#all of this paired with an arm around me and a terminally sweet conversation with frank… I am ill thinking about it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bluejaysandblackbats · 10 months ago

Text

The Spin Out

Fandom: Batman, DC Comics

Summary: Jason Todd returns to Gotham after three years for the final time to win enough money to pay off Sheila's debts.

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Sheila Haywood, Original Character(s), Bruce Wayne

Relationships: Jason Todd/Original Character

Additional Tags: Street Racing AU, No Capes AU, Jason Todd-centric, Hurt Jason Todd, Bad Parent Sheila Haywood, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Organized Crime, Jason Todd has PTSD, Jason Todd has Trust Issues, Jason Todd is Not Okay, Good Person Jason Todd, Stalker Bruce Wayne, Family Issues, Secret Identities, Secrets, Angst

Chapter Two: Sick at Sea

Jason fell asleep as soon as he got settled on the boat. He kept his arms crossed tightly over his backpack as the ship rocked violently in the stirrings of a storm. His half-full stomach turned flips even as he slept. Having nightmares of Gotham and revving engines and fire. Hellfire. He sat up with a start, swallowing hard to stave off the urge to vomit. His bunkmate gave him the bucket. “Didn’t take you for the type to get seasick,” the man mumbled. Jason hunched over the bucket, breathing through his nose. “You shouldn’t fight it.” Jason nodded as he spit up in the bucket like a child.

“I don’t get seasick… I just—. The heat’s making me sick,” Jason muttered. His shirt clung to his chest.

“What does hell look like in your dreams?” the man questioned. Jason shut his eyes. “In my dreams, hell is an airport terminal, and it gradually gets hotter and hotter—.”

Jason dry heaved. “What are you talking about?” Jason interrupted.

“You talk in your sleep. You said something about hellfire. I wondered what that looked like for you in your—.”

“A burning building. It’s hot, and there’s no way out,” Jason panted, “Is it this hot outside?”

“Probably not,” the man replied. Jason slipped his backpack on his back and walked through the kitchen to stand outside.

The rain poured down on his head, cooling his body. “Hey, what’s your name?” the man asked. “I’m Paolo!”

“Michael!” Jason lied.

“Michael, what’re you gonna do once you get to Florida?”

“I’m headed towards Philly after that to borrow my friend’s bike,” Jason replied. He slicked his hair back with one hand and dumped the bucket in the ocean. “Since we’ll be on the boat for four days, I’ll let you know now. I don’t talk much.” Paolo nodded.

“Sorry—.”

“You’re not bothering me,” Jason clarified, “I’m just—. I don’t carry conversations well.”

“Okay, well, I hope you let me know when I start getting on your nerves,” Paolo half-joked.

“You’re not. I don’t mind the company,” Jason replied. The boat rocked, knocking Jason into the bow’s railing. He held on tight, chuckling at the pounding in his chest.

“Hey, Michael, we should probably go inside,” Paolo suggested. Jason nodded. Jason joined Paolo in the cabin and dried his hair. “How old are you?” Jason looked up, carefully studying the man’s expression.

“I’m eighteen,” Jason answered truthfully.

He changed out of his wet clothes and wrapped a towel around his waist. “You’re younger than you look,” Paolo replied, “Want a drink?”

Jason nodded, politely holding the flask above his head and pouring the contents into his mouth. He smiled at the sweet hints of vanilla and honey in the whiskey. “Thank you,” Jason replied.

“No problem. Keep it. I’ve got the bottle in my bag,” Paolo replied. Jason smiled, raising the flask to Paolo before taking another sip. “You’re not much of a drinker, are you?”

“I suppose I’m not,” Jason chuckled, “I try to take it easy.” He set the flask to the side as he went through his suitcase for a change of clothes.

He slipped on a pair of shorts and grabbed his journal. There were pictures and phrases on every page. A travel diary filled with all his thoughts, fears, and lessons. He flipped to the nearest empty page and started writing an entry. Writing helped him relax. “What’s there to eat on the boat?” Paolo asked.

“Not sure. I’m not hungry, but my mom made me a hefty lunch. You want it?” Jason offered.

Paolo nodded as Jason opened his lunch bag and passed him a sandwich. Jason locked his diary and zipped it in his bag. He hugged it as he lay in bed. “You’re sick, aren’t you?” Paolo asked. “Can you take an Advil?”

“I don’t usually—. I’ll sleep it off,” Jason whispered.

“Okay, Michael,” Paolo replied, “I’ll be quiet—.”

“You don’t have to. I don’t mind the noise. I sleep better with background noise,” Jason interrupted.

“Alright, then,” Paolo replied, “I hope you feel better soon.” Jason smiled, nodding as he shut his eyes. Sleep flooded in while Paolo hummed a tune.

Jason’s fever broke the night before they docked. Paolo kept watch over him, reading in a low whisper. “It isn’t raining anymore,” Jason mumbled. Paolo perked up, setting his book aside.

“You’re awake. I was worried you’d need a doctor,” Paolo smiled as he approached Jason’s bedside. “Do you want something to eat? The other guy made soup.”

“Uh-huh,” Jason replied, “Actually, let me—. I’m gonna get cleaned up.”

“Michael, I’ll grab you a bowl while you’re in there,” Paolo offered. Jason smiled and went to brush his teeth. When he returned, Paolo sat facing Jason on his bed, eating a bowl of soup. “My son is sick… This is my first time being away from him since he was born.”

Jason frowned. “Is it serious?” Jason questioned.

Paolo shrugged and forced a smile on his face. “I won’t know until I get home. I went to São Tomé to find his brother and talk to him. He’s my wife’s son, and I thought he’d come to see his brother if I invited him,” Paolo explained.

“He isn’t coming?” Jason asked. Paolo shook his head. Jason took a sip of the broth, clearing his throat as he thought of something reassuring to say. “Maybe he doesn’t feel like he can come home. Give him a call when you get home”

“You think it’ll make a difference?” Paolo asked. Jason nodded.

“It would if I were him,” Jason replied.

When the boat docked, Jason called his uncle, Jeremy, on the phone to tell him he’d be in Philidelphia in two days. “Jason, I can drive there and meet you. How ‘bout I put you up in a hotel until I get to you?” Jeremy offered. “The last time I saw you, you were in Ethiopia. You sound better. Do you feel better?”

Jason took a deep breath. “I do… Um—. Uncle Jeremy, you don’t have to go through all that trouble. You’re in Maine. That’s like a two-day drive—.”

“It’ll do us both some good. You stay there and check out the beach and have fun. I’ll come and get you,” Jeremy insisted. Jason smiled.

“Okay… Thanks, Uncle Jeremy. How’s Auntie Miranda?” Jason questioned.

“She’s good. Jason, I’ll text you which hotel and make the reservation for Michael. Right?” Jeremy asked.

“Yes, sir. Thank you,” Jason whispered. Jeremy adored Jason despite the circumstances of their first meeting. Jason was catatonic when they met. The ground felt shaky under Jason’s feet, and his mind raced a mile a minute. Jeremy swooped in as an imposing figure, wading through the thick fog to nurse Jason back to health. He sat with Jason every day, feeding him and speaking to him. Jeremy was intelligent, well-informed, and gentle. The slow and soft cadence of Jeremy’s voice carried him through weeks of nightmarish stillness. Along with Jeremy’s soft fingertips’ therapeutic application of hospital-issued shampoo. That was Jason’s favorite memory. Still, he felt so unsure when speaking to his uncle. Jeremy’s softness was often masked under his tattoos and orotund voice. He stood at six-six with wide shoulders and hands big enough to palm a watermelon. It was enough to intimidate Jason, even as a young adult.

“Jason, try to have fun in Miami,” Jeremy replied, “And don’t call me sir. I don’t even take myself that seriously.”

2 notes · View notes

txemrn · 2 years ago

Text

Dishonorably Disrobed

a TNA One-Shot

Book: The Nanny Affair, Book 3

Pairings: m!Sam Dalton x MC (Brynn Schuyler); m!Robin Flores x Sofia Russo; Mason Dalton Sr. x Vivian Dalton (lol)

Word Count: ~2500

Summary: This is a very loose canon origin story based out of Chapter 20 (the finale!); after the airline loses some important luggage, Best Man Robin does everything in his power to make sure the wedding day isn't ruined for the happy couple... although mix-ups do happen. May contain minor SPOILERS of the finale.

Warning: 🔞 Mature Audiences Only 🔞; language; crude humor about sex and anatomy; brief mention of otherwise illegal activity

AN: This is a submission for @choicesflashfics, using prompt #3: “That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?” The prompt will be in bold.

A/N 2: Gosh, I already miss TNA... and I miss writing for TNA! I might need to make that a resolution for 2023. 😋 This idea was born from several conversations with a few of my sweet nanny-loving friends... and our natural reactions to Sam's honeymoon "outfit" (pic of said outfit at the end). As always, the characters and some of the storyline are borrowed from our friends at Pixelberry. This is not pre-read or beta'd, so please forgive my errors!

~🖤~

"Ladies and gentlemen, as we start our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position…"

Ensuring that both of his twin sons were prepared for landing, Sam Dalton finds himself staring adoringly at his bride-to-be, who is already helping them buckle their seat belts.

"Is this going to be scary, Brynn?" Mason asks, his words drenched with concern.

"You've been on planes before, Mase," the former nanny slinks her fingers into his hand as he grips tightly.

"Yeah, but never this plane," he scrunches his eyebrows. "What if they land differently, or–or crash?"

"Buddy," Sam chimes in, "we're not going to crash. Plus Brynn and I are right here with you–"

"And they won't let anything happen to us," Mickey smiles, taking his brother's other hand.

"You know?" Brynn winks at Sam before turning her attention to her future stepsons. "That's a great idea, Mick; let's all hold hands."

As the young Dalton family hold each other tightly, the airplane begins to subtly quiver as it begins the descent.

"Are we there yet?" Mason whimpers.

"Almost," Brynn squeezes his hand.

With a final thud and a sudden lurch forward, the plane is finally safe on the tarmac, making its way to the proper terminal.

"Did you close your eyes, Mason?" Mickey asks.

"J-just for a second," his brother pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"I didn't," Mickey beams, "that's because I'm brave–"

Brynn wraps an arm around Mason. "I had to close my eyes, too," she grins. Turning her attention to Sam, "and I do believe your father closed his eyes for a minute."

"What?" The twins shout in unison, Brynn covering her amusement.

"I did not," Sam ruffles the boys' curly hair. "I was just… napping."

The boys bust out with joyous laughter as their father jokingly shifts his eyes, feigning embarrassment.

"But you know what, Mickey?" Brynn announces as everyone's snickers calm down. "You're right. You are brave, but," she pauses for a moment, draping an arm around Mason's shoulders, "so is this guy right here!"

"That's right!" Sam holds up his hand for a high-five from Mason. "You did it, buddy!"

Mickey twists his face before finally nodding in agreement. "Yeah, you're right." He playfully puts his brother in a headlock before continuing. "Good job, little bro!" He titters.

Suddenly the aircraft pulls to a gentle stop while a loud chime plays over the loudspeaker followed by the captain's voice.

"¡Bienvenidos, Puerto Vallarta, México!"

Sam smiles in excitement as he looks to his fiancée, then to his kids. "Who's ready for some fun?"

"Me!" The boys squeal together.

"Dalton family of four," Sam pulls out his phone, huddling everyone together for a selfie. "On the count of three, say, 'Wedding'! One… two… three!"

"WEDDING!"

------

Sam, Brynn and the twins are shuttled to the hotel where they are met outside by Robin.

"Hey there, best man," Brynn giggles, planting a chaste kiss on his stubbled cheek. "Have you and Sof already been sightseeing?"

Robin combs his fingers through his hair, offering a sympathetic grin. "Eh, not exactly."

Tipping the driver and waving him on, Sam turns his attention to his brother. "Something wrong?"

"Well," Robin collects a few pieces of luggage, corralling the family to head towards their rooms. "Yes and no–"

Sam and Brynn stop, giving each other nervous expressions.

"--but everything is fixable," he assures with a hopeful grin. "We just need to decide fast on what we are going to do."

"Oh, there you are!" Sofia walks up as she's ending a phone call, grazing her slender fingers against Robin's chest. "Good news. There are a few places down in the city that can expedite alterations for Saturday."

"Alterations?" Sam raises an eyebrow.

"Saturday? As in, for the wedding?" Brynn questions.

"Oh," Sofia clenches her teeth as she glances at Robin, "you haven't told them?"

"If you'd give me a chance, dear," he glares at the blonde before turning back to the engaged couple. "They lost Dad's bag."

"Oh no," Sam exclaims. "I guess he doesn't have his clothes then. Has he talked with the airlines?"

"He's practically been on the phone with them since we arrived last night," Sofia nods.

"But Sam," Robin sighs, "this wasn't a bag of Dad's clothes. It was the bag with all of the wedding day accessories for the guys."

"Accessories?"

Robin nods. "Remember? The vests, ties, suspenders, shoes–"

“What?” Brynn snaps. "Why did you pack them together?" Brynn tries to show restraint in her irritation.

"It sounded like a good idea at the time," Sam whispers, shrugging. "We figured... we would be less likely to lose something if everything just stayed together."

"Well, now you've lost everything!" Brynn bites back.

Okay, Brynn, that's a little melodramatic, don't you think? Take a breath.

She clears her throat, fixing a fake smile to her lips. "Please," she sighs, "just make this right."

------

Thursday and Friday came with no avail. Brynn was fairly upset about the situation, but Sam, Robin and Sofia made haste in finding replacements for everything while Jenny tried distracting her with various tourist outings.

Unfortunately, nothing matched the aesthetic; the originals were custom designed for this specific wedding. But, Brynn vowed a long time ago that she would never turn into a "bridezilla," and truthfully, she was grateful for everyone pitching in to make something work for her special day.

Luckily, Robin was able to work his magic charm, and around 2:30 on Saturday morning, he received a call that the luggage was found, and could be picked up from a claims center at a smaller airport just outside the city limits.

Several hours later, he was walking through the front doors of the resort with his father's luggage in tow. He was hoping to drop it off at the older Dalton's room before returning to his own for a small nap before the wedding.

As he waits for an elevator, he hears a familiar, husky voice.

"Son?"

Robin glances over to see his parents getting off a lift, hand-in-hand. Stepping towards them, he offers a tired, crooked smile before kissing his mother's cheek. "Hey, Pops, hey, Moma."

"Robbie," Vivian starts, "what are you doing up so--?"

Mason Sr. gasps. "Is that my missing luggage?" Robin brings it forward, showcasing it like a trophy. "Samuel and his nanny will be so excited to see that."

"Here, sweetie," Vivian grabs the bag, "we'll take this up to our room and have it all steamed, okay?"

"Really? You don't mind?"

"Not at all. I've got it." Vivian cups Robin's face, stroking his cheek with her thumb as she lowers her voice. "Now go get some sleep."

Robin appreciatively nods his head as he catches an elevator going up to his floor. He slinks into his room, completely exhausted from his all-night endeavor.

He shrugs off his clothes before sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling out his phone. He sends off a quick text to Sam.

Happy Wedding day... again. Left you a surprise in Mom & Dad's room for tonight.

Sending off the message, two lean arms suddenly slither around his shoulders, pawing at the hardened physique of his chest.

"About time, Mr. Flores," she purrs into his ear. "Did you get the bag?"

"Mhmm," he hums.

She sighs with content. “I'm so proud of you,” she breathes against his skin.

The corner of Robin's mouth curls as he tenderly grabs her dainty hands, pressing them to his heart. "Sof," he exhales. He lays his head onto her arm, inhaling deeply her sweet scent before peppering her arm with delicate kisses.

"C’mon," she giggles, "come to bed, baby.”

------

Several hours later, Sam hurries down to Robin's room to thank him for the strings he pulled to fix the wedding disaster. But, he was met with Sofia instead.

"He's still asleep, but I will make sure he's awake within the hour."

Sam nods, "Thanks, Sofia." He begins to turn on his heel, but stops himself, facing back for his ex-fiancée. "And thank you. For everything you've done to make today special."

Sofia raises her perfectly plucked eye before fixing a cheshire grin to her face. "Don't go soft on me now… Boo Bear," she sardonically chuckles, crossing her arms as she walks back into her room.

Sam snickers under his breath, shaking his head.

"Oh!" She stops the door from closing behind her. "Robin got you a special present for–" she clears her throat, "--tonight. It was something in that bag. I just thought I'd remind you to grab it. No telling what it is with his buffoonery."

"Oh, yeah," Sam nods, "he mentioned it in his text. I'll grab it." He begins to head down the corridor. "See you in a bit."

------

With his parents away, getting pampered with massages before the ceremony, Sam was given badge access to their room.

He slides open their closet door, and relief fills his heart. Hanging up and perfectly pressed are his and Robin's vests, their ties along with the boys' suits and accessories. He also found his shoes, perfectly polished.

Overjoyed, he shoots Jenny a text message to let Brynn know that everything is perfect.

He begins to collect all of the items when he remembers Robin's gift.

Where is it? Would it be wrapped?

Sam glances cautiously around the room. He checks the closet again, discovering only one thing left inside, hanging up towards the back.

Did he get me something to wear?

The satin garment is pearlesque white with a very nuptial vibe. Sam pulls it off the rack and instantly feels the intricate detailing of embroidery on the lapels.

It's a robe.

But for me?

He takes off his shirt, and slips it on, instantly charmed with the soft-feel against his skin.

This is nice–like, really nice.

He steps in front of a floor-length mirror, taking in the sight. It was shorter than a typical men's housecoat, hitting him on his upper thigh with three-quarter length, kimono-style sleeves with more filigree stitching. He cinches the robe together, giving himself a good look-over. Chuckling to himself, he starts dancing, swaying his hips back and forth before finger-gunning his reflection.

He notices the garment has pockets, one of which seems to have a matching pair of boxers hidden inside. He holds them up, curiously flipping them back and forth.

These look awfully small. Where does… everything even go?

Removing the robe all together, Sam is very much touched by the sentiments and appreciates his stylish brother wanting to make his wedding night more special.

He pulls out his phone and texts Robin.

Tonight is going to be even more special. Thanks.

------

The wedding went off without a hitch. It was beautiful, elegant and romantic, like something out of a fairy tale. The bride was exquisite, and the groom was completely enamored, unable to take his eyes off of his beloved.

Early the next morning, Robin and Sofia walk hand-in-hand down the main hallway when suddenly, Sam's door opens.

"Oh!" Sam exclaims, adjusting his embroidered satin robe upon seeing them. "Hey, you two." He places his arm on the doorframe, leaning against it casually with a smirk.

Sofia presses her lips together, stifling her laughter as Robin's face contorts with pain.

Suddenly feeling insecure, Sam lowers his arm, pulling the lapels closer together to cover his chest. He clears his throat, "Everything… okay?"

"Sam," Robin leans in, lowering his voice. "The fuck are you wearing, bro?"

“Wh–what do you mean?” Sam's large chestnut eyes dart back and forth between his brother and his ex-fiancée. "The robe?… am I not wearing it right?"

"Uh, you could say that. You shouldn't be wearing it at all." Robin covers his mouth as he stares at Sam's appearance. "And she still fucked you? Wearing this?"

"Stop it, Robin," Sofia slaps his shoulder, turning her attention back to Sam. "Men wearing women's lingerie is a very common kink," she winks.

"Oh, but this?" Sam looks down at the robe. "This isn't women's lingerie–"

"Oh, Sam," she condescendingly snickers, "yes, it very much is. I actually have it in red. And those?" She briefly glances down at his tight underwear. "Definitely women's boyshorts." She leans in closely, lowering her voice. "By the way, your meat and two veg are hanging out."

Horrified, Sam instantly pulls the material right around his hips, covering the front of his pelvis. "Robin!" He huffs. "Why did you even get this for me?"

"Me?" Robin blows a raspberry with his lips. "I actually have taste outside of my mouth, Sammy. I would never buy that for myself... or any other man, for that matter."

"You said you got me a surprise for my wedding night!"

Robin nods. "Right?"

"I even texted you about it, thanking you–"

Robin scoffs. "You were thanking me, your brother, for women's lingerie for you to wear… on your wedding night?"

"Well…"

"What part about that seems normal, Sam?" Robin interrupts.

"Jesus, I have not had enough coffee for this," Sofia mumbles.

"So then… what was my gift?"

"Dude," Robin crosses his arms, "we're in fucking Mexico. I got you some fun shit: 150-proof tequila, some psychedelics, and–" he slaps his brother on the back, "El Rápido pills."

"El Rápido pills?"

"Yeah, you know," Robin rolls his eyes. "They give you the most powerful erection ever known to man--I swear your dick grows, like, two inches. You could probably give a black eye with that thing alone." He winks, clicking his tongue. "But the orgasms... Shit, you could literally shoot a rocket to the moon–"

"It is pretty amazing," Sofia chimes in nonchalantly, picking at her nails.

"Well," Sam looks at the floor in confusion, "if I'm wearing a woman's robe and panties, I wonder if anyone opened your actual gift–"

"Boys!"

All of their heads abruptly turn to see Vivian Dalton slowly making her way down the long hallway. She waddles carefully, stutter-stepping and occasionally having to stop with a brief wince of discomfort flashing across her face.

"Mom?" Sam calls out.

"Are you okay?" Robin steps forward, taking her by the arm to steady her gait.

"I'm fine," she wiggles in uncertainty. "Your father however…um, well," she sighs, her voice falling quiet, "we need to go to the ER."

"What?" Sam exclaims.

"Why?" Sofia's eyes grow wide.

"I think your father… took something."

"Took something… like what?" Robin inquires.

Vivian takes a deep breath, looking her children in their eyes. "Now, you boys are grown adults… and you should know that your father and I still love each other very, very much. And we like to express that love physically –"

"Stop," Sofia cringes. "Why is all of this happening before coffee?"

Robin and Sam look at each other puzzled.

And then it hits them.

"Shit…"

"El Rápido pills…"

"Your father, well, he's had… quite the appetite." She shifts her weight, her face flinching from an unseen ache.

"And now, his, um, appetite doesn't seem to want to… go away," she nervously chuckles.

"Goddamnit, Robin…" Sam mutters, glaring at his brother. "I swear–"

"Um, Samuel dear?" Vivian interrupts the banter. "Why are you wearing my robe? And are those… my unmentionables?"

~🖤~

Tags (list updates 9/26; if you would like to be added or removed, please let me know!):

PERMA

@21-wishes @alj4890 @ao719 @charlotteg234 @issabees @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam

ALL TNA

@annfg8 @bisexualdisasteracd @rookiemartin @sfb123

24 notes · View notes

brooklynislandgirl · 1 year ago

Note

What’s your favourite place to be kissed?

What’s your dirtiest sexual fantasy?

What was your most embarrassing sexual experience?

Where on your body is your favourite place to be touched?

Are you rough or romantic during sex?

To Add a Little Spice || Accepting

I. The night finds them enjoying ~as much as being out in public is joyful, turns out her mysterious Government Man is as much of a homebody as she tends to be~ a quiet pair of cocktails in a dimly lit little restaurant that anyone with half a brain could tell was some sort of lush, shadowy bit of romance. Quiet conversation is had and from her adoring vantage, the question doesn't come as a surprise. If anything, she finds it even more endearing that he ask rather than presume. Her Mr. Mallory is, in fact, a gentle man. One hand rises slowly from the stem of her glass. Her nails are near the same shade of deep red as the wine she'd been sipping, the same shade as the matte stain on her lips. She finds her way to the bare expanse of her neck and dreamily strokes the length so very close to her jugular. "Heah," she says in a half tone above her whisper. "I should like to t'ink. Not only can ya feel a heart's beat like sea's tide, but dere's an expression of trust, of vulnerability dere I don' t'ink you can find anywhere else." A glimpse of her tongue can be seen as she moistens her lips. "Can I guess yours would be...a fleetin' brush of lips at a train-platform, rain all da background music dat can be heard before you're rushin' off in uniform?" ~*~ II. "...came home at night her long, thin arms would emerge from beneath the covers and twine around his neck; after making him sit down on the edge of the bed, she would begin to tell him of her woes: he was neglecting her, he was in love with another woman! She should have listened when people warned her she'd be unhappy! And then she would end by asking him for some kind of tonic to make her feel better, and a little more love..." Beth read aloud in her most polished Haole tongue. The flow meandered like a winter-clad river, slow and somewhat sluggish, especially over certain sounds. When Gareth brushed the hair back from her face and offered her a sweet sort of smileless expression, she placed the marking ribbon between the pages and set it down. When he asked her what she might dream about, something like this or something more explicit, she was first a little bemused. He doesn't seem quite the type. "I don' know if I could say it's dirty...but first, I'd love t'...be so in love I could actually...be wi' someone like dat. An' of course mebbe..feelin' ya movin' deep inside me, a hand 'round my t'roat...an ya whisper in my ear...."

She doesn't actually say what the whisper might be as she suffuses in colour to rival a sunset and shakes her head, a giggle full of nervous butterflies. ~*~ III. "So in my firs' year of residency," she says quietly, not daring looking him in the eye, "I was presentin' a paper about endoscopic neurosurgical techniques dat I'd worked so hard on wi' my mentor. He'd been my instructor in med school, and we'd matched for residency. We were almos' telepat'ically linked we work so well togeddah. I've kept a journal since I was young, an'...an I may have written down a fantasy I had about him. In detail." She loses a little complexion, becoming paler before him, and she hangs her head as if she's reliving the moment. "One of da oddah brand new doctahs t'ought it was funny to make slides of dat journal entry ~an' t' dis day, I dunno who, an' I dunno how dey found it~ an' spliced it into my presentation. I couldn't understan' da laughter, the sudden roar of whispers, pointin' an' pictures snapping...Less dan an hour later, I'd submitted my lettah of resignation, an' had paid da bursar da fee for terminating my contract. Hardest part was to walk into his office...my mentor...an' tell him goodbye." That joke ended her career before it began, ended one of the greatest friendships in her life. She's never quite recovered. Oh, sure, she finally finished residency but it wasn't what she expected. "So embarrassing? Yeah, you could say dat. An' I t'ink, if you wouldn't mind, I'd raddah talk about anyt'ing else." ~*~ IV. One hand at her hip. The knuckles of the other trail along the curvature of her collarbones. So close that the heat from his body can be felt in her face down to her toes. Gareth on her doorstep was not expected but his company is appreciated. She had wanted to ask what was wrong but before she could, he's all full-steam ahead, shepherding her small frame back into her foyer. Words didn't seem to matter so much. Not in the wake of that kiss. Good senses return enough to close her door. In London she doesn't have the same household staff that she does at the castle. Between kisses ~sharp teeth on both sides, soft moans and harsher raspy breaths~ a question it takes her minutes to answer. "Anywheah," she whispers against his mouth. "Try an' find out wi' me." ~*~ V. The way her tongue trails across the points of his teeth, her nails graze his neck as they intend to scale him to become lost in his hair, it would be easy to imagine her a wild sea storm battering his shore. But that bone-melting little moan she sighs into that kiss, the way her lashes flutter when they finally come up for air, soft skin and sweet scent that rises from it, might go the other way. Beth is a woman of contradictions. Nimble, she uses the tight space between them to reach up and take hold of his tie. As surely as she can tie-off a stitch, she's easing the knot from the patterned silk.

#dontcxckitup #Leads A Life of Danger|Gareth Mallory #Beware of Pretty Faces|Gareth and Beth #London Calling|007au #Lost in Translation || N S F W

2 notes · View notes

usedpidemo · 3 years ago

Text

Shot in the night (Blackpink Rosé)

As you grab a subway card from the dispenser, you bump into someone right when you turn around. The sudden collision causes both cards to drop to the ground.

“Oh shit, my bad,” you blurt out impulsively. You hastily reach to pick up your card, but right as you grab one of the cards, another hand meets yours at the opposite end. Both you and the stranger take the card simultaneously until your eyes meet. Turns out it’s a girl that you ran into.

“Is this your card?” she asks.

“No, I’m pretty sure this is yours,” you reply back.

“I don’t think so.”

“I think this is your card, mine is still on the floor.”

“Definitely not. You should take it.”

While you both contend whose card belonged to whom, you can’t help but awkwardly smile at the girl. She had a melodic voice and cute features. She notices your facial reaction and giggles. Neither of you minded the small queue piling up in the ticket dispenser. Seeing this, she grabs the other card left on the floor and hands it over to you. Even as you take it from her, your gaze never departs from hers.

“We should probably leave now,” you say as you peep at the line of slightly irritated travelers ahead of you. The girl flashes a wide grin as you both retrieve your respective cards and head downstairs to catch the next train.

Something about this girl has your stream of thought in a frenzy. She’s caught your heart unknowingly, and you hope you’d break the ice and start small talk with her. Before you’re able to muster up the confidence, she leaves you behind and disappears into the endless crowd of moving bodies. Perhaps that was it. A random, innocent encounter with someone you'd most likely never think about again.

Once the next train arrives, you step onboard and take a seat between a pair of random people. Like that girl, as you move from station to station, people from all walks of life come and go without a second glance. They all have somewhere to go and so do you, even late into the night.

Much like those same people, you mind your own business with your head down and eyes glued to your phone. It’s all routine to you at this point.

Several stops later, a familiar voice catches your attention. “Hey there. It’s you again.”

Look up and behold, the girl you met in front of the ticket dispenser is seated beside you. Her right arm leans into the seat and her eyes have an intent gaze. The same feelings you had are building up in your chest again.

“Hi, I didn’t realize you were traveling in the same station as me.” Each word comes out of your mouth awkwardly.

“You’re so cute.” Her compliment combined with that sweet voice makes your heart flutter. Before you know it, your cheeks are rosy.

“What’s your name?” you ask, still nervous.

“Park Chaeyoung.”

“Nice to meet you, Chaeyoung.” This time, you can feel your voice grow slightly more confident.

A voice from the speaker interrupts your conversation. “Next stop: Station 45. Please take the Blue lane for Stations 51-68.”

“Oh, this is where I swap stations then,” you say while standing up. “I hope we can see each other again sometime.”

As the train reaches its next destination, you line up in front of the doors, ready to leave. Little do you know Chaeyoung is inches behind you. The panels flip open, and a sea of bodies enter the train. After you let them pass, you make your leave. Take a flight of stairs up, then walk past several terminals until you reach the Blue lane. She’s quietly following along without drawing your attention.

