to confront my fears and hold onto us, even if it meant begging you for a second chance. I really was going to call you tonight. Even before you turned up outside class.”

Processing everything he’d said you breathed a laugh, nestling in a little closer. Your free hand lightly pressed into his chest. “I could never hate you. Especially for you speaking your mind and I don’t know, confiding in me?” That’s what he’d done outside the party. How could you be mad when he’d confessed so many troubles to you.

“It was more like yelling at you. Telling you what you should think.” He was still a little stubborn. Needed to see the truth.

“Well, I don’t think any of those things,” you replied matter of factly. “Seokjin, you’re honestly the most kindest, caring, sweetest guy I’ve ever known.” You shook your head and corrected yourself. “Person, even.”

He shook his head, sliding his hand from yours to pull away in some sort of embarrassment. “No, listen,” you insisted, latching onto him again. He dropped his head but you cupped his cheek, eager for him to look at you. He did so reluctantly, but your felt his hand lightly hold your waist, keeping you near. “I’m going to compliment you because you need to hear it. You deserve it. You’re the best.” You smiled. “No one gets me like you do. No one makes me laugh like you do. Feel so at ease. You just make me so happy.”

Seokjin watched you intently, softening from your words. “Always have. Just now… I get to say these things. Or I should do, no matter how cheesy I think they are.” You should’ve said them a long time ago. “These… insecurities you have, I can’t stop them, but I can help you see who you are.” He needed to realise it was all in his head. He deserved you, like you deserved him. You cupped his other cheek, moving closer. “Who you are to me, and your friends, and your family.”

You were so close to his mouth. You couldn’t help it. Had to kiss him. His lips were warm and soft. It felt like an age since you’d felt them. He gently kissed you back. A split second. Before pulling away. His hand moved up your side and he squeezed. “I’m sorry.” He pressed his forehead to yours. You let your breaths match up. “My head was a mess, I took it out on you.” He paused. “I’ve just been feeling… I thought us getting together would make all these things go away. Especially after I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“You can’t help it.” You whispered. But hearing that broke your heart a little.

He chuckled sadly. “I know, but it’s stupid.” He moved his hands to your face, holding you. “You want me.” He kissed your lips. You closed your eyes. “I know you do, but it’s just hard to understand sometimes.”

It was ironic. Before you had began something serious with one another, when you were with Yoongi, and before that even, deep down, even though you didn’t realise it, the reason you couldn’t admit your feelings for Seokjin was because of your insecurities regarding him. He couldn’t like you like that. Didn’t want to. It was just sex. It had taken you a while to overcome that, but ever since you’d admitted your feelings, poof, every apprehension had gone. Everything had been perfect. In your mind. Seokjin’s insecurities were only just starting.

He pulled away, making some distance between you and cleared his throat a little awkwardly. “I hate to say this, but I’ve been jealous of Yoongi for so long. I know it’s stupid of me, childish, but…” He scoffed to himself. “Hearing you speak to him. It was like I was listening in on something I could never be a part of. And not because of what you were saying, not really. I knew you were only saying all that because of me, and the doubts I’d just put into your head. It just hurt because he listened so well, knows you so well and you wanted his advice.” He looked across at you. You knew admitting all this was hard for him. “You wanted him to help and give you answers because I couldn’t.”

Now you felt beyond sad. His reaction outside the party was one of frustration. So many mixed and pent up feelings. “I just wanted to talk to someone because I couldn’t talk to you. I’m sorry I acted so childishly when we could’ve just talked it out but I–I…” You were here now, talking. That was the main thing. “I shouldn’t have spoken to him about us. It was wrong of me. I know that, and I’m sorry. But…” You reached for his hands clutched at his lap, holding them as you continued. “There’s no need to be jealous of him. It’s natural I know, given the circumstances and I understand.” Hell, you were jealous of people you shouldn’t really be jealous of either, but you were human. You couldn’t control your emotions no matter how irrational. However you could help ease his. “Me and Yoongi… there’s nothing to worry about.”

You had no feelings for him. All your heart knew and wanted was Seokjin.

“I know.” He sighed, softly tracing patterns on the back of your hand with his fingers. Gaze locked there. “I know. It’ll pass. I just let everything get on top of me.”

“W-were you upset because it was Namjoon’s room too?” You hesitated before asking the question, torn about bringing it up, but knowing deep down you needed to. The threesome was another issue, and you wanted to know his true feelings on it. Being in Namjoon’s room again like that has shaken you up too.

Seokjin looked at you, nodding his head slightly. “Yes. Reminded me of…” He entwined your hands, holding on tight. Almost like he was determined to continue. “I really don’t look at you any different because of that night. Honest.” Even though this talk had begun to make you see that, the relief you felt hearing those words was a huge weight lifted from your shoulders.

You guessed a lot of your insecurities had lied with that night. Maybe deep down you were still dealing with them. Why you’d come to such a conclusion the other night. Scared Seokjin regretted everything. Scared it had cursed your relationship before it had even started.

“What I said about the threesome, I meant like my own insecurities regarding it.”

“I understand.”

“You do?” He looked relieved as you nodded. “That was the last time we had sex and… I don’t want to say I regret it, because it happened and I can’t change it.” He was struggling to express himself. You gave him time, waiting patiently. He didn’t stop holding your hand. “I don’t want to change it. That would mean you feeling bad about yourself and I don’t want that. You have nothing to feel bad about. I just hate that I even thought to do something like that.” He ducked his head in shame. “I’ve said before why I feel like that, but it just won’t stop playing on my mind.” He sighed, struggling. “That night felt like I was in competition with him and that’s not how wanted to ever treat you.”

“I don’t see it like that. I know I can’t tell you how to feel but I really don’t judge you when it comes to that night.” He needed to know that. You shuffled closer, wanting him to know you were there for him and you understood.

He looked up, smiling softly. “Thank you. I really don’t feel differently about you. Never have, never will.” You felt silly knowing you’d ever come to that conclusion. “It’s me I feel different about. I acted out of jealousy. My ego was bruised and I just… I hate myself whenever I think about it.”

“Well you shouldn’t.” You wrapped your arm around his shoulders. You couldn’t bear to hear him say such a thing. “It was a decision made by all three of us. You don’t need to hate yourself, Seokjin.” You didn’t blame him. There was nothing to blame him for. You let your face fall into the crook of his neck slightly, kissing the skin. “I don’t want you to. I won’t let you.”

He pulled his arm from between your bodies, draping it over your shoulder and you let yours fall from his, letting him hold you. “I’m trying not to.” He murmured, before finding your mouth to kiss. “I think now that you know the truth it’ll start getting better.”

