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tablestoastandtime · 2 months ago

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Retract Before Impact - Dick I

There more things change, the more they stay the same. Gotham stays Gotham even with some people off the board and others stepping in where they shouldn't be.

Capes and masks adjust, and the clock carries on.

(This is the first half of the first chapter of a sequel to my other fic Take It Back Now Y'all https://archiveofourown.org/works/21208958 and will not make sense without it. Retract Before Impact is now up here https://archiveofourown.org/works/63185353)

There was a time and place for rebellion, and after a long year on the streets and several weeks of rehab after a run in with Two Face, Dick was a master at picking his moments.

Bruce had set Rules about anything to do with the Red Hood. Don��t engage alone, don’t actively seek out unless there was a strong reason to believe he was apart of an ongoing investigation, and under no circumstances assume you can sneak up on him without him noticing. That last one Dick found a little offensive. Sure Hood was good enough to catch onto when he was being tracked by a giant man in a kevlar composite cape, but Dick was sneaky and had managed to find ways to stay unnoticed while dressed constantly in bright colours. Despite the similarities, Robin and Batman were not playing the same game. If Dick didn’t want to be seen, he wasn’t going to be.

That last rule alone would have made the Red Hood a tempting target for some under the table recon, but that was without even getting into the jerkface himself. In his multiple encounters with him, Dick had found the Red Hood to be arrogant, obnoxious, and way more dangerous than he had any right to be. Whoever he was, he was a professional. To get that good someone had to make him that way, and if Dick could gather enough intel to start pointing fingers at who, then they might be in business as to figuring out what exactly this guy’s deal was.

And Dick was well aware that Bruce was both obsessing over that question and basically clueless. He was letting some of those early interactions and some weird behaviour by residents blind him to the reality that Red Hood wasn’t just some guy committing crimes because if he was then he wouldn’t be anything like the way he was. Red Hood was lying to them, lying to everyone, and Batman and Robin were the only ones with anything close to a full picture.

If Batman couldn’t be objective about the case, then Robin had to be.

So really, for all that he was definitely breaking an explicitly set rule, Dick was doing his job to support the team more than anything else. Bruce would probably even agree with him if he wasn’t too busy using his orphan-tinted glasses.

Which meant that there was less than no reason to hesitate as he made his way to Crime Alley on a school night.

The key to any good investigation was in the groundwork. Going to the right places, finding the right evidence, talking to the right people, were the only ways to really get insight into a situation. Sure Batman seemed omniscient, but that was only because he spent hours cataloguing every kind of gravel in Gotham so that the one time it mattered he’d have the answer ready to go. If Dick wanted to understand the Red Hood, he was going to have to be that meticulous. With someone like this, there was no such thing as a clue too small.

So he started simple; boots on the ground and eyes in the sky.

Crime Alley was always a weird place to patrol. Bruce was never entirely comfortable there, and it showed in the set of his shoulders and the way his usual quiet notes were nearly entirely absent when they passed through. While Dick got it, personally he still wasn’t sure he wouldn’t throw up if he went back under a bigtop for all that he missed the lights and flights, Bruce’s reticence left him at a disadvantage now.

The other big barrier was of course the fact that while Robin was a target, a deliberate one but a target nonetheless, there wasn’t a disguise Dick could use that would keep him safe. Kids in coats were just as at risk as kids in capes, at least in this part of town.

So in the end Dick opted for the extra armour and snuck out in costume, ducking in and around air conditioning units that belched dust and exhaust pipes that stank of burning.

Red Hood didn’t have an official territory yet, at least not one on the Cave’s maps of the city, but there had been rumours for a while about the Ibanescus being ousted and no one had successfully moved into their streets since. It was as good a place to start as any.

For the first two and a half hours, Dick mostly hid dead ends. There was a suspicious amount of activity visible through the windows at a couple of sites, but even as Dick thought through the logistics of setting up a stakeout without Bruce finding out, the movement revealed itself to be children. Some were ducking in and out of what were primarily back entrances, others just seemed to move back and forth behind the blinds, giving Dick only the general note of their heights and speeds. Enough to tell there was at least six occupants and none of them tall enough to be adults.

While it was weird to see this many kids in one place, Dick didn’t see how it could have anything to do with Hood. Kid gangs were a survival strategy, from what he understood. Trying to interfere would make him a threat to their very way of life unless he could convince them he wasn’t trying to hurt them or turn them in. The cape might be enough, but Dick wasn’t really in the mood to fight a bunch of kids for no reason.

He’d circle back if he couldn’t find anything else.

The next hour, it started to rain, and Dick very much did not curse the way water slipped in the tops of his boots and soaked down his socks. He was a professional, and he’d chosen this outfit. He could suck up any design disadvantages, especially when he was on a mission.

Wet surveillance of people mostly just minding their own business was not more fun than dry surveillance. At least when he went to the docks just about everything was wet, including a bunch of guys unloading large tubs, buckets, and barrels from a fairly small freighter in the middle of the night, so it wasn’t a Robin-exclusive problem. It kind of helped to make it a team sport. Everyone in the city versus the sky, and unfortunately this inning wasn’t going well.

But the barrels looked promising! First glance they looked like they were industrial, which was as vague as it was useful. There were a lot of industrial buildings in Gotham, but almost all of the reputable ones were on the other side of the city and usually got their deliveries from the mainland rather than the bay, and industrial packaging were one of the laziest ways to hide weapons Dick had seen. Cheap, yes. Deeply boring and uninspired? Also yes.

If the Red Hood was planning to make an official claim in Gotham, he was going to need weapons to get his point across. And Dick had a hunch he’d just found one of his shipments.

The thing was though, if Dick didn’t prove these were weapons, and if he lost track of them, there was no way he was going to be able to convince Bruce to act on it. Oh it might be enough to get him to look into the shipment, but there was no way he’d link it to the Red Hood unless that smug jerk was picking up the weapons in person. And that was assuming he didn’t lecture right over Dick’s discovery and then cut him out of the case entirely for being biased.

So Dick had to prove that’s what this was, that that’s where these were going, and then he could call in the big bad Bat.

He needed to get closer.

Getting off of the warehouse roof he was perched on was easy enough, a story and a half landing he could make blindfolded and in his sleep. The rain offered enough noise coverage and turned the night shades of slick-black that ought to let him get close without having to pull out his best impression of a barrel. He’d put work into that one, and while it was enough to get Alfred to crack a smile, he hadn’t had the chance to field test it yet.

Probably best not to pull out new tricks when he didn’t have backup.

As he crept closer, he caught the dull sound of voices shouting over the wind. Not really the smartest thing to do if they were trying to get away with a crime, but plenty of the criminal element in town had a few screws loose and it was cold enough out Dick could see how they might think they were all alone out here.

Too bad for them they were wrong.

He couldn’t make out specific words, but that was secondary. He flicked the recording device in his belt on and he could review the audio later. There might be something useful in the back and forth, but if Dick wanted to get home with anything useful tonight he needed to keep his eyes on the prize.

The men were moving their cargo onto the back of a truck. Suggested either they weren’t going to a site elsewhere in the docks, or whoever they worked for had the foresight to check the weather reports. Dick wouldn’t trust Hood’s consideration for his employees as far as he could throw Croc; Hood was pretty scrawny, Dick was confident he could toss him at least a few metres if he caught him off guard. Moving Croc anywhere he didn’t want to be on the other hand required a kind of advantage Dick wasn’t getting without multiple levers and a pulley or two.

These barrels, though, Dick was pretty sure he could move at least a few feet. Even if they were full of guns and sand, he’d been working on getting past his regular body weight exercises into moving real amounts of iron. Dick was finally tall enough after his last growth spurt to be able to help with evac of potentially unconscious civilians without risking drag injuries, so now he needed to be able to move them easily and comfortably, and Bruce had stepped up his training to match.

He was pretty sure that would carry over into moving barrels full of crime. Probably.

And he only needed to move one far enough he could take a peek and some pictures, maybe throw a tracking device or two in there, and then he could go back home, get dry, and show Bruce that he was right, that Red Hood was dangerous and no level on the Bat Sad Orphan Senses made him any less of a threat to the people they were supposed to be protecting.

Easy. Dick bet he could even convince Alfred to make him some hot chocolate when he got back if he pretended he’d gone out in the rain to finish his homework in the gazebo out on the grounds.

Dick took another few minutes to watch the rhythm of work, to find the beat of it and learn the gaps. There weren’t many, but they were there. Clearly no one was too invested in watching their sixes in the dark, and they were all darting between what little covering the awning that ringed the edge of the boat and the lip of the nearest warehouse offered to try to stave off the worst of the wet. That left the barrels in the middle of the boat unattended, at least for now. Dick would have to accept getting completely soaked, but at their current pace of work he’d have at least a minute or two to get his evidence.

Waving goodbye to the concept of being dry and embracing his future as a semi-aquatic bird, Dick waited for a man in a threadbare yellow rain slicker load another barrel precariously onto a dolly before slipping past him, sticking to the shadows of the dock lights and leaping onto the side of the boat.

His brother in inadvisable canary attire wheeled away the barrel down the ramp, and Dick thanked the last round of R&D Bruce had done on their gloves. The old design wouldn’t have had the grip to keep him from slipping into the harbour. As it was, he was able to twist himself up and over the lip of the boat, landing in a very quiet squelch as his socks pressed into the reinforced soles of his boots.

Urgh.

Maybe at the end of this Dick was going to need to find wherever it was Hood kept his wardrobe and dump water in all of his shoes or something. There had to be some kind of karmic retribution for this.

All around him, the sound of the rain had grown cacophonous, hitting the water, the steel of the drums, the deck beneath his feet. It was like he was in a bubble of sound and shifting pressure, and Dick couldn’t help feeling like he was an explorer of some kind, coming up on something old and untouched. He just hoped there wasn’t a surprise giant boulder hidden somewhere around here.

The barrel he’d set his sights on was indeed not that hard to move and there was a semi-reflective corrosives sticker plastered to the side of it, which to Dick cemented the reality that whatever was in here was a lie. Any corrosives in appropriate protective insulation ought to be heavier than this, just on sheer density. In the work of seconds Dick was able to teeter the barrel around the corner of the boat’s central cabin, not much space but hopefully enough for what he needed to do, and then it was just a matter of working the edge of a batarang under the lip of the lid, seesawing it back and forth until the steel popped loose.

Carefully, carefully, he took the lid in both hands and set it quietly on the deck. Then he took a look at its contents.

Just like he’d thought, the first thing he could see was sand going about three quarters of the way up. Dick snapped a quick picture and then leaned in to start digging one-handed. The other braced his weight on the edge so he didn’t tip headfirst in. One swipe, two, sand clumping together in the wake of his wet gloves and clinging to the creases in the fabric, and then- yes, contact with something plastic-wrapped and hard, metal for sure and made of edges. Dick wrapped his fingers around what he was giddily sure was a completely different kind of barrel, and let his tipping momentum carry him back and out.

It was still dark when his boots squelched onto the deck for the second time, but no amount of night or haphazard packaging could hide that he was now very clearly holding a partially assembled weapon that absolutely did not pass through Gotham’s firearm screening process.

Dick had his proof.

He took another few photos and then tossed it up and over the edge of the boat. Even if it was just the one, semi-automatic weapons weren’t the kind of thing Dick could let hit the street when he could do something about it. If he had the time, he’d dump out every barrel on board into the bay. And maybe after he’d presented the case to Bruce and gotten that hot chocolate, they’d come back just the two of them, the Dynamic Duo, to chase down this shipment and turn the weapons over to the police before they could hurt anyone.