The next train arrives at the station shortly after. A few more stations and you’ll be home. With tired thoughts, you enter and take a seat. Chaeyoung takes the one beside you again.

“Same station, huh?” you ask as she sits on your left.

“Yep.”

Once the train starts rolling, she starts to speak. “So tell me, what’s your job? What do you do?”

As much as you want to entertain her, you’re exhausted. “It’s very boring stuff. You’d melt in your chair of boredom if I I told you that.”

“C’mon, don’t be shy. It’s okay, I’m more than willing to listen,” she answers in a singsong tone.

Sigh. She’s quite persistent. Maybe if you reply with something average, she’ll leave you alone.

“It’s just office work. And I mean, a typical nine-to-five. What else did you expect?”

“I see. And what exactly do you do?”

Roll your eyes. She’s becoming a little too intrusive. But you can’t really be frustrated at her, especially with how nice she asked, and with those cute eyes, beaming with anticipation every time you open your mouth.

“Lots of paperwork. I go around the place meeting men in suits and sign a bunch of shit that I can barely understand. Is that good enough of a job description?”

Chaeyoung laughs. “You’re a little hilarious. Yeah, that’s quite a job description, all right.” Awkward silence fills the space between you for a little, but then: “What a dull job you have.”

“Hey, I did say what else did you expect!” Your angry reaction gets another laugh from Chaeyoung.

“Oh man. You really are adorable, aren’t you?” She leans back into her seat with her right leg raised on her opposite leg. “I really like you.”

As soon as she says that, your cheeks blush brighter than the sun. Maybe, just maybe, you really like her too. It’s not often that someone, especially a woman like her, comes in to spice up your dull, everyday life.

Now it’s your turn to ask. “Mind if I ask what you do as well? It’s only fair for me to ask.”

She meets your question with a head shake. “Nope.”

“What do you mean no? I told you my job, it’s only right I know yours!”

“Won’t tell ya.” Chaeyoung gives you a taunting, mocking smirk with crossed arms. She’s frustrating as she is charming to talk to.

“Are you fucking serious? You’re really getting on my nerves.”

“Been called way worse than that.”

Sigh again. Chaeyoung’s pushing your patience to its absolute limits. You’re certain she’s trying to bait you into doing something you’ll end up regretting. From that point, you shut your mouth and turn away from her. Lovely as she looks, her personality’s a different entity altogether.

As the train stops and goes along, you can’t help but give occasional glances at her. She’s too quirky for you to refuse to play along. And she knows it too, by the way she lightly smirks whenever you look at her. Those confident features are imprinted on your mind.

Two stations left. In the middle of the quietness, she finally speaks up. “I sing. There.”

The answer you’ve sought for isn’t really enough. Turn and look at her again. “You sing?” She nods.

“Where? Like a bar singer, or a busker? You look too beautiful to be singing in the streets.”

“Yeah, well, I really can’t tell you that. Sorry.”

At first, you were annoyed that she refused to answer again. But the somber tone in her voice tells you that it’s a deeply personal secret. You’re uncertain whether to pry into her or leave it at that.

“I hope you don’t mind if I ask, but what exactly do you mean you sing?”

She sits upright in her seat then pushes you closer to her ear. “Don’t ever tell anyone, but I am quite popular in places.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Chaeyoung whispers in your ear as quietly as possible. “You know what an idol is, right?” Shake your head.

“You really don’t know what an idol is?” She tries to confirm if you really don’t know. You really had no knowledge, so you shake your head again.

“Sorry, I only know American Idol, but that’s pretty much it. Did you join that show?” You mumble in her neck.

“Oh, not that idol. I mean like, I sing and dance and perform for large crowds and they look up to me as a good figure. That idol.”

You weren’t sure how to reply to that. Before you can think of an appropriate response, a voice announces over the speakers. “Next stop: Station 68. This is the last station in the Blue lane. Thank you for riding with us!”

Remembering that this is where you leave, you draw away from her and stand up. “It’s been fun, but this is where I live. Hope to see you around, Chaeyoung.”

Chaeyoung could only raise her hand slightly and wave in response. Even as the train approaches its final stop, you look back at her and she remains glued to her seat, as if refusing to leave. You spot that her mostly joyous look has turned to a moderate frown. Regardless, you have somewhere to be, and get off.

As you approach the subway exit, you hear footsteps growing louder by the second.

“Wait!”

Stop in your tracks and turn around. Chaeyoung somehow caught up to you and once she’s reached you, rests her hands on her knees. She gasps for air as she takes a minute to recover from that pursuit.

“I never realized, but this was your ticket actually. I’m sorry.” She slips a red card from her coat pocket and extends it out to you.

“Then you’re saying that I—”

“Yeah.” She continues to huff and puff for oxygen while she still has her arm stretched out. “I actually took yours by accident. I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine,” is your reply while you take your actual card and replace it with the card in your pocket. “Is that everything you wanted to tell me?”

“Yeah, have a good night.” Chaeyoung happily waves goodbye and takes her card into her coat.

“Goodnight then.” With that, you turn away and head home.

Right as you walk a few steps, you feel something take your hand. Look back and it’s Chaeyoung again, her hand intertwined with yours.

“What now?” you ask.

Her eyes sparkle as they meet with yours. “Can you take me back to your place?”

—————

“This place isn’t bad at all,” she says as she looks around your apartment. “Guess that boring job of yours has some benefits.”

“Sorry if it looks like a mess, I haven’t had time to clean up around here.” You open up the lights to your bedroom. Take your suit and coat off, leaving only a white undershirt. After you open the television, you dive into your couch and reopen a partially consumed pack of chips. “But yeah, if you need anything, let me know.”

“I hope you don’t mind that I use your bathroom.”

“Go ahead.”

Half an hour passed and you’re getting too invested in the basketball game. Since then, you’ve grabbed a can of beer and opened another pack of chips. You intently watch while you down on your second round of junk food. Right as a foul is called, your new acquaintance and guest emerges from the bathroom.

“Look over here.”

Your attention is diverted away from the screen and unknowingly your jaw drops in shock. Chaeyoung stands in front of the door with her leg crossed, only in a white shirt and most of her pale skin exposed except for the shorts that were concealed under her massive coat the whole time.

“Holy fucking shit,” impulsively comes out of your mouth. You weren’t sure if it’s the alcohol you drank kicking in or that your heart skipped a beat when you saw how hot she was. Is this another one of her tricks to play you again?

She struts from the door to the screen, all while your gaze never leaves her legs.

“Okay, that’s great, but, uh, there’s a game on right now. Mind if you move out of the way, please?” You try to feign ignorance, but she doesn’t take you seriously. Chaeyoung leans back against the television, making sure the only thing your eyes are focused on are her and nothing else.

It’s clear she wants to bait you into an action you’ll wind up regretting. Who cares, right?

“You’ll have to make me.”

That’s more than enough to get you off that couch. Approach her and size her up as she coyly avoids eye contact with you. Beneath that sweet face are passionate, lewd intentions. Her fingers sneak around and clasp the hem of your undershirt, playfully tugging at the fabric ever so slightly. Your stare remains fixated on her features while she tiptoes around you, away from the screen and towards the bed. One little step at a time she lures you until you’re both on the edge; she’s just begging you to push her onto it. No words, just follow what she wants.

Her slender figure crashes onto the mattress with a slight bounce. Right as you’re about to join her, her feet get in the way and stop you in your tracks.

“Ah ah.” Chaeyoung kicks her feet up, implying what you should do.

This is where you should lose it and quit, but you don’t. You’re not really yourself right now, and you know this. So does she.

Grab her feet and peck her toes. Left to right you shower her delicate thumbs with soft yet wet kisses. She’s tickled by your lips and throws her head back with peppy giggles. Despite the sensitiveness of her soles, she manages to grab the remote beside her and changes the channel. What a coincidence that her face is also on the screen. A music video starring her. You’re too engrossed in entertaining her to look back.

“Is this enough?” You ask with a slight gruff. She barely tilts her head up to face you. Another chuckle escapes her breath when you peck her feet again.

“N-not yet. You’re so good—a-ah!”

Chaeyoung yelps as you hear her unsatisfied with your work. The kisses come at a quicker and sloppier pace this time. She releases the remote from her grip as she begins to quiver and buckle under your passion. Your hands trace their way up her thighs, cupping her soft, thick flesh. Throughout all this, your disgust and annoyance is slowly replaced with thirst and hunger for her slim, sexy body.

Her fingers claw at your sheets, desperate to keep herself in control, but it’s becoming overwhelming to endure. She can’t help but groan and moan, a more than welcome sound that pleases your ears. Kiss up to her thighs and fill both of her legs with your spit. Your hands clasp at her shorts, but you struggle to pull them off her.

An unwelcome ringing noise interrupts the action. A beam of light flashes briefly in her shorts’ left pocket. Her phone. Chaeyoung sits up then whips it out while she makes a gesture at you. “Did I tell you to stop? I never said stop!”

With that, you continue to kiss her as she immediately falls back into the bed. While she answers her phone, you wrestle with the buttons and zipper of her bottoms.

“Hello?” she speaks into the phone with a singsong tone. She tries not to budge as you continue to pour kisses on her silky legs, but she can’t help but tremble and shake frantically. “I’m sorry I’m not there tonight, I was getting bored and—aaah!”

After a little effort, you tug her shorts down. Her underwear shortly follows. Chaeyoung does her best not to acknowledge you but you’re becoming more of a distraction with each passing moment. You couldn’t care any less about the person on the other side.

“Tomorrow? We can’t leave yet—aaaah!”

She suddenly yelps with a high-pitched inflection as your tongue darts around her sensitive nub. Poke and nudge at her clit repeatedly in random directions. Even as her body buckles under the overflow of pleasure, she manages to keep her phone in her hand steady. Ignore that the caller’s asking what’s happened to her—they’re but a mild inconvenience.

“Wh-where am I? I’ll be on my way back to the hotel—oh god!” Chaeyoung continues to yell into the phone. Not an ideal cover up. Her tight frame quivers as you lick and swirl her nub while your hands palm and squeeze her thighs. She releases her phone from her grip and can’t hold herself back any longer. Neither of you notice that the call ended. It’s all good since you can have her all to yourself again.

She spasms and reaches her climax. Her eyes go completely shut. Waves of slick and wet juices gush out and you lap it all up. Every last drop.

As she gasps for air, you take the opportunity to lift her white shirt off and toss it aside. Afterward, you reach towards the back of her black bra and unclasp it. Your own clothes come off too; first is your undershirt, then the belt, and finally your slacks and boxers. Still recovering from her orgasm, you grab her by the waist and lift her back into the bathroom.

Put her down in front of the mirror. Her legs wobble as she needs to grip on the sink to keep herself stable. Kiss the back of her neck softly.

“God you’re so fucking beautiful. Tell me, who was that on the phone with you?” you whisper huskily in her ear. Kiss her nape again.

“It’s…it’s…” Chaeyoung’s overwhelmed by pleasure to say another word. Even her stutter sounds so attractive.

You line your stiff shaft between her thighs. Her mouth gradually makes an ‘O’ shape as your full length makes itself at home with her legs. Your hand intertwines with hers once more as you give her another kiss on her neck.

Slowly you thrust between her thighs at a snail’s pace. Both of you let out quiet groans as your cock drives between her creamy legs. You wrap Chaeyoung in a huge embrace. A tranquil moment after the intense session. Between moans you gnaw at her collarbone and shoulder while her whines become melodic hums and whimpers. The sight of Chaeyoung’s happiness in the mirror arouses you even more.

“Was that a manager? Mm, fuck, your skin feels so delicious.” You mumble into her neck, sending chills down her spine.

“Yes…fuck, I need that in me so damn bad.”

Your ears twitch when they hear Chaeyoung beg for your cock in her. After all that teasing, she’s now a vulnerable, needy mess. You won’t give it to her that easily.

With a husky tone, you answer, “Not until I get what I want.”

As you finish speaking into her ear, you steadily increase your tempo between her thighs. Your eyes also slam shut as you tighten your hold of her slim body. You had no intention to let her go. Chaeyoung doesn’t seem to mind either. She sinks deeper into your embrace as you pump yourself into the high you wanted.

It doesn’t take long before you hit that climax too. Even though it felt like eternity, you end up orgasming within minutes. With a deep groan you fill her creamy legs with a blast of your seed. Your hands clasp even harder on her soft flesh as the aftermath of your peak causes you to shiver and vibrate uncontrollably. You temporarily rest your head on her shoulder after the orgasm.

“Please. I need that inside me, please.” Her tender voice urges you to power on. As exhausted as you were, there was still one more place left to fill.

You lead her hand down your shaft to stroke it back to hardness. Once it’s done, you pin it on the sink again. From behind, you slowly impale yourself into her to the hilt, eliciting another long, collective groan.

Absent-mindedly you pump her to the brim, stretching her velvety walls thin. Between the orgasm and the fact that you’ve had a long day, you had no consideration for her comfort. Only fuck her. That’s your only thought.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s so deep. Yes.”

Chaeyoung has seemingly gone quiet and subdued. No longer was she the teasing or high-spirited woman you’ve met on that train, but a completely different person. A wanton, loose mess. Her moans wavered, but your thrusts strengthened and intensified. Your hand pulls on one of the blonde braids of hair that elicits a brief yelp from her mouth.

You can feel yourself on the verge of staggering, but it’s just the dizziness of alcohol and fatigue. Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for you to finish a second time.

Another powerful wave of cum fills her up, this time in her womb. You spasm and cling to her for dear life, as if letting go were the end of you. The aftershocks leave you completely drained. As you ride down your climax, the room goes nearly silent. Deep breaths occupy the space left by your groans.

“Thank you.” Chaeyoung can barely get her words out, almost like they’re air. From that point, everything goes completely black.

—————

When you regain consciousness, you’re laying in bed. The sun is peeking through the windows of the apartment and the television is still on. Chaeyoung is nowhere to be found, as you expected. Rub your head from a seemingly sore migraine. Put on a bathrobe then look around the place, but she’s completely gone. Not a single trace of her. And maybe that’s just that. A small presence in your life that will be lost in your memories.

Afterward, your monotonous cycle goes on. She was an anomaly that temporarily spiced up your life. At least that’s what you thought.

Months later, on a familiar night ride home, you bump into a figure at a ticket dispenser.

“Sorry, my bad—” you reach for your dropped card but your hand is greeted by another on the opposite end. As you look up, your eyes sparkle for the first time in a while.

Her.

(A/N: Happy new year! I've had lurking thoughts of these deleted pics for quite some time now, and this ended up a lot less intimate than I thought. Hoped you liked them, anyway! With that said, something interesting is happening very soon, so be on the lookout!)

#kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #smut #male reader #reader insert #blackpink #rosé #park chaeyoung #blackpink smut

698 notes · View notes

some-kindofgnome · 4 years ago

Text

tastes so bitter (tastes so sweet)

You’re driving back from an out-of-town mission with Hawks when your car breaks down on a very sparsely-populated highway. While you await relief, things get... personal.

characters: takami keigo (hawks) x f!reader

word count: 7.1k

warnings: smut (18+ please!), car sex, pro hero!reader, angst, emotionally unavailable hawks

notes: ta-dah!!! the car sex fic! this turned out way longer and way more feelsy than I ever intended it to be. but I’m grateful for the chance to show you how I play with plot and emotion as well as some good porn. porn with feelings, y’know?

EDIT: The supremely talented @la-saffron has created an absolutely spectacular piece of artwork for this fic! Please go and look at it right here, it’s really quite splendid

Masterlist

The shadowy trees on either side of the highway cast a chill across the pavement as the sky went dark.

It was far from sunset, but the woods were so tall and thick that the light had disappeared from the road a long time ago. The overpriced navigation system laid into the dashboard of Hawks’ luxurious car was no help at all; not when you were taking the only road for miles around.

The highway narrowly passed for two lanes, winding precariously down from the mountains. Dotted with reflective yellow signs- deer crossing, bear crossing, creatures-of-unimaginable-horror crossing. Bigfoot himself could have wandered into your headlights and you barely would’ve flinched.

But that was to be expected, given where you’d come from.

That day’s mission brought you both far, far away from the city. There was a national forest about three hours away- one of the biggest in the country- and you and Hawks had been called in at the crack of fucking dawn to drive all the way out to the woods and investigate some ‘strange reports,’ as the rangers cared to call them.

Most park rangers knew what they were seeing when guests came in from the woods reporting abnormal happenings. Nobody was truly immune to fear, though, when faced with the impossible.

Whether there were paranormal creatures lurking in those woods or not, you couldn’t have been sure. But after spending the day exhausting both your quirks combing every spare inch of those woods, you were relieved of your overnight duties by a group of other, more nature-savvy heroes.

Hawks had been miffed, but too exhausted to argue. He didn’t like to think he’d been overshadowed. You were just thankful to be going home to your own bed.

“Okay,” you sighed, nursing the last of a lukewarm soda from a burger joint at the edge of the only one-horse town you’d passed through. It was a pretty unassuming stop for dinner, but you and Hawks both agreed that the burgers were way too good to be sold to so few patrons.

Keigo was driving, with one palm splayed lazily across the bottom edge of the wheel. His scarlet wings stretched into the backseat, draping over the shoulders of his black leather backrest like some bizarre kind of seat cover.

The fact that his car was so luxurious was not lost on you- although you were more surprised to find out that he had one at all. Hawks seemed like the last person in the world to need a car, after living in a fantastic downtown penthouse. And owning a pair of wings, come to think of it.

He owned it because he could. And because he knew how good he looked in the driver’s seat.

“What?” He turned a curious eye toward you, though he never quite pulled his gaze from the road.

“I know we started this conversation on the way here,” you began, “but… we never exactly finished it.” You swirled what was left of the ice chips in the bottom of your cup, considering the best way to voice your thoughts.

“Alright.” He sounded vaguely amused, slouching a little further down and drawing an idle palm over his feathered hair. “Shoot.”

“Well…” You trailed off. “You’re kind of… a city guy.” You were already starting to talk with your hands. The racket coming from your half-drunk soda was proof enough.

“What makes you say that?”

“You are,” you defended. You let a playful edge creep into your tone. “And the agency’s kind of a city thing.”

“Am I really as one-note as you’re making me out to be?” He was chuckling. Your cheeks were going hot. You weren’t sure how this became a personal conversation, but you were determined to steer it in the proper direction. You course corrected.

“I just mean, we don’t take a lot of jobs outside the city. Like… ever. So, what’s with this one? Why this call?”

He didn’t answer right away. When you glanced across the car, he was licking his lips and appearing to be, very genuinely, thinking.

“Well,” he began. There was an immensely appealing depth that wore around the edges of his voice when he was deep in thought. You hung on tightly, trying your best to hide how intently you listened.

“I was just… bored, I guess.” He gave a lazy little shrug. His eyes were still trained on the windshield, but you could feel the weight of his urges. He wanted to look over. You turned your head, willing him to.

“Probably sounded like bullshit, now that I think about it,” he confessed, “but if there really was somethin’ freaky in those woods… I dunno. I wanted to see it.”

You resisted the urge to snort.

“Maybe you should start a ghost hunting branch at the agency.”

“Aw, c’mon,” he protested. This time, he really did drag his eyes away from the road for a second. They glinted playfully in the dark. You got a flash of pearly canine from the barest hint of a grin, but it was enough to put a stupid smile right across your face.

A sickening thud from beneath the hood zapped any false confidence you’d been building. There was a dull pop, then the engine died.

“What the- shit.” Hawks scrambled to put both hands on the wheel, navigating the car with what momentum remained over to the narrow shoulder. The tires hit gravel and soft mud, rolling pathetically to a stop and settling in damp silence.

“What the hell was that?” You leaned over the dashboard as your pulse came down from near-terminal velocity. There were half a dozen lights blinking away on the dashboard- symbols you couldn’t understand.

“Not sure.” Keigo was doing his best not to sound too perturbed. As a result, he was just perturbed enough.

You knew what those lights implied, though. Service due. Oil change due. Battery maintenance due.

“Jesus Christ,” you hissed, “when was the last time you took this car in for service? It’s a miracle you even made it out of the goddamn garage.”

Hawks was in the process of mashing the engine start button like an arcade game. When you spoke up, he pushed it down and held. The engine gave a dull, sad sort of sputter, but nothing roared to life.

“Look, look,” he dismissed, waving a hand in your direction as he unbuckled his seatbelt. “I don’t drive this thing that often, okay? I’m gonna go check under the hood.”

He climbed out of the driver’s side and slammed the door before giving you the chance to remind him to pop the hood. For a minute, you let him wallow in his mistake, watching gleefully as he pried at the seam of it. Finally, you unbuckled yourself and leaned over, flicking the release for him.

He gave an unamused glance toward the windshield and lifted the hood, obscuring all but the very tips of his drooping wings from view.

After about fifteen seconds, he ducked back into the car with a rush of cold air behind him. He rubbed his palms together as you watched, arms folded over your chest.

“So?” You prompted. He gave a sideways glance in your direction, blowing into his chilled hands.

“So what?”

“Oh my g- what’s wrong with the car?” You tried your best not to let panic set in.

“I don’t know. It’s just a bunch of pipes and wires under there. They didn’t exactly give me a map of the thing when I bought it.”

You’d seen Hawks pull people out of burning buildings before. You’d see him think on his feet, devise a plan and act on it in the blink of an eye. Usually, he was impulsive. Confident. Clever.

Tonight, on the other hand, he was demonstrating a very clear affinity for money over brains.

You flopped into your seat, scrubbing your hands over your face. You were not going to freak out. You refused to. It didn’t matter that Keigo had suddenly become useless in the face of disaster. You were heroes, even if you had to save your damned selves.

“Oh,” he quipped from beside you. “Still got bars. See?” As you peeked over at him through one cracked eyeball, he waved his illuminated phone screen at you. “It could be worse, kid. If this were a horror movie, this thing’d be dead.”

He tapped away on the screen, seeming very pleased with himself. Even his wings gave a little ruffle, draping themselves smoothly over the back of his seat again.

“I’ll call us a tow. We’ll be outta here in no time.”

A few minutes later, you had a map pulled up on your phone while Hawks’ brow creased deeper and deeper.

“Uh-huh.” His voice had taken on that irresistible deepness to it again, but this time it was sending pangs of dread through your gut.

“Right.” He brought a palm up to smooth over his jaw, fingertips bending and pressing idly against the patches of scruff that dusted it. “Y-yep, yeah, I understand. Fifty miles is a long way. I know it’s gonna be a lot to send a truck that far. But-“

As he was abruptly cut off by the other end of the line, those idle fingers slipped up to his temple, pressing inward and rubbing in stiff little circles.

“Okay. Alright. Yeah, I guess we’ll wait, ‘cause there’s not much else we can… I understand. Yes, thank you. Thank you. Okay, we’ll be here. Or within a ten-foot radius. Thanks. B-“

He blinked rapidly at the screen as he pulled it away from his ear. “Have an excellent night, sir,” he muttered under his breath. He let out a deep sigh, lifting a hip to tuck his phone away again.

“They said they would send someone,” he said, “but the depot is, like, fifty miles from here. Could be a couple of hours.”

“A couple hours?” That cold dread was settling into your chest again. So much for sleeping in your own bed.

“Yeah. C’mon, get out.”

“What?” You glanced past him at the frosted driver’s side window. “It looks freezing out there.”

“Well then, you’d better bundle up. C’mon. I’m gonna fly us back to the city.”

“No way. Hawks- Keigo.” You grabbed his arm and squeezed tightly as he made to get out of the car.

“What?” Exasperation was creeping into the edges of his voice. The sides of his gaze, too, as he landed against the seat back with a thud and turned his cheek to look at you.

“You’ve been flying all day. Your wings are shot. You’re not flying anywhere.”

“What? They’re fine.” He gave the appendages in question a defiant flutter and a cloud of expiring feathers floated into the backseat.

You folded your arms across your chest. Hawks gave a frustrated growl.

“What do you suggest, then?” He retorted in fierce opposition to your silence. “Just sit around and fucking… die of old age before the tow truck comes?”

“Oh my god, you’re the number two hero,” you snapped back. “When did you become such a drama queen? Yes, we’re going to wait. Like a normal person would have to.”

“I’m not being dramatic; I’m presenting you with a legitimate solution and you’re ignoring it!”

“If you try to fly us both out of here, you’re gonna hit the ground before we’re halfway home. And then we’ll be really stranded, with no water and no shelter. So, if you’d like to fly back all by yourself, I can’t stop you. But I’m not going to let you kill both of us.”

“Fine!” Hawks’ cheeks were flushed with temper as he kicked the door open and clambered out of the car. He kicked it shut again so hard the whole body rocked, and for a moment you were left, trapped in shocked silence.

He was really going to leave you out here. Alone.

Half a dozen heartbeats passed before his boots crunched on the shoulder and he wrenched the door open again, flopping back into the car with an immense sigh of irritated defeat.

“Fuckin’ freezing out there,” he muttered as quietly as possible.

You wanted to punch him.

“You ready to wait?”

His wings stiffened behind him, then drooped so lowly they seemed to disappear into the backseat. He looked at you from the corner of one tawny eye.

“Yeah.”

For the first hour, you honestly enjoyed yourself. As soon as Keigo accepted his fate, he got much closer to his usual mellow self. You finished off cold fries from dinner, listened to true crime podcasts on your phone, (you listened- he talked over the whole thing) and played a few ruthless games of hangman on a couple of napkins you found in the glove compartment.

You’d spent a lot of time with Hawks in a professional capacity. As partners, you took most of your missions together. You were well-versed in the way that he liked to think, the way he approached a job, a conversation. You worked well with each other and you were drawn to his quick wit and laid-back humour. Even if he was a piece of work at times, you made a strong team. But you didn’t do a whole lot of hanging out.

“Okay, that’s it,” he chided as you added an extravagant top hat to the completed, dressed hangman scrawled onto the inside fold of your last napkin. The word he’d failed to guess was ‘patience,’ and the irony of his struggling was not lost on you.

“Aw, c’mon,” you protested. “You’ve still got gloves and a bow tie left.”

“No, no, no.” He held up a palm, shaking his head. There was a good-natured grin curling his lip as he bowed toward the door. “I’m callin’ it. I gotta take a leak.”

You snatched your soda cup from the drink holder, clutching it protectively against your chest.

“You’re not going in here.”

Next, it was Hawks’ turn to shoot you a deadpan stare.

“How about in the woods? Is that allowed?”

Your cheeks went hot. “It’s pretty dark out there.”

“Aw.” Hawks shoved the door open. There was an unfamiliar glint to his eye as he tossed a mischievous look over his shoulder. “Guess you won’t be able to sneak a peek, then.”

You slammed your fist into his back. “Shut up and go take a piss.”

As the car door clicked shut, you turned the other way out of sheer habit. All you could see in the opposite window was the reflection of your own face. Maybe it was just the dim light, but you looked exhausted. Keigo had seen you caked in blood, streaked by mud and soot before. But you’d both been awake since four o’clock that morning and there was a special kind of ugly feeling that came with overtiredness.

You were dreaming about the first thing you’d do when you got home again when Hawks climbed back into the car. He looked considerably brighter as he ducked inside, and he brought a flush of rich, earthy forest-smell along with him.

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t find it in the cold out there,” you quipped. Payback.

But Keigo just chuckled, shaking his head.

“Close the door,” you whined as the frigid air from outside finally reached your bare arms. “It’s already cold enough in here.”

“Aw,” he crooned, tugging the door shut behind him. “You scared of a little cold now, kid? It’s not so bad out there. Feel.”

He lunged at you, ducking rapidly to rub his frigid cheek against your shoulder. You let out a terse yelp and squirmed, trying to shove him back amid a sea of chilled giggles. He got a few passes of his icy skin on yours before you both realized how close you’d gotten.

Hawks cleared his throat and scooted away from you. In the bare light from the shitty overhead lamp, you were starting to see the outline of a flush creeping into his cheeks.

The light abruptly went out, leaving you in darkness again.

“Tell me something,” he mused, grabbing for the abandoned takeout bag and digging a hand into it. He produced a tiny wrapped square and tore it open with his teeth, removing the folded alcohol wipe from inside and gliding it with impossible grace over his fingertips. He eyed you sideways.

“How come we don’t hang out more?”

Your chest went cold. You’d been dreading that question all night. Longer than that, even.

“What d’you mean?” It was a gut response, but you instantly kicked yourself for even attempting to play dumb.

“You know,” he chided, dumping the wipe back into the paper bag once he was finished with it. “We work. We do interviews together. We do those bullshit PR functions together. I’ve known you- what, two years? And we’ve never even been for a drink. What gives, kid? Don’t tell me I grate on you.”

“I get plenty of you on company time,” you retorted. You were starting to panic. You weren’t ready for this conversation, but it didn’t seem like you were going to be rescued by the timely arrival of the tow truck.

“Okay, okay, I’d take that,” he laughed, “if you hadn’t agreed to take this mission with me. C’mon, this wasn’t exactly a nine-to-five gig.”

He paused. “Come out with me this weekend.” He nudged your shoulder with a bony elbow. You tried your best not to snap.

“Stop,” you pressed quietly. “You know why we don’t.”

The smirk slipped from Keigo’s face.

“What? Why?”

“Don’t make me say it.”

“Wait a second, there’s an actual reason? What the hell is it?”

The confusion was genuine on his face. Hawks could be a smarmy little shit when he wanted to be. But you could tell he wasn’t fucking with you.

“Oh my god.” The words slipped out like a deep breath. Your hand drifted to your mouth as cold shock ran over your skin. “You really don’t remember.”

“No.” His confusion was bordered with fear. He sat back a little, letting his eyes drift over your expression. “No, I really don’t.”

You swallowed hard. You should have known that you’d have to talk about this eventually. But he didn’t even remember the night that had been changing the way you acted around him for nearly a year.

“Last Christmas,” you began. Your breath was so short that it put a desperate hush to your voice that you absolutely hated. You revelled in your ability to act casual around him, but the more probing he got, the harder that composure was slipping.

“At the agency gala. You remember the party, right?”

Hawks rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and I got trashed.” He paused. Realization dawned on his face, and he shot you the deepest, most sincere look of concern you’d ever seen. Even more sincere than the look that crossed his face when you got shot off the roof of a house and broke a rib.

He leaned forward.