You smiled. “A problem shared is a problem halved, right?” He’d told you that numerous times. When you were hooking up, stressed with schoolwork. Caring as always.

“Right,” he smiled back before kissing you again. When he pulled away he rubbed your noses together. “Thanks for saying such nice things about me earlier.”

You laughed. “It’s okay, you can return the favour some other time.”

He smiled, eyes now shining like you were familiar with, and cupped your face, turning your head gently to face him. “You make me so happy. I know me being a dramatic little bitch doesn’t show it, but well… You’re the girl of my dreams and I’m so glad I’ve been given a chance with you. Well,” he paused, “multiple chances.” He chuckled, glancing away. “Sorry I keep messing it up.”

You shook your head, reaching for him, hands brushing against his chest. “You haven’t messed anything up.”

He didn’t listen, making a little distance again. “I’ve been trying so hard to make things perfect.” He looked briefly at you. “That was true. About me wanting our second first time to be perfect. I just overthought it so much I didn’t know how to initiate it in the end, and when you did, I panicked. Thought I was doing this whole relationship thing all wrong.”

That made sense. Why he was hellbent on taking things slow. Why it took a while for him to ask you to be his girlfriend. The overthinking caused delays. Caused self doubt and worry. If only you’d realised.

You sighed softly. “I’m sorry if it felt like I was rushing you or being selfish.”

“You weren’t,” he shook his head. “I just got scared.” He turned a little bashful then. “You’re my first serious relationship. Well, my first one altogether. I just wanted everything to be perfect.”

Perfect. That word. Didn’t he already see it?

You took his hand. “It’s already perfect.” You smiled when he looked at you. “I’m sorry I never told you. I thought it so many times.” In your head you thought you’d done so already. Maybe you had, he just couldn’t believe it. “You’re my perfect. Perfect for me. The only one I want. The only one I’ve wanted for a long, long time. Even if it took me a little while to realise it.”

He looked a little guilty then, remembering part of your argument. “I’m sorry about that too. It just came out before I could stop it. I don’t hold that against you. How could I? I was just frustrated you didn’t believe I wanted you.”

You believed him. He wanted you. When you kissed him next it was to give him everything you had. You clung to him and in turn he held you tight, but your mouths moved sweet and slow. It felt new all over again.

“Not having sex was supposed to make things simpler not harder, but of course I was wrong,” he laughed after he pulled away. “I gave myself blue balls for no reason.”

“Jinn,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest.

“What?” He played clueless.

“Nothing.” You pulled away, rolling your eyes playfully. “If it’s something, I have come to admire your terrific strength. But, you did give me major blue balls too, so you should probably say sorry.”

He hummed aloud, pretending to think. “I don’t think it’s called that for women.”

You whacked his shoulder. “Shut up.”

“What?!” He sounded amusingly affronted. Nothing a hug couldn’t solve.

You moulded yourself to his body, holding tight. He wrapped his arms around your middle, kissing the top of your head. “We’re okay?” You murmured. It was pretty obvious, but verbal confirmation would be nice.

“We’re okay.” He softly inhaled the scent of your hair. “I’m going to try and not let my insecurities get the better of me, because they’re not real.”

You moved to smile up at him. “No, they’re not, but it’s fine. Next time you feel down, tell me.”

He smiled back, kissing your lips. “I want to tell you everything.”

“That’s funny, because I want to tell you everything too.”

He laughed. “Okay. Can we start now?”

Narrowing your eyes, you felt suspicious. What was he after? “…We can. ”

“Tell me if you already thought I was hot before we hooked up that first time.”

Idiot.

“Hm. Is that really important?”

“Very,” he punctuated with a kiss to your nose.

You spent the next couple of hours reminiscing. It was funny, you’d done this once before, but it wasn’t something you could ever get bored of. Thinking about where you’d grown from. Trying to pinpoint the exact moment you’d fallen for one another. It was fun. It made you happy. Sometimes nostalgia was your best friend.

You’d been lying down for a while, natural progression, when Seokjin started to yawn. Hand up to his mouth trying to stifle it. “You’re tired,” you stated, lifting your head from where it had been resting on his chest.

“Mm. I haven’t really gotten much sleep these past few nights.”

The same had been for you too, but maybe you were still a little buzzed to start drifting off right now. You couldn’t force him to stay awake though. Not when his eyes were near closing. You tapped his chest. “Go to sleep.”

He grumbled but didn’t fight. “Stay over?”

“Okay.” It took you not even a millisecond to think of an answer. Nor did it take you even five minutes to change into one of his t-shirts. Before joining Seokjin in bed though, there was one thing you needed to do. “I’ll be back soon. Need to pee.” You whispered. He hummed in response. Poor guy was already half asleep.

He was fully asleep when you came back, curled up on his side. You turned off the light and crept under the covers quietly, moving close and wrapping your arm around his body. You closed your eyes, wanting to sleep too but still a little wired. It was only about a minute later when Seokjin began to shuffle.

“I wanna spoon you instead,” he more or less whined, twisting out of your grip. There was nothing wrong with that. You turned around immediately, grinning when he wrapped his arm around you, enveloping you in warmth. He laced your fingers together, tangled your legs, and kissed the back of your head.

He attempted to move your hair out of the way with his nose, trying to find the skin of your neck to kiss too. Realising it was a little difficult he unclasped your hands and moved the strands down your back. He kissed the skin slowly. Sucking softly, sending light shivers up your spine. His hand rubbed and caressed your side, pulling you closer to his chest.

“I thought you were tired?” You murmured, keening into his touch.

He hummed into you, kissing across your cheek. “I power napped while you were in the bathroom.”

You giggled, turning your head to reach his mouth. His tongue parted your lips before they could even touch, and it wasn’t long before you were on your back, his body pressed firmly into yours. You let your hands explore; up his back, over his shoulders and down his arms, gripping onto the hard muscle under that cruelly tight fitting top. Seokjin liked that. You feeling him up. Liked it when you moaned into his mouth. Against his tongue.

He grew hard pretty quickly. You could feel it digging into your thighs as he rutted against you. Mouth now on your throat, his breathing getting heavier. “I think this is the perfect moment.” His mouth was wet, words trembling slightly. Arousal. Nerves. Probably both.

There was silence as his words settled, just the noises of his kisses against your neck filling the air. He wasn’t letting up. You clutched at his face, lifting him up so you could feel his mouth on yours. “I think so too.”

That was all he needed to hear. He picked up the pace, your mouths furious, gripping your hips as you spread your legs, one bent at the knee to roll into him more. You moaned in sheer longing when his hands pushed up the t-shirt. Hot fingers grabbing at your equally as hot skin. He was seconds away from tearing it off you when he stopped abruptly, pulling away slightly.