The thought was a filament running through his chest, loops of glowing warmth wrapping themselves under and through his ribs. All he had to do was get home.

Dick crouched to lever up the barrel’s lid from where he’d laid it on the deck, only the barest of scrapes across the wood as he awkwardly wedged his fingers underneath the lip. The worst kinds of weights were always the weirder shapes; ultimately harmless, but unwieldy and frustrating. In this case, manoeuvring a steel lid that was more than twice the width of his torso was an experience Dick really hoped he’d hit another grout spurt soon enough to avoid in the future.

His best bet was to probably to position it for a straight deadlift and hope that the boat didn’t shift enough to send him tipping over. The sooner the lid was back in place, the sooner he could get somewhere dry.

Motivated by thoughts of the Cave’s industrial space heaters, hot chocolate, and successfully escaping trench foot Dick hefted the lid up, all legs and carefully braced wrists. It would also be embarrassing and not at all helpful in being taken seriously on this case to hurt his back on a secret Robin-only mission and then have to try to explain to Bruce that, yes he’d disregarded proper body mechanics when lifting a steel plate with no external pressure but it was definitely fine to trust him in a fight with a murderous mob boss.

Yeah, there was no way that would fly.

That being said, it still burned in his shoulders as he carefully pivoted the lid flat and positioned it back over the mouth of the barrel and his triceps sure weren’t thanking him from the awkward half-extended hold.

The lid dropped back into a place with a clang and Dick froze.

Rain pounded against the deck and boots thumped on the ramp. A deep voice called out to start the truck.

Maybe no one had heard that.

Dick wasn’t exactly looking to find out either way,

Back the way he came, jumping off the boat into the dark, wasn’t a great option but the only other things he could try were the brightly lit and populated lamp or taking a dip into the water and swimming for it. Both of those sucked. So he rounded the corner and back into the black it w-

“Well what do we have here?”

Uh oh.

Directly in front of him, where there wasn’t supposed to be anyone for a solid fifteen seconds, was yellow rain slicker, his mean mouth curled into a wet grin that caught the sallow docklight.

So someone had heard the lid moving after all. Whoops.

It was fine. Dick could take one guy.

More footsteps, heavy work boots and the splash of slightly acidic puddles, three more figures in various shades of worn safety-brightness melted out of the rain. Okay, four people was still doable. If Dick was quick he might not even end up in the bay.

“Nothing to worry about, routine inspection you know how it is, but it looks like you gentleman have done a bang up job and everything is up to code so I’ll just be getting out of your various hoods,” even as he said it, Dick shifted his weight to try and get some grip on the deck. The hidden treads on the pixie boots were good, but he was pushing his luck and he knew it. He’d thought after going toe-to-toe with Freeze a few times he’d be less worried about picking fights on what was functionally a slip-and-slide, but he wasn’t feeling as good about his odds as he’d like.

Maybe it was the lack of back up. Even if he called, Batman wouldn’t be here in under five minutes.

Which was fine. Dick had this, he totally did.

Beneath his feet, the deck rocked.

Towards the back of the group, slick, dull steel caught a tongue of light as its owner hefted it up and distant lighting split the clouds. A crowbar, chipped and weighty and between him and the dock.

Time to go, before anyone else decided to introduce their partners for the evening to the scene.

Dick sprang forward, hands up and ready to catch yellow slicker’s shoulders as a pivot point to launch up and over, aiming to clear the group entirely and get moving. He needed to make space if he was going to win this.

And preferably they’d have this showdown on solid ground.

Indignant shouts followed him into the air, and the bucko with the crowbar took a swing at him that he had to twist around. He managed to land it anyways because Dick was a professional, but it cut the distance he’d been hoping to cover in half and landed him right behind someone in a delightfully orange jacket with a much less delightful knife.

Dick let the motion of the boat pull him out of the way of the first stab forward and snapped a heel into the offending wrist, hard enough he could hear the crack of contact over the roiling thunder.

A hand swiped at his leg even as he pulled it back and under him to push him up into a punch that caught one definitely-suspecting guy right under the jaw. The momentum rocked him right into the path of Yellow Slicker and Dick used the time it bought him to duck out of the next swing of the crowbar.

And the next, and the next, and it was tricky because whoever this was clearly had experience using what should have been innocent industrial equipment to crack heads, but Dick was moving backwards with every juke and he was getting closer to the gangplank and then he’d have the room to really turn this fight around.

There was almost a rhythm to it, duck, jab at the elbow, snap back to himself and slip another few feet away. Crowbar closed the distance every time, but neither of them were connecting hits, and Dick was pretty confident he had the stamina to win this match up.

Overhead, the sky rippled with blinding heat and it threw the other ‘dockworkers’ into a single frame of sharp relief.

One of them had a pistol.

Training stole his limbs from under him and threw Dick into a cartwheel that flowed into a backwards handspring and it got him out of the way of the first gunshot and carried him right into the next swing of steel.

The hook of it scraped along his tunic and pain exploded through his shoulder blade and into his spine. The fabric held. The bone held. Dick let the blow push him into a spin and carried it into a high kick right into Crowbar’s temple.

Metal hit the deck and then the man. Despite the rain spending all night trying to ruin his life, the storm applauded.

Dick didn’t try to fight the grin. He had more interesting opponents anyways.

“Now I know OH&S can get a little lax in Gotham, but I don’t murder actually gets you out of a bad rating.” The gangplank was only a few feet behind him, only a bout two and a bit feet wide. A little fun and they’d chase him right down towards the dock, and his ducks were in a barrel, but he needed them in a row. If they chased, he’d have the luxury of fighting them one at a time. “And I’ll admit to fibbing a bit. Your railings are terrible and you don’t clearly indicate the onboard fire extinguisher. Best I can give this operation is a C.”

Yellow Slicker glowered at him and crouched to take up the mantle of Crowbar.

Yeah, they’d chase.

Dick cocked a hip, angling his aching shoulder towards the dock behind him but keeping eyes ahead. “Aw, I know it’s tough to get critical feedback, but how else are you going to get fully certified as mooks? Do you really want to stay as lowly stooges forever? Think of it as career development!”

“Get back here you little shit,” snarled Crowbar’s successor, advancing on him as the other uncertified clowns rallied behind him. Crowbar, on the other hand, stayed down. Good.

Another redistribution of his weight and Dick could feel the corrugated steel of the gangplank under one foot. Perfect, two more steps and he could get to the fun-

Behind him, metal creaked.

Dick turned on his heel just in time to see a hulking figure in soaked-through denim halfway through swinging a bat at his head. He flinched back, trying to slide out of range and lost his grip on the slippery deck, one pixie boot going out from under him and he tried to twist with it, get himself some of that space back, and steel toes collided with his cheek.

Needles of rain pelted his face, his arms, his legs, and lightning cracked the sky apart.

His hands skidded, trying to find some traction. Something heavy and metal collided with his chest. All the air punched out of him and he tried to go for his belt. If he could get a weapon maybe, a batarang, a smoke pellet, anything-

“Oh no, none of that.” It was Dick’s brother in yellow, his companion in canary, and he had the crowbar up overhead.

Dick tried to move but there was no room.

Thunder splintered the beating rain.

The crowbar came down.

#my writing #dick grayson #tim drake #dc #time travel #(trust me the time travel is Critical to know about even if its not referenced here specifically)

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kaitsawamura · 4 years ago

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would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮ Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮ Rating: M (for mature) ⎮ WC: 5525 ⎮ Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader ⎮ Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint) ⎮ AO3

NOTES⎮ Thanks to @spacelabrathor for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome for fueling my Kiri fever dreams. Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp. Hope y'all enjoy! (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar. But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it. They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself. Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer. You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet. He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally… and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time. It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it. Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people. You’d have the whole place to yourselves. Like that should mean something. Which it did. It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach. Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago. Neither of you had made a move. Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with. It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on. But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency. The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye. Not for the obvious reasons. Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse.

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk. But he was just like that you had quickly discovered. He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch. He knew when to push and when to back off. He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn. The kids flocked to him. Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him. It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts. The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there? You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly. It isn’t big. You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses. Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous. But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time. Clean, straight lines and lots of windows. In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door. Is that a pool ? Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro. The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth. You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out! I mean, that would have been fine, of course. I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.” He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool. “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!” You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym. I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely. You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here. The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves. But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins. You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago. And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs. No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side. Shit. His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you. He has to know . Doesn’t he? From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive. Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard. You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping. It’s so green . There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna. Violets, tulips. Huge hosta plants. And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!” He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it? I guess it is pretty nice, huh?” You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile. You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.” You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet. “What are you thinking for today?” The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat. You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?” You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan. The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips. He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick. You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet. He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display. Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri. I just don’t want to wear you out . You’re a Pro Hero. You’re on the job a lot more than I am. Plus, you’re getting kind of old. Is that a little gray I see coming in?” Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair. There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted. Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.” Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw. His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip. His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment. You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity. He looks as if he’s going to devour you. You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body. A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up. The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin. The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen. You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat. The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym. You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment. When you could give extra attention with extra time.

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you. You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk. Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit. Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist. It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk. Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk. It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills. The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy. You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well. You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven. His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice. You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out. It surges through you like pure energy.

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook. This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt. Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet. He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?” He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach. You were fast, but still not always fast enough. You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in. Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top. You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over. “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard. You good?”

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable. He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late. You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today. Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back. But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core. He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours. You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before… “Fuuu-.” It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open. You’re seeing stars. Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again. You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun. You snort, rolling your eyes. Why does he still look so fucking good? The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl. His hair has curl to it? You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes. You like the curl. “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?” It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms. “I’m thinking not. Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.” You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows. Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.

“Is that any way to treat your student, Red Riot?” You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll. He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space. You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher. I’m not that much older than you. Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?” He’s so fucking close. This is getting dangerous. Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance. Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass. Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.

So you fall back on what you’re here to do. Fight. You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away. His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared. He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay. I see. I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?” You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri. Bring it on.” He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control. “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles. Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more. Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply. And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon. But you’re also both stubborn. And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination. No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration. The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not. You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head. You can be too predictable sometimes.” He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire. You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless. You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc. A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle. He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming. But he doesn’t. And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward. He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand. You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck. Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body. It doesn’t take long for him to tap out. You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off. Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride. You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad. In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good . He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you. His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere. He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes. If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you. He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable. You did good today. Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far. Keep it up.” He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts. He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment. “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--” The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his. His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair. You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more. Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment. A suspended second in time. But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side. But it’s warm and gentle. Gentle. Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle? But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations. His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit. You’re so wet .” He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit. He takes his hand away and you mewl. “Can I?” He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts. You nod, eyes half-lidded. He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious. Adoration. It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt. You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it. Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm. You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat. He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to. He’s done this before, he’s had to. He’s too good. Too fucking good. Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth. “Shit. Shit. Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--” He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym. It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue. But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock. You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum. Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them. Another time, maybe.