“Did I do something?” He swept a palm over his mouth, fingertips dallying at his chin. You knew exactly how he felt in that moment. You’d been there before, too, realizing that you’d lost control. Blacked out. Understanding that you might have done something you were going to regret.

“You really don’t remember a thing?” It was your turn to be horrified. How could something that consumed your every thought stay so damned far from his?

His fingers were still curved around the point of his chin. He’d gone white, and he shook his head as his eyes cast down to his lap.

“You fucking kissed me, okay?” You snarled with a whip of frustration. “There was mistletoe and you kissed me under it and-and Christ, I can’t believe you.”

“What? What?” He demanded as his voice grew defensively sharp.

“I had no idea what you were gonna do. What you were gonna say, what was gonna change between us. I showed up to the agency the next morning and your hungover ass acted like nothing had ever happened.”

“Of course I did,” he defended, “I didn’t think anything did happen. Oh my God, did I really kiss you?” His wings were coming to life all of a sudden, bristling on either side of his seat. There was a dull whisp as one edge of them brushed against the window. They seemed to expand, along with his horror, to fill the entire car.

He pushed further. “Well, did you… did you want me to?”

You could see where his thoughts were taking him. The answer was an impossible dilemma. To lead him further down that path would not only be cruel, it would be untrue. But to tell him the truth- that you had wanted it- would be to shatter the fragile illusion of casual, platonic intimacy that you’d been building over the last two years.

You chewed your lower lip. Hard enough to hurt.

“Oh god, you didn’t,” he gasped. That was enough for you to lift your chin and shoot him a sudden, sad, pathetic little look.

“Jesus,” he gasped again, deeper this time. “You did.”

“Look,” you snapped. “I was never gonna say anything to you. I was never gonna push it. You didn’t feel that way and I knew that and I just wanted to work.”

He told you enough about his personal life as it was. Every date he swung in from on Monday morning, every Friday night he spent preening in the last hours of the workday hurt enough already. If you’d grown close, fallen harder, it would’ve become too much to bear.

“What do you mean, I didn’t feel that way? What way don’t I feel? How could you even know that?” He was beginning to raise his voice back at you and the adrenaline was pushing you way too far to listen.

“Because you never said a fucking word to me about that kiss! You pretended like it never even happened, Kei! What was I supposed to think!”

“If you’d asked me, you woulda known that I didn’t speak up ‘cause I didn’t remember a goddamn thing!” Keigo jammed a finger into his temple. His golden eyes flashed. He was so fucking hot when he was angry, but this was not a fight you ever wanted to have.

Luckily for you, he was having it without you.

“What do you want me to say to that?” He snarled. “Huh? What- you want me to tell you that I’m sorry for not having psychic powers? That I’m sorry I didn’t hire a mind-reader to tell me what the fuck was going on with you?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face. You were on the verge of tears.

“I-I never-“ you began, but Keigo beat you to the punch,

“You know, maybe I noticed that you were actin’ funny around me. And maybe I should’ve asked. But maybe if you ask yourself, and if you really, honestly give yourself the truest answer, you’d be able to admit that you knew how I felt about you. That you always knew.”

“Of course I knew!”

Your response echoed raw and deafening in the silence of the car. You’d lost your temper and shouted it at him with every decibel left in your breathless chest. Your fists were clenched atop your frigid thighs as you bent over in your seat, shivering. To your immense embarrassment, warm tears trickled down the sides of your nose.

He was right, after all. Every sideways smile he’d given you was just a little too broad to be friendly. Every time he caught you by the hand, he held it just a little too long. Every time he offered you the crook of his elbow at a stuffy charity gala and every time he poured you into a cab at the end of the night, he promised to take good care of you. Every time he looked at you at all it was with a depth that you had recognized, but never understood.

“But look at us, Kei. Look at what we do to each other.”

You sniffled, scrubbing tears off your cheeks with the heels of your hands. He reached for you, seeking to comfort, but his hands twitched midair and he drew back instead.

“Yeah,” he croaked. You tossed a glance in his direction. He looked more dejected than you’d seen him in a long time. He rested both hands on top of the wheel, the rest of his body sagging against the seat back.

“Except now I’ve told you,” you continued. “And now we both know, so everything’s fucked no matter what.”

You were met with silence. The truth was dawning on you. You hated to even consider it, but it felt like what needed to be done.

“When we get back to the city,” you started. Hawks interrupted you with a low rasp of your name.

“No, when we get back, I’m giving you my resignation.”

“Fuck, stop.”

Keigo lunged, grabbing you by the back of the neck and pulling you toward him. He rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. The warmth of his closeness weighed on you like a heavy quilt. You couldn’t even pretend not to be immensely comforted by affection from him.

“I’m not gonna let you do that, kid.”

You were both drawing deep breaths- slow, rolling gulps of air that matched over gradual time. You licked your lips, bracing your chilled palms on his shoulders. Your fingertips brushed the very edges of his feathered hair, dull and soft in the dark.

You’d talked each other down from bigger, badder edges before. But this one had sharp, jagged rocks waiting at the bottom. This one, you were going to have to jump from together.

“I can’t do this,” you pleaded. “I can’t keep myself away from you like this.”

“Don’t.” His voice was hushed and so achingly tender, like he couldn’t take the command himself.

“I can’t-“

“Then, don’t.”

He was firmer this time, and the pad of his thumb brushed the bottom of your lip. He pulled back just a hair, grazing the tip of his nose across yours. The heat of his breath puffed over your lips and his blonde eyelashes threatened to tickle your cheek.

He drew in a slow, calculated breath.

“Lemme kiss you. Lemme try again. I’m not gonna forget it this time, I swear.”

“Keigo, please.”

“Just lemme try. Just once. I’ll never ask you again, if you don’t want me to.” He pulled back the rest of the way and your body keened at the loss, but he looked deeply into your eyes. Deeply like he’d never been allowed to look before.

You licked your lips. Considered it for half a heartbeat. Then you gave a slow little nod.

“Okay.”

To your surprise, he didn’t lunge again. He took his time with you. He cupped your cheeks tenderly between his bare palms, memorizing the curve of your face. He stared, taking you in like this. At his mercy.

Finally, he leaned in and captured your mouth in a soft kiss, heartbreakingly loving. You responded eagerly, blossoming beneath his touch and bracing your hands on the broad plane of his chest. Your fingers curled in the fleece that lined his coat.

You kissed back with near-desperate urgency, shamelessly showing him how touch-starved you’d become. Dating was pointless when Keigo stole your whole heart every time you showed up to work.

The quiet press of his tongue had your jaw going slack in his hands. Your kiss went needy all at once, and he licked into your mouth with a hunger behind his movements that you never anticipated sensing from him.

You broke from him first, turning your cheek to him as your lungs burned. Your mouth was swollen, and you gasped greedily for whatever stale air lingered between you. He grabbed your chin and forced your eyes back to his.

His gaze was fearsome. Ravenous. You were powerless beneath it.

You combed your fingers through his hair like you’d always wanted to, settling your palm at the nape of his neck. Your own voice was nearly unrecognizable, nothing more than a feral growl.

“Get in the back.”

Hawks took one look at the narrow gap between his seat and yours and sat up, nudging the driver’s side door open. He climbed eagerly into the road and then back into the back seat, settling in the center with his legs and wings splayed wide.

Meanwhile, you took the opportunity to wiggle out of your boots and pants and slam dunk everything into the foothold of the passenger’s seat. You climbed over the center console in your underwear and settled into his lap.

Even though you had to bow your head against the cushioned ceiling, it was a holy sensation. Your thighs settled perfectly into the crooks of Keigo’s legs, and his hands slid so naturally over the curves of your hips. It was as if you’d done this before.

You kissed him again, using the weight of your newly boosted height to descend hard and loving against his lips. He grabbed you hard by the ass, drawing you smooth and tight against his hips.

“God,” he groaned eagerly into your mouth.

“You’re so. Fucking. Perfect,” you hissed back into his, and he squeezed you harder, breaking his lips from yours to trail a hungry path of kisses along the edge of your jaw. His scruff scratched at your chin just like you imagined it would. You loved him like this- trimmed, unshaven. The rougher, the better.

“Don’t say that,” he purred dangerously close to your ear. “You’ve seen me at my worst.”

You tried not to grin, remembering Keigo barfing over the balcony of the Plaza after one too many charity-benefit martinis. Keigo caked in ooze after cutting open that sludge villain from the inside. Keigo on the verge of tears, just a few minutes ago.

“I still think so,” you pressed, and he smiled against your cheek. His wings, tired and bruised but majestic as ever, stiffened proudly. They were capped firmly by the cramped space that surrounded you, but the feathers that spread across the back seat were sleek and graceful.

You dug your fingertips between his jacket and his t-shirt, feeling the warmth of his torso all over. He did his best to shrug it open, but the material was caught up on his wings- no getting it off now.

He wound his hands into the hem of his shirt and tugged it up for you. The skin you could feel by slipping your fingers underneath was all you were going to get.

Not that it mattered to you. It was far more than you’d let yourself so much as picture before. While you felt your way across his heated abdomen, he dipped his head to your pulse point. He scraped the points of his teeth across your tender flesh, making you sigh and shiver. He pressed a hand to the small of your back to keep you close and nibbled all the way down to your neckline, leaving a trail of tiny welts in his wake.

They would fade by morning. Tonight, the feeling was enough.

He glided smooth, tender fingers up your sides. You straightened, letting him wedge your long-sleeved t-shirt up around your shoulders. You had to bend even further and press your forehead awkwardly against his shoulder to wrench it off. Once he peeled the fabric over your head, you tossed it haphazardly toward the front seat. Keigo was already going to work on his fly.

The tender press of his erection had grown apparent by that point, stiff and needing down one thigh of his thick pants. You reached between your legs and palmed it indulgently. There was an answering throb of arousal in the pit of your belly as you felt the shape and thickness of it trapped against his body, and an even stronger one when his hips pressed into your touch and he gave a low rumble of approval.

“Don’t act so surprised,” he crooned. With his pants unfastened, and the bulk of his cock shifted to the stretchy pouch of his undershorts, he slid a fingertip down the plane of your belly and curled two graceful digits between your thighs.

“Are you wet for me yet?” He shot you a deep, lustful stare. You rocked your hips against his fingers, hopeless in resisting the pleasure he offered. Keigo nudged the crotch of your thong easily aside, dipping his middle finger against your slit.

He sucked a sharp breath through clenched teeth as you gave a simultaneous yelp of stimulation. When he looked up at you again, he bore a sly little grin. You’d seen it a thousand times before, but never with such desire. And never all for you.

“You’re drippin’, kid.” He arched his palm, slipping that finger slowly upward and easing it inside you. There was no stretch, but the sensation of intimacy- of being felt in such a way by those hands that you’d never dared to fantasize about- was intoxicating in its own right.

Keigo was, apparently, feeling it, too. His eyes were deeply lidded, glazed completely by his own desire. The tip of his cock had found its way over the waistband of his undershorts, weeping shiny precum against his stomach and the bottom of his shirt.

He curled a blunt fingertip inside you, massaging your tender front wall. The feeling rappelled up the column of your spine and brought deep trembles forward. It brought fresh handfuls of wet slick from your depths, gliding down his palm and between his fingers. He took the hints your body offered and rubbed faster, watching the way your expression morphed from desire to pleasure.

“Stop,” you hushed, leaning forward and pushing your lips to his. He drew his hand back from you immediately, settling it on your thigh. The wet little print it left against your skin wasn’t lost on you.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” you replied. “Just ready for you.”

He gave a low, loving little chuckle and shifted beneath you. “Can’t hold out any longer?”

You smiled into his hair. “Don’t want to.”

“Fair enough.” His smile was even, but the tug in his voice betrayed his fraying nerves. It thrilled you to know that you weren’t the only one putting way too much emotional stock in this. It was immensely validating to discover that he’d been anticipating it, too.

He wiggled and squirmed against the backseat, shucking his pants and underwear down over his thighs and letting his cock pop out. It bobbed against his stomach- thicker than you’d imagined- framed by a trimmed scruff of tawny hair that disappeared under his shirt.

“Fuck,” you sighed in spite of yourself.

“I know, right?” He rasped. He reached for you, cupping your jaw. He brought your forehead down to his, giving a weak laugh. “What the hell have we been waitin’ for?”

“We just needed the bottle episode to shove us together,” you giggled. “C’mon, we’re a walking trope right about now.”

“We’re about to become a different trope if you don’t let me fuck you.” It was his turn to play the desperate card. But the ache between your thighs had not dulled, even a little.

He wrapped his fingers around the base of his shaft and you lifted your hips. He gave the heated tip a playful little swipe along your slick slit, but his game backfired when both of you let out tight cries of sensation.

You rocked your hips forward, taking his tip eagerly inside. The sensation was toe-curling, made even better by the way he held you tightly against him, nosing at your ear and kissing any patch of skin he could reach.

He brought his free palm to your ass as soon as you were situated, helping you slide the rest of the way onto his cock. With your knees braced on either side of his lap and your feet pressed tightly against the front seat, you let him bottom out. And for a moment, you just sat there.

“Jesus,” Keigo sighed, lolling his head against the seat behind him. You still had your head deeply bowed, trapped in the space that seemed just an inch too tight.

“I…” Your thighs shuffled. Your hips gave a little squirm. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Keigo cracked an eye and lifted his chin, sensing a problem.

“What’s the matter?”

“I just…” Your cheeks went hot. You licked your lips. “I can’t move.”

His gaze cast downward, to the place where you were joined. He took in the press of your thighs, the curve of your neck. He snorted.

“No, you can’t. C’mere, kid, I gotcha.” He planted that palm on your ass again, drawing your hips forward and up, as far as you could take them. Your head and neck bowed with the rest of your back as he draped your upper body over his chest and held you tightly against him.

Then he planted his feet and gave one good, deep thrust. Your innards gave a jerk. Oh, fuck.

“That’s it,” you panted into his ear. He nodded tensely.

“Yeah?” He prompted. “That’s workin’ for ya? Alright, alright. We’ve got this, kid, c’mon. Lemme show you somethin’ good, okay?”

One thrust sent you spiralling. But the rhythm that he dove into- steady, tough, fluid- sent every nerve through your body into meltdown. You were entirely incapable of dealing with such pleasure, combined with the emotions that swirled through your lovestruck brain.

It felt as though you had been holding out needlessly for all this time. Like all the hurt and frustration and heartbreak you shed over him would be evaporated, now that you understood that he wanted you like this, too.

Like that was all there was. You, Hawks, and the free love you could now share.

“I’m n-not-“ Keigo stuttered, piping up after a series of breathless pants and airy groans, “n-not gonna last much longer, kid, you’re… really gonna make me feel it.”

“Yeah,” you breathed back. You looped your arms tightly around his neck, tilting your hips forward. You could feel the barest hint of stimulation when your clit brushed his belly, so you leaned into it- aching for your own release.

His rhythm doubled as the intensity of your pleasure spiked dangerously high, and when you gripped him hard and rocked your hips in time with his, there was a low, warning pull that echoed all the way up to your throat. You were close. Very close.

Your head dropped backward and Keigo leaned forward, drawing his mouth up the vulnerable column of your throat. He panted hard and heavy against your pulse point.

“That’s it, kid, that’s fuckin’ it, baby, oh, God, I’m g-gonna f-fucking… I- shit, I- can’t… fffuck!”

Keigo let a vicious roar tear from his throat as he reached his vibrant peak. His erratic thrusts brought you to a tight little climax, too, and you clung to him and whined and rode through the pleasure as he fucked madly up inside you, spurting messy shots of cum into your depths.

Gravity took hold of his pleasure, dripping it onto his shaft and pooling it in a sloppy mess between you. And when it was all finally over, you collapsed against his body and you both stayed, airless and spent, wrapped tightly around one another.

It was the bright flash of headlights on the back of his neck that brought you to the surface, moments later.

The inside of the car was warm and stuffy and damp. Had you just come in from outside, you might have realized that it reeked of sex. Sweat and breath and fluid and feeling. The windows were near-opaque, fogged by the dampness of your lovemaking.

It was a moment you might have loved to capture, if you weren’t about to be so rudely interrupted.

The light in your rear windshield was bright white and flashing orange. Unmistakable.

“The tow truck,” you wheezed, scrambling off of Keigo’s lap. “Oh, fuck.”

“Get dressed,” he muttered weakly, already scrambling to get himself cleaned up and decent. He was far more dressed than you were, so you did your best to climb back into the passenger’s seat and slide back into your own clothes. You banged your shin hard on the center console, and your head on the ceiling as your body flailed in retaliation. You crumpled into the front seat and nearly kneed yourself in the mouth trying to scramble back into your pants.

By the time you climbed out of the car, fully dressed, with a few additional bruises, Hawks was already standing on the shoulder, talking to the driver. The driver was wagering a few guesses on what might be wrong with the car. Hawks’ eyes had already glazed over.

“Hey,” he greeted, as he spotted you emerging over his shoulder. He introduced you quietly to the driver before the ballcap-wearing, bearded man spoke again.

“Yeah,” he gruffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll give you a lift to garage nearby. It’s kinda late, but he keeps weird hours. I bet he’ll take a look for you, it’s prob’ly an easy fix.”

“That sounds great,” you gushed, clasping your palms together. There was a lot of stiffness settling in around your hips and thighs. You couldn’t be sure if it was a result of the compromising position you’d nearly been discovered in or the whole lot of not moving you’d done for hours before that.

Either way, it felt good to stretch your legs.

“You c’n go ahead and hop in the back,” the driver directed, waving the key that Keigo had apparently already given him in indication. “I’ll get you hooked up, no problem.”

Keigo opened the truck door for you, and you climbed over the passenger’s seat into the back. He followed closely behind you, tugging the door shut and slouching into the opposite side.

You sat in silence; hands clasped between your knees. A confusing air settled between you.

You felt vulnerable and raw and moony. You wanted to hold his hand and curl up to him in the back seat. Kiss his cheeks and tell him how good it was, tell him how much you felt.

For you, though, it could never be that simple. There was no free love for heroes like you.

Pay later, always.

Keigo felt the weight of your gaze. He turned to meet your eyes and shot you a thin smile. You’d seen the look that he’d turned to hide from you, though.

The truck driver climbed into the front seat before words could pass between you. But you didn’t need to hear them to know what they were going to be.

You didn’t need a warning to understand what Monday morning at the agency was going to look like.

#hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks x you #takami keigo x you #boku no hero academia #mha fanfic #my hero academia #bnha fanfic

943 notes · View notes

hrina · 4 years ago

Text

In The Ring, Pt. I - Jab

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 4k REQUESTED: not exactly lol

hey everyone! this is PART 1 of the boxer!harry AU i’ve been working on. i was so inspired by this concept that i wrote it all in one day lol. if u enjoy reading it, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated! it really helps in terms of motivation and just knowing how my readers feel about this story in general. so yeah, that would really make my month!

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

okay, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, go stupid go dumb! my masterlist and my inbox are both linked in my bio, for anyone who would like to check out my other fics or who feels like chatting. can’t wait to hear your thoughts 💘💘💘

~*~

January 7, 2021

All of Harry’s teeth are still intact.

For now, at least.

He knows that mouthguards exist—there’s one tucked between his lips every single time he enters the ring. But even then…sometimes punches go awry. Sometimes your opponent dodges at the last second. Sometimes people end up with a mouthful of leather and a few loose incisors. He always keeps one fist near his chin, shielding the lower half of his face from any blows that come his way.

Speaking of blows coming his way…

He ducks away from the straight jab that the man throws—The Wall, they call him. Harry had rolled his eyes when the nickname boomed across the room, soon lost in the roar of the crowd.

He’s never been one for flashy introductions. He prefers to let his technique speak for itself. His brand is his name. Harry Styles. Simple, concise, and so utterly deceiving. He loves watching the smile melt from his opponent’s face, basks in the moment when they realise that he’s tougher than his name suggests.

The Wall jabs again, and Harry successfully dodges the punch. He doesn’t register the other fist hooking around, however, until the blunt front of the man’s glove makes contact with the side of his head. Usually, a blow like that wouldn’t even faze him. But the sheer force behind the hit knocks him off-balance, stumbling to the side as he loses his footing and inhaling sharply when his shoulder collides with the ground.

The yells from the crowd are deafening. Harry coughs, trying to guide air back into his lungs. When he blinks, black spots dance across his vision. Subconsciously, his eyes trace a path upward, past the floor, past his opponent’s feet, past the ropes encompassing the ring. Higher and higher, still, past jeering faces and sloshing beer bottles and grungy eye makeup. All the way to the top of the bleachers, to the exit—to you.

That’s been your unofficial spot for the past two years. Once you turned twenty, your father finally gave in, allowing you to attend Harry’s matches in exchange for the cessation of your endless badgering. You always stand near the door, observing the commotion with thoughtful eyes and puckered lips. Despite himself, Harry has started to think of you as his lucky charm. It’s dangerous—he always swore that he wouldn’t be one of those overly-superstitious athletes—but he can’t help it. He just seems to perform better when you’re around.

Through the rocky field of his vision, he can see just how wide your eyes have grown. There’s an unmistakable look of concern on your face as you watch the fight unfold. Your hand finds its way to the base of your throat, playing nervously with the rose-gold pendant resting there. You crane your neck to get a better view of the ring, your pupils flitting back and forth between Harry and the frighteningly large man looming over him.

A warm rush of adrenaline floods Harry’s veins. The saliva that has gathered in his mouth tastes stale on his tongue. He spits it out as he staggers to his feet. The crowd grows louder, somehow.

The Wall’s smile shrinks as Harry assumes his previous position; his hands orient themselves in front of his face. His opponent gnashes his teeth, seemingly annoyed with the fact that the match has not ended. Harry shakes off the dizziness clouding his brain, and then he’s lunging forward with a newfound sense of determination. He throws punch after punch, sidestepping The Wall’s returning attempts. All he can think about is the fact that you’re up there, watching, waiting, worrying. He never wants to see you like that again.

You’re his goddamn lucky charm.

His victory comes in the form of an uppercut followed immediately by a nasty right hook. The Wall—this big, towering man with bulging biceps and rippling pectorals—crumples to the ground. Harry waits, his chest heaving with exertion as the countdown begins. He’s prepared to watch his opponent rise again, to shift back into a fighting stance and start over. But as the seconds trickle by and The Wall remains motionless on the ground, he soon finds the tension in his body seeping out into the hot, sticky air.

His shoulders sag in relief as a single promising word echoes through the grimy arena.

“Knockout!”

~*~

The crowd thins out considerably in the ten minutes following the termination of the match. Harry stumbles out of the ring, sliding through the ropes and pulling his mouthguard from between his lips. Your father is waiting for him with a smile on his face, holding out an arm and helping him jump down from the raised platform.

“Well done, H,” he says, patting his back proudly.

Harry pants and nods. Your father holds out a reusable water bottle for him to take—he accepts it graciously and gulps down the cold liquid with fat, greedy slurps. Once he pulls the nozzle away from his mouth, he runs the back of his hand over his face to catch any stray droplets that have collected on his chin.

“Thanks, Coach.”

“You took a pretty hard fall, there,” your father says, guiding him to sit down on a bench propped up against the wall. “Medic’s in the back. He’s checking out Aaron right now, but you’re next.” He taps his index finger against Harry’s temple. “We’ve got to make sure everything’s alright up there.”

Harry sucks in a deep breath, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Who the fuck is Aaron?”

“Oh.” Your father laughs. “Aaron. The Wall. Whatever you want to call him.”

Harry frowns. “Don’t like that. Makes him sound like a dick.”

A new voice enters the conversation.

“That’s because he is.”

Harry’s head snaps to the side, and there you are.

You look nice, as usual. There’s something about you that he can never seem to properly describe. You always look so…clean. If he tried to vocalize his thoughts, he’s sure that you would look at him like he was crazy.

But in his head, it makes sense. You take care of yourself. Your nails are spotless, your hair smells good, and he knows that you must dab spritzes of perfume onto your pulse points before you leave the house, because a fresh scent follows you wherever you go. Even now, as you stand a few feet away with your hands on your hips, he catches it on a deep inhale. Not flowery, not fruity, just…clean. Refreshing. Light. Breezy.

Your father snaps him out of his reverie, and he realises that he should probably stop listing every word in the thesaurus.

“How do you know?” Your father’s inquiry is curious. He shoots you a puzzled look, his mouth curling down into a soft scowl.

You roll your eyes. “Called me ‘sweet thing’ before the match started and asked me if I was the prize,” you say, sticking your tongue out in disdain. “I told him to go fuck himself.”

Harry’s lips twitch.

Your father chuckles. “That’s my girl.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head. “What time are we leaving?” you ask. The question is directed at your father, who is fiddling with the drawstrings hanging from his sweater. “I was hoping to study a bit more before bed.”

“Soon, gioia,” your father says. “As soon as Harry gets checked out, we’ll be on our way.”

You nod, and—for what feels like the first time since you cut into the interaction—you glance down at Harry. “Hi,” you say softly, shooting him a small, friendly smile.

He meets your gaze for only a moment. Everything about you is so gentle. Your irises are like melted pots of honey, regarding him with such warmth he feels like he’ll never be cold again. “Hi.”

“Congratulations on your win,” you murmur. Harry wants to bottle your voice and save it as a keepsake. “You made a great comeback.”

Because of you, he wants to say, but he bites his tongue. “Thank you,” he offers up instead, the words scraping against the roof of his mouth and tumbling unceremoniously into the air between you.

A moment of silence ensues as you wait for him to say something—anything—else. But he’s done. You nod once before turning back to your father, who is tweaking the settings of the watch wrapped around his wrist.

“Do you know where the washrooms are?” you ask. You toy absentmindedly with the necklace hanging from your throat. “I need to pee.”

“You can use the one in the women’s locker room,” your father tells you, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “Around the corner, first door on the left.”

“Thanks,” you say, slipping by and pressing a quick peck to his cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

He just nods in agreement, still too preoccupied with his watch.

Harry, on the other hand, can’t keep his eyes off of you as you walk away. He takes note of the way that you tuck your hair behind your ear, how you shoulder the strap of your purse to keep it from slipping down your arm, how you walk with a purpose despite being so moderate and kind. His gaze falls momentarily to the sway of your hips, the enticing nature of your waist. He stares for a long moment before tearing away, clearing his throat and blinking a few times in quick succession.

“Proud of you, H,” your father pipes up, tapping the face of his watch twice before dropping his arm with a sigh. “You did well out there.”

“Thanks,” Harry mutters. A spark of guilt flares up in his chest when he realises that he had been blatantly ogling you with your father standing only a few feet off to the side. He silently berates himself, shaking his head free of any alluring thoughts.

Your father’s phone chirps with the arrival of a new notification. He fishes the device out of his pocket and glances down at the screen.

“Let’s go,” he tells Harry, jerking his head to the right. “Medic’s ready for you, now.”

January 13, 2021

“C’mon, H, be smart with it! Watch how he angles himself!”

And Harry’s trying, really, but Arthur—or Artie, as your father likes to call him—is a hunkering titan of a man. He used to be your father’s star athlete before retiring, and now…now he’s working in finance, or something akin to that. Harry isn’t one hundred percent sure; he usually zones out when people begin to discuss the stock market.

Artie throws a right hook, but Harry sees it coming and blocks it with ease. They move in a circle, focussed only on each other while other individuals outside of the ring totter around.

Harry prefers to train on weekdays during the afternoon, because that’s when the gym isn’t as packed. Right now, only a handful of other people are working out, lifting weights or doing cardio exercises. Harry and Artie are here so often that nobody even blinks an eye anymore. And your father…well, he runs the place. Of course he would be here.

The sparring continues. When Harry refuses to make the first move, Artie sticks one glove out, beckoning him forward. “Come here, pretty boy.”

“Don’t make me pull your hair,” Harry grits, because Artie’s ponytail is swinging temptingly from beneath his headgear.

The other man laughs good-naturedly before lunging. Harry blocks his uppercut and delivers a strong, pointed jab right to the middle of his chest. Artie stumbles backward, inhaling sharply as the breath is knocked from his lungs. Harry bites back a smile.

“Nice, H!” your father calls.

“Thanks, Coach,” he mutters.

The front door of the gym opens, accompanied by the soft tinkling of a bell to announce the new arrival. Harry’s attention is reflexively drawn toward the direction of the sound, and his heartbeat stutters beneath his ribs.

You’re there, with your hair tied back in a low bun and silver hoops hanging from your ears. You’re holding a tray of coffee in your left hand, and there’s a warm smile on your face. You wave excitedly as you greet Portia, the middle-aged woman sitting behind the front desk. The two of you chat as you shrug off your jacket and tug the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

Your mouth moves languidly. Though Harry is too far to hear your voice, he has a pretty good idea of what you’re saying. Your eyes widen and you shiver dramatically, shaking your head.

It’s cold!

A heavy fist makes contact with the side of his jaw, and he falls to the ground.

Your father’s loud exclamation pulls your attention away from Portia and toward the ring on the opposite end of the room. Harry groans lowly as he pushes himself to his knees, tilting his head from side to side and cracking his neck. When he turns to face your father, he finds him frowning through the gaps between the ropes.

“What the hell was that?” he asks, shooting Harry a disappointed look.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles, climbing to his feet with a grunt. “Got distracted.”

He chances a glance back at you, and his shoulders grow tense when he realises that you’re making your way over to the ring, the tray of coffee held between your hands like a peace offering.

“Hello, boys,” you singsong. “I brought drinks.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” your father says as you hand him his designated cup. He leans forward, pressing a quick kiss to your hair. You hum happily in response.

“Jason!” you call out as Artie approaches the side of the ring. “I got your lemonade.”

“Thanks, little girl,” Artie hums, accepting his drink graciously and taking a long sip from the straw. “And for the hundredth time, stop calling me ‘Jason’.”

“Stop calling me ‘little girl’,” you shoot back, laughing deviously. “I can’t help it if you look like him, okay? You’re even the same age, too.” You cock one eyebrow. “Should I start calling you ‘Aquaman’ instead?”

“God, no.” Artie shakes his head vehemently. “Let’s stick to Jason. ’Least that’s a real name.”

You giggle as he ambles away. Your eyes shift over to Harry—who has kept silent the entire time—and your lips curl up into a kind smile. “Hi, Harry.”

“Hi.” His voice is guttural.

“Last, but not least,” you murmur, plucking his drink from the tray and holding it up for him to take. “One black coffee, right?”