It was dark in his room. Your eyes were slow to adjust. Too busy closed in pleasure. So you were confused, unable to read his face. Unsure what was wrong. “S-seokjin…?”

There was a beat of silence and then– “I love you.”

You froze. Heart not beating anymore, you were sure of it. “What?” You were so flabbergasted it was all you could think to say. Surely you were hearing things. “Jin?” You were eager for confirmation. Sick of only seeing dark. Why was it dark at a moment like this? You wanted to see his face. Wanted to see his mouth when he said those three little words. “One minute–” you moved under him, stretching your body to reach the lamp on his nightstand. If you could just get some light.

“Oh.” As you clicked it on the brightness blinded you. You blinked a few times, but still determined you stared straight at him. “What did you say?”

He didn’t hesitate. “I love you. I’m in love with you.” You were speechless. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way yet. I don’t mind. I can wait—

“Of course I feel the same.” You reached out for him, wanting him close.

“What?” It was his turn to sound baffled.

“I love you too.” You kissed him, before laughing. “Of course I do.”

“Really?”

“Yes!” Did he want you to shout it from the rooftops? You would. You loved him. So much. Had for a while, you were sure of it. You were just… too scared? Oblivious? Who knew. But it didn’t matter anymore. There was a time when you’d been obsessed with idea of love, wondering when and how it would happen. You realised now the best kind was the love that had always been there. Slowly waiting for a chance to reveal itself. A quiet love. A subtle love. A true love. The love you had for Seokjin.

“Yes,” you murmured against his lips. “I love you.”

You broke apart as he sighed in relief. “Thank fuck for that. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long but I was scared it would be too early.” You could tell he was nervous about it, his hands trembling. “I think that’s what was playing on my mind too–” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “Fuck it. I don’t care anymore. I have nothing to worry about.” He smiled at you, caressing your cheek and hair. “I’ve loved you for a really long time.”

All you could do was smile back. So happy perhaps you could cry. You wouldn’t, but you could. You kissed the side of his thumb. “Then it would never be too early.” You think he understood the same went for you. You’d loved him for a while.

He got you out of that t-shirt very quickly after that. Mouth on your chest, down your cleavage, wrapped around your nipples… Your breath was shaky as he hooked his fingers into your underwear. “Goddd.”

He hesitated before he dragged them down. “Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.” Your voice was a whisper. Couldn’t trust it otherwise. “Please.” Your underwear was already hanging from your ankle. You kicked them off.

He looked down your body with a groan. He was a little impatient. A little frustrated. There was so much he wanted to do with your body, but he also just really wanted to be inside you. You could tell by the look in his eyes. You tugged at his sweatpants, helping him out. He was naked waist down immediately. Still in that evil top though. You ran your hands over his chest and down, fingertips brushing against his abs. “I kinda want you to keep this on. You look so good.”

“I can if you want.” He offered, eyes wide in surprise.

You contemplated for a moment before shaking your head. “No. Naked is better.” You wanted to feel his body against yours. It had been so long.

All clothing now on the floor, he crawled over your body, feeling any part he could reach, mouth chasing yours. He brought a hand between your legs, realising how aroused you were already and groaned. He rubbed a little at your entrance but didn’t push inside. It was beyond frustrating, but you guessed he had other ideas.

“Should I get a condom?”

You giggled. “No, silly.” You were still on birth control, and if he wasn’t coming inside you, then what was the point? You cupped his face, kissing him sweetly and smiled. “You’re the best. I love you.”

Before he could think of saying it back, you’d flipped him on his back. Not that he put up much of a fight. You straddled him. “Ughh,” he groaned again, snapping his hands on your hips. You grinded against him a few times , getting wetter and wetter, before taking his—perfectly hard—dick in your fist. You squeezed, then began to run your palm over him, right against the head as you angled him inside your entrance. He moaned this time, ever so slightly bucking up. “You wanna end me.”

Wrong. That wasn’t your intention at all. You wanted to give him all the pleasure in the world. You pushed down, over the first inch of his dick and kept on going. Only it was a bit of a struggle. You got about halfway when you had to pull off him and try again.

Seokjin sat up easily, kissing you as he lightly teased you. “What’s up? Struggling?” By the smirk on his face you could tell he was loving it. Okay, Mr. Big Dick, calm down. “You can’t have forgotten…”

“I haven’t.” You insisted, determined this time. You pushed down. “I just–mmph.” God. He felt so big inside you. Stuffed full and he wasn’t even all the way in. You bit down on your lip and took a deep breath, pushing one last time, feeling him drag inside of you. You moaned loudly when he bottomed out. “Oh.”

“Fuckkk.” Seokjin hissed, holding you tight. “Oh fuck.” Your wet warmth was too much to handle. Sensation something he’d missed so much.

You slowly began to move, back and forth, getting used to him again. It was amazing. Even just this simply, but of course, as your pleasure rose, so did your need. “Lay down,” you requested, wanting him to just enjoy the ride. Quite literally.

Sweaty thighs, ragged breaths, a squeaking mattress. It was just like the old times. Only this time there was a difference. Love. A love acknowledged and embraced.

“Slow down.” Seokjin sounded fucked out already. Murmuring your name before sitting up again. He clung to your hips, trying to still your rhythm as you continued riding him. Riding the pleasure. “Baby. Please.” Despite near begging he wasn’t really doing much else to stop you. Mouth on your neck as he spoke. “Stoppp. I don’t want to cum yet.”

“Why?” Honestly you didn’t give a damn if he came. You just wanted to make him feel good.

“It hasn’t even been five minutes.” You could hear the pout in his voice. “Let me fuck you some more. Please. I just need a breather.”

“Fine.” But you weren’t annoyed. How could you be when he whispered such casual filth? And how could you when he got you on your back, spread your legs and kissed between them.

“Wanna make you moan,” he breathed against your core, lips already sticky. “Wanna make you cum.”

It didn’t take long. He soon had you holding your breath and arching your back. Coming easily. Like he was showing off how well he knew your body. Cupping your ass as he pulled away, he kissed his way up your body. His dick still hard bobbed between your thighs, and of course he couldn’t take it. Had been a wonder how he’d slipped out of your warmth in the first place.

He knelt up, adjusting himself between your legs. “You okay to carry on?”

“Yes,” you murmured, almost dreamlike. “One hundred percent yes.”

He took his time, revelling in the pleasure almost. Dipping inside of you and slowly pulling out until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Don’t tease,” you whined, brushing your hand down his chest. He listened.