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing . He could snap you like a twig. But he won’t. You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…” You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders. You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled. You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much. His forehead drops to yours as he pants. But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to. It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins. You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss. “Oh fuck, ohfuck.” You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing. “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper. Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity. Let him leave marks. Let him leave them everywhere. He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling. “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.” His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good. S’ tight. Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym. The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip. He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes. Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ” He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct. He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point. “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream. Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic. The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath. “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins. His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt. He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole. Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours. Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before. You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri. Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression. Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed. He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex. But you’re smiling. Lazy and tired, completely at ease. “Wanna take a shower?” When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest. He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm. Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra. Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now. When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again. His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss. But it's slow and sweet.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers. He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water. Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now. The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep. But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in. When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel. “You okay?” He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired. I should, uh, probably get going.” Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line. Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail. But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug. A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest. His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice. You bury your face further in as you nod against him. Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed. He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him. Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you. The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket. It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets. He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake. You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb. A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist. His eyes are open now and he watches you. You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious. “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time. I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t… I don’t really hook up .” Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across. He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful. And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along. You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling. “I just. I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And normally I would have wined and dined you first but... Well. Here we are. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face. “Is something funny?” That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri. I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.” A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection. The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijirou #pro hero kirishima #red riot #kirishima smut #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kaitsuki writes #oh my god i had such brain block #writing this one #because i get too in my head writing smut #BUT i hope everyone still enjoys #we stan kiri in this house

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demonboyhalo · 4 years ago

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The Technoblade Conspiracy

Even before Dream claimed there was a traitor in Pogtopia, there's been a lot of...suspicious activities happening in Techno’s streams. Others on the SMP are already distrustful of him, and the fans are as well, but I believe that we’re focusing on the wrong thing here. This thread isn’t quite a traitor theory, but rather a dive into what Techno has been hiding at large. I can say with utter confidence that the extent of what Technoblade has accomplished on the Dream SMP is being greatly underestimated.

I recommend looking at the sus Techno moments thread by @piggytechnobarb on Twitter for some of the stream clips I'll be discussing.

This is going to be fairly in depth, so the rest is under the cut!

1. There is another room under what Techno calls his "secret base"

I won't talk too much on how strange his choice of "secret base" is for now, but please do keep in mind how out of character it is for man-who-tracked-down-Squid's-college to settle for a home base so unprotected and close to Pogtopia's very well known location.

So, for some reason, there is Polished Blackstone Brick under the floor of Techno’s wall. He accidentally reveals this when a donation asks him to mine the exposed redstone in his wall, acts a bit strange for a good 15 seconds, and then never mentions it again. Sight of the brick prompts him to silently zoom in, fill the hole with stone (not cobble), and say "Don't ask questions".

This is only so strange because there's no real reason for him to have stone at the ready, or any blackstone brick at all. Techno is NOT a builder, and if a creeper blew up down there, he'd fill it with cobble and not give a shit about aesthetics. He doesn't use smooth stone in his base, and has never built with blackstone on stream. Not only are they unusual items for him to have, it's unusual for him to make a point to not have the viewers question it. Yes, it could just be Techno being dramatic, but why did he go silent for a straight 5 seconds at the sight of the blackstone?

Considering who he is as a player, it is completely in character for Techno to build a second base. The lake he lives under is incredibly near Wilbur and Tommy, and he's well aware that all an enemy has to do is watch his stream to infiltrate his base. Techno goes to the extremes when they aren't even required (Ex. His insane skill in party games, beating Skeppy in as niche of a game as Grinch Simulator, etc.) So I don't think it's a stretch for him to go the extra mile, and hide a bunker/resources/extra armour and what have you from even his own viewers.

2. The overpowered illegal villager farm

For those of you who don't watch Ponk, he recently stumbled across an area that is supposedly banned on the Dream SMP - a villager farm. In the clip, his voice is astonished and his confusion is palpable, and he goes so far as to say "It's a full scale arms race" because of how many good trades there are. The location is laced with traps, though he doesn't mention what exactly he had to get past to find the farm. Ponk's reaction is far too genuine for the farm to be his, but then that begs the question, whose farm is it?

...Who is willing to risk Dream's wrath by breaking his rules? Or, alternatively, who is capable of making a secret pact with the server owner to allow such a farm? The answer could only be Technoblade.

Ponk says it himself in the video, he does not have the time to build this. Whoever made this had to have carved out a hidden cavern, lead at least 14 villagers down there, breed them until only the ones with the best trades were left - all off stream, and without another player catching them. Whoever made this had to spend hours of work with no content to show for it, and who do we know has been grinding for DAYS on the server? Technoblade. Not to mention, all the villagers are numbered, and all but one are fletchers.

The signs above each stall are so important, because going so far back as SMP Earth, Techno has a history of dispassionately breeding mobs to his benefit, and then killing any mob not performing well enough. For example, his horse farm: where the horses stay in numbered rooms rather than all being named. The villagers in the screenshot above are numbered rather than named.

Wanna hear a fun fact about Fletchers? They're well known for accepting sticks for emeralds, but will also take string for that trade as well! And guess who has been seen waiting at the spider spawner collecting string by Sapnap, Awesamdude, Quackity, and multiple other players? Technoblade.

Technoblade also has every reason to be breeding villagers for special arrows and crossbows, because he's said on stream that he wants to try spamming multi-shot crossbows in combat to take out huge groups of enemies. He said at a later point that he had run into trouble with getting multiple crossbows with the enchantment multi-shot, and implied it wasn't going to happen. But has he ever been the kind of person to be stopped by something being challenging? Absolutely not.

Think of literally anything Techno has done - his Bedwars win streak, beating MC with a steering wheel, the Potato Wars - what I believe is really happening, is that Techno is lying about how equipped he is so that no matter what side he ends up fighting for, his enemies will have no true way of knowing how powerful he is.

3. Dream might be his secret ally (AKA The Glowstone Incident)

This brings us to a...confusing moment in Techno's stream that sparked a lot of questions. It pointed me towards 2 different, but not necessarily exclusive, theories.

The Glowstone Incident precedes as follows: Techno needs glowstone but can't find any in his chests, so he puts on his BRB screen. He says that he is "hacking" and asking Dream to use game mode to give him the glowstone. Typing can be heard, and then multiple chests are opened. Techno takes off the BRB screen and he now has three stacks of glowstone dust. This was absolutely bewildering to watch live, and was one of the most blatantly suspicious things he has done in front of his viewers. (You can find the exact clip on the thread I mentioned, it is...so weird)

Theory A: Though unlikely, Techno could be Dream's secret ally, and Dream really did use creative to give him the stacks. Or, he potentially gave Techno OP permissions so that he could get the glow stone (and any other materials he’d want) himself.

We all remember their meet up on that ocean hill, where Dream gives Techno golden apples, diamonds, and other such materials for the battle against Schlatt. It seemed to be a one-off gift that was more for Wilbur's benefit than Techno's, but there's potentially the chance that Dream saw an alliance to Techno to be more beneficial than working only with Wilbur, and contacted him off screen to make deals.

Going back to the Village Farm - for a player to get the exact enchantment they want for a reasonable price, breeding them is the most logical option. It's the route Techno would take regardless of Dream's rules on the SMP too, as he tends to show little regard for what the creators want (Ex. Taking over SMP Earth, exploiting Hypixel Skyblock, etc.) However, it could also be possible that Dream gave Techno permission to do this, and so the reason Techno is keeping the farm secret is so that the viewers don't know of their alliance.

Theory B: Techno has hidden resources in his base that he doesn't want anyone to have even the chance to see. Whether it is to hide from enemies watching (or to hide from Dream in particular because Techno knows he's breaking the server's rules) there are secret chests that Techno has with extra resources that can be heard loud and clear in the video.

They could be simple ones hidden in the walls...or in the blackstone brick base hidden under his floors. Saying he’s “hacking” rather than the reality of him just checking all his chests again is on par for Techno’s usual dramatics - yet we can clearly see that there’s no glowstone in any of his chests. This is why I believe he got the glowstone from some unseen resource. With the BRB screen on, Techno prevents his viewers from actually seeing how he got the 3 stacks of powder, and it keeps the location of his hidden materials safe.

Personally, I feel theory B is more likely, but there have been moments where Dream has acted Sus so...be on the lookout y'all.

4. Techno not participating in MCC

For those of you who watched Techno during the Potato War, many will remember that MCC 6 had a stressful undertone. Because of how much effort and time Techno had been putting into farming on Skyblock, taking a break to compete in another event was distracting. It ultimately led to him losing time that, from his perspective, would have been better off spent farming.

Techno might not be as blatantly grinding on the Dream SMP as he did with the Potato War, but it's undeniable that other streamers have seen him online for stretches of 10 hours and more. When asked about why he wasn't participating in the next MCC, Techno didn't say he was taking a break - something that'd be entirely reasonable and honestly well earned - he said "I don't want to."

It could be awkward phrasing by virtue of Techno's personality, but what I think is more likely is that Techno has learned from his past mistakes. Rather than "waste" time competing in MCC, Techno might be planning to use the time everyone on the SMP is gone to his advantage. He could sneak into enemy territory, set traps in certain areas, or maybe even perform some illegal acts that Dream would never allow. Either way, I suspect Techno has something planned for the 14th.

Honorable Mentions:

Dream poking fun, or blatantly covering for Techno?

This clip of Techno's secret Something??? next to the spider spawner, undeniably suspicious

Techno had around 5 stacks of wool in his inventory at one point - he absolutely could be bed mining the nether not only so that he has multiple sets of OP netherite, but possibly because he's preparing the gear for another person (cough cough Philza) or people

Techno's collection of ghast tears. He's studied Crystal PvP and made plenty of 2b2t references in the past (Look up FitMC for more info on those things) So it could be possible that Techno is hiding stacks of end crystals so that he can decimate multiple players in an instant

All in all, I'm 100% convinced that Techno has some serious plans hidden behind the scenes that he's not going to share until it's time for him to unleash utter chaos. We know he's keeping secrets, we know he's had the time, and we know he's capable.

I hope you all enjoyed my research and feel terrified of what Techno could possibly have done off camera :D

If anyone else has different theories, corrections to what I wrote, or other moments where Pink was Sus, feel free to comment!

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swcetnight · 4 years ago

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It’s Definitely You || kth (m.) 1

synopsis:

Working as a barista in NYC has its perks, but when your ultimate dream of being on the Broadway stage tends to come crumbling down, the only thing that raises your spirits is the comfort of a complete stranger… who seems to have known you for far longer than you thought.

masterlist here

→ pairing: taehyung x barista!reader (also musical theatre performer cause I had to)

→ genre: fluff, angst, future smut | strangers(ish) to lovers… i won’t give the truth away... gonna have to read and find out for yourself ;))

-> warnings: self doubt, adorable plant names... there's really not many warnings for this chapter!

→ word count: 7,973

authors note:

alrighty everyone... here we go! (i’m so nervous) this is the first chapter of this series (which it took me 50 years to figure out whether I wanted this to be a series or a two shot... lets just say that it's gonna be a long one, so I think that a series is the best way to go)! this story is really near and dear to my heart, so 1. I really hope you enjoy it and 2. I hope all of you know how hard it was to write this into words... my goodness. now, make sure you look for clues throughout this series... there's a secret in here that won't be revealed for a while ;)) but if any of you have ideas, please be sure to send an ask while we wait to find out together! anyways, I hope you enjoy !!

authors thanks:

a HUGE thank you to @hantaev and @monvante for beta-reading and being so so supportive of me and this little (but not so little) story... y'all truly have no idea how helpful you've been and how thankful I am to be friends with both of you! forreal, y'all are the greatest and I'm sending you all my love!!

also, if you are enjoying this story, please don’t hesitate to send me an ask (on or off anon) and let me know your thoughts, feelings, theories, etc!! i would love to hear from all of you 🤍

If time-travel existed, you would be on the first time machine and head back to 2 years ago. A time when you had a free schedule and were able to go out on Friday nights. A time when you felt confident in yourself and were raring to pursue theatre. A time when you didn't have this job (cause apparently, theatre is impossible to get into) that forces you awake at 4 in the morning for the opening shift.

You can't say you don't love your Barista job because you do. Still, when your alarm wakes you from the beautiful dream of performing on the big stage, you have to use everything within yourself to crawl out of your sheet cocoon… and that is unacceptable.