“Right,” he confirms with a curt nod. He tugs his bulky gloves off, dropping them to the floor and reaching out to accept the cup. A strong spark pricks at his hand when his fingers brush against yours. Your responding gasp is soft, barely-noticeable—if he weren’t so painfully aware of everything you do, he would have missed it completely.

“Thank you,” he says, guiding the coffee to his mouth and taking a small sip.

“No problem.” You smile up at him again, and God, that fucking smile. He wants it tattooed onto the backs of his eyelids. A wave of heat blooms in his chest and creeps up his neck, but thankfully, the pink flush blends in with his sweat-slicked, already-rosy skin.

“How was class, sweetheart?” your father asks, tilting his head to the side.

“It was good.” You shrug, tossing a thumb over your shoulder. “I’m going to head home now, though—I have a proposal due in a few days and I really need to get started.”

“Go, go,” your father concedes. You bid him goodbye before standing on your tiptoes and craning your neck to catch sight of Artie, who is quite evidently enjoying his lemonade.

“Bye, Jason!”

“Bye, little girl!”

You laugh. Your gaze lands on Harry again, eyes sparkling and features resolutely tender. “Bye, Harry.”

He swallows down the hard lump in his throat. “Bye.”

January 16, 2021

Harry’s workout playlist features a lot of Ariana Grande.

He just thinks that she’s good, okay?

But he knows that Artie and your father would never let him hear the end of it, so he keeps that information private. During practice, he’ll endure whatever shitty tunes Artie picks from his own library, and he won’t say a word. He’s not in the ring to dance, anyway. He’s there to make money—albeit illegally—because quite frankly, he hasn’t discovered an aptitude for anything else.

It’s late—the gym is technically closed. But the great thing about having the owner for a coach is the fact that Harry was given another key to add to his collection. Your father doesn’t care, as long as he locks up after he’s done. Harry has spent more time here than at his own home, he imagines. It’s nice when it’s quiet—it gives him plenty of time to think.

The back of his t-shirt is soaked through with sweat. He’s gazing at the ceiling as he lifts the heavy weights up and down over his torso. A bubbly song is playing on his phone, keeping his energy high.

So what if he listens to Ariana Grande? She makes great music.

The distinctive sound of footsteps reaches his ears. He pauses, setting the weightlifting bar back onto its rack and sitting up quickly. The noise is coming from the stairs that lead down to the swimming pool in the basement. Harry stands, and though his muscles are already screaming from previous exertion, he readies himself for the worst.

You appear at the top of the flight, your slippers smacking against each step loudly. You’re ruffling a towel against your wet hair, your head angled to the side as you squeeze out any excess water. Upon catching sight of Harry, you freeze in your tracks.

“Oh. Harry. Hi.”

“Hi,” he says slowly. “I…didn’t know you were here.”

“I didn’t know you were here,” you reply wryly, a small smirk making its way onto your lips.

Harry scratches sheepishly at the back of his neck. “Yeah. Er…I was just working out.”

You nod, your expression coy. “I can see that.”

An awkward silence hangs in the air. Harry clears his throat, rubbing his jaw with his fingers because what else is he supposed to do? “Were you—did you go for a swim?”

“Yeah,” you say. Your shoulders deflate, like you’re almost grateful that he’s contributed more to the conversation. “Spent half the time doing laps, and the other half on my phone.” Your lips quirk up with the feeble joke.

Harry chuckles weakly. “That’s just how it is, sometimes.”

Your eyes flutter shut for only a moment. “Yeah.”

More silence. Harry chews nervously on his bottom lip. Why the fuck can’t he speak?

The song playing from his phone changes. Your eyes narrow ever-so-slightly when a few upbeat notes trickle into the air, followed immediately by the smooth crooning of a woman’s voice. “Is this…,” you hesitate, and he can see how you’re fighting a smile, “…Carly Rae Jepsen?”

“Uh,” he says dumbly, uncertain of how to proceed. Sure enough, I Really Like You by Carly Rae Jepsen is filtering through the taut atmosphere, painfully loud now that the two of you are truly paying attention to it.

A high-pitched laugh falls from your mouth, and your shoulders shake with the force of your amusement. Harry, unable to help himself, begins to chuckle along with you. Heat blooms across his cheeks, but he’s not as embarrassed as he thought he’d be. Your giggles aren’t derisive, he realises.

He’s nearly overcome with the urge to take you in his arms, then, but he resists.

“Late night, watching the television…,” you sing quietly, and then you’re dissolving into merriment all over again.

Once your joint laughter subsides, you shoot him a bright grin. Harry tries his best to return it, though he doesn’t think that he mirrors your smile to its full extent. You sigh in delight, shouldering the strap of your bag and tossing your towel over your forearm.

“That honestly made my night,” you tell him, utterly sincere.

His heart somersaults in his chest. “’M glad.”

“Well,” you say, shrugging gently, “I should probably go.”

“Yeah.” His response is hollow. He lifts his hand in a half-hearted wave. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

He lies back down with a grunt as you make your way toward the exit. His fingers wrap around the weightlifting bar, about to pull it off of its resting place, when your voice suddenly rings out again.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” He sits up too quickly, nearly catching his forehead against the metal of the bar. When he turns around to face you, he finds you doubling back, approaching him and nibbling apprehensively on your bottom lip.

“I actually—,” you pause, like you’re unsure of how to continue, “I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

“Sure,” he says, rubbing his hands over the black shorts covering his thighs. “Go ahead.”

“It might be kind of weird,” you warn. “Don’t laugh at me.”

He shakes his head, blinking solemnly. “I won’t.”

“Would you—,” you begin, and your fingers come up to play with the pendant resting at the base of your throat, “—teach me how to box?”

“I—,” Harry recoils slightly, taken aback by your question. “What?”

“Would you teach me how to box?” you repeat, though your voice is significantly smaller. “I want to learn how to defend myself.”

“Against what?” he asks, his brows knitting together in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine.” You wave away his worries with an inattentive flick of your hand. Harry’s eyes narrow as he studies your face. You refuse to meet his gaze.

You’re lying, he realises, straight through your pretty teeth. But it would be impolite of him to pry, wouldn’t it? And this is the first time that the two of you have ever been really, truly alone; he doesn’t want to fuck it up.

“Okay,” he says slowly, even though he doesn’t believe your guarantee.

He pulls at the hem of his t-shirt, tugging it up and wiping his face with the fabric. When he fixes his gaze on you once more, he thinks he catches your eyes drifting across his torso. Cocking one eyebrow curiously, he climbs to his feet.

“What do you want to learn?” he asks, reaching for his phone and pausing the music streaming from the device.

“Anything,” you say breathlessly. “Everything.”

His lips twitch.

“I—,” he scratches at his nose with two fingers, “—I don’t really have a set schedule, you know, between practice and actual matches.”

“I know.” You nod understandingly.

“And I know you have school,” he continues, tilting his head to the side. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Positive,” you tell him. There’s something strong burning in your eyes; he can’t quite figure out what it is. “I want to train. Just…don’t tell my dad, okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats. He swallows heavily, offering his phone to you. “Put your number in, yeah? I’ll text you on the nights I’m free, and if you’re not too busy, we can meet up here.”

“Alright,” you concede softly. You take the device from him, and he pretends not to notice just how badly your hands are shaking. Your nails tap quietly against the screen, and before you know it, you’re passing the phone back to him with your information saved under a new contact.

“Alright,” Harry echoes.

The two of you stare at each other for a long, silent moment. The spell is broken, however, when you finally take a step back, clearing your throat and tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear.

“I should go,” you say. “For real, this time.”

“For real.” Harry nods.

“You’ll lock up, right?” you ask, retreating toward the exit.

“Yup,” he says, popping the last letter instinctively. At that, you smile, your mouth curling up into a soft, inviting crescent.

“Okay,” you murmur, placing one hand on the door. “Goodnight, Harry.”

He watches you go with forlorn eyes and empty lungs. “Goodnight.”

~*~

PART II: Cross

PART III: Hook

PART IV: Uppercut

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry writing #boxrry #alrighttttttt here she is! hope u guys enjoy <3

3K notes · View notes

five-rivers · 3 years ago

Note

Secret Saturday prompt? Van Rook ties up and gags Zak then stuffs him into a satchel.

Zak was skilled. He was knowledgeable. He was powerful.

He was also twelve, and, despite his best efforts, not terribly tall.

As such, it wasn’t terribly difficult for Van Rook to knock him out. Now, separating him from his family and getting the drop on him? That was difficult. Whatever other cryptid abilities the kid had, enhanced senses had to be one of them. Or perhaps some form of ESP.

Anyway, one dart to the shoulder, and Zak was out. Van Rook, with skills honed over a lifetime, soon had him disarmed, securely tied, gagged, and in the bag. He put the boy’s weapons into a separate bag. He wasn’t like his ridiculous ex-apprentice, who’d leave the potentially valuable magic weapon in the bag with the magic cryptid child.

Feh.

Now. Delivery. Most amateurs would expect this to be the safe easy part. Not so. In fact delivery, particularly to first-time clients, was the most dangerous part of the job. Van Rook couldn't count the times a client tried to kill him to get out of paying for bounties or services rendered.

He couldn't suppress a smile at the memory of the last man who tried to backstab him in that particular way.

He set the plane down lightly, next to the ruins. Well, if this client didn't pay up, there were plenty of other people who would. This particular guy just happened to sit at the sweet crossroads of 'good pay' and 'no apocalypse.'

There was a faint squeak from the bag strapped into the seat next to him. He raised an eyebrow. Kid should have been asleep for another half an hour.

He might have to add resistance to drugs to the list of freaky things about the kid.

He reached over and pulled the zipper down slightly. A pair of faintly glittering amber eyes stared up at him from a flushed face. The kid tried to mutter something around the gag, but failed to produce anything intelligible. Van Rook pulled the zipper back up. This was met with a muffled shout and thrashing.

No skin off Van Rook's back if the kid decided to exhaust himself.

Calmly, he went through his post-flight check before unstrapping the bag and making his way off the small plane.

His client was already standing there, on the grass, sweating and mopping his forehead with his sleeve despite the relatively cool weather, flanked by bodyguards. His face lit up when he saw Van Rook, and even more when he saw the bag.

"You have it, then," he said, excited.

"Of course," said Van Rook.

"Well, hand it over, then," he said, reaching.

Van Rook held up his hand. His client stopped with an affronted look on his face. "First," said Van Rook. "Money. Second, I have, maybe, one, two scruples. You say you need him to control this cryptid? Show me the cryptid."

"Scruples?" said the man, taken aback. "You were advertised-"

"Yes, yes, I know, everyone thinks they want this, this man with no scruples. But they don't. They trick themselves, see? A man with no scruples... a man with no scruples, is a man who wouldn't think twice about just taking the money any way he could. You see?"

The bodyguards had their hands on their weapons. Posers. Van Rook had never taken his off.

"... and, the other scruple?"

Van Rook smiled, nastily. "What do you think? I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. You tell me to sell you a twelve year old. What am I supposed to think?"

The client had gone very red in the face. "I assure you-"

"Assure me with money. And the cryptid," said Van Rook. "Words can't buy me dinner."

"Very well, then."

The man turned and waddled into the ruins. Electric lights had been strung up to illuminate the darker areas, and there was a significant amount of digging equipment. Someone had been excavating. Most likely less than legally. Van Rook wondered how long it would take the other Saturdays to find this place and mount a rescue. Not that it mattered. The hell family would cease to be his problem as soon as he was paid and away. The client got to deal with them then.

He noted the kid had gone still. Worn himself out, maybe? Or perhaps the conversation with the client had spooked him. Kid might face off against the likes of Argost, but he was still only twelve.

They climbed down several flights of stairs that ultimately terminated in a large, only half-lit cavern. However, the ligting was good enough for Van Rook to see both the massive pile of treasure and the gnarled giant that guarded it.

"A spriggan," said the client, whispering. "All this way, and we can't make the damn thing move." Then he laughed. "There's your payment, for you," he said, waving at the treasure mound.

You know what? thought Van Rook. Screw this guy.

On the other hand, this had been hard work, and he did very much want to get paid. He had expenses.

Van Rook set the bag down and unzipped it, dodging a sloppy attempt at a kick from the kid. He had to give him credit for guts and even getting into position while tied up.

Van Rook hauled him into a sitting position. The client reached down to grab his chin. And forced him to look up.

"My, his eyes really are yellow, aren't they? Except for those, he almost looks human."

The kid growled, deep in his throat. It might have been one of the few sounds available to him around the gag, but it didn't help his case. The client laughed nervously. "Of course, the disposition... haha."

Van Rook rolled his eyes. It wasn't like the client would see behind his visor.

"Now, uh, make the monster go away."

The kid continued to glare.

"I think you'll have to be more specific."

"The spriggan. The giant. Make it leave. Make it go far away."

Still nothing. No magic spooky nonsense, no glowing eyes, no screaming cryptids, nothing.

"Let me, sir," said one of the bodyguards. He leaned down and whispered something lengthy in the kids ear, one hand gripping his shoulder. As he spoke, the kid's breath grew ragged and his skin took on a sickly cast. He tried to pull away from the bodyguard (towards Van Rook, for incomprehensible reasons), but despite the man's shortcomings in the bodyguard department, he could restrain a bound preteen who was probably still recovering from a dose of knockout drugs.

When the man let go, the kid was shaking. Although, that could easily be explained by their surroundings. He'd picked the kid up in Bermuda, and he'd been dressed for it. Now, they were in Cornwall. Much colder.

"Well? Go on, then," ordered the bodyguard.

The kid tried to say something around the gag and was promptly backhanded.

"Hey, hey," Van Rook said grabbing the bodyguard's wrist when he went in for another strike. "Let's hear what he has to say, huh?"

He untied the gag and tugged it from the kid's mouth, only allowing himself a second to be disturbed by how the cloth tore against his teeth. The boy worked his jaw up and down a few times and licked his lips before he tried to speak again.

"I can't actually do what you want me to do," he said, scowling.

The client's face turned thunderous. "Excuse me?"

"Well, to begin with, I'm out of range, and even if I wasn't, my powers are pretty limited without the Claw." He looked at Van Rook with ill-disguised hope.

"I'm not giving you your magic weapon, but nice try."

The kid's face fell back into a scowl. "Beyond that, I don't know who told you my powers were mind control, but they're not." He didn't elaborate. "I can't make that spriggan leave."

"But," said the client, hands fluttering, "magic-"

The boy pulled his lips back in a snarl, revealing too-white, too-sharp teeth. "Just because it's magic doesn't mean it doesn't have rules, idiot."

The list of things Van Rook was truly scared of was short and topped by his own empty wallet and whatever was going on with Argost. Zak Saturday didn't come close. But in ten years... Well. Van Rook would be retired by then, one way or another.

And, to be frank, the kid being stubborn right now wasn't his problem either. "So," he drawled. "I brought you the kid. Where's my money?"

The client's furious expression turned meek in a heartbeat. "Well, you can see-"

"Either pay me now, or I'm leaving with my merchandise."

"But-"

"Not my problem. Pay. Me."

"Well, I-"

Across the cavern, the giant roared something that almost sounded like language.

"He'll pay you," said the kid.

"What?" chorused the adults.

"He'll pay you. The spriggan. The spiggan will pay you, if you can get these guys to go away leave him alone. Double."

Van Rook looked at the kid, then the cryptid, then the massive pile of treasure the cryptid was sitting on. He shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

"You can't be serious!"

"I'm always very serious about getting paid."

Zak sat next to the spriggan, arms around his knees, and tried not to breathe too deeply. Van Rook had left a while ago.

"Thanks for letting me wait here with you," he said. He meant it, and the cavern really was much more pleasant once the spriggan cleaned up Van Rook's work. "Mom and Dad should pick me up any time now." He glanced at the entryway and shuddered. It wasn't like he'd never seen blood before, and it wasn't like he'd never been kidnapped before, but...

The spriggan dropped an ancient, ratty fur coat around his shoulders. He looked up with a weak smile.

"Thanks."

#the secret saturdays #ask #answer #prompt #prompt fill #slowly clearing out my drafts #this has been three paragraphs done for six months im sorry

57 notes · View notes

satendou · 4 years ago

Text

⟼ inopportunity is key

⍣ clueless chemistry series | previous | next

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ pairing: bokuto kotaro/f!reader/kuroo tetsuro

⇢ au: clueless chem!au, college!au, poly!au

⇢ summary: kuroo has a conference call, but bokuto’s just come home from a week away. you really can’t help yourselves.

⇥ masterlist

⇥ requests are open! | rules

⇢ warnings: established relationship, polyamory, smut, fingering & oral, couch sex, teasing of kuroo, masturbation, voyeurism

⇢ word count: 3.7k

・‥…━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━…‥・

⇢ a/n: this is technically posted the day after it was supposed to be but no one will notice right? thank you as usual to @keijiskitten for editing this for me, yk ilysm. uh...thinkin about redoing this header but it’s 3am and i’m not doin it tonight.

“Uh, remind me what this is for again?” you asked, glancing over your shoulder at Kuroo. You were standing at the counter stirring a cup of tea while he fixed his tie in the fridge reflection, mouth twisted into a frown as he fought with it. “That would be easier with a mirror.”

He groaned, glaring at you from the corner of his eye. It had taken him ten minutes to get the tie right the first time, and then Bokuto had kissed him just a few minutes after and screwed it up again. He was frazzled and annoyed. “It’s for a science conference with the rest of the group. We have to discuss the potential impact of praseodymium on the environment if used in industry.”

You hummed thoughtfully even though you had less than no idea what he was talking about. However he always sounded so passionate about it that you didn’t care, trying to be interested even though he always lost you six words into his tirade. You suspected he knew as much because he had started slowing down his explanations, taking the time to explain certain things when your brows furrowed in confusion.

“Just come here, Tetsu. Let me fix it so that you can get started,” you said, waving him over. He sighed in relief and stooped over in front of you, chin tilted up while you fiddled with the knot. After a few moments, you patted his chest. “All done. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

He kissed your forehead, sighing against it. “Thanks, babe.” Then-- “Bokuto.”

The third slice of your trio poked his head around the corner into the kitchen, looking every bit like his name sake. Yellow eyes wide and innocent but sparkling with yet undecided mischief. “Yes, Kuroo?”

You snickered behind your hand and turned back to your cup of tea, now cool enough to drink. Taking a sip, you listened to Kuroo lecture Bokuto, who was now leaning against the doorframe, nodding even though he had clearly spaced out. It was all going in one ear and out the other, his eyes locked on you and a small grin on his face. He had something planned but you couldn’t fathom what.

“...and this is really important so I really need you guys to behave. I know how you get when you get bored, but _____ please try to corral him.”

You put on your best serious face and nodded when Kuroo turned to look at you. But as soon as he turned around, you snickered. He had missed it, but Bokuto had given you a very corny eyebrow wiggle. He was not taking this seriously and you were going to have to find something to occupy him before he actually did interrupt Kuroo’s conference. You loved him, but Bo was all volleyball and that left no space for seriousness.

Kuroo stomped around him and into the living room. You knew his laptop was already set up and open to the chat app the group was going to be using. It had been agreed upon that you and Bokuto could watch TV or hang around in the living room so long* as you-- but mostly Bokuto-- didn’t create a disruption. Kuroo plugged his headphones into the computer and then you heard him talking quietly.

“So, what should we do? Movie?” you asked, moving to stand in front of Bokuto. He towered over you, all broad and rippling muscle and you wondered if you’d actually get through a whole movie. He had only just gotten home from an away game the day before and, after a week away, you had missed him. His arms came around you and you fell willingly into his chest, soaking in the warmth you had been missing for days. Nothing felt right when either of your partners was gone, and you nuzzled into his chest, breathing in the warm smell of fabric softener and your own vanilla body wash because he insisted on using it instead of his own.

“A movie sounds good, so long as you sit in my lap,” he pouted, rubbing his cheek on the top of your head, “I missed you and need cuddles.” It was hard since you were several inches shorter than him, but he wasn’t above bending in half to get affection. Away games sucked, and he had to get by with video chatting, which he demanded every night before the three of you went to bed. He absolutely could not sleep without hearing your voices and seeing your faces.

You led the way into the living room, pulling him along behind you by the wrist. Pausing to kiss Kuroo on the cheek while he chatted, you received a round of waves from the rest of his group and waved back before moving to the couch. Before you could sit, Bokuto caught you up in his arms and fell down, dragging you into his lap just like you promised.

“Alright, alright,” you said, trying your best to stifle your giggles as he peppered your neck and shoulder with kisses. “Tetsu is gonna get mad at us and we won’t be able to watch the movie.”

Bokuto whined in the back of his throat and nipped at your neck, right over your sweet spot, and you squirmed at the heat that it caused. He pulled away, resting his chin on your shoulder and grinning as he picked up the remote. The TV buzzed quietly in the background until he flipped it to Netflix, the familiar sound jarringly loud, and he glanced at Kuroo, who was staring at the two of you with a glare. Bo shrugged, letting a guilty grin slip onto his face as he turned it down in a hurry.

Pushing at him, you guided him to relax against the back of the couch as you got comfortable, sliding off his legs and crossing yours over his thighs. He whined and gave you a pout until you settled in right against his side, and he threw his arm around your shoulders, preening as you snuggled against him.

He flipped through the movie list, humming in thought at a few until he landed on Terminator 2 and looked at you for confirmation. He knew you weren’t going to be paying attention but the way you laid your head on his shoulder, trying to cuddle closer, made up for it.

Kuroo’s voice covered the sound of the movie, except for a few of the louder sound effects from time to time, but it was as low as it could be without being unable to hear it, and the subtitles were already on. You shifted, crossing your ankles and catching Bokuto’s attention. You were still absorbed in your phone, giggling at something he couldn’t see, and you jumped when you suddenly felt his fingers drift up your calf.

“Ko, stop, that tickles,” you whispered, swatting at his hand half-heartedly, but he only snatched his hand away and did it again, eliciting another giggle. You had set your phone aside and wound one arm around his thick neck, tugging as you tried to pull your legs from his hand.

He caught your ankle in his grasp and pulled your leg back straight, holding it in his iron grasp and looking down at you. Your face was twisted with amusement, a wry smile on your face as your eyes glittered with happiness.

“_____, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he whispered, and watched the glitter intensify as your eyes widened, pupils blown wide as he let go of your ankle and swept his hand up to your thigh, squeezing it just below your crotch. You weren’t the only one who was pent up, and he had half a mind to take you to the bedroom.

You could immediately tell you were in trouble when Bokuto’s eyes narrowed-- that mischievous glint he always carried increasing tenfold as he asked, “Can you be quiet?”

Throwing a glance over his shoulder, you caught Kuroo looking at you with what might have been a glare, which was overpowered by the interest his eyes held. Something in the chat gathered his attention for a moment as they asked if he was alright. Tugging at his tie, he nodded, glancing at you quickly before trying to focus on his work.

If the two of you really wanted to play, he would be the adult and ignore it. Or so he thought, until another glance at the two of you revealed Ko’s fingers sliding underneath your shorts. Your lips were parted as he whispered something into your ear, your eyes fluttering while you nodded.

“You’re so wet already, baby. Did you miss me that much, _____?” Bokuto breathed, nipping the shell of your ear while your thighs clenched around him. You pulled at his hair, breathing out a shaky moan as one thick finger probed at your slick folds. “I missed you, babygirl. Need my cock in this tight pussy to make up for it, you want that?”

You nodded, a high whine leaving your throat as he crooked his finger, walls clenching around him when his thumb ghosted your clit. It wouldn’t take long for you to come undone; the way his finger thrust in and out of your tight pussy was mind blowing, and when a second finger forced its way in, you lost it. A sharp gasp escaped before you could help it, barely containing a moan and you bit your fingers to stifle anything more.

Kuroo lost track of the conversation again as he watched you come undone all over Bokuto’s fingers. He would never get tired of the flush in your cheeks and the arch of your back, and he already knew there was a mess in your panties.

You squeaked when Bokuto withdrew his fingers, drawing one into his mouth and savoring the taste. There was nothing better, in his opinion, than tasting you after he’d made you cum. It was like a reward for his hard work. “You taste so good, baby. Here, see?”

His other finger still glistening with your juices prodded your lips and you opened obediently, letting it settle on your tongue. He was throbbing as your tongue wrapped around his finger, sucking like you would his cock. He thought that sounded pretty damn good too, but Kuroo was watching, humming along with whatever his group was saying. He was just managing to give them some semblance of an answer to their questions, and Bokuto intended to give him a show.

Smirking at him, he quickly yanked your shorts off your legs and threw them, landing just beside Kuroo’s laptop.

One of the members ask what that was Kuroo passed it off, saying you had dropped something on the table beside him and glared at Bokuto. He was aggravated that his partner had decided to play this little game, but there was no denying that he was enjoying himself too. Knowing that he had a show to occupy himself while his group sat oblivious, droning on about their work with no one to tease them. He was living the dream and he knew it.

But he was still annoyed.

As Bokuto pulled his shorts down his thighs, you pulled your shirt over your head, pinning Kuroo with a coy smile and cupping your own tits, pinching and pulling at your hardened nipples. As much as you tried to deny it, he knew you enjoyed teasing him just as much as Bokuto-- probably a product of spending too much time with him.

Kuroo almost moaned when Bokuto positioned the two of you so that you were facing him, Bo leaned against the armrest with you sitting just above his leaking cock, your back to his chest. You wrapped a hand around it, pumping a few times and smearing precum across the tip. Bokuto’s head was tipped back, eyes closed while you worked him up, fingers kneading and squeezing your hips.

“Can’t stand it, babygirl. I’m gonna cum if you keep it up and I wanna paint your pretty insides white,” he growled at last, using brute strength to lift you up and settle you over his cock. Your hand was still wrapped around him as you guided him in, your jaw falling slack as his fat dick spread you wide. As always, Bokuto was far too large to handle, but you wanted more, sliding down even as tears rolled down your cheeks at the intense stretch.

Kuroo had a clear view of your gaping pussy, thighs trembling with a mixture of pain and pleasure and his fingers curled into his palm as he stared. He heard the call of his name and glanced at the screen, finding them waiting for him to answer the previous question still.

“Um, yeah, three should be fine, but make it five if you can,” he said, knowing he should end the call early, but something kept him rooted to his seat and his mouth firmly shut. Maybe it was the taboo, or maybe he just had a voyeur kink. As much as he wanted to join you, to punish the both of you for your teasing, there was a larger part of him that was getting off on just watching.

A whine tore from your throat when Bokuto thrust his hips up experimentally, burying his cock fully in your tight heat and your eyes rolled back. It felt like he was dragging out of you, your tiny pussy clinging onto him so tight that you could feel every vein rubbing against your walls.

“Fuckfuck,” you gasped before clapping your hand over your mouth.

In punishment for your slipup, Bokuto reached up and harshly pinched one nipple, his head falling back when you squeezed down around him in response. “So good, baby, so fuckin’ good. Do that again.”

To make you, he pinched your other nipple, hips still moving at a languid pace in and out of you. The slick noises your cunt was making was just barely audible to Kuroo, and he hoped the interference in the video chat prevented his group mates from hearing. They didn’t ask about it, only commenting on his lack of focus and asking if he needed to go. But he shook his head, forcing himself to pay attention for a few moments, watching you bounce from the corner of his eyes.

Your head was tossed back against Bokuto’s shoulder, the veins in his arms standing out as his muscles flexed, pushing and pulling you like you were his own personal fuck toy while you gasped and whined in his ear. In the back of your mind, you really didn’t* want Kuroo to get in trouble, but it was too good to stop and catching his eyes on you made you warm. They were filled with arousal and the promise of payback, and you shivered in Bokuto’s arms.

“Play with your clit, babygirl. Make yourself cum all over my cock while I fuck you,” he whispered, hips curling. He was slamming you down, forcing the breath from you with every thrust, watching Kuroo’s eyes follow his cock disappearing into you. He could feel the mess you were making all over his cock, dripping down his balls and to the couch and he moaned a little louder. Tangling his fingers in your hair, he littered kisses up your shoulder to your neck, and you bucked your hips up when his teeth sunk into your neck before he began to suck, working to leave as large a hickey as he could.

Even from across the room, Kuroo could see the vivid red mark on your skin, slick with saliva and shiny like Bokuto’s lips. His eyes met Bo’s, who was almost feral at that point, eyes wide and wild as he pounded into you. He followed the slide of your hand down to the juncture of your legs, thighs tensing as the first pass over your clit sent jolts of pleasure sparking through you. He wetted his lips at the way your lips parted, wanting to slide his aching cock between them and punish you for torturing him. But it could wait, he decided, discreetly adjusting himself below the view of the camera. He knew you were close, knew your tells. The way your back would arch, your toes would curl, breath leaving you in pants--

You almost shrieked when Bokuto flipped you forward without warning, leaving you empty for just a moment before he was forcing his thick cock back into you. You swallowed him so easily, already fucked open and the head of his cock met your cervix with the new angle. His large hand met the center of your back and pushed, forcing your back to arch and your chest to meet the couch. With your ass up in the air, he wasn’t taking care to keep quiet anymore, his hips pistoning into without mercy and forcing broken moans and whines from your lips.

You were too fuzzy with your looming orgasm to care about Kuroo’s partners hearing, nails scrabbling for purchase on the cushions while Bokuto held you in place with one strong hand.

Kuroo was quick to realize he couldn’t hide it anymore and muted his mic, typing into the supplied chat that he wasn’t feeling well and had to go. It took his computer far too long to register that he had exited the chat and he groaned in relief when it closed, slamming the laptop shut. His belt buckle clanked as he undid it in a hurry before pushing his slacks down to his knees. He was so hard it was painful and he moaned when he wrapped his hand around his weeping cock. There was a wet spot in his boxers where his precum had soaked in, and he had no trouble coaxing more out with a few thrusts, but it wasn’t enough.

Spitting on his cock, he grunted, squeezing his length tighter and forcing his cock through the tight ring of his fingers. Eyes locked on you, listening to the slick noise of Bokuto fucking your tight cunt and imagining it was him pounding you.

“TetsuTetsuTetsu,” you cried, his name falling like a mantra from your lips and it sent a jolt through him, his hand squeezing his shaft and the dam broke.

“Fuck, princess,” he snarled, drinking in your fucked out, wide open expression. Focusing on the sensitive spot just underneath his head, he worked himself through his orgasm, drawing it out and splattering cum on his dress shirt. “You’re so pretty, taking his cock. You gonna come for him? He’s treated you so good, it’s the least you could do to cream all over him.”