Only then he laid over you, lodging himself inside. As deep as he could get. Not wanting to leave your warmth. Soft and wet and to die for. He choked a little. “I could stay like this forever.”

“Mm. I’m sure we can work with it,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck. He began to thrust and that’s when you lost it. Moaning loudly. “Seokjin—!”

He thrust harder, spurred on. “Mm. Say my name again.” You did. “You can be a little louder, y’know?”

“But Sandeul.” It was late now. The guy was probably in his bedroom next to this trying to sleep.

Seokjin chuckled. “When did that ever stop us?” You blushed at past memories, pushing at his shoulder. “You’re embarrassed. Cute.” He ducked his head and kissed you. “He won’t care. He’ll be happy for us.”

You rolled your eyes. Why yes, Seokjin’s best friend loved hearing him have sex. “You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot you’re in love with,” he countered.

Damn. He was going to use that against you every time now, wasn’t he? What had you gotten yourself into? You were about to say just that, to tease him, but he was fucking into you so fast now you pretty much choked on your words. He kneeled up a little, wrapping your legs around his waist and concentrated again on getting deeper and deeper. Hard, determined thrusts that became addictive and knocked the wind out of you. Well, until it felt like his dick was stabbing your insides.

You pushed at his shoulder, wincing in pain and twisted your hips, stopping his next thrust from getting as far. He noticed straight away and pulled out of you, a little worried. “You okay?”

“Your dick’s too big,” you whined, getting a little ticklish when he started peppering your cheek in kisses, chuckling lowly now that he knew you were okay.

“See? You’ve forgotten,” he teased, tugging your earlobe between his lips. You wriggled, even more so when you felt his hand between your legs. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you used to it again…” He fell back on his side, essentially spooning you as the pad of his index finger dragged against your clit. “So wet,” he whispered in your ear, spreading your arousal around your core casually. He circled his hips into you, erection sticky between your ass. He groaned. “You’ve got me so hard. Can we go again?”

“Yeah.” That was a certain yes. This time you weren’t stopping until he came.

He gripped your ass, lifting one cheek up a little so he could find your entrance and push inside. Which proved fatal. “Oh shit,” he grunted, grabbing at the flesh like he was hungry. “Bad idea.”

“I guess you’ve forgotten the power of my ass.” You wriggled it about just for emphasis and he groaned.

“Impossible.” He lightly spanked it, sending you squealing but he held you tight. “It’s been plaguing my nightmares for months and months.”

“Nightmares?!” You shrieked, but at that exact moment he pushed inside, slowly, indulging on every second.

“You know what I mean.” His breath was hot in your ear and then his tongue curled inside the shell, sending you all a shiver.

You really wanted to cum again. You wanted to cum with his dick inside you. Feel the warmth trickle into your veins and turn your limbs to jello. You were greedy. Greedy for the pleasure he gave you. The pleasure you’d been without for a long, long time. You quickly pushed your hand between your legs, where his hand been not minutes before, chasing your high quickly.

Seokjin’s thrusts faltered when he noticed. Voice tight. “God. I missed you. God. I love you.” Nice to see he was still so easily ruined by the slightest of things.

“Who’s God?” You joked, but rolled a little onto your back, arm reaching to hold his face. Your mouths met in a rush. The kiss messy. “I love you. Missed you.”

“Yeah?” He panted. He was close. You knew it. Would never forget. “How much?”

“You know how much.” You worked your fingers faster, just the sheer anticipation of Seokjin coming – inside of you at that, tipping you over the edge. By the time you’d finished your sentence, it was done. Body stiffening, insides tightening around his dick. “So much.”

And that was it. Seokjin didn’t stand a chance. “I’m gonna cum,” he rushed, sounding almost panicked. Like it had washed over him all of a sudden.

You moaned, gripping his arm, attempting to roll him on top of you. “Like this. Wanna feel you. See your face.”

He listened. Body crushing yours as he thrust at an erratic pace. You wrapped your arms around him. Your legs too. Moulding your body to his as you watched his face, expression contorting with pleasure as he came. You moaned when he did, feeling his entire body stiffen, but so overcome he buried his face into the crook of your neck, riding it out with shaky exhales.

It took a few moments for him to come to. For you both to come to, and you peeled away from one another as he lifted his head. It was an odd sensation. You wanted him back again.

“I’ve gone dizzy,” he murmured, voice frail. “Shit. So fucking dizzy.”

You giggled. He sure did look a little frazzled. Hair a mess, beads of sweat across his forehead. Nothing beat a sex workout. You thought he would agree. You kissed him, taking your time. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He smiled, eyes a little glassy. He ran his hands down your sides as he knelt up. You copied him, sitting up against the headboard. You sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. You thought you needed a shower. “Twenty minutes and I can go again. Maybe ten.” He informed you. Alright. Maybe the shower could wait…

You laughed, taking one of his hands. “Okay, okay, don’t wear yourself out straight away.”

He looked at you as if you’d forgotten something. “We’ve got like over a month of sex to catch up with. Well, technically, even more. But we might die if we try for that.”

“Jesus Christ,” you exclaimed. “I’ve created a monster.”

A vibration on his nightstand interrupted you. His phone. It must’ve been hanging off the edge because it fell to the floor. As Seokjin picked it up and opened his messages, you checked behind his shoulder. Mario was still facing the wall, thank god. He didn’t need to see all that, or what was surely about to come. A chuckle from Seokjin caught your attention and you glanced at him. He was looking at his phone. “What?”

You leaned forward when he flipped the screen your way and skimmed the messages from none other than Sandeul. “Oh, God.” You muttered as you read, embarrassment back and shame tinging your cheeks.

Sandeul (00:36am) I hear you made up then

Seokjin (00:36am) 🤗🤗

Sandeul (00:37am) I’m sure I have earplugs somewhere.. Have fun!

Written 2019-20. Reworked/Edited 2020 Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2020

#seokjin smut #bts smut #jin smut #jin fanfic #bts fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:crystallised

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quietmyfearswith · 4 years ago

Text

narcissist {carter baizen x fem!reader} 1/3

status — ongoing series

warnings — cursing, mentions of drug and alcohol intake/abuse, attempt at angst

word count (without the lyrics) — 1,995 words

a/n — so this is for @baezen’s the other guys writing challenge and my prompt was alcohol is the only constant in my life; the prompt will be italicized and bolded btw ! i was listening to narcissist by no rome and thought that the song fits perfectly with carter baizen and the prompt as well fit well into the story ,, listen to the song here if u want ,, feedback is appreciated and hope u guys have a lovely day !! :> y/f/n = your full name

masterlist | series masterlist

Took a picture of all my flaws

Or you can take a video on your phone

And you know that I would talk

But I'm too afraid to pick you up and go home

The ding of the elevator signaled me to step out of the elevator, and I did with a sigh — frustrated with the website that was opened up on my phone. Upon entering the penthouse, I headed for the master bedroom where the subject of the article is currently passed out on his bed.