What's even more unacceptable is the fact that your co-worker, Jimin, hasn't arrived at the Academia Cafe yet. You have about 30 minutes to prepare for the morning peak; brew coffees, set up the bakery items, clear the boards "coffee of the day," etc. The problem is, it takes up all of the 30 allotted minutes— and you can't start prepping early because Jimin has the keys to the cafe.

You’ve worked at the Academia Cafe for about a year now, taking a break from your endless theatre audition schedule— since that was getting you absolutely nowhere. No matter how badly you want it, nothing seems to work. No matter how many times you practice, it never seems to be good enough. Let’s just say, you took this job at the cafe because you were over the repetitive let downs.

… But here you are, with a “Jimin being late” let down.

[To: Jimin ☕️] hey, you almost here? times ticking, keys!

You stuff your phone into your winter coat pocket, the brown material catching snowflakes as they fall gently from the cloudy sky. You love this weather; it's always been your favorite. When you were little, you used to pretend to be a dragon; running all over your front yard and releasing heavy breaths that chilled in the air and spread like smoke. You don't enjoy the cold, but the entire feel of winter has you cozying up in a blanket with hot cocoa and a good book… nothing could beat that.

A buzz in your pocket catches your attention.

[From: Jimin ☕️] Hey! Look up.

Your eyes immediately lift to see Jimin smiling a few feet away, shuffling through the snow as he drags the keys out of his pocket. He's sporting a heavy blue coat that reaches down to his knees — making his short stature appear even smaller — topped with a matching blue beanie. Despite his tardiness today, you’ve always been fond of Jimin. He's like a ray of sunshine, beaming through the skyscrapers of the city and making everyone around him happy just by flashing a single smile. Honestly, you wish you could sneak some of that happiness from him and lock it somewhere safe... so you can save it for a time when you need it most.

"Your timing is impeccable." He laughs, gently placing the keys into the front door lock. "You texted me right as I was rounding the corner."

"I'm telling you, Jimin; we're always on the same wavelength." Smirking, you make your way through the doors of the cafe, greeted by the warmth that surrounds you like your sheet cocoon did this morning, but accompanied by the smell of fresh coffee. "Except for the fact that you, my friend, are late, so now we only have twenty-eight minutes until opening."

Old, rustic book pages litter the cafe's dark walls, executing the dark academia theme flawlessly. You have to give the interior designers a hand, what with the black stools and high dark wood counters etched with different story pages. You wonder if anyone took the time to read the stories that covered the cafe; maybe the stories moved them in a personal way. Maybe there was a reason why they read them, a part of the butterfly effect of their life.

With a quick survey of the main room, you shuffle into the back to put your belongings away. "You would think it would be less busy on the streets because of the snow," Jimin calls, already working on the first batch of light roast coffee. "But unfortunately for me, that was not the case, and I nearly lost my life multiple times on the way here because of how slick it is."

A laugh emits from your lips, echoing in the backroom as you throw your apron over your head.

You begin with date labeling all of the pastry items, placing them accordingly onto the pastry cart; croissants, muffins, scones, etc. Then, you move onto organizing syrups and setting toppings along the bar where drinks are made. Bar is your personal favorite position-- since you're able to make the drinks… Plus, you're so busy that your shift goes by way faster. The sooner you're done, the sooner you get to go home and sleep.

“All set?” Jimin questions when you finish setting the steaming pitchers next to the espresso machine, tossing the rag he used to wipe down tables into the sanitizer bin. You give him a nod, taking a quick once over of the bar. “Alright,” he claps, “let's do this.”

This morning runs like every Friday morning, busy and fast. The sounds of coffee glasses clinking and the calling of customer names at the hand-off station echoes through the air.

Ahhhh, the scenery in coffee shops; the quiet hush over the room as soft jazz plays over the speakers. It’s soothing, all encompassing, and extremely helpful for motivation… You used to go to a local cafe for homework when you were still in school.

You take a breath, relaxing against the back counter as you overhear a conversation a group of regulars are having. It’s the usual small talk: the weather, families, sharing pictures of recent events. Coming up with questions of the day for customers becomes easier after knowing their stories, so you subconsciously listen in often.

Because of this, you almost don't notice the man waiting at the register, wholly delved into the neighboring conversation— only looking over when you hear your name called.

"Y/n?"

You turn your head, catching eyes with the stranger behind the counter who holds his credit card ready. The first thing you notice is that he's young, probably around your age, wearing a brown turtleneck and white slacks. His eyes are dark, standing above his perfectly sculpted nose and lips. His hair is dark as well, forehead drowning within the wavy bangs that fall over his eyebrows as he takes you in. To be completely honest, he's probably the most handsome man you've had the pleasure of seeing… is that weird? You don’t know him… maybe that is weird.

The second thing you notice is that he looks completely anxious, hands grasping the edge of the counter like there's a thousand-foot drop below him. Why is he looking straight at you while doing that? Maybe you should call Jimin to take ove-

“Is it really you?” He questions, taking you aback.

"I-" You clear your throat, walking forward to meet him at the register, "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

With an intake of breath, he releases the counter as he studies you. Was he… crying? You swear his eyes were not this bloodshot three seconds ago.

"You-" He pauses, taking another sharp breath and running a hand through his hair. If you thought he couldn't get more attractive, you were wrong. "Do you know me?"

Attractive? Yes. Psycho?...possibly.

You shake your head slightly, “I… I’m sorry. I don't-"

Wait… is he a regular? You swear you haven't seen him come into the cafe before. Shoot.. What if he is? The number one thing your boss has made perfectly clear: remember the regulars, so they come back and feel at home; recognized. Customer connection was the most important thing at the Academia Cafe… He's probably a regular.

“I’m so sorry, there're so many people that come to visit us and sometimes I forget the regulars!” You apologize. “That’s my fault… remind me of your name again?”

He's staring at you. Full-on staring, jaw slacked. Shifting uncomfortably in your keds, you eye beside you to see Jimin working away at a macchiato. You consider changing places, nearly walking over to him before the customer speaks again.

"It's- It's Taehyung."

You force a smile, nodding while he continues to stare at you. He seems a bit more hesitant, his eyes looking in different directions but ultimately falling back onto your own. Even if he tried, he couldn't hide the rosy color that spreads onto his cheeks. What was this guy's problem?

"Taehyung! Awesome, well, what can I get for you today?" You chirp, attempting to brighten up your increasing discomfort. He might have mistook you for someone else, you decide, jumping back into your customer service personality: kind and quick to the point.

Taehyung doesn't move, training his eyes on you. You've never had a man's undivided attention before, since boyfriends were never an option. When you were a teenager, you stayed home most of the time in your hometown, and the boys there were all just in it to take your pants off. You avoided them and never really caught their attention, so you can't help the uncomfortable blush that grows on your cheeks. It’s short lived though, your nerves dissolving as soon as you notice a single tear fall onto the front of his shirt.

Oh. Okay, he’s definitely crying.

"Sir..." You begin, leaning in closer to avoid drawing attention. "Is everything alright?"

"I…" The shake in his voice is evident as he puts his credit card back into his wallet, still refusing to break eye contact. “Excuse me." Without another word, he turns on his heel and rushes towards the exit, clocking a customer in the shoulder in his rush. He apologizes quickly, bowing to them before glancing behind to make eye contact with you once more.

You wish you could read minds, wondering what the hell is going through his brain… but you notice the tiniest gleam of a hopeful smile that hides on his lips.

And then he’s gone.

“I swear it was the strangest thing, Jimin.” You speak nervously, tugging at the strings of your apron and lifting it over your head. It had been busy all day, despite a quick thirty minute break when everyone had left and the cafe was suddenly a deserted island. You appreciated the busyness, it made your shift go by faster. Right now, all you wanted to do was go home, eat a fat bowl of icecream and distract yourself from the events of today with a movie. Thank God your shift was over.

“Maybe he thought you were someone else?” Jimin insists, taking a bite into the extra Blueberry Muffin you’d accidentally heated when you were distracted by the events that occurred earlier.

“Yeah? Well, I must be the spitting image because he was totally freaked out.”

“You never know, y/n. Or, maybe he just used that as an excuse to talk to you.” You could hear the smirk in his voice, throwing your rolled up apron at him harshly before you grab your belongings.

“Ha, ha, you’re hilarious. This guy looked like he had seen his ex… He was crying. I don’t think he was into me.”

“Maybe his eyes were watering from the cold wind?” He offers.

“Enough to cry actual tears?” You scoffed, “C’mon Jimin.”

He shrugs defensively, picking up his things so the two of you can head out a few minutes earlier than usual. Whenever the baristas have a chance to leave early, they take it. “If he comes back, then ask him: hey, dude, what’s your deal?”Jimin works his way through the cafe, throwing an excess chair upside down onto the table with the rest of them.

You hold your hand above your heart, which is still beating at a faster pace due to this discussion. Can hearts even beat this fast? This can’t be healthy… “Oh wow, you have such a way with words. That definitely won’t make him feel uncomfortable!”

Yes. Sarcasm coping mechanism.

“Y/n.” Jimin meets you at the door and puts his hands on your shoulders, making extra sure he has your attention. “Go home. Don’t think too much into it… He was probably high or something and mistook you for his ex that dumped him and now he’s moping through the city and getting into all sorts of trouble and he’ll forget that he even came here tomorrow morning. Okay?”

You nod slowly, exiting the cafe with Jimin on your tail. "Don't worry, y/n." Jimin adds, "He probably won't even come back." He locks the door and gives you one last thumbs up before heading in the opposite direction, calling out at the last second. “See you tomorrow!”

The forced smile on your face appears again (looks like this was a regular occurrence today), waving him goodbye.

Yeah… tomorrow.

Jimin was right. The handsome crying stranger was probably never coming back.

It has been a few weeks since you met him for the first time. Now, it feels like a distant memory. He hadn’t shown up to the cafe the day after the encounter, or the day after that, or the day after that, and eventually you’d come to the conclusion that he was probably never going to show his face again out of pure embarrassment. You can’t say you blame him. You’d be embarrassed too if you stared at and cried over a random stranger.

Still, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment... You'd kind of hoped you could figure out what his problem was, maybe ease his mind a little if you really did look like a past lover. You would make sure he knew that it wasn't you. What if he was avoiding the cafe because he literally thought you were someone else? Great… now you just feel bad.

"Y/n? Are you listening?" Jimin beckons over the phone.

"Huh? What?" You bounce back to reality, the soft comforter of your bed lying beneath you as you stare out the window. Thanks to your wonderful apartment search, you have a beautiful view of the city. Jimin had helped you find a place when you first moved here. The two of you had met when you visited to check out the first apartment options; he even took you out for a drink afterward to celebrate the first days' completion. Jimin had immediately clicked with you, as he does with everyone-- he was the kind of person to make friends insanely quickly. He must've been super popular in high school... unlike you.

"Y/n Y/l/n. I am giving you a chance to meet more people, and you're not even listening to me!" He cries, a light smack coming from the other end (probably from him slamming his hand on the table).

"Okay, okay-- I'm sorry. I'm listening now; what's up?"

With a deep sigh, he speaks again. "Party. My house. Tonight. It's not gonna be wild, don't worry... it's just a get-together with some of my friends, and you can have a few drinks if you would like to."

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you look over towards the clock on your nightstand. 5:00. "I don't know..." You begin, the bed shifting as you raise into a seated position. "I have to work tomorrow morn-"

"Already got your shift covered." He deadpans.

"What??"

"I already got your shift covered, so you have no excuse."

This sly guy.