You whined at his dirty words, watching him slump back and relax, his softening cock rest on his stomach and his arms slung across the back of the couch. His eyes were narrowed and teasing as he stared at you, licking his lips and smirking, looking very much at ease.

“Gonna cum, Ko, please make me cum. You fuck me so good, baby, I can’t think, can’t think fuck,” you babbled, clenching down on him. A twist of his hips had him rubbing along that one soft spot inside you, head slamming into your cervix and you toppled over the edge with a scream of his name.

He didn’t stop as he chased his own high, eyes locked onto his glistening cock covered in your cream, groaning as he forced himself into your clenching pussy again. You were whining with overstimulation, still squeezing around and he choked out a curse as he hilted himself inside you and came. He doubled over, resting his forehead on your back as he pumped you full of his cum, hips rocking to jerk himself off with your tight pussy.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re so amazing,” he whispered, voice hoarse. He swept your hair to the side and pressed open mouth kisses all over the back of your neck and shoulders, tasting the salt on your skin. You shuddered as he pulled out of you, the mess of his cum spilling down your thighs, and he helped you to lay down.

Kuroo was already there with a wet cloth and together they cleaned you and then Bo up, Kuroo’s rough hand gently running the cloth over his soft cock and the mess you had made all over it. Dropping the cloth, his hand trailed up over his abs, watching them twitch and flex until he could cup his chin.

Pressing a kiss to the corner of Bokuto’s lips, he grinned, a feral, manic look in his eyes as he whispered, “You two are in so much trouble. Better rest up now, because when I’m done you won’t be able to walk or practice for days.”

The grin Bokuto gave him screamed mischief, and Kuroo laughed under his breath as he realized his partner had planned this. Carefully, he scooped you up in his arms and you snuggled into his chest, leaving lazy kisses to the underside of his jaw and down his throat. The tie had long been undone and flung somewhere behind the couch, and your nimble fingers plucked open the top buttons of his shirt, your lips blazing a trail on the newly exposed skin.

He could hear Bokuto’s heavy footsteps behind him as he walked down the hall, kicking the bedroom door open with his foot.

Depositing you on the bed, Bokuto crawled in beside you while Kuroo undressed, watching the two of you cuddle up and whisper together, giggling like co-conspirators and it dawned on him that the conference call was never going to end any other way.

“You two are such little shits, you know that?” he growled, kneeling on the bed and towering over the two of you. “Hope you’re ready, _____. You have to make it up to me.”

Your answering smile was as brilliant as it was devious. “Come and get me then, daddy.”

⇥ return to masterlist

⇥ taglist: @umihami, @kunimwuah

#bokuto x reader #bokuto kotaro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #bokuto x kuroo #bokuto x reader x kuroo #haikyuu x reader #.inopportunityiskey

954 notes · View notes

peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology · 4 years ago

Text

The Sanguine Web - Part 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

A/N: Alright, here’s part 2, I hope you guys like it. Part 3, the finale, is coming soon! Let me know what you guys think or if you wanna be tagged in the next chapter. Love you all xx

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, angst

Summary: The clocks ticking and you’re trying to get over Peter

Prompts

Masterlist

Part 1

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

The last person I expected to see when I showed up for therapy was Peter. Well maybe not the last person, but he was certainly up there. And I couldn’t help the uncomfortable feeling bubbling in my stomach when my eyes met his.

“Hello (y/n),” Dr. Morrison smiled at me.

“Hi,” I blushed as I looked between them, “What’s going on?”

“I just had a few questions,” Peter blushed, "I wanna make sure I'm doing everything I can."

I appreciate the gesture, I know he just wants to help, but I don't like that he came out to see my therapist. It just feels wrong, and I'm worried about what she may have said to him too…

"Right, that's, um, great, but I'd really like to get started if you guys don't mind," I turned my attention to Dr. Morrison, "I've got a lot to talk about."

She nodded, "Of course. Peter if you decide you want to make an appointment you can call in. It was lovely to meet you."

"You too," he smiled back at her and squeezed my upper arm, "Call me when you're done?"

I just nodded, "Yeah, I'll call."

I followed Dr. Morrison back to her office and waited nervously for her to settle in to address me.

“Sorry about that, he stopped by just a bit before you came,” she sighed and took a seat across from me, “How have you been?”

“Good…” I blushed, “What did you two talk about?”

“He just wanted to know some of the things he could do to help you through this, he’s very sweet,” she smiled, “(y/n) we have a confidentiality agreement, I promise I would never tell him anything about you or your condition. I just told him some of the things he can do to help.”

“Like what?”

“Well I told him the most important thing he could do was just listen to you, that he should give you space when you ask for it, and support whatever decisions you make about this.”

“Did he seem receptive?”

“Very, he seems like he really just wants to help you anyway he can.”

“Did he ask about the surgery or anything?”

“No, but he did ask if I thought you’d be able to get over this.” “A-And what did you tell him?”

“I told him if the people around you are as supportive as him then I think your odds are great.”

“Oh,” I sighed and let myself relax about the situation, “I’m glad you think so.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Hey,” Peter smiled as he took the seat across from me, “So, you wanna tell me how it went now?”

“Everything was fine,” I smiled back, “I just wanted to talk to you face to face.”

He nodded, his expression quickly turning worried, “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, you mean besides the plants growing in my lungs?”

He rolled his eyes, “That’s not funny.”

“I’m trying to lighten the mood,” I sighed, “Peter I know you had good intentions, but it made me really uncomfortable that you were asking Dr. Morrison about me.”

His cheeks flushed instantly, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean t-”

I cut him off before he could start word vomiting, “It’s okay, I know you're just trying to help, but I really need you to take a step back here. I can’t get better if you're hovering over my shoulder all the time.”

“I just wanna help.”

“I know, and I know you’re used to being a hero and helping everyone all the time, but it isn’t your responsibility to save everyone.”

“I know that, but it is my responsibility to save you.”

“You can’t.” I hated watching the way his jaw clenched when I said it, but he had to hear it. “Nothing Spiderman can do is going to help me. I have to do this myself, and the best thing you can do for me is be my best friend and be here for me in the ways I ask you too.”

He hesitated, taking a few moments to think over his answer, he sighed before he finally answered, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone to talk to her. I just wanted to know how to help, but she told me the same thing. I just wanna be able to do more for you.”

“Well you’re gonna be there with me when I tell everyone right? That’ll be a big help,” I smiled, trying to cheer him up, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be harsh Peter. You know I’d trust Spiderman to save me from most things, but I just need Peter okay?”

“You aren’t being harsh,” he sighed, “It’s just…” he hesitated again, “I don’t wanna lose you and not be able to do anything about it, again.”

“You won’t,” I promise before placing my hand over his, “I’m gonna be fine, and you’ll help me get better just by being here for me. I promise if I need anything from you, I will tell you.”

“Okay,” he looked down at our hands, “So you still want to tell everyone soon?”

I nodded, “Yeah, like within the next couple days. I think it’ll be better if they all know soon,” it was my turn to blush then, “I hope everything’s okay with you and MJ, thank you for not telling her though. I’m sorry I made you guys fight.”

“You didn’t make us fight,” he squeezed my hand and returned both of his to his lap, “We’ve just been butting heads over everything lately.”

“I’m sorry P, you can tell me about it if you want.”

“It’s alright, I don’t want to stress you out.”

“You won’t,” I assured, “Peter I’m your friend too, if you need to vent I’m here.”

He leaned back in his chair and yet another sigh left his lips, “I don’t know, we just can’t seem to agree on anything lately. Every tiny thing makes us fight, I mean just the other night we started yelling at each other because we couldn’t even decide where to get dinner.”

“I’m sorry Peter, did you guys have some big fight that started it or something?”

“No, not really, er, kind of? I don’t know, you remember when we went out to that bar with Betty and Ned? And we were out like really late?”

“The one with the mechanical bull?”

He chuckled, “Yeah, that one. Anyways, she just got really upset we were out so late, I guess we’ve just been fighting ever since.”

“Well obviously I’m not really one to give relationship advice, but there’s always ups and downs, I’m sure you guys will get better.” It’s hard to comfort him because part of me doesn’t want them to get better, and another part of me hates me for letting that thought cross my mind. “Is she still just mad about that night?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not apologizing for spending time with my friends,” he hummed, “I love her and everything, but she just hasn’t been very fun to be around lately.”

“Have you asked her what’s going on?”

He glances up at me and purses his lips, “Let’s talk about something more fun.”

“Okay,” I cleared my throat, trying to get rid of the slight tickle before it becomes something more, “You wanna see the xray of my lungs?”

He frowned and shook his head, “No, surprisingly I don’t think your terminal illness is a very fun subject.”

“I think I forgot how to have fun,” I reached for my drink, taking a big gulp to drown out the incoming cough, “Honestly I don’t think I’ve thought about anything else since I was diagnosed.”

“Are you okay?” he knit his brows in concern.

I nod quickly, “I’m fine, just a little tickle.”

He opens his mouth to say more but stops himself, “Okay, well, since I can’t punch the problem away for you, how about I show you how to have fun again?”

“Hmm,” I tapped my lip, pretending to think it over before nodding, “Okay, but no strenuous aerobic exercise.”

“Alright so no mechanical bulls this time,” he winked and stood, offering me a hand up, “Come on, I’ve got a couple other things in mind.”

I just rolled my eyes and let him help me up.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Are you okay?” Betty raised a brow at me, returning to the kitchen with pizza in hand.

I nodded, “Yeah, just a little nervous.”

“Nervous? It’s just dinner with our friends.”

“I know, I’m still just a little nervous.”

“Okay…” she pursed her lips as she placed the pizza on the table in front of me, “You’re not pregnant or something are you?”

“What?” I flushed, “No, I’m not pregnant.”

She shrugged, “I don’t know, you haven’t been feeling well and you’re all nervous about dinner. I feel like you’re gonna tell us all that you’re pregnant.”

“I’m not,” I assured.

A knock at the door interrupted our conversation, “I’ll get it,” she offered, “Try to chill baby mama!”

“I’m not pregnant!” I snapped.

The door opened to reveal Peter, Ned, and MJ, with cupcakes and soda. It’s like we’re having a party, too bad I have to tell everyone I’m dying.

“Hey guys,” I greeted them with a smile, “You’re just in time, the pizza just got here.”

“Great,” MJ smiled to me, setting the cupcakes right beside the pizza, “I’m starved. Did you guys pick out a movie?”

Betty nodded, “Yeah, (y/n) said she had something picked out.”

“Yeah, I was thinking we could watch the movie after dinner though, it might be nice to sit at the table for once,” I laughed awkwardly, I think everyone could tell something was up.

“Sounds nice,” Peter squeezed my shoulder, “How are you?”

“Fine,” I assured, “Just hungry.”

“Let’s get you some food then,” he practically shoved me into one of the chairs at the table and took a seat besides me, “Well come sit down you guys.”

MJ raised a brow at him, “You good.”

“Yeah, I’m great,” he nodded, “I’m just really, really hungry.”

“Okay, you said you weren’t hungry in the car though,” she rolled her eyes as she sat at his other side.

“Well I got hungry.”

“Guys come on,” Ned groaned, “You fought the whole car ride here, can’t you guys just wait until you’re alone?”

Peter blushed, “Yeah, sorry. This is about (y/n), we shouldn’t be fighting.”

Betty knit her brow in confusion, “What do you mean about (y/n)?”

His blush spread up to his ears, “Nothing! Nothing at all! I just mean cause she suggested we have a movie night! Not like I know something you guys don’t or anything…”

“Oh my God Peter,” I sighed, hiding behind one of my hands. “Sorry,” he sank into his chair.

“It’s fine,” I sighed, “I have something to tell you guys.”

“You are pregnant!” Betty accused with a smile, “I knew it!”

I rolled my eyes, “No, I am not pregnant. It’s not something nice or happy or anything good, that’s why I was planning on waiting until after we ate.” Everyone was silent and all eyes were on me. “I’m sick, um, really sick,” I can seem to get the words out so I look to Peter for help.

“She has Hanahaki’s,” he sighed, “I only know because I caught her coughing up a flower.”

They stayed silent, I think they were all just taking it in for a minute. Finally Betty spoke.

“So when you went to the doctor a few weeks ago…”

I nodded, “Yeah, and Peter’s known for almost a week now.”

“They haven’t gotten you in for surgery yet?” MJ knit her brows in confusion.

“I’m not getting the surgery.”

Betty frowned, “Why not?” “There’s a chance that I wouldn’t be able to fall in love again if I did, I don’t wanna risk it.”

“She’s been going to a therapist,” Peter added.

“Who is it?” Betty demanded.

“I’m not telling anyone who it is, I don’t want anyone blaming him for anything.”

“Well have you tried to talk to him?” MJ frowned, “Maybe this is just a big misunderstanding.”

I blushed, “He’s seeing someone. He doesn’t feel the same way. I’m gonna be okay though, I’m gonna move on.”

“Okay it’s great for you to try that, but you need to at least be considering the surgery,” Betty shook her head, “You sound insane right now.”

“Betty,” Peter shot her a glare, “She’s doing her best, and she already heard it all from me.”

“Well she’s still trying to pass up a life saving surgery so I think that talk went awesome,” she rolled her eyes.

“I’m not going to die,” I tried to defend myself, “I’ve been going to therapy and I’m making good progress, I’ll be able to get over him and be just fine.”

“Is it moving quickly?” MJ frowned.

“So far I’ve been on the slower end, I have my three week check in in a few days and they’ll see if it’s gotten any worse.”

“Well what can we do for you?” Betty sighed, “If you really don’t want surgery…”

“You don’t need you to do anything. I just thought you guys should know.”

“I guess if it’s slow there’s still time for you to try moving on,” Betty reasoned, “Maybe when it gets worse we can talk about the surgery again.”

“It’s her decision.” I was surprised when MJ jumped to my defense. “If she doesn’t want the surgery she shouldn’t get it.”

Peter frowned, “Don’t encourage her.”

“I’m not encouraging her, but it’s her choice. We shouldn’t try to push her into a surgery she doesn’t want.”

“Okay in every other case you’re right, but not when the alternative is dying.”

“Well she said she can get better, and she’s the sick one, so I think she knows what she can and can’t do better than you can.”

“I didn’t say she couldn’t, we’re just saying if she can’t then she should consider the surgery.”

MJ turned to me, “(y/n) didn’t you just say that you didn’t want the surgery?”

“Why are you making this a fight? And why are you bringing (y/n) into this? She doesn’t need to stress out about some pointless argument.”

“Stop babying her for fucks sake Peter she’s a grown adult, not your daughter,” she rolled her eyes.

“Okay so you find out our friend is dying and you still don’t want me to spend time with her?”

Part of me liked watching them fight, and I hate myself for ever letting those thoughts enter my mind. I want them to be happy, both of them, and I don’t want them to fight, not really. Even if some evil part of me likes it.

“Guys I-” I cut myself off with a cough, I try to drink something and force it back down, but I’ve got no such luck. I know what’s coming, I can feel them tickling my throat, so I got up from my chair and stumbled over to the kitchen sink. I leaned over it and coughed not one but three flowers up, along with a heavy amount of blood. It’s the most I’ve ever coughed up at once.

“Are you okay?” Peter rubbed my back, his eyes swimming with concern.

I nodded, “I’m fine, I just need some water.”

Everyone’s eyes were on the sink, they were all just staring until Betty cleared her throat, “Just go lay down, I’ll clean this up.”

“Guys I’m okay,” I insisted.

“No, she’s right, you should sit,” MJ grabbed my shoulders, directing me towards the couch, “Peter get her some water.”

He nodded, “R-Right, on it.”

The rest of the night went about as expected, the fight was dropped and everyone babied me until they went home, then Betty babied me until I went to bed.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Dr. Shaw was silent as she examined my charts, she didn’t look happy, so I could only assume it was bad news. “It’s getting worse isn’t it?”

She nodded, “It’s made a significant jump from last week, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t getting better, it’s just the nature of the disease. How’s therapy going?”

I sighed, “I don’t know, it’s hard to say. I feel like it’s going well until I’m around him again, then it just kind of hits me.”

She pursed her lips, “Well I don’t know so much about the psychology of it, but I’ve seen a lot of patients get better after a confession, whether that be through reciprocation or just being able to move on.”

“How much longer do you think I have?”

“It’s hard to say, you were progressing slowly but then you had this jump. If it continues at this new pace I’d estimate we’ll have to hospitalize you within the week, if it slows down again we’ve maybe got another two or three weeks.”

“Alright,” I sighed, “I’ll, uh, try to get better I guess.”

She gave a forced smile, “(y/n) we can still get you in for surgery if you change your mind.”

I shook my head, “No, no I can do this.”

“Alright,” she scribbled some things onto notepad, “I’m upping your prescription, we’ll see if we can slow it down again.”

“Thank you doctor.”

I debated what to do on my way out, finally deciding that I’ll need to see Dr. Morrison more frequently and see Peter less frequently. Then I decide I want to go talk to MJ, I think if I can feel less guilty it will help, and I’ll feel less guilty if I can help them get along again. So I swing by her house before I go to get my prescription. It’s a little awkward, we’ve never hung out alone, it’s always with Betty or Peter or someone else, I guess we aren’t that close really.

“Hey,” she greeted as she opened the door, “Come on in.”

I followed her inside, my hands clasped nervously in front of me, “I’m sorry to bug you, I just wanted to apologize about movie night.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” she assured, “Peter and I have been fighting anyway.”

“Yeah, he told me,” I blushed, “But I am sorry, and I wanted to thank you too, you’re the only person who’s been on my side about the whole surgery thing.”

She nodded, “Yeah, I mean it’s your choice in the end, but if I were you I wouldn’t make the same one. I’ve been in love, I’ve dated people I’m in love with, and if I were in your shoes, I mean like, if I had to pick between Peter and a life saving surgery, I would pick the surgery everytime,” she smiled and I worried that she may know, “But you know, even if I don’t agree with your choice, you deserve to have someone on your side.”

“Thank you,” I glanced down at my hands, “Sometimes I think I’m making the wrong choice too, but I don’t want to never feel like this again… Anyways, I really wanted to make sure you and Peter are okay. And if I’m putting any kind of stress on you guys I wanted to say I’m really sorry.”

She sighed, “I don’t really know what we are right now, we just can’t seem to see eye to eye on anything lately.”

“I’m sorry MJ, you know I could talk to him if you needed m-”

“No, no,” she laughed, “The last thing I need is for you to talk to him about it. He’s still mad that he thinks I stressed you out the other night.”

“I’m sorry, you didn’t though, I just stressed myself out.”

“He’s just worried, he doesn't want to lose anyone else,” she shrugged, “I think he’s taking it worse than you actually, and I don’t know what I’m gonna do with him if you don’t end up getting better.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, I’m gonna be okay.”

“It’s good that you’re being optimistic, but if you’re really refusing the surgery then there is a chance you don’t get better,” she sighed, “Sorry, you shouldn’t be thinking about that, but it’s just a possibility. And it’s harder for us to be sure you’ll be okay, we aren’t you, we don’t know how you're feeling on the day to day.”

I nodded, ‘Yeah, I, uh, I just gotta stay positive. It’s not easy though, you know I think I’m okay and then I see him again and suddenly I’m not, o-or I see his girlfriend and I just feel so guilty…”

“(y/n), can I ask you something?”

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and nodded, “Yeah.”

“Is it Peter?”

It’s like the whole world slowed down as I tried not to go tense or blush or do anything that would give it away. “No, of course not, I wouldn’t do that to you, we’re friends.”

“I’d understand if it was, I know you can’t help forming feelings, and I wouldn’t get mad either. I know you wouldn’t try to make a move or anything.”

“It’s not him,” I coughed into my hand and glanced down at my phone, “I’m sorry, I need to get to the pharmacy before they close. Thank you for talking with me.”

“Of course,” she was still frowning when she stood up, “I’ll walk you out.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I’d secluded myself after my doctor’s appointment and awkward encounter with MJ, telling everyone I just needed a few days alone. I only left the house once, to go to therapy, where I think I did make some progress, but then realize I didn’t as soon as Peter showed up at my place again. I wanted to send him away, I really did, but I just couldn’t.

“You still haven’t told me how the doctors went, or therapy,” he smiled as he returned to my room, a tub of popcorn in hand.

“Therapy was fine,” I sighed, “The doctors weren't so great, she said it got a lot worse since my last appointment. She upped my medication though.”

His face dropped instantly, “How much worse?”

“She said I’d be hospitalized in a week if it continued at that rate, but like I said, she upped my meds. Hopefully that will help slow it down again, then I’ll still have two or three weeks.”

“Only two or three?”

“That’s still good Peter, most people don’t even last a month.”

“Do you think you can get better by then?”

“Yeah, I think so,” another sigh fell out of my lips, “It’s a little weird, I know we’re never going to be together but that isn’t enough, I have to just not be interested. I know I’ve moved on from people before too, but it’s like I suddenly can’t remember how to do that.”

He wrapped an arm around me, pulling me into him with a frown, “You’ll do it, I know you will,” he let his head fall against mine, “It’ll just click, and you’ll get better.”

“I know,” I took a couple of pieces of the popcorn and decided it was probably best to move on, “So, did you and MJ make up.”

He shook his head, “No, but you don’t need to worry about that.”

“Peter we just talked about how we both know I’m going to get better, so you can’t baby me.”

“I don’t know, she was mad that I was being so clingy to you, and I thought she’d drop it once she knew what was going on, but she didn’t. And I’m mad she’s mad about that, and I’m mad she thinks it’s okay that you’re refusing surgery, and you know, we were already fighting before, but this is just making it worse.”

“I’m sorry,” I felt that wave of guilt again, “I’m really sorry, I don’t want you guys to stress out over me or anything, it’s really not worth it.”

“Don’t apologize, you can’t help being sick, and you aren’t making anything worse. It was all already there. I’m just really upset, she isn’t taking this whole thing as serious as she should be,” he kissed the top of my head.

“She is, you’re just handling it in different ways.”

“I’m supposed to go over there later so we can talk,” he turned his attention to the tv with a sigh, “I don’t even know what to say, I think we’re just drifting apart.” “Don’t say that Peter,” I scolded, worrying that I may be causing a bigger issue than I thought, “It’s just a rough patch, and my whole situation is making it worse. I’m sorry, I should have kept it to myself.”

“You aren’t making anything worse (y/n), the whole surgery thing is just another problem to add to the pile, it’s got nothing to do with you, none of our problems do. Please don’t think that or stress yourself out over us, the only thing you need to worry about is getting better,” he cupped my face, “And you absolutely should not have kept this to yourself, you’re my best friend and I need to be there for you through this, it’s my problem just as much as it is yours.”

“She doesn’t think I shouldn’t get the surgery,” I tried to deflect because if I really thought about what he said I’d start to cry, “She told me she thinks I should get it, but she just wanted me to have someone on my side.”

“I know what she thinks, that’s what the whole issue is. I’m on your side, all of us are on your side, but you’re wrong here, and she shouldn’t even be saying there are sides in the first place. She shouldn’t tell you it’s okay for you to choose dying over the risks of the surgery either. Whether she means it that way or not, I just feel like she’s saying she’s okay with you dying, and I really needed her to side with me on this but she won’t even think about it. Maybe I’m being selfish, but if pressuring you is how we get you to have that surgery then I’m fine with that,” he looked away for a minute, I think he was about to cry too, “I love you, and I just want you to get better more than anything. I don’t want you to be focusing on anything else either, all of your energy needs to be focused on getting better. So please don’t worry about us, whatever happens will be fine just as long as you are.”

I did start crying, and I felt ten times worse because it made him start to tear up too, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he pulled me into his chest, rocking me lightly, “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

The movie was discarded in favor of sitting quietly while Peter tried to make me feel better. It worked eventually, but I just ended up passing out. I would have thought Peter would have just left after that, but when I woke up he was still right beside me, dead asleep with his head on my shoulder. I freaked out because I remembered he was supposed to go to MJ’s, so I shook him awake as quickly as I could.

“What’s wrong?” he frowned at me, “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I assured, “But we fell asleep, and you were supposed to go to MJ’s, you gotta call her.”

“Right…” he sat up slowly, picking his phone up off my nightstand with a frown, “Yeah, it looks like she’s been calling, I should probably head over there…”

I nodded, “Yes, you most definitely need too, and you need to go now, I’ll text her and explain too.”

“You don’t need to do that,” he ruffled my hair and smiled affectionately, “You just lay right here all day and you focus on getting better alright?”

I furrowed my brow but nodded, “Okay… But it would only take me a second.”

“It’s fine (y/n), just focus on you,” he kissed my forehead before climbing out of my bed, “I’ll swing by later to check on you again, try to start hating him while I’m gone okay?”

I blushed and nodded, “I’ll give it my best shot.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Peter never came back, never even texted me. I wouldn’t think anything of it if he didn’t lead a double life as Spiderman, but he did, so I was worried. I texted him once, a simple ‘you good?’ but got no reply. It was really nerve wracking, but around midnight he finally replied.

‘Got busy on patrol, be there soon.’

It relaxed me a lot, but I couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. I was curious too, I didn’t want to be nosey, but I wanted to know how things went. I wanted to make sure they were okay. At least until Peter slammed into my window, scaring me so bad that I fell out of bed and decided he could fall off the building for all I cared.

“Screw you Parker,” I snapped as I opened the window, “I’m sick, scaring me like that is totally unethical.” He laughed, “You keep telling me not to baby you,” he reminded, “Can I come in?”

I rolled my eyes and got out of the way so he could crawl inside, “God, can’t you just use the front door?” “You’re jealous,” he teased, drawing my blinds so he could take off his mask, “So, do you hate him yet?”

“Not even a little,” I sighed, “Was she mad?”

He nodded, “Yeah, we had a big fight.”

“I’m sorry,” I frowned, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He stayed quiet for a long time, staring at the wall in front of him before finally speaking, “We’re taking a break.”

“L-Like a break up break?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I mean maybe we’ll fix things eventually, but I don’t see it happening anytime soon.”

Butterflies filled my stomach, happy, nervous ones. They made me sick.

“Oh,” I didn’t really know what to say, “I’m sorry Peter, are you okay?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I think we’ve both known it was coming. I should have called you, I just wanted to blow off some steam first.”

“That’s okay.” I knew I shouldn’t have let Peter spend the night, I should have made sure he went to see her on time. “I’m really sorry Peter, I could try to talk to her if you wanted.”

“It’s okay,” he wore a small smile, “I think this is better for both of us. I mean we’ve been dating since high school, and we’ve changed a lot since then. I think maybe we’ll work better as just friends… In the future I mean, I don’t really want to see her right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

I know it’s my fault, at least in part. I know he won’t say it because he’s trying to protect me, but I know it. I know that I stressed them both out, especially Peter, and that couldn’t have done anything but make things worse.

“Quit apologizing, you didn’t do anything,” he fell onto my bed with a sigh, “You know what would make this all feel better?”

“What?”

“If you got all better so we could go do something fun.”

“We can do fun stuff now.” He shook his head, “No, I want to go to the amusement park again, like we did last summer, but just us this time,” his small smile fell to a frown, “But you can’t go until you get better, so you need to get better soon.”

“I’ll try my best,” I promised.

He shook his head, “No, not trying your best,” he sat back up suddenly, “I need you to promise me you’ll get better.”

I nodded, “I’ll get better.”

He pulled me into a hug, quickly kissing my head, “Good. Now I think I’m gonna go on patrol for a little bit again. Call me if you need me okay?”

I nodded, “I will.”

“Good,” he pulled his mask back on and drew my blinds again “And now that I’ve met my quota of visiting sick kids for the night, I’ve got to get back to the real superhero business.”

I rolled my eyes, “Glad I could help, be careful out there Spiderman.”

I locked up after he left and felt good for about one minute, then the guilt set in. I couldn’t avoid it anymore, I couldn’t push it down any longer. I didn’t know what to do about it, I just had to get it out. So I went to Betty’s room in hopes of just trying to vent a bit, luckily she was still awake.

“What’s on your mind?” she smiled at me.

I shrugged, “I don’t know, a lot I guess.”

“Okay,” she scooted over and patted the spot besides her on her bed, “Tell me what’s up.”

“Well I’m still dying,” I blushed as I sat down, “I don’t think I’ve gotten better at all actually.”

She frowned, “Just because you aren’t better yet doesn’t mean you haven’t gotten better at all.”

“But I haven’t gotten better Betty, I know I haven’t,” I stopped myself with a sigh, “Peter and MJ broke up.”

She nodded, “Yeah, MJ’s been texting me, how’s Peter?”

“He seems okay,” I was trying so hard not to cry, “It was my fault.”

“What?” she laughed, “(y/n) you had nothing to do with it.”

“Yes I did, I put all this pressure on them and I made things so much worse and I-” I lost the battle with my eyes, “I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t putting pressure on anyone, and even if you did, it was just something else on the pile, they’ve been having problems for awhile, you know that,” she hugged me, “You shouldn’t feel bad about anything, you’re just trying to get better.”

“No I- Betty it’s Peter,” I just blurt it out between sobs. It feels good to put it out there, to tell someone, but it didn’t shake the guilt at all.

“What do you mean it’s Peter?” she frowned.

“The boy, it’s Peter, I’m sorry,” I feel like a little kid, crying to their mom over a broken toy. She seemed to be in shock for a moment, “That’s why you wouldn’t tell us who?”

I nodded, “I can’t put that on him! And I feel so bad Betty, I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t feel bad, look you can’t help developing feelings for him,” she assured, “Just calm down, it’s not like you’ve ever acted on it, we all know you wouldn’t do that. And you know Peter wouldn’t want you to feel about that either. It’s okay.”

“It isn’t okay Betty! I’m dying! I’m gonna die, I don’t wanna die!” I cried into my hands, “And I just can’t get over him!”

“Yes you can,” she insisted, “Maybe it doesn’t feel like you can right now because you’re all worked up, but you can. Just take a deep breath, let’s calm down okay?”

I took a deep breath, trying to get my sobs under control, “I don’t want to get over him.”

She stayed quiet for a moment, “You have to.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I passed right out after admitting things to Betty, and I had felt better after admitting things to her, but then I woke up coughing. And I just couldn’t stop. Water didn’t help, coughing out the flowers didn’t help, nothing helped. I’d stop for a few seconds and then it would just start right up again. I started getting lightheaded, to the point that I had to sit down. I barely even noticed when Betty entered my room. “Are you okay?” she frowned at me.