Knocking three times, “Carter, you up?” My question was met with silence; despite this I still went ahead and entered his room. Clothes laying on the ground, a few beer bottles and shot glasses on the coffee table near his television, and his keys and wallets placed on his bedside table — the indications of how he had spent the night before; by hopping on from bar to bar and purchasing any kind of drink that had alcohol in it. At least this time he’s alone and not someone he had just slept with.

Approaching the side of the bed, I shook his back that was not facing me, hoping that this would wake him up from his deep slumber. He groggily groaned, turning to look at me with his sleepy and tired state, “Oh hey, Y/N. What time is it?”

I put my down and phone bag on the ottoman that was at the foot of his bed and looked into his walk-in closet for an outfit that would make him look decent and not look like he got dragged and passed around by people, “Well it’s way past time for you to correct your actions since people have already been talking about the stunt you pulled.”

This probably confused him as he sat up and tried to rub off the exhaustion he felt, “Can you be more clear with what you meant with that? Also, I really am curious about what time it is.” Going back from Carter’s closet — which happens to be made of glass and mirrors — and placing the down his outfit which consisted of a two piece Burberry suit that consists of a checkered maroon suit with a matching plain, maroon slacks and laying it down on the bed, “The time now is 9:28 in the morning,” I reached for my phone and shoved it to him with the website I have previously read still opened, “And this is what I meant when I implied that damage control was too late.”

His shirtless upper body hit the back of the headboard as he began reading the content of my phone, “Spotted, Carter Baizen spending his earned wealth at various bars and clubs late last night. You may have previously known him for being the resident bad, playboy that you see in your school, but now just when it was starting to look like he was getting his act together, he reverts back to how he once was when he was a reckless teenager. I guess some old habits just die hard, don't they? You know you love me, xoxo, gossip girl.”

I laughed at the disgusted face Carter made after he finished reading what had got me annoyed earlier, “Well, at least I’m living my life well. Not compared to this jackass loser who keeps on documenting and reporting the lives of others since theirs is probably uneventful.”

I'm feeling Dazed like a magazine

Finding my own sanity

Wishing it'll all go away

Now we're smoking off the balcony

You're telling me profanities

Maybe it was never okay

“For fuck’s sake, Carter, do you not see the bigger issue here? It’s not just about how there is some loser out there talking about the life of others. But it’s about you how you are living your life! You are now a CEO, a fucking CEO! I don’t think business partners would be eager to make transactions and ventures with someone who acts as if they had just gotten their license and are now going out every chance they can to enjoy this privilege!” Carter looked at me coldly and was about to argue back but I continued to give him my two cents, “On top of that, I think as well that the frequency of your alcohol, and possible drug intake is alarming, as well. And it's gotten to the extent that I feel like you should be seeing a professional to help you cope with this.”

I concluded my statement of concern and alarm by folding my arms together and looked at him seriously. Carter stood up and headed for the bathroom, I followed him and leaned by the door as he was washing up his face and waited for his reply. He stared at me through the mirror as he was drying his face, “I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I think you’re overreacting a little bit.”

I threw my hands up and scoffed at disbelief, “Seriously, Carter? Do you not recall the various times wherein I had to pick up your drunk or high ass — and by the way, there are some instances wherein you’re both high and drunk — from whatever bar you were misspending your money on.”

He turned around to look at me and crossed his arms — in annoyance, I presume — and fought back, “So what if I get blackout drunk a few times? It happens to the best of us! Have you not enjoyed yourself completely and just passed out from exhaustion from spending a night out? Oh wait, you probably haven’t! Which explains why you’re so fucking uptight!”

With one hand massaging my temples, I managed to remind him in a calm tone, “Did you forget what happened two months ago?”

345, that's where we stayed

She told me I'm a narcissist doing it again

Took a bunch of acid and she told me, "not again"

Now I've gotta tell her that I'm lovin' her friends

345, that's where we stayed

She told me I'm a narcissist doing it again

Took a bunch of acid and she told me, "not again"

Now I've gotta tell her that I'm lovin' her friends

My dreams of riding a unicorn while eating cake was suddenly interrupted when a loud ringing woke me up. Stretching my hand and patting for my phone on the bedside table. Recognizing how I had an incoming call, I swiped to accept it even though I was not awake or aware enough to check who was calling. “Hello?”

“Is this Ms. Y/F/N?” a woman asked as soon as I greeted her, I took a second to check my phone and only then did I notice how it was an unknown number that called me, “Yes, this is she, who’s asking?” My bones had suddenly become frigid in anticipating what the girl on the other end had to tell me. “Well your information was listed on one of our customer’s wallet and we had to call and let you know that Carter Baizen has passed out from drinking which resulted in him collapsing on the floor, head first.”

I let out a grunt as I put the call in speaker mode and got off the bed to throw over a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, “Was he with anyone when he was drinking? And is he unconscious? And what address is your bar, by the way?” I was already outside my apartment and headed for my parked car by the time she had replied and given me the information I asked for.

Curse words and frustrated mumbles were leaving my lips as I was driving around the city, hoping to get to Carter faster and in time to prevent any unfortunate event from happening. Upon arriving at the bar, I was already opening my door before I had even parked my car and stormed inside the establishment.

“Hey, I was called in earlier for a patron who passed out and fell head first?” I approached a girl who was mopping floors near the entrance door, she nodded and told me that she was the one who called me and led me to where Carter was. They were kind enough to move him from the floor and lay him down on one of the booths.

I quickly took in his state — there were a few buttons of his long-sleeved polo that were unbuttoned, there were faint traces of alcohol in his shirt and face, while there was also a bit of blood residue from his head wound as a result of collapsing from the floor. “Thank you for calling me right away and for taking care of him, but I was wondering if you or another staff would be willing to help me bring him to my car?” the girl nodded and called for one of their male employees to help me bring Carter in.

That night was probably the most nervous and anxious I have ever felt; knowing that Carter could possibly be facing health problems from drinking too much and hitting his head. Seeing him this way has always affected me and has made me feel responsible for his well-being — not only because I was hired as his assistant, but because I was the only one who managed to tolerate and be with him for this long time.