"Who covered it?" You question, setting the audio to speaker-phone as you rummage through old text messages you haven't gone through (to prep for your "thank you for covering my shift" text message).

“Jin.” Noted.

“So…” Jimin continues, “are you coming?”

You can't even remember the last time you met new people, let alone gone to a party. Parties weren't necessarily your thing, especially with your busy schedule of workdays and auditions-- you just never had the time. You should be excited, right?

Well, you aren't.

"Jimin, I don't know… I'm not really a huge fan of parties." You mumble over the phone, picking at the lone string that popped out of its stitch on your comforter.

"Y/n, it's a small get-together, and it's not gonna be that kind of party. Believe me; it'll be really chill. It's just me, you, a few other coworkers, and some friends from my journalism class."

You chew at your bottom lip, looking over at your closet to see a single green cocktail dress that you hadn't worn in years. The memory of the dress was a good one… you had just finished up curtain call for The Addams Family and wore that dress to the after-party. It's a short sleeve, layered green dress that flows just over your knees, the same color sash tying the waist in a floppy bow. You blush at the memory of winning best dressed.

A pause, “Okay.” You conclude. “I’ll go.”

Jimin was honest about how chill it would be; soft music plays in the background as the group sits around the table playing cards. A basketball game is playing on the TV, desperate for attention as a player scores a 3-pointer, but no one is watching. Shuffling of cards is the only sound heard in the room as the game continues.

The atmosphere is calm… quiet…

“BULLSHIT.”

The immediate crumble of everyone’s mood causes the loud “HELL YEAH” that makes you jump in your seat.

"And that is how it's done, Ladies and Gentlemen." Jungkook (your fellow coworker) claps, his smile brighter than the sunset that seeps through the curtains on the opposite side of the room.

"And that's on cheating!" Jimin picks up the cards in the center of the table, gathering them clumsily back into a pile.

"It's called having skill," Jungkook replies, holding his hands up as he smirks at his opponents.

"No, it's called luck." Yoongi finalizes as he puts his hand of cards down on the table with a roll of his eyes. You haven’t met Yoongi before until tonight. He’s one of Jimin's friends from Journalism Class.

When you arrived, you decided to sit out of this round and learn to play before joining the game-- knowing you; you would've been crushed within the first minutes of playing. Card games weren’t exactly a skill of yours— board games on the other hand were where it’s at! That, and charades. For the sake of the party, a card game didn’t sound too bad this time around— so you poke at Jimin to give you the hand as he serves cards for everyone else.

“Wait, wait, wait—“ Jimin pauses, his hand disappearing beneath the table to grab his phone. “Hello?”

“I’m not Irish, so does luck really count?” Jungkook questions in a hushed whisper, nudging Yoongi in the side.

“Oh hey...yeah... it’s apartment 205.” Jimin continues.

“You’re so funny, Jk. Maybe you’ll actually become successful if you choose stand-up comedy rather than becoming a musician.” Yoongi replies nonchalantly, his cat-like eyes staring at the abandoned pile of cards before he seems to come to the decision to shuffle them himself. He gives you a small smile when you hold your hand out to signal that you’re joining in this round.

“Mhm, you can just walk on in! Doors unlocked… okay.. alright, see ya in a minute.” When Jimin's phone is down, Yoongi passes a hand of cards to him.

“Think you can beat me, Y/n?” Jungkook asks,”Since apparently these four can’t?” He motions to Yoongi and Jimin, glancing at the other two players of the game: Hoseok (Jimins other classmate) and his girlfriend, Faith.

“I think I can.” You say, smirking at the determined expression on Jungkooks face. Even if you weren’t very fond of card games, there was one thing you were even less fond of: losing.

“Mmm, might want to rethink that, but okay.” Jungkook replies. The two of you are death staring when the sound of the front door creaking open catches the attention of everyone else at the table. Jimin shoots out of his chair.

“Taehyung!”

You freeze.

"You-" He pauses, taking another sharp breath and running a hand through his hair. If you thought he couldn't get more attractive, you were wrong. "Do you know me?"

Attractive? Yes. Psycho?... possibly.

“I’m so sorry, there're so many people that come to visit us and sometimes I forget the regulars!” You apologize. “That’s my fault… remind me of your name again?”

"It's- It's-."

“Taehyung, you just missed me creaming everyone in bullshit.” Jungkook boasts. Your eyes are glued to the side of Jungkook's head, not daring to make eye contact with the source of your nerves the past few weeks.

“Oh did I?” The familiar, deep voice utters.

Okay.. you can’t help but look…

Holy—it’s actually him.

Immediate regret sinks into your soul when you see him. God, he’s even handsomer than you remember. A white woolen sweater hangs over a pair of his black pants, matched with white sneakers and accenting the head of dark wavy hair you’d been thinking about since you last saw him.

“Yep!” Jungkook continues. “And now Y/n’s about to get shitfaced too.”

The moment his eyes swiftly glance your way is the moment you crumble and turn your head back to Jungkook. You had hoped to make a sly remark, something along the lines of “in your dreams,” but you’re caught breathless from the tension in the room. The tension only the two of you are aware of. He must be tense too, right?

“I wouldn’t underestimate her.” You hear out of Taehyung's mouth, stealing a look at his face once more. He’s smirking at Jungkook, hanging his coat on the hook beside yours, oblivious of the way you’re basically dissecting his every move.

“Have you met Y/n?” Jimin questions, provoking Taehyung's eyes to fall back onto yours. This time, you don’t look away.

He doesn’t answer right away, making you more nervous than you should be— the silence deafening as you make to explain, “We-“

“No.” He states plainly, cutting you off. An innocent smile plays on his lips as he looks at Jimin and places his messenger bag beside the door.

No? Uhhh, was he not the guy who pretended to know who you were and cried in front of you without even explaining why? Nope, it’s definitely him.

“I’m Taehyung.” He calls in your direction, offering you a boxy smile and a small nod, “Don’t let Jungkook fool you. A girl pinched him when we were in grade school. He barely lasted five seconds before running away screaming.” Taehyung moved to the table, sitting beside the man he just brutally embarrassed.

“That girl was terrifying. She was way taller than all the other sixth graders. It was an unfair situation.” Jungkook protested, sinking in his chair as he shuffled the cards he held in his hand.

You couldn’t help but stare dumbly at Taehyung. Was he embarrassed of his outburst at the cafe that he just hopes you forgot about him? You guess you didn’t exactly meet each other, other than a few words exchanged before he disappeared out the door. He probably doesn’t want his friends to know about what happened. Or did he not recognize you and completely forgot about the whole ordeal?

Okay, it’s fine… totally fine.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind,” you laugh, “no more coming in late, Jk. Or I’ll have to pinch you.”

Jungkook merely rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his beer. You see the crinkle in Taehyung's eyes as he laughs, the boxy smile taking root on his face again… a smile you’ve begun to enjoy the look of.

Hey. Snap out of it. This guy is so confusing. That’s a red card.

You straighten up in your seat, catching Jimin's attention when you move towards the kitchen, motioning with your hand to signal that you’re getting another drink. You have a feeling you’re gonna need some more alcohol to get through the evening.

Jimins place is clean, every knick knack placed neatly where it belongs; accompanied by the smell of potted plants that he keeps by his windows. Little name tags are attached to the plant stems: Flo, Sprout, Bob. He names his plants. Sweet.

He, like you, has a great view of the city too, a mid-size window perched above his breakfast nook where a small potted plant (quotabley named “bean”) grows. The city is bustling below as you reach for a beer, shrugging off the fact that you hate beer, but at least the taste will distract you from Tae-

“Hey.” You hear a soft voice call from the kitchen archway. When you turn you nearly drop the bottle out of your hand. Taehyung gives you a soft smile.

“Hey! Uh.. did you want a beer, or are you a wine guy?” You question, cringing at how much higher your voice sounds at his close proximity.

“I— Sorry, neither.” He starts, shoving his hands into his pockets as he makes his way around the island. “I uh- I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

You nod slightly, “Yeah of course… what’s up?”

“Um,” he’s nervous, you notice. “I just wanted to apologize about the whole thing at the cafe a few weeks ago.. I was— not in the right state of mind.” He meets your eyes hesitantly, “you just look like someone I know from a long time ago and it kind of.. took me by surprise, I guess.”

Jimin was right. You offer him a smile, shaking your head in disbelief, “You know what, I truly thought that was the reason… It’s totally fine. I’m not who you think I am, by the way.”

A flicker of something crosses his features at your comment, something you can’t quite pick up, but he changes it quickly to a smirk. “Obviously.” He laughs, “I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.. I’m not weird, I swear.”

“Mmm, that’s what they all say.” You tease.

He laughs, a soft sound that you want to hear over and over again. “You’ve got me there.” He takes a pause, placing his hands on the island countertop. “Let’s start over? If that’s okay? I didn’t want to mention it when I came in because I wanted us to have a fresh start.”

You push down the questioning thought of who this woman he mistook you for was, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. “That’s totally okay.. clean slate?”

“Clean slate.” He finalizes.

“Straightforward,” You add, “I like it.”

He gives you a warm smile, the same edge in the way he looks at you dances in his eyes before he breaks it off, sliding the bottle of beer out of your own hand. “Actually, I think I will have a beer. You don’t seem like a beer drinker, anyway.” He turns quickly, smirking at you before striding out of the room. “Thanks, Y/n!”

Protestations die on your lips as he disappears from the room, your beer along with him. How rude. You can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you turn back to the cupboard, skipping the beer and pouring yourself a second glass of wine. You weren’t a beer drinker, after all.

Although you weren’t one for parties, you couldn’t help but admit the fact that you were having a good time. No, a great time. All of you are seated in Jimins living room; a plate of chips sits on the coffee table, which was the hot spot of the night (considering there’s hardly any remaining). Others in the group still have a glass of alcohol in their hands, the tipsiness evident by the slurring of their words. You had stopped yourself after half of your second glass, playing it safe since you still have to walk home after the party. You weren’t much of a drinker anyway-- your family history being the root of this decision.

It isn’t the games that made the night this enjoyable, or the food, or the movie that is currently playing over Jimin's television (which, by the way, is Moulin Rouge, because half of the room enjoys musicals, and the other half enjoys regular movies. So, you decided to settle on a movie musical). None of that matters, except the fact that you’ve never felt this carefree in a long time.

For one night, you can put aside your cafe job, auditions, and never-ending to-do lists and just have fun. Real fun. Even in the audition rooms, it has never been fun for you. It’s been nerve-wracking to a fault and always ends with a “thank you for taking the time, but we’ve decided not to accept you this time around,” or a callback, which ultimately concludes with the same grueling fate.

But this is different.

This is a group of people who genuinely want to spend time with you and get to know you… with no “not this time’s” or open-ended questions.

Especially with Taehyung. You’re surprised at how quickly the two of you seemed to hit it off, despite the awkward introduction. Now, it feels like he’s known you for years… in the best way. You’re comfortable talking to him, chatting together during the movie about the plot points or songs you find specifically endearing. You had initially planned to sit next to Jimin… but ended up next to Taehyung on the couch.

It just happened.

He enjoys musicals as well, you learn. Maybe not as much as you do, but at least he doesn’t despise them. He’s one of Jimin’s friends from their shared art class. He loves the color brown. His favorite food is watermelon. He does illustrations for Jimins journalism projects (which, in your opinion, are exceptional from the photos he showed you during the movie while the others were engulfed in the film). He wishes to pursue traveling journalism, where he draws what he sees rather than taking pictures. His whole aura is warm… like a heated blanket that envelopes you whole when you feel him shift beside you on the sofa. A small reminder that he’s still there.