I nodded, “I’ll be okay.”

“Drink something,” she handed me my water bottle.

I shook my head and pushed it away, “I already did.”

“Drink more,” she insisted.

I took a gulp just to appease her, then a few petals fell out of my mouth and the coughing finally subsided, leaving me dizzy on my bed, “See? I’m good.”

“I think you should go see the doctor.”

I shook my head, “I’m okay.”

“It’s getting worse, you need to go in,” she insisted, “Come on, I’ll take you in.”

“Betty I’m fine.”

“Then there’s no harm in going in, just humour me okay?”

I sighed, “Fine, fine, we can go to the doctor and see that I’m still just fine.”

Part 3

107 notes · View notes

starlightrows · 4 years ago

Text

Something Sweet

Chapter 2 - Scoops and Scones

← Previous - Next →

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Modern!Paz Vizsla x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: None!

Summary: You are welcomed with open arms into the group Paz told you about, and feelings start to bloom as the spring turns to summer!

On Tuesday you make sure to wear something kind of cute that you can wear to meet everyone after work. You want to make a good first impression, but also not be overdressed. You’re excited and a little nervous all day, the steady stream of customers keeps you busy. Springtime is a great time of year for business because lots of people have birthdays and anniversaries, lots of weddings too!

Just after 7 pm the door to the shop opens, and the bell above the door chimes. Paz steps in and marvels at how you have the shop decorated.

“Did you do all of this yourself?” he asks

“Yeah!” you reply, delighted in his interest “I love a good project, and I’ve been planning how I wanted this to look my whole life”

“Well it looks incredible, you did a great job!” he says

You blush a little and smile “Thank you”

You finish closing out the register for the day, make sure all of the lights in the back room are turned out and the heating is turned down before stepping out with Paz and locking up. He walks beside you, leading you a ways down the street towards the bar his friend Boba owns. Paz pushes open the door for you, and you see a group of people laughing and chatting sitting at a big round table.

Everyone looks up from the conversation and enthusiastically welcomes you and Paz in. They all stand up coming to introduce themselves and shake your hand. Of course you’ve already met Din. Boba owns the bar and hosts these Tuesday night hang outs, he’s a slightly older man with a bald head and a firm handshake but he’s quite welcoming. His business partner Fennec, a pretty woman with sharp features and a kind smile. Cara, who owns the boxing studio on the opposite side of the street. And Peli, a short firecracker of a woman with curly brown hair, owns the auto parts and maintenance shop around the corner.

They already have a place set for you at their table and start filling you in on all of the goings on in this city and their little group. Boba gets you a beer, and insists friends don’t pay. They tell you about the locals who come around to their various businesses, events happening at the clubs and bars a little further into the downtown area, they recommend restaurants you have to try, and ask you all kinds of questions. Where you’re from? What brought you out here? How did you get into botanicals? You answer their questions, laugh with them, talk with them and have a great time.

Then the conversation takes a bit of a turn… “That guy came back?” Cara says with an annoyed tone. The group groans, and hums with disapproval.

“What guy?” you ask, not wanting to pry if it’s a sensitive topic but she also said it in front of everyone so you figured it would be a fair question.

“Gideon” Cara spits

“He’s a high and mighty investor with a silver spoon in his ass that’s been bothering everyone that works on this street and next couple blocks,” Fennec explained “He’s trying to convince everyone that lives and works around here that we should sell out our businesses to him,”

“Why?” you ask indignantly

“He’s got this idea of turning the whole downtown area into a high end shopping and restaurant district,” Paz says “Which would be fine if this was a really big city with people that could afford to go to places like that every weekend. But this isn’t that type of city, and not the right kind of community for that,”

“Hmm” you sip your beer “sounds to me like he wants to change the city itself. Push out the locals and turn this into a major city” you say

“That’s exactly what he wants” Boba comments “that and to make tons of money”

“But he hasn’t been able to convince a single business owner around here to budge” Peli tells you “All of us are here because we want to be here. We worked hard to get to where we are and maintain our businesses. We’re not about to sell out to a sleaze like him”

“He wasn’t happy when the people I inherited by storefront from sold to me instead of him” Paz admits “and he’s probably pissed you got yours on the open market before him”

“So that means he’ll probably come around at some point and try to talk me into selling” you conclude

“Probably” Paz says darkly. He doesn’t like the idea of Gideon hanging around your shop… talking to you… trying to intimidate or manipulate you into selling out your shop to him.

“Don’t worry you guys” you assure the group “I worked too long, and too hard to hand over my dream to an asshole like that”

“Atta girl!” Cara claps your back and the group gives you a cheer of approval.

The conversation turns back to casual chatter. The group splits up so some people can play a couple rounds of pool and others can still sit and chat. You have an amazing time, it’s been so long since you actually got to hang out and have fun. You could see yourself coming to these group hang outs every week and becoming close with everyone in the group.

Eventually the night does come to an end. Din has to get home to his son and his girlfriend. Paz needs to get home and go to bed so he can be up early to get the bread in the ovens in time so they’ll be ready for customers in the morning. And you need to be getting home as well, there’s a big delivery arriving tomorrow morning and you need to be at the shop earlier than usual to receive.

You bid everyone goodnight and promise them that you’ll be back next week to hang out again. Paz walks with you out to your car.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight” you say

“Told you, you’d fit right in!” he grins

“Mind if I come by tomorrow morning for one of those amazing breakfast sandwiches?” you ask him, as you reach your car “I’ll bring you a cup of coffee”

“It’s a deal!” he says smiling at you

There is something in the air… you don’t want to leave… he’s so kind and so attractive… but no, you steal yourself and get into your car. Pulling out of the parking lot with a gentle wave. Paz felt it too… damn he wanted to kiss you. But he literally just met you a few days ago… no matter… he’d see you in the morning.

———

The next few weeks go by, spring turns into summer. You continue hanging out with the group on Tuesday nights, they teach you to play some card games you’ve never heard of and you try fun and interesting cocktails Fennec invents. No matter what you always land up laughing and having a wonderful time. Paz has been teaching you to shoot pool, and walks with you every week to join the group. Your little crush on him is growing, and people are starting to notice.

“You like him,” Cara points out. You’re sitting at the table with all of the girls playing cards while the guys are shooting pool.

“Who?” You try to sound nonchalant

“Paz” Fennec chimes in

“He’s my friend!” You try to defend yourself

“Yeah,” Peli says “but you like him”

“Okay…. so maybe I’m attracted to him, so what? He’s my friend and he brought me into the group, I don’t wanna mess that up” you explain

“He likes you too” Cara says, placing down her cards and effectively winning the round. Everyone around the table groans and slides over game chips to Cara.

Over at the pool table the guys are having a somewhat similar conversation.

“Sorry to hear about your diagnosis, pal” Din says while lining up his shot.

“What?” Paz looks over to Boba thinking their friend was actually sick. Boba is eyeing him with a quirked brow and a smirk.

“Lovesick” Boba shakes his head while Din takes his shot “incurable and terminal… damn shame”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Paz moves around the table to get a better view of the ball placements

“You” Din says with a laugh “swooning over Miss Flowers over there”

Paz gets distracted and completely misses his shot. His head whips around to look at you. Giggling and talking with the others. He looks back to his friends, and shakes his head.

Paz stands back up and rubs the back on his neck, Din’s not wrong, he’s got it bad for you. “You think she’d go for a guy like me?” Paz asked them

Boba and Din rolled their eyes, “You’ve lost your touch Vizsla” Din says “she hangs on your every word. Yes she would go for you”

Still at the end of the night Paz walks you to your car, just like always, and says goodnight without asking you to hang out one on one.

Another week or two passes just the same as always. Hanging out on Tuesday’s, stopping into the bakery to pick up some bread every now and then, seeing each other in passing with a smile and wave.

One Tuesday evening Paz is hanging out in your shop while you close, like usual when both of your phones ting with the sound of a text message. It’s Boba saying he had to close the bar for the night and he wouldn’t be able to host the group tonight. Apparently it’s not an emergency or anything, he just had to leave town to go “take care of something”

“Well that’s ominous” you joke

“Boba’s an odd guy” Paz laughs “he’s got a history, but he changes the story every time you ask him”

You shake your head and laugh, agreeing that Boba quite the character. “Well… I haven’t had a free Tuesday night in months” you joke

“Well since I know you’re free right now” Paz says, working up a bit of courage “wanna go get ice cream or something?”

“Oooh yes!” You say excitedly “Have you been to that place that makes the fancy rolled ice creams down on 10th?”

God he’s so relieved you said yes…. “Yeah, it’s really good”

The two of you chat and laugh as you walk from your storefront down a couple blocks to reach the ice cream place. You both order fun and pretty rolled ice creams and sit at one of the outdoor tables, enjoying the warm evening and each other’s company.

“See now that I’ve got everything up and running, I really want to start trying to make pastries to sell at the shop” he tells you

“Have you tried anything yet?” You ask

“Well I tried making chocolate croissants from scratch but apparently they are ridiculously hard to get right” he laughs “so I’m looking for simpler things to start with”

You laugh with him, and agree chocolate croissants are deceptively difficult to make correctly. “What about scones?” You ask

“Scone? Like those British cookies?” He asks

“Well sort of, they’re more like blank canvas bread” you explain “because the base is so simple and basic you can jazz them up anyway you want. Sweet, savory, fruity, chocolate… I even like doing meat and cheese scones”

“That’s actually not a bad idea” Paz says thoughtfully “You got any good recipes I can steal to work off of?”

“I do actually. Old family secret” you say mischievously “but lucky for you, the old family is not here to curse me for leaking the secret” He laughs and shakes his head.

“I could teach you sometime” you offer, having a moment of bravery “I mean, they’re not difficult to make or anything, but I… uh… I thought it could be fun”

“No no” he says quickly “that would be great if you could teach me. Are you free this weekend?”

Your cheeks heat up a bit and you smile “Yeah, I’m free this weekend”

“Come over on Saturday evening?” He asks “I’ll cook you dinner as a thank you?”

“Yeah, that'd be great”

———

Saturday can’t come soon enough… you flip back and forth in your head between this being a “real date” or not… you thought about texting the girls but decided against it.

On Saturday you wear something cute but comfortable, something you don’t mind getting dirty from baking but presentable in case this actually is a date. You pick up a nice bottle of wine on the way over to his apartment.

At the door he greets you with a hug and thanks you for the wine, welcoming you inside. His apartment is nice, well decorated and clean. Better most men’s apartments you’ve seen in your day. It looks like he’s got his shit together.

“Dinner is almost done,” he says. You look around to see that he doesn’t exactly have a dining table, the space isn’t quite set up for it. But he does have a peninsula that functions as a dining table. It’s already laid out with plates and cutlery, with a small sweet smelling candle in the middle.

“A baker and a chef” you laugh as both of you start in on the beautiful chicken parmesan he made.

“I wasn’t always” he says with bit of a bashful smile “Just a few years ago I was exclusively a boxed Mac n cheese and canned peas for dinner kinda guy”

“That’s a pretty drastic change, what prompted that?” you ask, enjoying your dinner just as much as the conversation.

“Moving out here actually,” he says “I used to live back east in the big city… had a shoe box of an apartment with no real kitchen and a dead end job… not a lot of motivation to cook. Coming out here, changed my life for the better”

You sip your wine and listen, as he describes what it was like living in the city and commuting for six hours every day, and his life changing trip out here to visit Din.

“It was actually my dream to move here when I was a kid” you tell him “I’m from a tiny little town way up north, and everyone used to talk about this place like it was the big city ya know”

“So what prompted your big move here?” He asks

“Well I’ve been saving up to open my shop for years, and working really hard to make this dream come true… but I woke up one morning and felt it in my bones that I needed to search the property website again…. and I am so glad I listened to my gut because I got my storefront pretty much the minute it got posted”

“Man.. luck was really on your side that day huh?” He finished his plate, and sips his wine

“Oh yeah, count my lucky stars every day!”

Paz wipes his mouth on his napkin, seeing you’re just about finished eating as well, and begins clearing the table. You help him wash up, despite his protests.

“Come on chef, if we’re gonna make scones we have to have a clean work station right?”

He agrees and the two of you get the workspace all cleaned up, just to mess it all up again with flour and butter and toppings!

They don’t actually take that long to bake, but you’re both a little flour dusted while you teach him to make a simple glaze for the citrus orange flavored batch.

When the scones come out of the oven the sweet batches get glazed or sugared, and the savory batches just need to cool. You ask to use his restroom to freshen up a bit so you wouldn’t get flour or butter on his nice couch, while you wait for the scones to cool to do a taste test.

To your delight, his bathroom is clean. And not just… cleaned up like there’s no clutter on the counter. Actual hand soap that’s appears to be regularly used, a liner in the trash can, more than just a five in one shampoo/body wash in the shower, and the mirror is clean! Either Paz deep cleaned in anticipation for your… not exactly a date?.... or he has his shit together… or, more likely both!

You spend the rest of the evening laughing, talking, sampling the scones, writing down flavor ideas together, and yeah definitely flirting. Somehow you get on the topic of music.

“Oh yeah, the city does free concerts in the park on Friday nights” he tells you “you bring a fold up chair and some snacks, and get to listen to free live music!”

“That sounds so fun! This city really knows how to do community events!” You put down your pen, having just finished writing down an idea.

“It’s amazing, you would love it” he says “would you want to go? With me?”

Your heart skips a beat “Yeah” you say softly with a smile “Yeah, that sounds like fun”

Featured Recipe: Simple Scones

Tag List: @gallowsjoker @simping-for-clones @mxndoscyarika @hayley-the-comet @blackmarketmummy

#Something Sweet #Paz Vizsla #Paz Vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader #Paz Viszla #Paz Viszla x reader #Modern!AU #Pastry Chef!Paz #Pastry Chef!Paz AU #Modern!Paz Vizsla

56 notes · View notes

karlajoyner · 4 years ago

Note

Can you do a smut piece with Owen where he takes you to Hawaii and you guys meet up with the cast and everything, but then later that night he takes you back to the bedroom to show you some real fun. Ik you get this for a while, can’t wait for your other work love your writing style.

So Needy (Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader)

A/n: Hey guys I hope you like this one! I'm sorry I haven't posted in over a week I had a lot of shit to do but I have a few imagines done and I'm working on the rest of my requests so I could hopefully open them up again soon. Also Alex and Reggie now have last names and I’m 1000% freaking the fuck out because it was the last thing I was expecting . I’m gonna go back eventually and put them in all my imagines. And yeah....totally didn’t make me go back and watch the show for the 12th time. It’s a problem....it’s fine. Anyways Enjoy! (Sorry for any typos I always fuck up but I’ll go back and fix them later)

Requested by: @jjbassett (Tumblr)

Warnings: Smut! (18+)

————

I walked into the airport tiredly. Thankful it was at least somewhat empty.

"Owen why'd you book our flights so damn early?" I asked my boyfriend who was walking to my left.

"I didn't book them. Charlie did" He stated my gaze moving to the boy on my right.

"I should have known. No one but a psychopath would book a flight at the ass crack of dawn" I spoke earning a laugh from both boys.

"To be fair I thought you were a morning person y/n/n"

"Oh I am. When it's 8:00 o'clock and past that. I do not enjoy having to wake up at 4:00 o'clock in the morning to get ready. I mean seriously Charles it's still fucking dark out" I pointed out.

"Oh man. Alright I'll take that into consideration"

"Be lucky you didn't have to deal with her when the first alarm rang" Owen said making me glare at him.

"I love you baby. You know that but you just get so grumpy" He spoke making me roll my eyes.

"Did you just compare me to one of the seven dwarves? Fine. Alright. I get a little grumpy. But that's only because I have to be the big spoon too"

"Oh my god man your the little spoon" Charlie laughed as we arrived to security.

"You swore you wouldn't tell anybody" Owen whisper shouted.

"Yeah well that's just me being grumpy. Sorry babe"

"No it's cool. It's cool. Just wait until tonight" He whispered the last part in my ear before letting me go ahead.

"Seriously Charlie a knife? You tried to bring a knife on a plane?!" I asked exasperatedly as we boarded the plane.

"I didn't know they wouldn't let me bring it"

"I think it's a given that they wouldn't let you bring it dude"

"Yeah yeah"

"Well paybacks a bitch huh Charlie?" I joked handing Owen my carry on so he could put it above our seats.

"Haha y/n. I'd like you to remember that your stuck on this flight with me for the next few hours so I'd be a little nicer"

"I just can't wait to tell Jer about this" I said taking my seat next to the window. Owen taking the one to my right.

"Owennn your girlfriends being mean" Charlie complained earning a laugh from the blonde.

"I'm sorry Charlie but I can't do anything. The more she's mean to you the less she's mean to me" Owen said making me giggle.

"He's not wrong" I grinned intertwining our fingers and placing a quick kiss to Owen's cheek.

"That's all I get" He questioned making me playfully roll my eyes before pulling him in for a sweet kiss on the lips.

"Better?" I asked pulling away.

"Much" He smiled widely.

"You guys better not do that the whole plane ride"

"We won't. Gotta save something for tonight man" Owen joked. My elbow instinctively shoving itself into his arm as Charlie began to laugh.

"Ouch"

"Funny how you think your getting some tonight" I muttered.

"Am I not?"

"We'll see" I responded putting in my AirPods as the two boys began to conversate.

"Do you see your bag?" I questioned my boyfriend. We'd been stuck at baggage claim for ages trying to find Owens green suitcase.

"Nope"

"Owen" I groaned.

"There! There it is!" He shouted excitedly.

"Oh yes!" Charlie cheered as the bag reached our area.

"Let's get out of here"

"And just like that I hate airports" I said as we walked past random strangers.

"Y/n!" I heard a familiar voice shout. My eyes quickly spotting the source.

"Tori!" I screamed letting go of my boyfriends hand and running towards the girl who had her arms wide open.

I giggled engulfing her into a tight hug before turning to the rest of the group behind her.

"Kenny!" Owen and Charlie greeted their director.

"It's good to see you guys too" Jeremy spoke up.

"Care!"

"Y/n I'm so glad your here"

"I'm glad to be here. It's always good to see you too Jer" I spoke hugging him after I hugged Carolynn.

"Finally someone who appreciates me" He said making me throw my head back in laughter.

"To the hotel!"

"So what took you guys so long?" Jeremy asked as the 7 of us lounged around the pool.

"Yeah we were at terminal like 40 minutes after your flight landed.

"It's a long story"

"Speaking of stories" I smirked looking at Charlie.

"Don't" He warned pointing a finger at me.

"I didn't say anything" I giggled, back stroking away from the group.

"So me and Care we're thinking of doing some shopping tomorrow you in?" Tori questioned swimming with me.

"One hundred percent" I said glancing at Owen who was laid back on one of the lounge chairs near the pools edge. He looked so good with his swim trunks and his damp hair.

"So then we decided we'd just save it for Saturday before Care left" Toris voice brought me back to reality.

"I'm sorry what?" I asked.

"Did you hear anything I said?"

"I did not" I muttered.

"And why is that?" She asked teasingly poking my side.

"Because my boyfriend is sitting a few feet away and he looks like that" I internally groaned.

"I say you go get him" She grinned at me.

"Not yet" I mischievously smiled swimming back towards the group.

"It's so cold" I stated getting out the pool and grabbing my beach towel. Wrapping it around me.

"Aww come here" Owen said opening his arms widely.

I simpered making my way over to him and laying down in his embrace.

His arms immediately wrapping themselves around my soaked body. His bare chest coming into contact with my partially covered one.

"You guys are too cute" Tori teased.

"Not cuter than us though right?" Carolynn joked hugging Tori.

"No. Never" She responded making us all laugh.

"I'd like to propose a toast" Kenny spoke holding up his drink.

"To friends"

"To family" Charlie followed.

"To love" Owen said making heart skip a beat as he lifted his drink in the air.

"Cheers" They spoke in unison lifting their drinks to their lips. Owens beautiful green eyes never leaving mine.

"I love you"

"I love you too Owen" I whispered placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Why don't we head back to the hotel for some real fun?" He suggested quietly making sure no one heard.

His hand running up and down my arm soothingly.

"Hmm is that your attempt to get me into bed?"

"Why? Is it working?" He asked making me smirk.

"So we're doing dinner tomorrow night right guys?" I asked sitting up straddling the boy beneath me. Rejoining the conversation our friends were having.

"Yeah. Kenny was telling us about this great place his friend recommended" Jeremy explained as I shifted a bit to get comfortable.

A pair of hands landing on hips.

"Oh really? Tell me more about his place Kenny" I said moving again hearing a small groan escape Owens lips as our thin clothed fronts rubbed against each others.

A wicked smirk forming on my face as we listened in on Kennys description of the place.

"It sounds fantastic. Doesn't it sound fantastic Owen?" I questioned my boyfriend shuffling again.

"Yeah. Yup sounds great. Listen it getting late guys. I think we're gonna head back to the hotel" He voiced sitting up as well.

"It's only 6:30 dude"

"Yeah but we just wanna have time to shower and get dinner. You know together. As a couple"

"Right.....well have fun you two" Kenny said awkwardly as I stood up along with Owen.

"Oh I'm pretty sure they will" Charlie joked causing me to snicker at the boy.

I quickly collected the remaining of my pool things saying my fair well goodbyes to our friends. Or tried.

Owen was clearly in a rush to get to the hotel.

"Don't leave me" Tori said hugging me one more time before we left.

"Sorry to break it to you but she's gotta go" Owen said removing the girls arms from my body and pulling me away.

"Bye!!" I waved to the group who were all cackling at Owens behavior.

"You didn't have to be so pushy" I muttered as we walked into the hotel lobby.

"Pushy? Please you knew what you were doing" He whisper yelled dragging me along the hallways towards the elevator.

"And what was I doing?" I asked stepping in immediately feeling my back pressed against the cold wall.

"You tell me" He whispered inching his face towards mine. I watched as he pushed the button to our floor before looking back at me.

I took initiative crashing our lips together. Feeling his hand land firmly on my waist as the elevator came to a halt signifying we were on our floor.

"Come on" I spoke rather harshly dragging him towards our room.

"Who's being pushy now?"

"Owen I swear to god if you say another word I will lock you outside and make myself cum got it?"

"Yes mam" He said taking my bag while I unlocked the door with my key card.

Immediately upon opening the door I felt the back of my bikini come undone the top falling to the ground.

Turning around I saw the childlike smirk on my boyfriends face as he shut the door behind us. Making sure to lock it.

I smirked back with the same look on my face. Biting my lip in anticipation as Owen moved forward wrapping his arms around my body.

"Your so-" I didn't let him finish as I crashed my lips onto his wanting to feel him closer.

He was quick to respond deepening the kiss as he back me up onto the queen sized bed in the middle of the suite.

"I can't even get a word out geez" He joked pulling away.

"I'm sorry baby what were you gonna say?" I teased as his body hovered over mine. My body prepped up on my elbows to get a better view of his face.

"I was gonna say your so needy"

"I'm the needy one? Really?"

"Well it's obviously not me"

"Care to test that theory?" I suggested watching his face scrunch up in confusion.

I pecked his lips one more time before using all my strength to flip us over so he was on his back. I moved my body over his so I was straddling him now. A grin appearing on my face.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good right now. I just need you to do what I say. Got it?" I whispered watching him nod his head rapidly, clearly intrigued at my proposal.

I leaned down kissing him passionately his hands finding my waist with ease. Slowly grinding down onto him earning a moan from the blonde. I bit his lip as we roughly fought for dominance.

Owen letting me win as soon as I began to palm him through his swim trunks. I pulled away moving down slowly until I was in front of him on my knees.

"Oh fuck baby. You look so fucking beautiful" He bit his lip taking a hold of my hair.

"No. You can't touch me. That's the only rule" I stated pushing his hand away.

"I can't? Why not?"

"Because I said so. Now are you gonna let me handle your little problem here or not?" I teased him, rubbing my hand against the fabric of his shorts.

"Fuck okay baby. Just- just do something" He pleaded. I smirked knowing I had it in the bag now.

"Take them off" I demanded. Sitting back as he removed his shorts along with his boxers letting his dick spring free.

I took the shaft pumping it a few times. Teasing the tip, even swirling my tongue around it earning a loud groan from Owen himself.

I slowly started pumping his length before placing my mouth on it. Beginning to bob my head up and down, feeling Owen thrust his body upward in attempt to get more of himself inside my mouth. His fist balling up and clenching the bedsheets tightly.

I hummed in response as moans escaped the boys mouth while I sucked him off. Eyeing him closely through my eyelashes seeing his head tilted back and his eyes were screwed shut made me even more excited for what was coming.

"I'm so close y/n" As soon as he said that I pulled away from him with a pop watching as his eyes shot open.

"W-what the hell?" He asked clearly confused.

"I'm just tired. Think it's time for bed no?" I questioned going to pick up my bikini top.

"No- No what the fuck babe" He spoke from behind me.

"Well I just th-" My words were cut off by a yelp as I was tossed back onto the bed.

"We're not done here" He spoke lunging on top of me quickly pressing his lips onto mine.

I sighed contently wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer as we made out.

"Who's the needy one now?" I whispered pulling away earning a scowl from him as he undid the strings of my bikini bottoms.

I shivered as I felt his tip align itself at my entrance. He didn't hesitate to push himself into me immediately filling me up. Something he'd never failed to do before.

I moaned as he began to move at a rather hasty pace. Not that I was complaining.

I pulled him back down making our lips meet once more while the noise of our bodies colliding echoed through the room.

"Faster" I mumbled into his mouth.

A familiar feeling pulling at the pit of my stomach. My orgasm becoming very close as Owen picked up speed. My legs wrapped around him as we struggled to stay in place.

"Owen" I moaned out as I came all over him. His orgasm hitting seconds later.

"Shit" He panted as he pulled out of me. Our liquids spilling out onto the comforter.

"Your calling for new sheets" I stated trying to regain my breath.

"That was so worth it baby" He spoke pecking my lips before getting off of me to go to the bathroom.

I smiled as he walked out with a towel, coming over to clean me up.

"I love Hawaii" He said making me giggle.

"Do you now? I wonder why?" I joked sitting up. Coming face to face with my boyfriend.

"But I love you more"

"Say more things like that and we'll be in bed the whole week" I spoke wrapping my arms around his neck. Giggling as he pushed me back onto the bed once more.

————

Up Next: Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Alex Mercer x Male Reader

Luke Patterson x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Jeremy Shada x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Reggie Peters x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Carrie Wilson x Reader

————

@lolychu @headheartbellarke @bookish0918 @kcd15 @ifilwtmfc @moviesbooksandfandoms @lovesanimals @lavender-writer @kaitieskidmore1 @morganayennefertyrell @iloveteenwolf @ghostofmgg @jammi13 @theravenclawlife

151 notes · View notes

winterscaptain · 4 years ago

Text

still a chance.

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

a/n: the yearning in this one…i’ve outdone myself. okay so this one has been rolling around in my head for a long time. you’ll all be able to tell, but i love photos as a vehicle for storytelling. we use a lot of pictures in this story, and i hope you can “see” them - they brought me a lot of joy when i visualized them, and i hope i was able to do them justice. i also decided beth moves to okinawa instead of hong kong bc the museums in okinawa can’t be beat. thanks to kira (@good-heavens-chris-evans) for encouraging me to post this tonight - you are a treasure and a gift. words: 4,181 warnings: language, longing.

AO3 | Masterlist | Requests Closed

+++

You kissed Jack’s temple and threw your backpack over your shoulder, leaning into the backseat. You carded through the honey-blond hair on the side of his head, reveling in the softness of it. “I love you, bud.”

He sniffled, and it took all you had to keep it together. “I love you, too.” You could hear the effort in his voice. He was trying to be strong for you, for his dad.

You kissed his forehead, lingering for a moment. You pulled back, your hands fluttering over his little shoulders, fussing for no reason. “You be good okay? You gotta be good for dad, alright?” You leaned in close. “He needs all the help he can get, and you’re his best teammate. You gonna take good care of him?”

He nodded.

“Atta boy.” You straightened, slipping your arm into the other strap of your backpack. You faced Hotch, who pulled your collar from under the straps and fussed with them for a moment. He was stalling.

“Aaron, I -”

He shook his head with a small smile. “I know. Call when you can. Your godson will miss you if you don’t.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’ll call you when I land.”

“Seattle is great. You’ll love it.” He sounded like he was convincing himself as much as you.

You threw yourself into his arms, and he wrapped around you as best he could with your backpack. “I love you, Aaron. Take care of yourself.” You pulled back and rested your hands on his shoulders. “Try to get me back home, while you’re at it.”

“I’ll do my best. Fly safe.”

And with that, you grabbed your duffle and walked into the terminal. You looked back once, finding two pairs of identical brown eyes watching you from open windows. You blew them a kiss, and they both raised a hand to catch it.

My boys.

+++

Emily warned you about Beth before you landed back in Virginia, but you were still nervous. Returning from a long assignment was never easy, especially when you knew coming back meant the real loss of something that never was.

You and Aaron had danced around each other for years, but never did anything about it, claiming team dynamic and stability for Jack after Haley’s death. Even then, neither one of you could deny how miserable it was to be apart. Your assignment to Seattle ended up lasting close to two years. You tried to keep in touch, but it was often too painful to be so out of reach. Your calls got farther and farther apart, but you tried to check in when you could.

Even then, you sent Jack semi-frequent gifts and care packages full of his favorite things. That boy was your favorite person in the whole world, and you his, second only to his father. It had broken your heart to leave him.

It would be a relief to see him again.

You stepped into Dave’s familiar foyer, toeing off your shoes. Everyone was in the backyard, relaxing after another homemade dinner. The whole team knew you were coming – except Beth and the Hotchners. Emily, JJ, and Dave spent an exorbitant amount of time and energy carrying off your surprise arrival.

When you stepped out into the backyard, three pairs of eyes flickered up at you before returning to their conversations. Emily, Penelope, and Derek hid the smiles that ghosted across their faces to avoid suspicion. Hotch and Jack had their backs to you, by design. Jack was watching one of Spencer’s magic tricks, Hotch was off a little ways with Emily, and Beth was at the bar with Dave.

Now was your chance. Approaching quickly and quietly, you put your hands over Jack's eyes and leaned in close to his ear. “Guess who, Jack Hotchner!”