Fortunately enough, the doctor ruled that there was nothing currently wrong with his liver and kidney following his night of over intoxication. But that didn’t mean that he was completely out of the woods; I was warned of how if he spends more nights like this, it could probably lead to the failure of his organs to properly function. To add even more salt to that wound, he informed me about how Carter hitting his head was also dangerous and that it could have resulted in a serious head injury — but that wasn’t the case in this scenario. The medical official also told me that Carter was lucky for it did not lead to any complications and that he should be safe from it as long as he drinks responsibly and moderately to avoid these things from happening again.

And I've been seeing somebody

But I've not found a way to tell you

That I'm seeing somebody

There's not a nice way for me to say that

I've been seeing somebody

You know I want you to be happy

Since I'm seeing somebody

And then maybe we can get on with it

“You know, you don’t need to bring up what happened every time?” He said as he walked past me to grab his clothes and get dressed. I rolled my eyes and sat down on the ottoman as I stared at him, “I don’t need to? That’s where you’re wrong, Baizen. The only reason why I keep bringing it up is because — guess the fuck what — I’m the only person who gives a fuck about you! I’m the one you call every time your ass is too drunk to drive or when you’re high as the fucking clouds! Or if you can’t call, guess who’s name and number you have written down in your wallet? It’s mine! So yes, I bring it up every fucking time since I don’t want you to seize your night so fucking hard that you end up deceased the next day!” I angrily let out.

He was done dressing up by the time I had yelled out my grievances, “I’m sorry that I can’t stop myself from drinking or having a night out!” This unapologetic remark from him just angered me further, “Well then let me help you! Let a therapist or some other professional help you get through this! You don’t have to do it alone, Carter.” I reminded him as I stood up and put my hand on his shoulder, to show him how I was gonna guide him through this.

He pushed my hand away and walked towards his dresser and put on some cologne and began fixing his tie, “No, I don’t want your or anyone else’s help. Alcohol is the only constant in my life; it always has been and it always will be.” when these words have left his lips, I froze up in disbelief and hurt. I was there with him when he was struggling to establish himself as a businessman, saw his struggles and victories, and even outside of work I was the only who cared enough to make sure that he was fed and hydrated despite his busy schedule.

“What do you call me then?” I sadly asked him and this got him to stop his movements and turn to me. However before he could explain himself or go near me, I had already collected my things and headed to exit his room and suite, “Be at the office before 10:30 am, you have a meeting with representatives of the Eichner Enterprise at 10:30. The rest of your schedule will be emailed to you.”

#my writing #quietmyfearswith #baezen #togwc #carter baizen x reader #carter baizen x fem!reader #carter baizen series #ceo!carter baizen x reader #ceo!carter baizen x assistant!reader #ceo!carter baizen x assistant!fem!reader #gossip girl #sebastian stan fanfiction

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reynahermione · 4 years ago

Text

Damn. Part 5 (Peter Parker x Reader)

Warning: a bit of angst/sadness

They definitely broke up.

After the introductions, Harry and MJ sparked off into a deep conversation together, entering their own little world. You and Peter stood off to the side as your partners talked. Looking at Peter, you see him awkwardly glancing between you and the budding couple. He scratched the back of his neck when your eyes finally connected.

“I think we should give them a bit of privacy.” He nods.

Walking off the dance floor, you turn to see Harry and MJ gently grabbing hold of each other's hands and slowly swaying to the music-still in deep conversation. The look on his face was comical. His cheeks are bright red and a goofy smile grace his face. Not the normal cool, calm, and collected Harry that he claims to be. You can’t see MJ’s face in this angle, but you can tell that she probably has the same look on her face with how animatedly she’s speaking to Harry. Good for them.

Turning back to Peter, you see that he has claimed an empty table near the dance floor. Taking a good look of Peter sent butterflies soaring through your entire body. His adorable curls are peaking out of the combover he had done. And the maroon suit he’s wearing is a serious knockout. It ages him a bit, but in a good way. A good looking way.

‘I wonder how he looks under that-nope. Let’s not do that here.’

“How are you tonight Peter?” You ask, clearing your dirty thoughts.

“Oh-Uh-well, I’m fine.” He shrugs as you stand beside him.

“Do you like the planetarium?”

He nods, “Oh yeah! This place is amazing!”

A proud smile makes its way to your face as you turn back to the room. Glancing around the room, you find your parents speaking to Mr. and Mrs. Richards and their children standing by side them. You make a note to speak to them later.

“Can I ask you something Y/n?”

You turn to Peter and nod, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Earlier today, were you asking me out?”

If only the ground could open up and swallow you. You resembled Harry with the matching bright red face. Only your blush is from embarrassment.

“Yes.” You truthfully answer. There’s no point in lying to him.

“Oh.”

He opens his mouth to say something but quickly closes it again, all while fumbling and twiddling with his hands.

“Do you want to go out?” He shyly asks.

You want to scream and shout out ‘yes’ and jump into his arms to celebrate. But doubt fills your head.

“I don’t think this is the right time Peter.”

He visibly flinches at your answer, staring at you with a hurt look.

“What?” His bottom lip quivers. “What do you mean by that?”

Placing a comforting hand over his shoulder, “I mean that you just got out of a relationship with MJ, Peter. You can’t just jump into another one the same day that you broke up.”

He tries his best to argue, but you quickly stop him with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder.

“Your emotions are all over the place right now Peter. I don’t want to feel like a second option because your first option fell through. You need to figure yourself out before you can move on.” You gently explain to him.

“I-I am over MJ. We’re better off as friends.” He tries to argue.

“I understand that Pete. But that doesn’t change my mind. You need to take some time for yourself before you jump into another relationship. Take as long as you need. You’ll always know where to find me.” He drops his head in defeat.

With one more comforting squeeze, you make your departure. It saddens you that you had to put him down like that, but it needs to be done. They broke up the same day he’s asking you out. A little voice in your head added in how bad this would make you seem. New York is a rumor mill. They would make you seem like the home-wrecking cheating whore. It wouldn’t matter how many times you, Peter, or MJ tried to tell the real story, it’s high school and a gossiping city that is always looking for the next scandal. You aren’t going to make yourself a story. No matter how badly you wanted to turn around and run into his arms and kiss him with everything you had.

This is for the best.

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@eridanuswave

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years ago

Text

Dawn in Your Eyes Alfie SolomonsxOC (Part 1)

Summary: Alfie has little to no idea why Caroline ever gave him the time of day. The blind woman seemed far too sensible to even speak to him. But soon he finds himself falling helplessly in love.

Everyone in Camden Town always greeted Alfie. Whether it was a tip of the hat, a polite greeting, or simply keeping out of his way. Hardly anyone caught his eye though. He merely grunted in brief acknowledgment to those who greeted him. There were only a few people he truly interacted with on his walk from his flat to the bakery.