Okay, you’re liking his presence way too much.

He finds romance movies corny but a guilty pleasure nonetheless. This, the reason why he agreed to watch Moulin Rouge despite the cheesiness in the beginning. In the end, it was anything but cheesy.

"Well, that was stupid." Jungkook scoffs, slamming the remote onto the neighboring loveseats' armrest. The once loud room filled with music is now quiet from the after-effects of the movie.

“I told you it was sad!” Jimin exclaims. The two of you had seen this movie before in theatres… and this was nothing compared to how the ending hit the first time. “Y/N was nearly choking. She was crying so hard when we saw it.”

An immediate blush rises onto your cheeks as you shake your head in defiance, trying to hide the tears that had been stinging your eyes for the last thirty minutes. “Who wouldn’t cry at that??”

“Taehyung probably didn’t. He never cries.” Hoseok deadpans. Ha. You can’t help but remember the tear that ran down his face in the cafe… He never cries?

With a quick look over your shoulder, you find that Taehyung is no longer seated on the couch. When did he get up? You attempt to shrug off your curiosity, pivoting back towards the chip table where only sad little crumbs remain. You were worrying way too much over a man you quite literally just met tonight… even if it felt like you’ve known him for much longer.

Taehyung eventually reappeared, stating that he had to use the bathroom— you ignored the fact that it took him a solid 30 minutes to get back to the party. It wasn’t your place to ask any questions, especially since he lifted a smile onto his face the second he reentered the room. See, y/n… nothing to worry about.

It wasn’t long before you insisted you head home, knowing that you’d curse yourself in the morning if you stayed out past the sunrise. If you did, you’d sleep through tomorrow, and that would be awful. You’ve done this a few times… and every time, you felt like you had wasted an entire year of your life.

You move to grab your purse and jacket, which are hanging comfortably on the hook beside the front door. With a small smile, you bid everyone goodnight— smiling as they resume a card game around the table at one o’clock in the morning. It’s nice to know that the group of you hit it off… now; you can look forward to plenty of get-togethers in the future.

Your mind is bustling with all kinds of ideas: picnics in central park, late-night broadway shows, hangouts at the caf-

“Y/n!” The soft calling of Taehyung's voice causes you to halt near the exit, turning on your heel to see him jogging towards you. He had haphazardly thrown his jacket over him since it’s still being tugged onto his body as he runs. His hair becomes even more chaotic in his haste… Why do you want to run your hands through it?

“Hey!” You squeak, interrupting your thoughts before they trudged down a guilty road. “What are you doing? Weren’t you going to play another round?”

He gives you a smirk, catching his breath as he holds out your house keys. “You forgot these! You were really moving fast… sick of us already?”

“Wh— oh my god, thank you!” With a quick swipe of your hand, you’re stuffing your keys into your pocket with a grateful smile. “Also, hardly.”

You admire the way his eyes light up at your confession. “Well.. since you don’t want to leave us so quickly.. how about I walk you home?” He seems almost hesitant asking, but you can’t help but applaud him for actually taking the initiative to inquire.

You shake your head, pulling the strap of your purse farther up your shoulder. “You don’t have t-“

“I want to!” He cuts you off quickly, catching you by surprise as he moves past you to open the door. He glances back, taking in your reluctant expression, “It’s not safe this time of night Y/n… You shouldn’t be alone.“

You know he didn't mean anything by that statement… But the idea of someone genuinely caring and not wanting you to be alone makes your heart swell. Jimin cares about your safety of course, but this feels… Different.

This is the reason why you allow him to walk you home.

The snow crunches beneath your feet, like a symphony that beckons you home. You’ve been feeling exhaustion seeping into your bones for the last ten minutes, but Taehyung's occasional brush of his arm as he walks beside you keeps you wide awake. He doesn’t think to apologize for accidentally touching you, but you blame it on the time of night. Delusion.

“How long have you lived in New York?” You question, wrapping your coat tighter around you to kick out the nipping air.

“About a year now,” He responds, shuffling his feet, “though it feels like way longer. You?”

“Three years.”

Taehyung turns his head towards you, eyes wide. “Wow, way to one up me.” With a teasing smile he continues, “You must know this city like the back of your hand.”

The truth is… you don’t. You came here for the sole purpose of making it on Broadway... you never really took the time to focus on anything else. Part of you wishes you had learned more, craved more, wanted more with your life—then you wouldn’t be so miserable when the one thing you do want doesn’t work out. “Yeah… kind of.”

If he hears the somber tone of your voice, he ignores it, turning against the wind as he walks backwards down the sidewalk. “It’s overrated in my opinion.”

You raise your head at this, “Why is that?”

“Everyone here has dreams… and those dreams get crushed more often than not.” He shrugs, “No one cares if you want to succeed, only if you already have.”

You stare at him for a moment, awestruck by the weight of his words. “But,” he adds, turning back towards the wind, “the ones who never give up and continue to chase that dream can become successful. Despite all of the no’s they might face, they always hold on till they hear a yes. That sounds like true success to me.”

Turning your head, you stare at the side of his face— admiring the way his hair tosses back a bit against the harsh winter winds. His words hit you way deeper than he probably realized, sinking into your chest with an overwhelming sense of accomplishment. You’ve been contemplating recently on whether or not to give up on your dream… that maybe it just wasn’t going to work out for you. You have been trying for so long, and have repeatedly been let down. There was no way Taehyung could have known, which is why his words hit you as hard as they did. Despite the hardships, you’ve been here for three years and you’ve never given up or stopped trying to chase your dream.

That was an achievement, right?

“To be honest… I've heard a lot of no’s in my three years of being here.” You speak softly, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. “Sometimes it feels like there will never be a yes… but here I am. At least I'm still working— at a coffee shop, not on the stage.”

“It’s admirable that you keep going.” Taehyung glances at you over his shoulder. “It makes you different from a lot of people who have left the city when they faced failure. It’s something to be proud of. Plus, coffee shop or big stage, you’re in New York City and pursuing your gift. It’s special.”

When your eyes meet, you smile at him, feeling a sense of victory the longer you hold his gaze.

“Don’t give up, Y/n. No matter what.” He speaks genuinely, leaning towards you to nudge you gently on your shoulder. You can’t help but laugh at his playfulness, giving him a nudge in return before your eyes downcast to your winter boots. The snow on the ground is fresh, powdery and sticking to the toes of your shoes. “Plus,” He adds, sucking in the chilly air, “you've got what others don’t have…”

This time when you meet his eye he has a serious expression, making sure he has your full attention as you round the corner towards your apartment building. His gaze is genuine, captivating… and a part of you hopes that the close proximity of your apartment wouldn’t cut this moment short. Finally, he speaks.

“You have passion.”

Taehyung's words weigh on you for the rest of your night. It started off as something simple, looking up audition songs for an upcoming off-broadway show your agent was telling you about. Then, you went to learning it. After that, putting on makeup. And finally, completely forgetting about your sleep schedule and filming an entire audition tape in your room at 2 in the morning (and you were belting… your poor neighbors). It wasn’t until four that you finally turned in for the night, not bothering to take off your makeup or get changed-- simply falling onto your pillow and blacking out the moment you hit it. You were definitely sleeping the next day away… but at that moment, you didn’t mind. Having a day off from your busy schedule wouldn’t be so bad.

“I sent in an audition tape two nights ago.” You speak confidently, wiping down the back counter that’s littered with coffee grounds. They stick to the rag like glue, tiny dots scattered along its white surface. If it weren’t for your apron,

and your expertly rolled up white turtleneck sweater, you would look alot like this rag right now.

“Did you?” Jimin questions from the bar, sleeving the cup before placing it on the handoff counter.

“Christopher! Medium cappuccino!” He calls, multitasking while he cranes his neck to still hear you.

“I did. I feel really good about this one..” You add, meeting him beside the bar as he lifts the pitcher up and down to create the latte-art of a flower in the center of the mug. You have tried sooooo many times to make latte art… and every time it ended up looking like a glob. A big, distorted snowball. Jimin was the master of latte art, always finishing it off beautifully with a whip of his wrist. The foam atop telling a story. “It was so late-- I was totally out of it… and yet I actually enjoyed myself while filming it. I just imagined being there.. In center stage.”

“I’m happy for you, Y/n!” He smiles, turning to place the hot mug next to the cappuccino.

“Caleb! Medium caramel latte!”

He was only half listening to you. The cafe was bustling, so it truly wasn’t Jimin's fault that he was sidetracked— but nothing could hold back the small smile that played at the edge of your lips. You had actually enjoyed singing for the first time in a while.. all because of Taehyung's Academy Award winning pep talk. Who knew that all you needed was for someone to tell you like it is. With a minuscule smile, you turn back towards the counter and lift the latte you’d whipped up this morning to your lips. Your distorted snowball is fully on display at the top.

Despite the busyness, the front register is deserted, giving you time to think for a moment about the pep talk... or rather, the person who gave you it.

“I think Taehyung likes you.” Jimin deadpans.

Uhhh… You nearly spit out your snowball at that— clearing your throat as you set it down slowly onto the wooden countertop. He speaks as if this is a natural conversation starter… it’s not.

“I’m sorry?” You croak.

“Taehyung.” He repeats, turning his head in your direction with a knowing smirk. “I think he likes you.”

You give him a scoff of disbelief, watching as yet another group of regulars enter through the door. “That’s not true, he just doesn’t know me… so he made an effort to talk to me.” If you weren’t studying the group, you would've seen Jimin giving you a scrutinized look.

So, now you have his attention.

“Y/n. It’s so obvious… He spent the entire night talking to you, he left moments after you did to give you your keys and he never came back. If that isn’t someone who’s interested, I don’t know what is.” Jimin is an expert at multitasking, finishing off two drinks at the same time and calling them out.

“Well, Jimin, when people don’t know each other, they get to know each other. It’s this thing called talking and becoming friends.” The sentence hangs in the air as the doorbell chimes, signaling that yet another customer has entered the cafe and into the swarm of regulars, but the two of you disregard the sound and continue on through your bickering.

“I’m just saying, Taehyung doesn’t usually talk to girls.” Jimin adds, wiping his hands off on the white rag seated beneath his espresso machine. “Even if they wanted his attention, he didn’t give it to them. I mean— he’s nice to girls, don’t get me wrong.. but he’s never talked to them like he did with you on game night. I don’t think he’s dated anyone since he got here.”

“He’s career driven.” You say quickly.

If you thought his smirk couldn’t get any wider, you were wrong. “Yeah, girls don’t know that about him— meaning he told you, and not other girls.” Jimin deadpans.

You stare blankly at him. There’s no way. No way that a guy as attractive as Taehyung would even think about looking at you like that. There’s just no way. You’ve never had a boyfriend... or even a guy friend, until Jimin. Eventually, you’d accepted the fact that maybe you just weren’t that interesting. Maybe you weren’t pretty enough. Maybe you couldn’t flirt…. okay, you definitely couldn’t flirt— but that’s besides the point.

“He’s not interested in me.” You conclude.

“He is.” Jimin counters.

“He’s not.”

“He so is.”

“He’s so not.”

“Y/n. I swear to you. He’s interested and you need to shoot your shot.” He whisper-screams, throwing the rag in his hand onto the bar.

“Taehyung is not-“

A clearing of someone’s throat from beyond the register cuts your argument short, nearly making you lose your balance when you see who the source was.

You’re fairly certain you’ve turned pale.

Taehyung stands in front of you, eyeing between the two of you with an awkward expression. God, how long has he been standing there? “I figured I should step in before the two of you start fist fighting.”

“Hey!” The shrill of your voice causes you to wince.