He froze, and his little hands covered yours out of instinct.

Wordlessly, he whirled around and threw himself into your arms. You landed hard on the ground, suddenly in tears. Jack was crying into your shoulder, his hands scrabbling for purchase on your jacket. You held him as tight as you could, the wave of emotion overwhelming you. You mumbled nothings into Jack’s baby blue button down - how much you loved him, how much you’d missed him, how happy you were to see him. You were sure none of it made sense.

“Are you staying?” Jack asked.

It broke your heart. “Yeah, love. I’m staying. I’m here.”

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, weeping together. It reminded you of those videos where parents or siblings come home from war and their kids just lose it. You never expected to be on the other side of that, but here you were.

A hand on your shoulder jarred you from your haze. You looked up to find Aaron’s familiar brown eyes. You kissed the side of Jack’s head and stood. He stayed glued to your leg, and you picked him up, letting him hang off your hip as you straightened.

Aaron gathered you into his arms, and you wrapped your free arm around his shoulders.

“Good surprise?” You asked.

He only held you tighter.

You pulled back and swiped at the tears on your cheeks. “Whew. Alright.” You looked down at Jack, whose eyes were cleared of shock and tears, smiling up at you. “What did I miss?”

Aaron shot you a smile and gestured behind him. “Beth, this is Y/N. Y/N, Beth.”

You shook her hand with a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Beth. I’m glad these boys are in good hands.”

+++

Emily offered to drive you home. You were quiet, staring out the window much of the way. Your apartment was still mostly packed, but your bed was ready for you.

“Good to be home?” She asked.

You nodded.

“There’s still a chance, you know.”

Finally looking over at her, a sigh escaped you. “He loves her, Em.”

She snorted. “He loves you more.”

You shook your head.

+++

“Y/N seems so lovely,” Beth said, settling next to Aaron on the couch.

He hummed in assent, distracted in the extreme.

“Jack was so happy to see her. It really was thoughtful of Emily to put that together for you both.” She kept her voice light, but couldn’t help but search his face for something, anything. She’d heard he closed off sometimes, but she’d never seen it first hand.

He nodded, still silent. “It’s been a long time.”

Beth pushed down the pang of something achy in her chest and took a sip of her tea. “Ready for bed?”

Aaron nodded, and shot her a small smile. There was so much going on behind those brown eyes. He was quiet. Quiet and distracted.

Your absence was suddenly the loudest thing in the room.

And Beth knew it.

+++

Your room was so quiet. It had been quiet in Seattle, too. There, though, nobody you loved was close enough to touch. A fifteen minute drive would take you to your favorite house with your favorite view and your favorite boys. But they didn’t belong to you anymore.

Jack wasn’t yours.

Aaron wasn’t yours.

Beth had them now. Sweet, sweet Beth. She was so open and kind. The immediate liking you took to her was almost infuriating. You didn’t want to like her, and yet there was nothing to dislike about her.

You were gone. You came back. She was there.

Now what?

You rolled over and checked your phone, finding a text from JJ.

I’m so proud of you I’m so glad you’re home. If you need anything, I’m here.

Then, some minutes later.

If he doesn’t pull his head out of his ass you know who to call.

You smiled, and replied. Derek?

Fair point. Go to bed!!

+++

Your first case back felt like slipping into a comfy old pair of shoes. Building and delivering the profile was as easy as breathing, the feeling of your weapon in your hand as you cleared room after room, the tight fit of your vest across your chest – everything was something you missed. You yearned for the physical feeling of the BAU while you were chained to a desk in Seattle, and it was a relief to have it back.

You and Aaron were back in-step with each other right away. It was almost like you’d never left.

Almost.

When a few tears slipped down your cheeks as the jet cruised through the air, headed back to Quantico, Derek reached for your hand. The rush from the past week caught up with you all at once and wrapped around your throat.

“We missed you,” he said.

You smiled at him. “I missed you, too.”

He watched you for a moment, squinting a little. After a moment, he looked over at Hotch, who was frowning down at his phone. You brushed the tears off your face and squeezed Derek’s hand once - a reassurance.

He knew, just like you did. Just like Beth did.

+++

It was the next time you all were over at Dave’s that Beth finally asked.

“What’s the story there?”

JJ looked over at you as you reclined in one of the rocking chairs on Dave’s back porch, Jack in your lap. He was regaling you with another tale from school - one of the many you missed while you were away. Hotch sat nearby on the step, his elbows on his knees, listening to his son with upturned lips. Occasionally, you and Aaron shared a look over Jack’s head, knowing and steeped in time.

“Oh, Hotch and L/N?” JJ said, following Beth’s gaze.

Beth nodded, taking a thoughtful sip of her drink.

“They’re close,” JJ started, choosing her words carefully. “Y/N was close to the family - close to Haley and Aaron before Jack was born. She’s Jack’s godmother, along with Haley’s sister Jessica. When Haley died...” She shook her head. “He’d never been in worse shape, but she kept him upright. Nothing’s ever happened between them, not like that anyway, but nobody on this team has ever managed to come close to what those two have.”

Beth hummed thoughtfully. “How did Jack take the news of the Seattle assignment?”

JJ laughed a little, but it wasn’t really funny. “Not well. He was moody and irritable for months, like his dad. Both of them eventually got used to it - being on their own again.”

“It’s lovely to have such good friends, isn’t it?”

“Our team is a family. We take care of each other.”

+++

A rare day off found almost the entire team headed to the lake for the afternoon. You drove, with Derek riding shotgun beside you. Beth and Aaron sandwiched Jack and his car seat in the back. As always, you made sure Jack was visible in your rearview mirror as you drove.

JJ drove the other car, with Will, Henry, Dave, and Emily.

Derek ran the aux cord, of course - he had the best and most varied music taste of the whole bunch. You belted along to whatever he played, dancing in your seat and laughing the whole time.

God, it is good to be home.

“Are they always like this?” Beth asked quietly, over Jack’s head. She gestured to you and Derek, holding imaginary microphones to each other’s mouths and growing quickly out of pocket, much to Jack’s delight.

Aaron nodded, making play at a long-suffering kind of exhaustion, but he couldn’t hide the fondness in his gaze as he looked at you. You met his eyes in the rearview mirror and grinned before turning your attention back to the road.

“Y/N enables bad behavior,” he said, loud enough for you to hear, dropping back into his usual deadpan.

You swung your arm back and swatted at him.

+++

“What was she like?” Beth settled beside you, a glass of wine in her hand. It was movie night at the Hotchners, and you’d wandered down the hall to stretch your legs and grab some water.

You got caught up at the wall of framed photos, stuck on one particularly lovely one of Haley - grainy and candid. Aaron’s handwriting in the top corner informed you it was from January 1993, Bainbridge Island, WA.

You smiled. “Charming, funny.” You huffed a laugh. “Damn near the most impatient woman I’ve ever known. She jumped the gun on everything, for better or worse. She knew how to throw a hell of a dinner party and gave the best Christmas gifts. She was the best mom. Jack was her world.” You reached up, touching the frame lightly with the pads of your fingers. “I was mad at her, during the divorce. We never fought, but I was upset with her and she knew it.” You laughed down your nose. “It was the only time she was more patient than I deserved.”

Maybe you were revealing too much, but you continued.

“I sometimes wish I could take it back - my anger. I wish I wasn’t half as mad at her as I was when she died.” You shifted your gaze, settling on a photo of you and Haley in the hospital a few hours after Jack was born. Haley looked exhausted, but happy, her hand reaching up to Jack’s little face as you held him with a fond smile. To this day, you have no idea how Aaron managed to get that picture. You tapped the frame with your finger, your tone brightening. “That was a really good day.”

Just like before, Aaron’s handwriting in the corner gave away the date and occasion. October 7th, 2005. Haley and Y/N with Jack, 5 hours old.

“I can imagine,” Beth said with a light laugh. Her voice was pensive, thoughtful. “These boys are lucky to have you.”

The corner of your mouth tipped up, and you offered her your arm as you turned back toward the living room.

You liked her. You did. That’s what made it so damn hard.

+++

“Aaron, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Aaron turned around, pulled from his work with the dishes, to face Beth. “Yeah. What’s going on?”

Beth sat at her kitchen island, the pads of her fingers tapping restlessly on the marble counter. Her eyes were downcast, avoiding him. “I got a job offer in Okinawa.”

His eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

“I think I’m going to take it.” She looked up at him, her lower lip disappearing between her teeth. “What do you think?”

Aaron circled the island and sat beside her, reaching for her hand. She laced her fingers with his. He leaned forward, attentive. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”

She smiled with one side of her mouth. “I don’t think I will.” She looked down at their laced hands. “In the spirit of not regretting anything, I have something else to tell you.”

Aaron was quiet. Waiting. Listening.

“I think you should tell Y/N how you feel.”

He startled, sitting up straight. “What?”

Beth smiled a little wider, a gentle, soft thing. It made his heart ache and his head hurt. “She has your heart, Aaron. There’s nobody who knows you better. Nobody better for you.” She squeezed his hand. “You have a second chance. I think you should take it.”

“Beth, I -”

“Aaron. Please. I’m leaving anyway, and you and I both know we won’t be able to swing the distance.”

He sighed.

She’s right.

“I’m sorry.”

She smiled, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be. It’s hard to see the things in front of us, sometimes. Especially when they’ve been there for a long time.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up.

“Now’s your chance, Hotchner. Don’t screw it up.” She shoved playfully at his shoulder, drawing a wider smile from him.

The smile fell from his face as he looked around at the decidedly unpacked house. “When do you leave for Okinawa?”

She took a sip of her tea. “Next week. The movers are coming this weekend to pack up the house.”

He laughed to himself. She’d already made up her mind, but was sweet enough to make him feel included. He leaned over and kissed her, sweet and chaste. A goodbye. “I love you, Beth.”

She looked back up at him with a soft smile. “I love you, too.” Then, her face transformed, a mischievous smile on her face. “Need a ride?”

+++

You were laid out flat on the couch watching a movie when there was a knock at your door. With a sigh, you rose and popped the lid on your gun safe with your fingerprint before you unlocked the door.

I really need a peep hole.

Aaron Hotchner was on the other side, sheepish, with his hands in his pockets. You looked behind him, Beth’s little Civic idling in front of your building. She waved at you before driving off into the night.

“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”

You stepped back and locked your firearm away as he stepped past you into the house. When you turned to face him, he was studying the photographs on your bookshelf. Some were photos from your childhood, faded and well-loved. Others were more recent, and you knew he would see his face staring back at him in many of the frames. He paused at the shelf that held your favorites, always within your sight and reach.

One was a photo Dave took about two and a half years ago, before you left for Seattle. You all had your backs to the camera, with Aaron holding one of Jack’s hands and you the other. Your head was thrown back in laughter as you helped Jack leap high into the air between you.

Another was you and Haley, nearly a decade ago. You were cheek-to-cheek, her arms wrapped around you from behind, with both of your hands holding onto her forearm. Your smiles were wide, posed but genuine. A dry, crinkly rose petal from her funeral was tucked into the frame.

There was a collage of jet photos - Emily sleeping nearly-upside-down in one of the seats, Dave and Aaron pouring over a case file, Spencer, JJ, and Elle sleeping in a heap, Emily’s nail-bitten fingers resting on her copy of Slaughterhouse Five, JJ looking out the window during golden hour, the team crowded around the latest photos of Henry on JJ’s phone. They were all photos you’d taken on a whim and printed when the homesickness grew unwieldy. A few post-it notes you found while packing your stuff landed in there too.

Derek, Penelope, Aaron, and Spencer smiled out of the final photo. It was the FBI vs. ATF baseball game the year Jack was born. JJ had taken it, all of you in your FBI pinstripe jerseys, capturing the moment right after the game-winning pitch was thrown. Derek was the only one who played, but the rest of you rushed the field to claim victory nevertheless. Spencer held the baseball in the air, mid-shout, while you were up on Aaron’s back with a victorious fist raised. Penelope’s feet were off the ground as Derek spun her in a circle and Haley was visible on the other side of the fence, holding a blanket-wrapped Jack to her chest and cheering.

Those photos were the ones that came to the office with you when you moved to Seattle. More than one person asked if Jack was your son, and you always said no, but with a little smile that prompted more questions.

“Do you have copies of these?” Aaron asked, his fingers tracing the photo of you and Haley. He was careful not to disturb the delicate petal.

You stepped up beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Yeah. I have framed copies, if you want them. They’re still packed.”

You stood in silence together for a little while, letting the nostalgia for the people and places and times past wash over you.

“So…” you started, “are you going to tell me why Beth dropped you like a lost puppy on my doorstep on a perfectly respectable Saturday night?”

He sighed.

Uh oh.

You took his arm and guided him to the couch, shoving wrappers out off the cushions (it was your day off, alright?) and plopping down in the corner.

Aaron licked his lips, and you couldn’t help but look down at them.

What I wouldn’t give…

“Beth is moving to Okinawa.”

Your brow crumpled, and you immediately reached out, grabbing onto his forearm. “Oh, Aaron I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s for the best. I told her I didn’t want her to have any regrets, and it’s an incredible opportunity.”

“Of course.” You shuffled closer to him, hoping your presence could be of some comfort.

He opened his mouth and closed it again, as if he was fighting with himself.

“Spit it out, Hotchner.”

That drew a short laugh from him, and he ran a hand through his hair. All the air left his lungs in one huff. “You know how much I love you, right?”

You nodded, watching carefully as he flipped his hands palm-up before you. You gingerly slipped your fingers over his hands, feeling the callouses from years of handling pens and firearms. He closed his fingers around yours, his hands warm and familiar.

“You know how much Jack loves you, right?”

You nodded. There was a point to this, you could feel it.

“Beth said something to me tonight, and it...took me by surprise.” He swallowed, staring down at your linked hands. “She said I should tell you how I feel.”

You squinted at him, more than a little confused. “Aaron, you tell me how you feel all the time. I know you’re not one to express your feelings with words, but you tell me how you feel every time you bring an extra cup of coffee for me, or save my favorite seat on the jet, or text me a picture of Jack.” You laugh through your nose. “You may not say it in so many words, but I know.”

You could tell he wanted to interrupt you, but you were proud of him when he didn’t. “Yes - yeah. That’s not what I meant.”

He was growing frustrated with himself, and you squeezed his hands. “Hey. It’s just me.”

“That’s the prevailing issue,” he said.

What?

“Aaron, you lost me.”

He steeled himself, taking a deep breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, and you knew if both of his hands weren’t occupied, one of them would have been pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m in love with you. I’m -” he opened his eyes and faltered, exhaling, “so in love with you.”

You let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. You tried to speak, but you were thwarted by your own closed throat. The incandescent joy lit you up from the inside. You were hot and cold all at once and you weren’t sure if you were breathing.

I’m so in love with you I’m so in love you with you I’m so -

Aaron stood abruptly, releasing your hands and grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

You swallowed, trying to get your bearings. “Aaron, wait. Stop.”

He turned, and you could see the raw hurt in his eyes.

Oh. Oh my God he thinks I’m upset.

Instead of ruining everything by opening your mouth again, you stood and strode toward him, grabbing his face and pulling him to you. Your lips crashed together, and you let out another completely-overwhelmed-wires-crossed noise. The tears fell down your face with abandon, but you ignored them, completely wrapped up in the feeling of his lips against yours.

You felt him freeze before he kissed you right back, his arms winding around your waist, holding you close. His hands ran up and down your back as you fought to get closer and closer to him.

He pulled back first, chasing his breath. He pressed his forehead to yours, and you dropped your hands to his collar, winding your fingers in his shirt.

“Aaron…”

He surprised you by letting out a bark of breathless laughter. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You pulled back, playfully lowering your brows. “How long?”

He looked up and made a great show of thinking. “Oh...I would say conservatively 2002, but that might just be when I noticed.”

Your head fell gently to the left. You studied his face for a moment - his straight nose, high cheekbones, the bags under his eyes that seemed to get deeper every day, the stern mouth…You knew his face better than yours. It was the face that haunted your dreams.

“What?” He asked.

You replied, simply, “I missed you.”

He kissed you, holding your face between his large hands like it was the most precious thing in the world. “I missed you.” He kissed each one of your cheeks. “I missed you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I missed you.” The corner of your mouth. “I missed you.” Your lips. “I love you.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @octothorpetopus @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction

773 notes · View notes

justkending · 4 years ago

Text

The Slip Up. Chapter 7.

Series Summary: After a last hurrah to graduating college with a future to be a family practitioner, a little slip up happens… Seven years down the road, just when things finally seem to be going smoothly, Y/N approaches that slip up from all those years ago. She’s not looking for anything right now. She is just where she wants to be in life. It seems the universe has a different idea though. One called James Barnes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x (Single mom) Reader

Word Count: 2900+

Warnings: Language, adulting, mentions of sexual past.

A/N: Guy’s writers block has been an actual bitch lately. For some reason this series has been so hard for me to figure out where I want to go at this stage of it. I have a few ideas and end parts made up, but this middle part is like a blank space in my mind... Anyway! I hope you enjoy what little I was able to throw together, and I’m sorry it took so long to get out!!

Chapter 7:

Rori had a soccer game that weekend, and though Y/N planned on just going with Hope and Scott since Doris was in the age group up, she saw it as a great safe place for Bucky to meet her.

They had agreed to not quite tell Rori that he was her father considering they wanted it to be the right time. Y/N more apprehensive of things working out and scared that she would give Rori false hope of a father figure. Bucky just wanted to ease into it and not scare the little girl away. Though in the back of his head he for sure was ready to step up to the plate. But he respected Y/N’s wishes and told her that he would wait until she was ready.

That was the thing about Bucky that Y/N couldn’t quite wrap her head around. He was so relaxed and understanding of it all. Almost too understanding. She wanted to sabotage the whole situation in her head, but every time she thought of a test for Bucky, he would pass it with flying colors.

Asking him to wait to tell Rori the truth, she expected frustration and impatience of the idea. Instead she was surprised with agreeance and a sweet response of, “Whatever you think is best.”

When she told him about how she thought way back when possibly terminating the pregnancy when all this happened, she expected rage and disgust. And once again she was approached with understanding and empathy.

Even still, she was always going to stay on her toes. It was the instinct of being a mother.

“Ok sunshine. First real game today. You excited?” Y/N asked as she pulled Rori’s little jersey over her head.

“Yes! Coach Maximoff said to kick some petunias when I get out there!” she said excitedly jumping up and down once the shirt was on.

“Of course Pietro would say that,” Y/N laughed with a sigh. “Ok, go grab your cleats and bag, and I’ll go get the cooler of snacks for the team.”

“Yes ma’am!” Rori fake saluted, and ran to the living room where all her things were.

“Dork,” Y/N chuckled, standing up and going to the kitchen for the last few things.

______________________

“So what time will he be here?” Hope asked as they walked to the field.

“Said he would be here right when Rori’s game starts. He had an important meeting or something beforehand, but was going to cut it short for her.”

“Wow, cutting off important meetings for a child you just figured out was yours 2 days ago. Color me impressed,” Hope smiled nudging her friend.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she began setting up a seat and pulling up the cooler next to her, Rori already in the field and kicking a ball around with a friend.

“Heads up. Coach is coming your direction,” Hope patted Y/N’s back as she began setting up a seat herself.

“Oh God. I forgot about his flirting-”

“Hello Miss. Y/L/N. You look as radiant as ever, but what’s new?” Pietro Maximoff, the coach of Rori’s team, smirked and sauntered up to the girls.

“Piet, how are you doing?” Y/N smiled politely. She never actually hated the little comments he would make. She usually just laughed them off, and Pietro was kind about it. It was more playful banter than anything to her.

“Always deflecting the compliments. I’m good though. How are you ladies doing this evening?” he smiled crossing his arms across his wide chest.

“As good as ever. Doris is sad she isn’t on your team though,” Hope said plopping down and smiling up at him.

“I know. They always grow up and leave me. Breaks my heart seeing them graduate from the Blue Jay’s to the Hawks. Next thing you know she’ll be in the Eagles,” he pouted.

“Ugh, I’m not ready for that moment. Rori’s got one more year with the Blue Jay’s before she moves on,” Y/N said looking out to the little girl with braided pigtails.

“I’m not ready for that either because that means I won’t be seeing much of you either,” Pietro said with an exaggerated pout.

“That does suck for you, doesn’t it?” Y/N bantered back, getting a laugh out of him.

“Love your spirit Y/N/N,” Piet winked, shooting a finger gun at her.

“Don’t you have kids to coach or something. We have our first game today sir, and if I remember correctly, you told my daughter she was going to kick some petunias,” Y/N said with a smirk and raised eyebrow.

Pietro’s genuine laugh turned to a nervous one as he started stepping backwards. “You’re right. I have to go get the girls in a huddle.”

Watching the man quickly run back to the girls, he blew the whistle bringing them in.

“You know, if you let him. He would a hundred percent ask you on a date,” Hope chuckled, grabbing a water bottle and an apple out of the cooler.

“Exactly why I won’t let him. I don’t need that right now.”

“Oh, I know. I’m just letting you know he definitely has a crush on you.”

“Who has a crush on who?” a voice said from behind.

The two girls turned to see the brunette and blue eyed man. He was earlier than Y/N expected. As he walked up to the two he had a boyish grin littering his face.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude. Just sounded like some juicy gossip,” he chuckled, hands in his pockets. He had on a pair of jeans and an old band shirt on. He looked extremely casual for having an important meeting beforehand.

“You’re fine!” Y/N laughed with a blush at the conversation he had walked in on. “We were just goofing around.” He smiled in return and nodded his head before looking over at Hope. “Oh, this is Hope. My friend from high school and college that I told you about. Her daughter was-”

“The one you were picking up that day. You said her name was Doris, right?” he reached out his hand to Hope and smiled.

“That would be my munchkin,” Hope smiled back standing and shaking his hand. “You must be Bucky.”

“That’s me.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m glad you could come watch Rori play today.”

“I am too. I’m glad Y/N let me in on the fun activities,” he smiled a little wider turning to look at Y/N.

“Uh, Hope’s husband will be here later. His name’s Scott. Fair warning he’s kinda a dork,” Y/N chuckled, crossing her arms. All of a sudden nerves overcoming her, like a high school girl on a first date.

“Kinda is an understatement,” Hope laughed sitting back in her seat.

“Well, I’m excited to meet him,” Bucky said, beginning to rock on his heels. Awkward silence filling the air. “So, uh, where’s she at? I’m assuming already on the field?” he said, peering forward and scanning the grass.

“She’s number 11,” Y/N turned trying to find her herself. “Um, there!” she pointed. “Little brown pigtails whipping in the wind.”

They were still warming up some, but for 6 year olds it was mostly just running in circles and kicking a ball. No actual warm up happening.

“Wow,” Bucky said softly to himself. He was squinting some trying to get a better look at her. “She, uh, she looks-”

“A lot like you?” Y/N chuckled.

“I was going to say you,” Bucky said looking back at Y/N with his own grin. “But yeah, she definitely has me in her.”

“She definitely does,” Y/N mumbled to herself when she thought of those bright blue orbs.

A few moments of silence go by as they watch the group of 5-6 year olds running around with no structure on the field for “warm-ups”.

“So, uh, someone has a crush on you?” Bucky said, clearing his throat while looking straight forward. Trying his best to come off nonchalant.

“Crush?” Y/N questioned, before realizing what he meant. “Oh! Ha, Hope thinks Rori’s coach has a crush on me, but he’s just a flirt,” she chuckled.

“Oh, I see,” Bucky smiled softly nodding his head as he put his hand in his pockets again.

Another moment of silence, but this one a little more awkward.

“Uh, so I brought an extra chair for you if you want,” Y/N spoke up.

“Thanks,” he smiled turning to her. “I didn’t even think about grabbing a chair.”

“Sure thing,” she smiled heading back to the set up her and Hope had started. “I always try and keep an extra in the back of the car cause you never know what parent is going to forget.”

They got situated while they waited for the game to start, and to say it was kinda awkward was putting it lightly. Y/N didn’t really know what to talk about, and Bucky was watching Rori intently on the field wanting to soak up every moment as if he couldn’t miss anymore like this.

“So, Bucky? Y/N tells me you're an architect,” Hope spoke up.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, breaking his concentration and smiling kindly at her. “It’s been something I’ve loved doing since I was a teenager. Figured I’d make a career out of it.”

“Makes sense,” Hope smiled.

The two getting to know each other for the next few minutes before a whistle blew and the game started.

Like Y/N had warned him, it wasn’t much of a soccer game as it was kids just running and trying to get a foot on the ball. Rori though was competitive and actually tried making it to the goal unlike the other kids. Bucky was impressed with her coordination for such a young girl, and found himself smiling through the whole experience.

That was his daughter. His blood.

Y/N looked over when she saw Bucky fully immersed in the sport, and a smile of her own grew. She could see the pride and excitement on his face. Clearly he was happy about this new part of his life. Clearly he was excited about hopefully becoming Rori’s father figure. It almost made her wish that all those years ago Bucky had been there… She wished she hadn’t gave up so fast on bringing him into their lives.

“Y/N,” Hope nudged her. “Y/N?”

“Hmm, what?” Y/N said snapping out of her daydream.

“Games over. We’re about to start packing up,” Hope said.

“Dang, today’s game seemed faster than the rest,” Y/N shook out her head and stood. “Scott, didn’t make it,” she said looking around just now realizing.

“Yeah, he called saying he would be here for Doris, but couldn't make Rori’s. Sorry,” she pouted.

“It’s all good,” Y/N waved off.

“Hey,” she looked past Y/N seeing Bucky was still watching the field. “You guys should go celebrate her win. Just you three. Don’t worry about staying for Dori’s game. She’ll have more.”

“No, we never miss Doris’s games. You guys-”

“Go, Y/N. Introduce Bucky to Rori and vise versa. That was the whole point of the today,” Hope egged on, seeing her friend begin to get nervous. Y/N opened her mouth to argue and stall. “Nope,” she shook her head before looking over at Bucky. “Hey Bucky! Rori, Y/N, and you should go celebrate with ice cream. Y/N and her usually do that after a win!”

Bucky turned to the girls and his eyes widened as if coming back to reality. “Oh, I don’t want to impose-”

“Nonsense, that was the reason for today. Right Y/N?” she elbowed her friend.

On the outside Y/N looked completely normal, but on the inside she had more nerves than anything.

“Right,” she nodded with a kind smile. “That way you and Rori can get to know each other. She would be confused if we didn’t get her celebratory ice cream.”

“I would love that then,” Bucky smiled excitedly.

“Well, you guys have fun!” Hope grinned. “I’m going to make sure Doris is ready to go. It was nice meeting you Bucky!” Hope began walking to the field waving a quick goodbye to Buck.

The two walked to the field where Rori was jumping up and down with her teammates as she congratulated the little girl who made the winning goal for the team.

“Hey sunshine!” Y/N said bending down and opening her arms for Rori.

“Mommy!” Rori shouted, running over. “Did you see that assist I did?”

“I saw them all baby! You were so good out there!” Y/N congratulated as she ruffled her hair.

“Hi,” Rori said next looking up at the man standing behind her mom with an awestruck face on him.

“Oh, sweetheart. This is my…” A pause as she figured out a word.

“I’m a friend of your mom,” Bucky said snapping out of his staring and smiling at the little girl. “My name’s Bucky,” he waved.

“Hi Bucky. That’s a cool name! My name’s Rori!” she smiled walking out of her mom’s arms and reaching a hand out for him to shake.

Bucky’s eyebrows raised at the gesture, and he slowly took her little hand and shook it as gently as he could. Almost like he was shaking a porcelain doll’s glass fingers. He looked over to Y/N who was still squatted and turned to them. She had a quirked smile and laughed lightly at his response.

“Nice to meet you Rori. You have a pretty cool name too,” he said with a smile that he just couldn’t hold back looking at the little girl's face.

Up close he really did see him in her. Her eyes looked like he was staring straight into a mirror. She had little freckles flecked like gold specks across her nose. Maybe that was her mom in her. Her hair was also like his. A dark brown hair almost black, but under the sun, the highlights of lighter brown and almost reddish tints peaking through.

“Uh, Rori? Would it be ok if Bucky joined us for our little ice cream date?” Y/N asked, standing and coming over.

“Yeah!” she jumped. “Have you ever been to Moo Moo’s?” she asked Bucky.

“Uh, I can’t say I have,” he laughed at her excitement.

“Don’t worry! I’ve tried basically all the flavors now, so I can help you pick one out,” she said grabbing her bag and throwing it over her shoulder.

“That sounds perfect,” Bucky grinned looking at the giant bag that was basically her size. “Since you’re going to help me out, do you want me to carry that for you?”

“Um, actually, yeah. It’s a little heavy today cause my friend gave me an early birthday gift. But she says I can’t open it until then,” she said, handing off the bag to Bucky’s outstretched hand.

Y/N came up to the side of them grabbing Rori’s hand, leaving the little girl in the middle of her and Bucky as they walked to the car.

“Which friend?” Y/N asked.

“Jenny. She said she wasn’t going to be in town for the birthday party, and her mom told her to give it to me now so they wouldn’t forget,” Rori went on to explain as they walked. Perfectly casual with the new man next to them.

Y/N looked over at Bucky seeing him smile at the little girl as he looked back and forth at her and the sidewalk. Y/N was always going to be a little apprehensive about a man she hardly knew coming in and taking the role of her daughter’s father. I mean you never know who people truly are, so defenses are usually high. But something about his grin was genuine and made her feel at ease about the situation. She started to realize anytime she was with him he didn’t give her bad feelings or make her uncomfortable. How that was possible with a practical stranger, she wasn’t sure.

Rori had moved on to talking about the game by the time they got to the car, and Bucky was nodding as she looked straight to him to explain her position, which Y/N was sure he already knew. They paused realizing they took two different cars.

“Hey Bucky. If you want we can all drive in my car to the ice cream shop since it’s down the block, and I can bring you back here when we’re done,” Y/N offered.

Bucky looked up and the grin he had while looking or talking with Rori was stuck on his face. “Uh, yeah, that would actually be great,” he chuckled looking back to Rori. “That ok with you?”

“Oh! If you do, I can show you my DVD collection!” Rori jumped running to get in the back seat.

“DVD collection?” Bucky chuckled.

“She has almost every Disney movie you can think of,” Y/N laughed back, taking the bag from him and throwing it in the trunk of the SUV. “She’s very proud of it.”