His elderly neighbor who knew his mother, the postman, and the boy at the corner who gave him the daily paper.

“Morning, Mr. Solomons.” The boy greeted with a bright smile. The gangster was his best customer. Always consistent and always gave a little extra.

“Morning, Timothy.” Alfie reached into his pocket to retrieve a few coins. “How’re the headlines?”

“Going on ‘bout all the strikes, sir.” The boy handed him the newspaper. “Communists.”

“Fucking hell,” Alfie muttered and bid Timothy a good morning before moving along. He glanced up from the front page of the paper and noticed possibly the biggest dog he’d ever seen. Previously it had been Cyril but this dog had to be more than ten stone. An absolute sucker for dogs, he decided to go over and ask about him.

Standing beside the massive Newfoundland was a petite woman with a thin cane in hand. She kept the dog’s leather lead gripped tightly in her hand. Her ashy brown hair was pinned up and partially hidden beneath a dark maroon cloche hat.

“That’s quite a beast you’ve got there,” Alfie said as he approached the woman.

Her head tilted slightly toward him but her eyes remained straight ahead. Still, Alfie could see a smile form on her face. “Thank you.” She spoke softly.

“Fucking hell, like a horse.” He remarked and took in the dog’s heavy black coat and bushy tail. “A Newfie, innit?”

The woman still didn’t turn to look at him. She nodded slightly. “Yes, his name is Pilot.”

“That right…I’ve got a bull mastiff. But he ain’t nearly this big.” He chuckled and reached out his hand for Pilot to sniff. Instead, the dog remained absolutely still, ignoring him just as the woman appeared to be. Alfie frowned. Cyril could hardly contain himself when a stranger came to pat him. “Don’t like people?”

“He’s trained not to lose focus.” The woman replied and slightly turned her head in the direction of his voice. That’s when Alfie noticed her eyes were clouded over. It wasn’t a foreign sight to him, it was exactly the way his young cousin’s looked.

“Sorry, didn’t realize…” Alfie cleared his throat and felt embarrassed. Such an unfamiliar feeling. “Me cousin is blind. She’s got a dog too. A nice Labrador.”

The woman didn’t seem to mind his mistake. She merely smiled and nodded.

“Name’s Alfie. You from around here?”

“Yes, I’m Caroline. I’m Julia’s niece.” The woman said and gently rested a hand on Pilot’s head that stood just above her hips.

“Oh right, yeah…” He ran a hand over his beard. Julia was a big figure in the Jewish community. Especially when she began a charity for the blind. The woman had told Alfie the reason for starting the charity, citing her niece who was born blind. But he’d never met Caroline before.

“You donate a good sum of money to her charity.” She spoke so gently but had steady confidence behind her voice. She wasn’t timid or afraid of the world despite her disability.

“Right, well, think is great what she does, innit?” The gangster began to realize he was staring at Caroline. She was beautiful, a beautiful Jewish woman, the kind of woman his mother always wanted him to find. He swallowed hard.

“Of course.” Caroline nodded. “She speaks very highly of you, my aunt. What is it that you do?”

He furrowed his brow and glanced down at Pilot for a moment. “Me? I own a bakery. One down the road, end of Bonnie Street.”

“I didn’t picture you being a baker.” She admitted with an amused smile passing over her pink lips. “My aunt makes you out to be a big scary man.”

Alfie chuckled sheepishly and shook his head. “Don’t believe everything you hear, love.”

“I tend not to.” Caroline reached out an arm. “You could escort me. I’ll be traveling past Bonnie Street. You can tell me about your bull mastiff.”

He raised an eyebrow. Most people were too intimidated to be close to him. They were afraid of the reputation he held. What they saw scared him. What they heard about him scared them even more. “Sure.” He carefully took her arm in his, escorting her down the street.

Pilot began walking to her left, the large dog plodding along dutifully. He didn’t care if Alfie was there or not, he would guide Caroline, his job was never done.

“What’s his name?”

“Cyril,” Alfie answered. It was strangely relaxing being in her presence. She soothed him and it felt like the world around them was muted. “S’an idiot.”

Caroline laughed. “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Nah, tripped, right, on his own fucking feet this morning.” He told her. “Would be the worse seeing-eye dog. Would lead me right into the fucking cut.”

It was lovely listening to her laugh so genuinely. “But you love him.”

“’Course. Had him since he was just a little runt. Found him tossed on the side of the fucking road. All ‘lone in the rain.”

“Oh, how awful.” Caroline frowned. “How could someone abandon him?”

“Fucking soulless person, that’s who,” Alfie grunted in agreement. “You’ll hafta meet him though. He’s a love, ain’t as well behaved as Pilot is.” He could hardly believe how silent and subtle such a large dog was.

Caroline smiled. “I would like that.” She disagreed with her aunt who said Alfie was crooked. Julia respected the man for donating to the charity but she sure as hell didn’t trust the man. But Caroline couldn’t imagine a man who rescued a puppy from death would be crooked. There was so much she didn’t know but there was so much she wanted to know.

“Yeah? I’ll bring him ‘long to work tomorrow. Will you be out for a walk?” He wondered hopefully.

“I was planning on it.” She stopped when she felt Alfie standstill in front of a building. She heard the sounds of men shouting back and forth inside.

“Then I’ll see you ‘round. Try to make sure Cyril’s on his best behavior.” Alfie smiled and reluctantly let his arm slip away from her.

“I’m looking forward to it.” Caroline smiled. “Have a good day, Mr. Solomons. Come along, Pilot.”

Alfie stood by the doors of the bakery, watching her walk off with Pilot, her cane tapping on the ground. How wonderful it was to not be judged based on appearances. It was an interesting concept and he wanted to explore it further with Caroline.

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

Very seldom did Alfie ask for life advice. He was typically the type of man who walked through the world pretending he knew everything, even if he was clueless. But in his eyes, weakness wasn’t an option.

Still, there were some people he trusted. Very few people. Probably less than ten. But Ollie was one of those people; he had to be trusted in his position at the bakery. But their families had known each other for a very long time. Camden’s Jewish community was very tightly knit, but some families were closer than others. Especially when it came to Alfie and his men. Some disapproved while others saw him as a leading figure despite what he did behind closed doors.

But in such a close community, no matter what opinion you held, rumors got around about everything and everyone.

“So, I heard you were seen with Julia’s niece.” Ollie tentatively brought up the conversation as the two made their rounds in the bakery.

“Yeah, who’d you hear that from?” Alfie asked grumpily. He wasn’t happy to hear people were gossiping about him. As a gangster, he liked a high measure of secrecy and enjoyed his private life.

“Shayna,” Ollie admitted.