“Hey.” He says with a smile, folding his arms in front of him and raising his eyes to the menu above your head. You can’t help the glare you send towards Jimin, who's notably holding back his laughter as he moves to the blender, the station farthest from the register. Ridiculous.

“What can we get for you?” You ask routinely, trying not to make it obvious that you were just talking about him… and praying that he wasn’t there to hear what the two of you were talking about.

“Hmm…” He looks especially good today, wearing a brown, long coat and a brown plaid scarf around his neck. He wasn’t kidding when he said his favorite color was brown, that’s for sure. It suits him. His hair is wavy, flowing to a point just under his eyebrows with a split off center, giving you the tiniest glimpse of his forehead. “How about an americano with hazelnut, and some cream?”

“We can do that for ya!” You have to force yourself to stop looking at him, pressing the buttons to ring up his order before you forget. You nearly overlook ringing up the hazelnut syrup. Why were you so dazed? He’s already placed his credit card into the chip reader, but your foggy brain asks anyway. “Anything else?”

“Yes, actually.” He speaks as you move towards the bar beside the register. Grabbing an empty pitcher, you pour the milk inside and reach for the steamer. He drops a dollar into the tip jar, not giving you enough time to thank him for the unnecessary effort before he speaks again. “Are you free later?”

NEXT CHAPTER

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ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa · 5 years ago

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Footprints in the Sand

Part 4: Breathe

Summary/Author’s Note: This is wild. Part 4 already--what is happening. Thank you to everyone who has read and been supportive. All this fluff and slow burn will be worth it. Look at that rating--it got bumped up! Thank you to my wife @vaxxildan who saw I was stuck on smut and while we were sitting on the couch said, "ya know what would be hot?" And this chapter came to fruition. I do not deserve this woman, y'all.

Pairing: Oberyn x Ellaria x Reader Word Count: 4.1k (I worked hard, guys 😭) Rating/Warnings: (NC-17)/18+ Language, smut, threesome, oral (f!receiving), so many kisses, all of the kisses, arm restraint, LIGHT dom!Oberyn, multiple orgasms, Oberyn "which way do you like it? MY WAY" Fucking Martell

Parts (1)(2)(3) [MASTERLIST]

The next three days passed with ease. Each morning, a new vase of tiger lilies sat waiting for you when you awoke. And with each passing day it was getting harder to dodge the questions from the maids--who you knew were prying on behalf of your uncle. You avoided any one directly connected to the Lannisters and were careful to leave early in the morning, preferring to eat all meals in the brothel with Oberyn and Ellaria anyway.

That afternoon, the two of them met you in the castle gardens for a walk and conversation. Ellaria placed flowers in your braid as the Prince watched the two of you fondly. He assured you that there was nothing they were required to do on behalf of Dorne until their departure at the end of the week. It was a matter of waiting for the ships to be ready and his men finishing up any business the Martells had in King’s Landing. His only job was to stay out of trouble. Such a thing made you laugh--what kind of trouble could a Prince get into?

Each evening the three of you wound up back in their bedchambers at the brothel. No one bothered you. The proprietor stopped soliciting his whores to the Prince and his Paramour, and the only time someone knocked on the door was to bring up more food or wine.

With so much time, it was easy to learn more about one another. Oberyn's family was extensive. He seemed surrounded by sisters and strong women--and attributed such things to helping develop his undying love for them. Dorne was not ruled under King Robert with the rest of Westeros and remained its own municipality under the strength of its princess who defied the Targaryens. Or should you say princesses, plural. Fore Dorne did not covet such titles and bestowed them to all daughters of the Martell lineage. The title was not used to look down on the subjects who were not born in to nobility, it was a term of respect and it was earned. According to Oberyn it was an honor to hear his people call him 'prince' and he would make sure it was an honor he always deserved.

Oberyn was second in line for the throne behind his older brother, but, from what you had heard, had just as much say within the capital of Sunspear. He was smart and well spoken, but under all of that charm you knew that a fire smoldered.

Conversation with the two of them was as easy as breathing. They seemed to specialize in smiles and laughter. They loved talking about the beautiful places they had seen, the people they had met and just to see you blush--the special places they had fucked.

It was easy to lose track of time, because in their room in the brothel, it was if nothing else existed. The three of you were in your own corner of the world and it suited you. The fire crackled in the hearth as you had finished another meal and moved to stretch out on the bed, feeling the wine settle as a warm wave over your body. The noise of the streets below dissipated as the sun set around the city.

“Now this,” Ellaria said, holding your hand and tracing her finger down your palm. “Is your life line.” The two of you sat cross-legged among the pillows on the large, canopy bed in the middle of the room.

“And what does it say?” you handed your glass to Oberyn to put it on the table so you could sit up and really focus on the woman in front of you.

“It says you are going to live a long and adventurous life,” Ellaria said, with a nod.

“Oh, does it now?” you played along, glancing over your shoulder at the Prince. “Does it say I am going to travel across the sea?”

"Does it say I'm going to become a knight?"

"Is that what you want?" Ellaria recognized the jest in your voice and grinned.

"By the gods, no," you giggled.

"Then, no. You're not going to be a knight."

"What about--"

“It’s not that specific,” Ellaria continued in a serious manner. “But it does say that great things will soon find you.”

“And what about this one?” you pointed to the smaller crease toward the top of your palm and she touched it with her slender finger.

“This is your heart line,” she smiled.

“Ah,” you said. Of course it was. You knew you should stop her before she delved too far into that one, but you didn’t want to. "So, love?"

"More or less." She kept her voice carefully even.

"And what does it say?"

“It shows you have an open heart,” she said, lowering her voice slightly. “That your kindness is only matched by your ability to accept those who you care for.” She saw your hesitation and gestured Oberyn to the bed with her other hand. Oberyn knelt beside you and offered his left hand to Ellaria, mirroring you. “Look at Oberyn’s--see?” she traced the crease in his palm. “His is much the same.”

“Meaning?” you asked, biting your lip and playing the fool.

“Without an open heart,” Oberyn leaned onto his side, propping his head in his hand. His stretched out body took up most of the length of the bed. “You miss out on half of the world’s pleasures.”

"Exactly," Ellaria agreed.

"Men," he said, before leaning down to kiss the skin of Ellaria's crossed thigh. "Women. Who would want to miss out on such beauty?"

You could hear the blood rushing in your ears as the look he gave you made your head spin. Did he know what he was doing? Was it specifically for you or did he do this to everyone he met? The more time you spent with the two of them the more you were starting to understand--an open mind for pleasure, but perhaps when it came to true emotion, the two of them were a little more selective. After all, despite all of the courtesans and sexual exploits, the two of them were the only ones to hold each other through the bad memories.

"You're making all of this up, aren't you?" You tried one more time to divert the conversation but neither of them were going to fall for it.

"It's just a fun game we play back in Dorne," Ellaria shrugged. She continued to trace her finger over your palm, up to your wrist and back down. "(Y/n), I have to ask--"

"Yes?" You said, perhaps too eager.

It made her smile. "Have you ever been with a woman?"

"No," you said, and before she could ask, you swallowed hard and added. "But I've thought about it."

"Before or after I kissed you?" Ellaria asked.

"Both."

"Half of the world's pleasures," Oberyn confirmed and looked at Ellaria dreamily.

"I'd like to do it again," Ellaria said. "That is, if it's alright?"

This time she was asking. Ellaria Sand was asking to kiss you again. If you thought you felt light headed at any time in the last few days, it was nothing compared to how you felt now. The breeze that had been drifting in from the window was the only sound as it lightly rustled the gossamer curtains and blew over your heated skin. You folded your hands in your lap and knew you needed to think about it. But you didn't want to, you didn't have time. No apologies. There was nothing you needed to be sorry for while you were with the two of them. That's what they had told you, right? Seven hells.

"Yes."

The one word left your lips liked a wave crashing on the rocks. Three little letters felt like you had just given away your soul and you were happy to do so.

Ellaria smiled, adjusting her legs until she was kneeling before you. Her hand came up, brushing your hair back from your face, over your shoulder. She was soft, so soft, and smelled like citrus and what you could only imagine the sands of Dorne smelled like. She leaned forward, eyes darting down to your lips. She was just about to kiss you before she pulled back slightly. She repeated the process twice, laughing softly as the look in your eyes got more and more desperate. The teasing was too much for the rate at which your heart was hammering in your chest. So, you did the only thing you could think of and slid your hand behind her neck, crashing your lips against hers.

It had been such a long time--way too long. Your fingers slid up into her hair as Ellaria's hands cupped your face. You may have initiated the dance, but Ellaria was the one leading. She ran her tongue along your bottom lip and you let out a soft moan before allowing her entrance into your mouth.

Oberyn leaned up, watching the two of you with hungry eyes. This was something he had envisioned since he had first laid eyes on you at the feast. He bit his bottom lip, rubbing his chin as he looked at the way you allowed Ellaria to devour your lips with teeth and tongue.

"S-stop," you said breathlessly as one of her hands moved to cup your breast through your corset.

"What is it, my sweet?" Ellaria asked. It made you feel better that she was just as breathless as you were. It felt better that the attraction wasn't one sided, that the excitement was shared. She was an even better kisser than you imagined. Every night since the first kiss you shared--however chaste it may have been, you thought of how kissing her would feel. Your daydreams didn't do it justice. But Oberyn's presence was too large to ignore. Ellaria saw your gaze drift to the man in front of you and her face broke into a grin. "Do you want to kiss the prince, too?"

You took your eyes from Oberyn and looked back at her. You couldn't. You couldn't shamelessly indulge in both of them at once. Ellaria moved to kneel behind you on the bed. Her gentle fingers moved the hair away from your neck as she slid her arms around the front of your body and spoke softly by your ear. She willingly played the part of the devil on your shoulder, and she played it very well.

"What do you want?" She prompted.

"What I want and what is proper are two very different things right now," you tried to joke but she wasn't falling for it.

"I didn't ask what your preconceived ideas of proper were," she said firmly and the smile fell from your face. "I asked what you wanted. When you are with us, what are the rules?"

"No apologies," you whispered and she nipped the shell of your ear in agreement, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps. You felt her nod and you could only assume it was to Oberyn, because the man in question sat up and moved closer to you.

"Tell me, my lioness," Oberyn said, kneeling in front of you. "Do you want me to kiss you?"

"Yes, please," you said, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

"So polite," Ellaria teased and you felt her lean back against the headboard of the bed, drawing you against her chest as Oberyn moved to kneel over the both of you.

Oberyn's face felt perfect in your hands. You closed your eyes as he dipped his head and captured your lips fiercely. Any hesitation in your voice wasn't fooling him--he knew you wanted him, half of the city wanted him. Why should you be any different? Where Ellaria's face had been soft, his beard scratched against your fingers, his mustache tickled your lips as he teased your mouth with the tip of his tongue.

Ellaria let her hand move up your waist to cup your breast lightly, her voice still present beside your ear. "How does it feel to kiss the Prince of Dorne, my dear?" You moaned against his mouth in response and she laughed softly. "I agree."

You moved your hands from his face down to his open tunic, sliding your fingers under the expensive fabric and trying to push it from his shoulders. Was it bold? Absolutely. Was it what you wanted? Even more so. The action was rewarded by him shucking it off quickly, pulling from your lips for the briefest of moments before kissing you even harder than before.

"Oberyn," Ellaria said, moving her hand from your body and into his curls. Her grip on his hair caused him to slow his actions.

"I forget myself," he mumbled against your jaw. "Tell me to stop, if you like, (y/n)."

"Don't stop," you breathed against his cheek as he moved to trail his lips down your neck, across your pulse point. As he moved down, you turned your head to the side, kissing Ellaria over your shoulder.