“I can see that,” Bucky laughed.

“Wait ‘till you see how excited she gets when she shows you all the kinds of ice cream she’s tried. She calls herself the expert.”

“And I’m sure she is.”

The Slip Up Tags:

@bornfortherainydays @poppunkdork @mylifeiscrazy0423 @buckybarnesthehotshot @mallyallyandra @fallenoutofrose @storrmynights @maddope @tinymalscoffee @kmuir1

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @zeilenkrieg @lizzymacy555 @iheartsebastianstan @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravic @traceyaudette @kakakatey @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @snffbeebee @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @carls1022 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted

#bucky barnes x reader #BUCKY AU #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes au #marvel modern au #marvel #mar #Marvel Family #marvel series #Marvel AU #marvel fanfiction #justkending #reader insert #bucky barnes modern au

342 notes · View notes

sevlgi · 4 years ago

Text

heal

requested: yes

group: blackpink

pairing: jennie x fem!reader

genre: angst, questionable fluff

contents: idol!jennie, established relationship, hurt and comfort

warnings: death of reader’s family, grief

synopsis: As the older one in the relationship, Jennie will always protect you, especially as you heal.

a/n: I hope I wrote a decent representation of grief? if I haven’t or you need me to change something, please let me know and I’ll do my best to correct it.

word count: 1.6k

To Jennie, the absolute worst feeling in the world is seeing you in pain.

Your relationship is usually pretty lighthearted; both of you enjoy bantering and teasing, and your days are filled with laughter. Of course that doesn’t mean that you don’t have hard days, though it took your girlfriend a little time to realize the signs of you feeling down, and even longer for you to open up about it.

On the days that you do feel down, for whatever reason, Jennie’s absolutely determined to support you through it, and she knows you’ll do the same for her. She’s older, so she always feels the responsibility to protect you, even as you assure her it’s not her job.

As of late, she’s had to do it a bit more often, though she’s sure you don’t realize how you’re falling apart. She can’t blame you for it, obviously; the news that your relative is terminally ill has got to hit hard.

Still, it’s unsettling for you to be acting so differently, without even a hint of a smile on your face and a frantic look in your eyes. You don’t sleep until 3 or 4 in the morning, staying up through time zones to call your relative’s doctors. You forget to eat, and Jennie doesn’t think you recognize that you’ve worn the same sweatshirt for weeks on end.

It’s up to her to take care of you, and while she’s happy to do so, your girlfriend hates the circumstances it’s under. Usually, she’d love the opportunity to be the caring, sweet partner who makes food and gently reminds you to eat, who tucks you in when you fall asleep on the couch.

Jennie tries to be there for your calls with the doctor, just in case something terrible and unexpected happens and she needs to support you. Today, it pays off.

“What… what do you mean?”

She stops in her tracks, on her way to grab some snacks from the kitchen, when she hears the quaver in your voice. There’s genuine fear in your eyes, lips parted in dread. “She’s… she’s gone?”

A broken sob leaves you just as Jennie reaches you, her hands on your shoulders steading you as you slump forward. She grabs the phone when you let it slip out of your hand, and places it on speaker. “What happened?”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Y/L/N. Your relative died this morning, we’ve only been able to reach you now. We will contact you with assistance to plan the funeral, if that’s what you want.”

You’re unable to answer, already crying into your girlfriend’s shoulder. Each heaving breath you take feels like a sharp stab to the heart, but Jennie steels herself to say, “I’m sorry, Doctor, we’ll have to call you back about this.”

She barely manages to hang up before she has to wrap her arms around you fully, pressing her face into your hair as tears threaten to prick at her own eyes. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Even though you don’t reply, Jennie continues with soothing words that feel empty even to her ears, smoothing your hair and simply letting you break down.

There’s nothing that could possibly hurt more than seeing you like this.

You don’t get out of bed the next day, and Jennie doesn’t ask you to. You’re already awake when she opens her eyes in the morning, and she presses a kiss to your temple before going to get ready.

There’s no way she can leave you alone in this state, so while she makes breakfast, Jennie makes a call to Jisoo. “Yeah. I can’t explain, but I need to be there for Y/N,” she whispers, eyes lingering on the door she left half-open.

“I got it. I’ll explain to Chaeng and Lisa, and I’m sure our managers will understand. Please tell Y/N that we all feel terrible for her loss.” Despite the muffled quality of Jisoo’s voice, Jennie can hear the sympathy, and she thanks her member before hanging up.

The entire day is lonely without your constant presence; it’s weird to eat breakfast without you, and it’s even weirder to spend the day lounging around the living room and guest room to try and give you space.

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner are all quietly left on the desk inside your shared bedroom, and Jennie takes the full plates away without complaint before bed.

“Good night, jagi,” she whispers before going to sleep; the only response she gets from you is a sniffle that breaks her heart.

The next day, Jennie’s forced to make a very awkward phone call to your boss explaining your situation. You actually sit up in bed that day, and your girlfriend is at least able to make you drink some tea and have a few bites of food, though you refuse any more.

It’s all a part of the healing process, she knows, but at the same time, Jennie wants to cry every time she sees your empty eyes and sunken face.

The next week or so pass without incident, the days of wasting time in the living room and making uneaten food blurring together.

Almost a full 2 weeks later, Jennie has to record a sample of her singing for her producer; she tries to do it as quietly as possible in the living room and doesn’t think you hear her, but you speak for the first time in a while that night.

“You sounded good today.” Your voice is raspy from unuse, and Jennie looks up, surprised, at the sound of it. “I’m sorry you can’t go to practice because of me.”

Your girlfriend shakes her head, abandoning her shirt and taking your hands into hers. “No, baby, I’m happy to take care of you. You need me right now, and you’re the most important thing, okay?”

“Okay.” You watch Jennie continue to fold clothing, and you speak up again after a little bit of time. “You can keep singing and practicing. If you want. It makes me happy to hear you sing.”

The familiar gummy smile on Jennie’s face almost makes you smile in return, and she can barely hide her glee at getting an almost-reaction.

A few weeks later, you’re able to get out of bed again, though you usually return to the bedroom after making tea or just having a bite of food. You have showers and wash your face when you feel up to it, even if it’s not often. Still, it’s progress and Jennie’s delighted.

You insist that it’s okay for her to go back to work, but your girlfriend is still worried about it. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?” she asks again, looking worriedly at the 3 full meals she’s prepared and set on the counter.

The faintest hint of amusement shows on your face as you lean against the doorframe. “I’m fine, Jen. really. You’ve been consumed by me, and you don’t have to be. I promise I’ll call if I need anything.”

“Text me every few hours, okay?” she frowns, looking back even when she’s halfway out the door. “Promise me!”

“Promise.” You raise your hand in goodbye, sighing lightly.

Jennie’s the best girlfriend you could ever ask for, and you’re nothing short of grateful for how much she cares about you. Still, you feel guilty for holding her back. The least you can do is take care of yourself.

Your girlfriend is relieved to find you asleep with at least some of the food eaten when she comes back to work, and she presses a kiss to your neck when she gets into bed. “I love you, Y/N,” she whispers even though you can’t hear her.

It takes a bit of time, but you’re able to hold full conversations with Jennie soon, and even make jokes. You’re still a subdued version of yourself, but you even go back to worst against Jennie’s protests.

She falls in love all over again the day she hears your real laugh again; you’ve agreed to go out with her, even just to get some coffee at a shop a block away. “What?” you chuckle, cup pausing halfway to your mouth. “Do I have something on my face?”

“I love you.” It’s not like Jennie’s never said it before, but a rosy flush rises to your cheeks, and she smiles even larger. “You don’t have to say it back, I know you’re still hurt, but-”

“Love you too, Jendeukie,” you cut her off. “I love you too. Thank you so much.”

Your girlfriend raises her eyebrows, sipping at her own drink. “Hm? For what?”

“For... dealing with me. I know it can’t have been easy taking care of me for so long, you didn’t have to do all this for me. You took time off work, did all those things for me while I was bedridden. I know I didn’t talk about it, but I really appreciate it.”

Sighing, Jennie squeezes your hand over the table. “Y/N-ah. I’m your girlfriend, and I love you. I’m older, too, so it’s my responsibility to take care of you. When I said I’d support you through anything, I meant anything, okay?”

“I know. But I still want you to know how much I love you for all you’ve done.”

Pressing a kiss to your cheek, Jennie offers you another small smile. “I’d do anything for you, and I’m never going to leave. I promise.”

As you return her smile, your girlfriend can only grin at you. You’re still healing, and she knows it’ll take a while, but Jennie will be there with you every step of the way.

After all, it’s her job to protect you.

261 notes · View notes

marvels-agents100 · 4 years ago

Text

in the hands of tyche

“for those who believe, no proof is necessary. for those who don’t believe, no proof is possible.” stuart chase

pairing: aaron hotchner x gender neutral ! reader

warnings: slight swearing

word count: 4,603

author’s note: thank you for your patience with this request! it is such a cool concept and it was so, so fun to write. also, im putting together a lil ~thing~ in celebration of hitting 100 followers, so stay tuned :)

“Some psychic this guy is,” Rossi muttered, “this place is as far from a rocky shoreline as you can get.”

Hotch pulled back the blue plastic tarp that was draped in front of the window, revealing a view of lighthouse perched upon a rocky shoreline. Of course, it was a mural painted onto the brick wall of the neighboring building, but it was still a rocky shoreline, nonetheless.

“Dave,” Hotch said, the amusement not lost in his voice. The ghost of a smile danced on his lips as he turned back to his friend, more entertained by the legendary David Rossi being wrong than a psychic being right.

Meanwhile, at the local police department, you were placing Aaron’s files into his briefcase, hoping to have the station cleaned up for him and Dave before they returned. You set the files before you, biting onto your cheek as you tried to picture how Hotch would order them himself. Pensive thoughts brought about your fidgeting with the silver band that wound around your third finger. It was something you did whenever you got lost in your mind, playing with the engraved ring Jack had insisted Aaron purchase for you when they visited Disneyland the autumn before. Small sparkles and fireworks were etched into the metal, a small reminder of happiness when the days seemed dark.

You remember the day you received it, waiting at the airport terminal for the Hotchner boys. The moment you locked eyes with Jack, his smile had lit up the room and he began to sprint towards you, arms open and insistent. You knelt to catch him, his small body colliding with yours, your laugh filling the air.

It was short lived, the hug he gave you, because he quickly ripped himself away and ran back towards his dad. Jack’s tiny hand grabbed into his father’s first two fingers (his small palms were unable to fully grasp Aaron’s hand), desperately pulling the two of them towards you.

“Dad! We have to give them the present!” His little feet were skidding on the tile in excitement, sneakers jumping erratically against the linoleum. A giggle accompanied Aaron’s wide smile, his own feet moving at a purposefully slow pace, just to savor the unbridled excitement his son displayed.

“Present?” You questioned as the boys finally reached you, your eyebrow raising in Aaron’s direction.

“I picked it out all by myself!” Jack exclaimed, pointing a finger at his chest. The small lisp on his tongue only made his pride more endearing.

“He did,” Aaron agreed, his usually serious tone abandoned, “he refused to let me have any involvement in the choosing of presents.”

When you did finally receive the ring- back at Aaron’s apartment, where he could comfortably dig through his luggage- Jack also had to show you the other presents he had chosen for the rest of the team. The line-up included a Stitch bobble head for Auntie Penny and a Genie stuffie for Uncle Dave, to name a few.

Ever since that day, that ring was permanently placed on your finger- the sweet, innocent smile of Jack Hotchner calming your mind whenever you saw it. It had become a grounding mechanism during particularly difficult cases.

You decided to order the files by date, starting with the earliest murders. However, before you could even begin, your instincts froze your movements. The hairs along the base of your neck straightened, a slight shiver circling around your spine. Your eyes scanned the room subtly, meeting the gaze of none other than Stanley Usher, a resident psychic that was involved on the case, who was standing beside an officer across the room.

Abandoning your organizational pursuits, you walked the length of the room towards him.

“I have a feeling you haven’t heard this,” you began, “but thank you for helping on this case.” You decided to start politely, rather than confronting him for his obvious staring problem.

You held your hand in front of you, offering him a handshake.

“You believe I helped?” He questioned, smile never faltering as his palm shook yours briefly.

“I think it doesn’t matter what I believe,” you shrugged, “you gave someone hope when all was lost, and contributed to helping find a missing woman. I thank you for you intentions, whether your predictions came true or not.”

His eyes narrowed at you slightly, but that might have just been from his widening smile.

“I appreciate that,” his voice had a gentleness to it- you could see how he was so successful in his line of work. Anyone with a comforting timbre to their words would be easy to believe.

You nodded curtly, spinning on your heel to return to your work.

“And, Agent?”

You looked over your shoulder, pausing your stride momentarily.

“Chase him,” his lifted his hand, his thumb pointing to the base of his middle finger. Your eyes flickered to the silver ring on your own.

“When the summer rain falls, you’ll know he’s chasing you, too.”

You stared back at him for a moment longer, eyebrow raised in question. Then, wordlessly, you turned forward and moved to the aforementioned table, shaking away the completely ridiculous thoughts Stanley Usher had placed into your mind.

‘Chase him’?

Yes, it was vague, and your skeptical mind told you that there was absolutely no logic behind it, but the certain Supervisory Special Agent that immediately popped into your thoughts was far from vague. Aaron Hotchner had occupied your conscious (and subconscious) mind rent-free, and his tenancy was a fact you did your best to ignore. But, despite your best effort, his deep, honey eyes and velvet voice never left you alone, even when you tried so hard to escape them.

There wasn’t a single soul who knew of your infatuation with your Unit Chief, and there was no way in hell Stanley Usher would know.

***

The jet was quiet on the trip home. You were sat beside Hotch- as per usual- while he read a book, his chin resting in his palm, elbow perched on the armrest of his seat. Mind somewhere between conscious and asleep, you lulled your head towards him.

“Hey, Hotch,” you spoke lowly, in order to not disturb everyone else on the plane, “guess what?”

A chuckle slipped past his lips, your obviously sleepy demeanor amusing him, “What?”

“Usher, the psychic guy, gave me a prediction.” You bit back a smile on your bottom lip, your slightly delirious state missing the way Aaron’s eyes flickered to your lips momentarily.

“Really?” A small grin- a shit-eating grin- settled on his features, (he always smiled so damn much when it came to you), “Alright, I’ll bite. What did he say?”

“He basically told me that we’re gonna fall in love- something about summer rain?” you chuckled, lifting your hand, “And he got all of that from this ring.”

The falter in Hotch’s smile lasted only a millisecond, but the way his pulse raced was something he was sure would last for a few hours.

“I think that just confirms my theory,” Hotch relaxed further into his chair, eyes moving back to the novel in his lap, “that guy is a complete fraud.”

The back of your hand met his shoulder in a playful smack, “You’re an ass,” you settled into your own seat as well, closing your eyes as you began your first attempt at sleeping, “It would be a privilege to love me.”

And you were far into your own dreamland before he could even think about replying, but even if you were awake and alert, his honest reply would’ve died on his tongue before he even spoke the words.

Yes, he thought, it would.

***

There were no more discussions of a potential love, or Stanley Usher, following that late-night jet conversation. Life was nothing short of normal and wonderful, with the days spent in the BAU full of cases and paperwork, and the days off spent with Jack and Aaron, (since Hailey let Aaron take Jack on his days off), or in the comfort of your own home. That’s not to say your feelings had disappeared, but rather you had never broken your routine of completely burying them.

Little did you know, the words you shared with Aaron that night had yet to leave his mind. It was a terrible and abrupt realization, how much he truly cared for you. It was a subject he had never fully confronted within himself- whether it was out of fear or avoidance, he didn’t know. But, since your sleep-induced thoughts spilled from your lips, they had wormed their way into the forefront of his memory and had given little respite to the anxious worry they brought with them. It was entirely stressful, trying to figure out his own emotions.

There was only one thing he was certain of: he had wondered how your lips would taste on far too many occasions to call it normal daydreaming.

He found himself struggling with his self control when you were around Jack. There was something about the way his son smiled at you, that made him want to hold you for an eternity. The swell in his chest brought a warm fullness that he hadn’t known he was missing, but the feeling of it’s presence became addicting. He found himself yearning for you, missing your company, wishing to hear your voice.

“Watch out!” You had yelled to him, running from the giggling Jack Hotchner, “It’s the baby monster!”

Jack squealed in delight, hands held in front of him like an adorable, undead zombie, feet pattering on the hardwood flooring as he chased you.

Ah, there it is.

Like a breath of fresh air, the feeling returned. The weightlessness it brought made Aaron float.

***

The sun shone brightly as you entered the BAU, and while the bright weather is something you usually praised, the lingering pain of the previous night’s bad decisions was keeping you from basking in the light. Damn Emily and her affinity for whiskey.

The travel mug of coffee in your hand made a satisfying clink against the wood of your desk, your half lidded eyes reaching a file that hadn’t been there when you left yesterday. In fact, it was a file you had turned in a few days prior. On top of the manilla was an orange sticky note, the unmistakably messy writing of none other than Aaron Hotchner scrawled on it.

MISSING ME’S TOXICOLOGY SCREEN- SECOND VICTIM

AH.

You sighed as you settled into your seat, picking up the landline to call in for the report.

He subtly watched you from his office, almost chuckling at the slump in your shoulders. You were never able to say no to Emily, regardless of how many shots she brought to you. A smile tilted at his lips, but was quickly gone as a knock sounded from the door.

“Come in,” he called. JJ’s head poked in, a sizable stack of files in her arm.

“Good morning,” she greeted, “I just wanted to let you know, they’re postponing maintenance repairs on the jet until tomorrow.”

He shuffled papers around, eyes following his work’s movement, “Are there any cases you’re considering? Should we start looking at commercial?”

“Thankfully, no,” there was hint of a laugh in her words, “which is good. I’ve never liked flying in the rain.”

His actions stopped momentarily, gaze snapping up to the woman in his doorway. Desperately, he tried to keep his features from displaying how his heart had dropped from his chest.

“That is good,” he agreed, his voice surprisingly strong, “keep me updated.”

“Yes, sir,” she smiled, the door clicking shut as she retreated back to her office.

He let out a long, drawn out breath as soon as she left, suddenly feeling dizzy and very, very warm. The intensity of his pulse was something that echoed in his ears, which became red at the very ends to match his cheeks. He had put his best efforts into keeping the words of Stanley Usher from his mind, but it was a lost cause as soon as JJ had mentioned the rain.

Eyes moving back to you, he felt the nerves begin to eat away at his gut. You were obviously miserable, but somehow, someway, the slight frown on your features and the (mildly) disheveled state of your hair was enough to lift the very corner of his lips into a minuscule smile. Even on one of your worst days- which is beyond understandable, from your choice of a drinking partner- you were, in Hotch’s eyes, the most beautiful being he had ever seen.

***

It took a little over an hour to get the toxicology screening faxed to the unit, machine sputtering as it printed. You slipped the paper into the file, the soles of your shoes clicking against the floor as you made your way to Aaron’s office. Knuckles tapping lightly on the wooden door, you poked your head in.

“I have that file completed,” you smiled, holding up said file in the doorway.

“Come in,” he didn’t look up from the papers below his pen.

You didn’t think much of his focus, moving into the office and putting your revised work on top of the tower of manila that sat on his desk.

“Anything you need?” You offered, fingers twisting the ring on your finger, “Coffee? Food? A break?”

He finally looked up at you, eyes flickering to your fidgeting hands.

“No,” his voice was soft, “but thank you.”

You nodded shortly, a polite smile on your lips before you turned and left, suppressing a shiver that ran down your spine. There was something that was bothering him, you knew. His whole demeanor was slightly shifted, slightly wrong. Even if you didn’t know the reason, you sure as hell didn’t want to deal with an oddly behaved Hotch for the remainder of your day.

You popped two Advil into your mouth at your desk, willing your headache to leave you as you began plotting.

***

Your final decision was that of the edible route. If there was anything in the world that could create a smile on Aaron Hotchner’s face, it was a blueberry scone from the hole-in-the-wall cafe three blocks north of the BAU. Your lunch break was spent walking to, and dining at said cafe, enjoying a scone and coffee yourself, the second round of caffeine helping to ease the remnants of your hangover.

Emily hadn’t stopped teasing you since the moment you had clocked in that morning. She was as chipper as ever, acting as if she had gotten a full eight hours of sleep and didn’t touch a single drop of alcohol the night before. The way she seemed invincible to the source of your destruction only further proved your point that God is a woman, and her name is Emily Prentiss.

But, despite the jokes and jabs from your close friend, the BAU had been oddly quiet. Any day spent without a case was something to be marveled at in and of itself, but the tense atmosphere extended further than that. Specifically, into the Unit Chief’s office. Derek had talked to you about it briefly, the way Hotch was acting.

“I know that office is his home, but the closed door is a bit concerning.”

You agreed, but neither of you knew how to go about a solution. Eventually, you had retreated back to your desk and subsequent mountain of paperwork. It was while you were finishing a file on the cop-killer in Phoenix, Arizona, that the famous blueberry scone made an appearance in your mind.

It was quickly followed with a mental image of Aaron Hotchner’s smile, but you elected to ignore that. (You also ignored the way your heart was beating because of it).

You were one block away from the Quantico Headquarters when the sunny sky split, unleashing a rain that was just heavy enough to soak you thoroughly.

Water dripping off your clothes, you stepped into a nearby clothing shop, heading straight to the clerk.

“Do you sell umbrellas?” You asked, arms crossed and fist still gripping onto the scone-filled plastic bag.

“Back corner over there,” he said politely as he pointed, obvious sympathy in his eyes.

Nodding, you turned and followed his direction, tugging a new shirt and slacks from their hangers as you walked. A bucket of umbrellas sat exactly where he said they would be, all patterned differently.

Naturally, you took the plain, black one, moving towards the front of the store once again.

“Is it okay if I change into these clothes after?” You questioned, placing your items on the counter.

“Of course,” he replied with a smile, “dressing rooms are just around that corner.”

Paying him quickly, you grinned, “thank you.”

You sent the polite retail worker one last smile as you exited the store, wet clothes in the plastic bag the scone was previously in, the treat protected only by the paper pastry bag the baker had placed it in. Everything was better- since you were armed with an umbrella and fresh clothes- until you glanced down to your watch. You were, without a doubt, late.

The sprint you took off into was that of complete panic, knowing the team was sure to be questioning your absence. You were always so punctual- any deviation longer than five minutes (which was tripled, at the time), was noticed immediately.

Shoes splashing in the pavement’s puddles, the FBI building finally came into view. You huffed as you walked up to the secured, employee-entrance door, reaching for the ID card that always sat at the hem of your shirt.

The dread that filled you when you grasped air was nothing short of terrible.

Your eyes moved to your hip, and there was empty space where that card, adorned with that terrible ID photo, should have been. Frantically, your hand patted at your pockets, only to find them empty. Your other hand was occupied with the umbrella, bag of clothes, and blueberry scone.

As your self-pat down turned up fruitless, your frustration took over, causing you to close and abandon the umbrella for the sake of using both of your hands. The rain soaked you quickly, which only added to the tension. And, as if you hadn’t suffered enough, the stress had begun your alcohol induced headache once again.

It wasn’t until your smiling face, next to the title ‘Supervisory Special Agent’, shone through the plastic bag that your erratic search stopped.

Of course, you thought, a wave of relief rushing over you, of course it’s still on my other shirt.

In reality, opening that plastic bag should’ve been an easy enough task, but the shakiness of your post-drunken fingers and the slickness that came with the rain proved it to be the complete opposite.

To say you could cry from the pure frustration with the entirety of your situation was an understatement.

“Damn it!” You exclaimed, letting the bag drop to the concrete. It landed next to the now soaked scone- the entire reason you had left the building in the first place.

You had half the mind to call Emily and beg her to let you in quietly before the entrance’s door swung open.

“Good God,” you groaned, “this day just keeps getting better.”

Hotch stood in the doorway, eyebrows furrowed as the took in your outfit change, your dripping hair, and the umbrella, plastic bag, and paper bag at your feet. Honestly, it was a lot to process.

“Should I ask?” He questioned, one eyebrow lifting. It took everything in him to fight off his smile.

“I mean it with complete sincerity when I say: I will kill you if you do,” you threatened.

“Noted,” he chuckled, stepping into the rain and picking up the previously discarded umbrella. He opened it swiftly, holding over his and your head. “Are you okay?”

And his voice was so soft and so damn tender, you almost lost it then. It didn’t help that he was entirely too close to you.

“I went to get you a scone,” your eyes peeled from his and landed on the pastry bag, sure to be containing the soggy remnants of said scone at that point, “It started raining, and it all went downhill from there.”

He followed the trail of your eyes, looking at the sad, saturated brown bag, “Why did you do that, sweetheart?”

Ignoring the feeling the pet name gave you, you met his gaze once again, “You’ve been in a funk today. Thought I’d try to cheer you up.”

He sighed, eyes jumping between yours, “I appreciate it, even if it didn’t survive the trip here.”

“Yeah,” you cracked a smile, “what a short, sad life.”

“Very sad,” he agreed, his own smile widening with yours.

You stared at him for a moment, before realizing your stupor and quickly saying, “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“You’re alright,” he shook his head with his words, denying your need for an apology.

“I figured someone would notice I was gone,” you chuckled, “I left my ID on my first pair of clothes, then had a disagreement with the bag.”

“I definitely saw all of it,” he smirked.

“Dick,” you nudged him, still trying to calm your pulse.

“I know,” only a couple steps closer and you would be pressed against him, “but yes, I noticed you were gone.”

What he didn’t say was how hesitant he had been to retrieve you. It was summer, rain was falling from the sky, and the predictions of some small-town psychic were weighting heavily on his mind. Despite his skeptic nature, the mere thought of standing with you in the rain was enough to bundle his stomach into a nervous knot. There were very little things he couldn’t control about himself, and his ability to restrain his feelings while standing beside you in a soft rain was something he was absolutely sure he couldn’t control.

And you know, sometimes he was so annoyed with how right he was.

Because, as he stood before you- small water droplet stains on his charcoal grey shoulders and little drips falling from the ends of his hair- he could feel every ounce of self control slip from his grasp. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure if he was holding on very tightly to begin with.

It was completely your fault, he had decided. It was your fault because you had walked in the rain, almost got into an altercation with a plastic bag, were still fighting off a whiskey hangover- and yet, you managed to be just as radiant and beautiful as you had always been. It was your fault because you made him feel warm as he stood in a chilled rain. It was your fault because he was standing so close to you and wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold you.

If you weren’t so damn perfect, he wouldn’t be at war with himself.

“Hotch?” You asked, your eyebrows creased together, “You okay?”

He broke from his thoughts, blinking at you. There was a moment before he spoke, words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them.

“Stanley Usher.”

“Stanley Usher?” You repeated.

“What did he say?” He questioned, “About the summer rain?”

“You can’t be serious-“

“Please.”

“Why?” You interrogated, “What does he have to do with- oh.”

You met his eyes with your own, allowing yourself to read him- which was usually off limits. He looked desperate, almost yearning, for an answer. It was almost laughable, the thought of him believing the words of Stanley Usher. You hadn’t forgotten them, but you were far more spiritual than Aaron. He was the one who was supposed to be completely level headed and realistic.

“Aaron, be honest with me,” you began, “are you asking me because you want to justify your feelings?”

Maybe it was too bold, but you needed the answer, and were far too frustrated with the day to dance around the subject.

The way he immediately looked to the ground was answer enough. You sighed, saddened by the fact that he felt ashamed. It was expected, his embarrassment with himself. Anyone who had feelings for a subordinate would act the same.

You sighed before speaking.

“It reminds me of you, the rain,” you said softly. His eyes flickered up to you, looking through his lashes.

“It’s a little cold, but it’s soft and refreshing,” you continued, reaching up and tracing your fingertips on his temple, “I would dance in it all day, if I could.”

He knew what you were saying, and it took his breath away.

Your hand dropped to your side, your head tilting slightly to get a better look at him, “Would you?”

And all at once, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. The umbrella clattered onto the pavement, his large hands holding your face instead, pulling you to him and connecting your lips to his. You let out a surprised squeak, but quickly relaxed into his touch, winding your arms around his neck.

He kissed you desperately, like the rain would wash you away as soon as he let go. You let yourself get lost in him, throwing every reservation and hesitation to the wolves. He seemed to do the same, hands finding your waist and pulling you closer. He wanted no empty space between you. Happily obliging, you tightened your grip around him.

You wanted desperately to learn every detail of him, to feel his breath with yours, to match the beating of his heart. You wanted to know every flaw, every weakness- every portion of him, no matter how small. He had become your everything, and you were content with that first kiss being your last first kiss.

Even as the rain relentlessly fell upon the two of you, no complaints were heard. The raindrops were simply an audience to the resolution of an unspoken love.

You were the first to break away, unable to ignore your empty lungs. Neither of you moved to untangle from each other.

“Aaron,” you breathed, your words brushing against his lips, “we’re gonna have a lot of explaining to do,” your eyes flickered to the cameras lining the federal building before you.

He rolled his eyes, chuckling, “Forgive me if I don’t care.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” you pressed a chaste peck to his lips.

“Mm,” he hummed as you pulled away, “I have been waiting to do that for a while.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for a while.”

Your teasing tone was not lost on him as he bumped your nose with his, “We are both going to get sick from this rain.”

“Worth it,” you sighed, connecting his lips with your own once again.

And he couldn’t agree more. Even when you both caught a nasty cold, even when Strauss confronted you about your ‘romantic endeavors’, even when the team teased the living hell out of both of you- it was all worth it.

You were worth it.

***

Stanley Usher sat in his living room, flipping through channels before landing on the news, the local weather man flashing on the screen.

“-and, as the weekends come, we expect precipitation on the west coast-“

And he felt it, the phantom metal around his middle finger, the overwhelming warmth in his chest. He looked to the ceiling, almost able to hear the soft patter of rain on pavement. His thumb brushed the coolness away from his finger, and he settled into his couch cushions, a smile never leaving his face.

taglist:

@quillvine @winterscaptain @agenthotchner @davidrossi-ismydad @misskirkstark @good-heavens-chris-evans @vintagecaptainspidey

#aaron hotchner imagines #hotch x you #criminal minds #aaron hotchner

259 notes · View notes