It was difficult to be upset with his assistant’s wife. She was a good Jewish woman who always offered a place in her home for the bachelor gangster. But she had a bite to her as well and if you passed by their flat at the right time, you could hear her shouting in Yiddish. Alfie liked her enough to let the gossiping pass.

“We were just talking ‘bout her dog,” Alfie explained. “Never met her ‘fore.”

Ollie nodded and became a little distracted from the ledger in his hand. His wife’s words from the previous night echoed in his head.

‘Eva saw them walking together. Said Alfie couldn’t keep his eyes off her.’

He cleared his throat and tested the waters a little bit. “She’s beautiful.”

“Fuck off.” Alfie’s defenses immediately spiked up and he rolled his eyes.

“Sorry.” Ollie dropped the subject, well accustomed to picking and choosing his battles.

But the mention of Caroline’s beauty stuck a pin right in Alfie’s heart. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. She had become a part of his morning routine. After getting his paper, Alfie greeted her and Pilot at the corner. He’d have to rein back Cyril so the mastiff didn’t distract the Newfoundland.

They would walk together towards the bakery, sometimes taking a longer route just to spend more time together. Caroline always rested her hand on Alfie’s arm. They would talk about simple things in their life, nothing too deep. His occupation and her blindness were never topics of conversation.

Despite the casual morning chats, Alfie felt a solid connection to the woman. Normally, it took years for him to truly trust anyone or to feel a real bond. It was one of the many reasons he’d been single for so long. But he was so intrigued by Caroline.

She experienced the world differently than others did. She approached things from another angle. Being a Jewish woman in a fairly Orthodox community, she had a measure of expectations placed on her. But she was like Alfie. Her disability made her adjust her priorities and crack the mold she was supposed to fit. Unmarried and childless at twenty-nine, she didn’t follow the life her family assumed she would have. But her independence was one of the things she treasured most. Pilot gave her a level of independence that she thought she would never have. Now she was mostly on her own. Took care of her own needs and felt the freedom she always craved as a blind teenager.

Alfie loved that about her. A strong woman with good Jewish morals was an unbelievable find in his opinion. Something he didn’t think he deserved but it was nice to think about. He wasn’t heartless.

He ran a hand through his hair and grumbled. “How’d you…you know…” The words were failing him. “Fuck, I just don’t know how to talk to her.”

Ollie did everything he could to hide his amusement. It was nice to see a softer side to the man though. “Well, what have you been talking about?”

Alfie furrowed his brows. “Just little things. Can’t really tell her that…” It was unbelievably frustrating for him. Dictating his emotions was something he didn’t do often.

“Sir,” His assistant smiled sympathetically. “You obviously like her. Maybe you should just tell her that.”

“Great, yeah, I’ll just tell her that.” Alfie rolled up the newspaper in his hand and used it to whack Ollie on the back of the head. “You thick? She’d fucking laugh at me.”

Ollie rubbed the back of his head and sighed. “Just trying to help, sir.”

“Just tryna help.” He muttered and stormed towards his office, leaving the young man behind him. “Fucking hell.”

Alfie had a feeling he would just run around in circles before he ever mustered up the courage, to be honest with Caroline. In fact, he was just waiting for the day she decided he wasn’t a man to waste time on. Maybe her aunt would tell her more about what he did. Her friends would warn her of the danger. Something he might say could push her away.

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

But the morning after he spoke to Ollie, she was there on the corner as usual. She smiled when she heard Alfie’s familiar shuffling gait approaching her.

“You’re late.” She informed him with an amused glint in her eyes.

“Late?” Alfie chuckled. “You think so?”

She reached out and he offered his arm to her. “Pilot and my aunt keep me on a pretty good schedule.”

“Wish Cyril would do that. But he likes to sleep in.” They began to walk their normal route, Pilot dutifully walking beside Caroline. Cyril’s tongue lolled out happily as he loped along.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t keep me too long.” Caroline smiled and tilted her head towards Alfie. “You’ve become one of the best parts of my morning.”

The simple sentence socked Alfie right in the gut. He suddenly felt thrilled and dumbfounded at the same time. “Really? Your morning’s that terrible?” He joked half-heartedly. He couldn’t believe that he would be the best thing or her morning.

“You sound surprised. Have I not made my feelings towards you clear?” She stopped walking for a moment.

Alfie paused and turned to face her. He gently touched her cheek and guided her eyes to his. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see him; she could feel him deeper than anyone else. “Tell me.” He coaxed softly. It was a relief to have her break the ice. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to muster the courage that she had.

Caroline smiled and shifted her hand from his arm and placed it on his wrist. “You’re the first person who doesn’t treat me like I’m…less of a person. When I’m with you, I don’t feel different.”

Alfie’s heart was hammering against his chest. “Nah, love, you’re different. You’re a good person, right, and that’s fucking rare, innit?”

She bit her lip and a blush formed on her cheeks. “Alfie…”

“You’re the best part of my morning too. I’m just sorry I can’t-” He frowned and withdrew his hand from her cheek. But she slipped her hand from his wrist and went to lace her fingers with his. He glanced at their entwined hands. “I can’t be the man you need.”

“What do you mean?”

Alfie wrestled with the part of him that wanted to protect her from himself and the part that was selfishly yearning for her. “Lotta things I’ve done that you should never have to know.”

Caroline didn’t look worried or even hurt. And she didn’t let go of his hand. “I’m not afraid of you, Alfie.”

He laughed anxiously and shook his head. “I’m terrified of you, love.”

“Me?” Her face scrunched up in surprised amusement. “Why in the world would you be afraid of me?”

“’Cause you’re everything I want but know I can’t ever have. Beautiful, intelligent, patient woman. Too good for my world, ain’t ya?” He went to slip his hand away from hers. But she relented and tightened her grip.

“Alfie, you’re so silly.” She smiled teasingly. “Would you please just stop doubting yourself? I know you’re a lovely man.” She turned and went to start walking again.

He followed her, stunned by her indifference towards the potential danger he posed to her. “You so sure ‘bout that?”

“Yes.”

When they approached the front of the bakery, Alfie seriously considered allowing himself to follow his desires. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Her coy look made him nearly lose his mind. How could such a perfect creature be drawn to him? “Don’t be late tomorrow.” She warned and let go of his hand.

“Could take you out to dinner or somethin’.” He offered hopefully.

“We’re Jewish, Alfie, you’ll have to meet my family first.” She called over her shoulder and let Pilot lead her down the sidewalk.

“Fucking hell.” Alfie couldn’t get the grin off his face.

Part 2

Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x oc #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ollie #cyril solomons #romance #blind character #oc #ofc

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