Her hands moved to the front of your bodice, pulling at the laces that held your dress together. You encouraged her with a small noise against her lips and she smiled in return. As soon as your breasts were free, Oberyn moved from your neck to your chest. He bit and kissed and palmed them with his hands, sending a tingle through your lower abdomen. You pulled back from Ellaria to watch Oberyn worship you.

"Does it feel good?" Ellaria said against your ear as she took your hands and placed them in Oberyn's thick, black hair. "Tell him it feels good."

"Yes," you nodded as his mouth closed around your nipple and you arched against Ellaria. "Fuck," you gasped. "I don't know if I can handle the both of you at once."

"Well," Oberyn said, removing his mouth from your breast with a soft pop. "There's one way to find out." He leaned back on his knees and you felt the sudden loss of him like a punch to the gut. It must have shown on your face because he chuckled and shook his head. "Come here." It was not a request. He patted his chest and beconned you to him with his pointer finger. You crawled to him willingly, entranced by the look in his dark eyes as he leaned back against the headboard. "Put your back here," he touched his chest again and you obeyed. You were fairly certain you would have done anything he asked in that moment. The thought should have been terrifying, but it wasn't.

"Ellaria?" you said, looking for her as you laid back against the prince. The question made her smile as she removed her bracelets and placed them on the table before crawling back to the two of you.

"I'm right here, sweet one." She purred and used a ribbon around her wrist to tie her hair back away from her face.

This time when Oberyn spoke, the deep timber of his voice hummed against your bare back as your dress continued to slip from your shoulders. That voice would be in your dreams until the end of your days. It would call out the most primal desires from you, and you were ready to be consumed by it. He brought his hands around you and traced them down your arms, making the skin he touched break out in goosebumps.

"Ellaria has a talent," he said, pressing soft kisses against your temple as you settled against his bare chest.

"Is that so?" You asked playfully, proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady.

"Mhm," he hummed. His hands moved down to your dress, using them to gather the fabric and pull it up towards your waist. The loose material bunched together easily, leaving your thighs bare to the woman in front of you. You turned your head and hid in the crook of Oberyn's neck. He lowered his voice and cupped your cheek gently. "If you say stop, this stops. Do you understand?" He asked and you nodded against his neck but that wasn't enough. "Answer me, (y/n)."

"Yes, yes I understand." You said hurriedly, wanting more than anything for them to keep going. Your body gave a small jolt as you felt Ellaria's hands on your thighs, pinning them against Oberyn's legs as she dipped her head under your skirts.

"Good girl," he praised, putting a firm hand on your chin and turning your head so he could capture your lips.

Something about the way he said those two words felt like he spoke them directly to your cunt. You would have done anything he asked, anything he wanted--in that moment, he wasn't just Oberyn...he was your Prince. You would have put on a suit of armor and carried the Dornish flag. You would have fallen to your knees in the Red Keep and renounced the King himself if it meant the man holding you would call you a 'good girl' again. Seven hells, how did he do that?

He slipped his tongue inside your mouth at the exact moment Ellaria's mouth found your dripping core. Their synchronization drew a gasp from you, but wasn't surprising. They had been lovers for many years, they knew each other intimately and that didn't change simply because you were in the middle.

Ellaria was not shy when it came to pressing her mouth to the lips of your cunt. She licked a firm line from the bottom to the top of your slit, her fingers digging into your thighs to keep you spread for her. She teased. She tormented. She indulged your desire for her. She pulled back for a quick breath before diving back to you and sucking firmly on your labia. She danced around where you wanted her most and it was a sweet form of torture that you never wanted to end. You reached back and slid your fingers through Oberyn's hair, closing your eyes tightly and moaning against the side of his face.

"That's it, my lioness. Let go," he cooed, his lips moving against your cheek as he spoke. You tightened your grip on his hair as his large hands settled on your waist, keeping you still.

"Oberyn," you panted and he gripped you tighter. You could feel the hard press of his cock against your back and you couldn't help it as you shamelessly rubbed back against him, causing him to growl deeply and nip your jaw with his teeth.

"Minx," he mumbled before moving his hands from your waist, fingers trailing up your arms to grip your wrists. Ellaria chose that moment to finally close her mouth around your clit and you cried out, pulling against Oberyn who held fast. "Ah, ah," he tsked, tightening his grip. You tested his strength again, jerking your wrists against his power. You didn't want him to let go, but the idea that you didn't have a choice did things to your libido. You wanted him to overpower you, to pin you down and take what you would willingly give--such a thought made you blush and turn to hide against his neck again.

"Do you like that?" He said, a hint of breathlessness in his tone. "You want me to hold you here and let Ellaria ravish your aching cunt?"

"Yes!" You gasped out. His words made your heart race. They were filthy, and you craved more of them.

"What if I told you you looked like a vision right now? Gasping, struggling--knowing you can't say no to your prince."

That did it. Fuck. Your Prince. Your Prince. He licked a hot line up your cheek and Ellaria sucked hard against the bundle of nerves at the top of your cunt. You felt her right hand leave your thigh as she slid two fingers inside of you and you whimpered her name like a prayer to whatever gods would listen.

"Ellaria," you said, feeling a comforting heat begin to settle low in your belly. She stroked the fire of your impending orgasm with her expert fingers. She reached the places you couldn't reach with your own hand during the lonely nights in your bed at Casterly Rock. The pads of her middle two digits rubbed the soft spongy spot on the roof of your core and you saw stars. You tried to sit up as pleasure rushed through you but Oberyn held you against him tightly. You tried to squeeze your thighs together and Ellaria used the hand that wasn't currently inside of you to keep them spread.

"Come for me, just for me," Oberyn continued to talk you through it as you cried out and bucked your hips against Ellaria's face.

"I can't. It's so--fuck. Fuck," you whined, looking down to watch Ellaria's dark curls between your thighs, taking your clit in her mouth again. It was as if she could feel your gaze and she fisted the soft material of your skirts to make sure your view was unobstructed. "It's too much--"

"No, it's not," Oberyn said, pulling your hands back to wrap around his neck and letting go of your wrists. Once his hands were free, he moved them down to your nipples and pulled them both at the same time. Hard. "Again," he commanded as Ellaria sucked and he rolled the hardened pebbles of your breasts. "Breathe. I said, again."

It wasn't a request. It was a command. One you were happy to oblige as you felt another orgasm stem from your clit and up through your stomach. You opened your mouth but no sound came out.

"If I said, again, you would obey me--" Oberyn started but you shook your head. "Yes. You would. You wouldn't defy me."

"No, never," you breathed out.

"That's what I thought," he growled and gave your nipples another squeeze.

"Stop. S-stop. Oh gods." You begged and, true to his word, the game was over. He palmed your breasts gently, taking the pain away in an instant and nosed your temple. Ellaria removed her fingers from inside you and licked softly along your slit, kissing your thighs gently and bringing you back down.

"Are you alright?" Oberyn asked and you nodded hurriedly, not wanting him to think otherwise.

You felt euphoric. Your head and heart were light and it brought a smile to your face as you touched Oberyn's chin and laughed softly, nuzzling his beard. The bed moved as Ellaria came to lay in between your legs and kiss up your chest. You turned your head and met her lips. Tasting your juices on her mouth was foreign but not entirely unpleasant as the thought of what she just did with her mouth tugged at your core.

"Twice in a row," Ellaria smirked against your lips. "That's a good start."

"I don't think I could take any more." You laughed again.

"We shall see about that, my dear."

The words sounded like a challenge and you fought the urge to hide your face again. You felt a hand in your hair as the man behind you began to put your disheveled braid back in its place. He started to adjust your dress back to cover your tits and you put a hand on his, stopping the movement. It made him smile and he caught your lips as you turned your head. The taste of your cunt from Ellaria's mouth made him moan deeply and slip his tongue passed your lips without pretense.

"You look ravished," he commented and Ellaria nodded in agreement.

"I feel ravished."

"Someone should ravish you every day." He said, reaching under your dress and using his large hand to cup your still throbbing cunt.

You gasped and gripped his wrist. You weren't sure you could take anymore that quickly. The action made Oberyn chuckle as he allowed you to move his hand and hold it in your lap.

"You can't possibly go back out looking like that." Ellaria said with a coy look in her eyes. She moved up to kiss her Paramour deeply before they both looked at you again. "Maybe you should just stay?"

The request was an honest one. There was no hidden meaning in her words or in her eyes and something about it made your chest tight. The two of them patiently waited for you to turn the question over in your mind.

"I think," you paused, biting your lip for a moment before nodding. "I think I should."

The two of you kissed softly over the Prince for a moment. He turned your head gently to take your lips for his own before repeating the motion with Ellaria and much like the rest of the time you had spent with them, it felt as effortless as breathing.

[Next Chapter]

Tag list: @zeldasayer @halefirewarrior @earthtokace @tarrevizslas @1-800-fandomtrashqueen @readsalot73 @lackofhonor @shrew1999 @sabinemorans @talesfromtheguild @roxypeanut @leahnicole1219

If your tag didn't work, please let me know and I will fix it for next time.

#oberyn martell #oberyn x reader #oberyn x ellaria #prince oberyn #oberyn x ellaria x reader #oberyn martell x reader #pedro character fic #pedro pascal #got #game of thrones #ellaria sand #footprints in the sand #Ellaria and oberyn are the ones that discovered that women could have multiple orgasms CHANGE MY MIND

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tragically-broken · 4 years ago

Text

Nessian Librarian/Professor Part4

Ship: Nessian Type: Librarian/Professor AU Rating: T Word Count: 1,439

Hey, y'all!! I'm so sorry I haven't updated in so long! I've been working on my own WIP and found it far too difficult to be in multiple worlds in my head at once, so I had to pause on my fic writing. Fortunately, I just finished my skeleton draft of my book and I am now taking a break to let it marinate before I dive into truly editing. This means I get to spend time on my fics again! YAY! Hopefully, I'll finish this full series soon but I won't make any promises. Hope you enjoy <3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

AO3

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Nesta was rearranging the study desks in the Quiet Room when Cassian came sauntering in.

“Hey, gorgeous!” He made his way to her, kissing her on the cheek. Nesta blushed and batted him away, eyes darting towards the door.

“Don’t let Amren see you!” She tugged him away to the corner where she knew the security cameras wouldn’t reach, and most importantly, where Amren couldn't see. She checked the doors one last time before she guided him to pin her against the corner wall.

“Someone is eager today,” Cassian smirked, less than an inch from her lips.

“Shut up Cas.” Their moment was heated, electrified, and definitely not library-appropriate.

“I could get used to this,” Cassian muttered against her lips as she smiled up at him.

“What are you doing here anyway? You’re supposed to have one more class.” She reached up to twirl a strand of his hair that must’ve come loose from his bun during the day.

“Keeping tabs on me are you?” She pinched his arm playfully in response.

“Hey, hey!” Cassian laughed. “I canceled my last class since they did so well on their test last week. Their reward is a free day.”

“Lucky me.” Nesta beamed.

“Lucky us.” Cassian dipped down to kiss her again, bunching her skirt in his fists. Desire licked her skin as the fabric of her skirt was roughly dragged against her thighs and his tongue slipped deeper into her mouth. She moaned softly against his lips before remembering where she was. She reluctantly pulled away from him.

“Amren will notice my absence.” She breathed, lips lingering an inch from his.

“Better get going then,” he spoke softly against her lips. She never wanted to leave. She leaned in for another kiss and then backed away quickly, teasing him as she moved back into eyeshot of the security cameras.

“You little minx!” She laughed and made her way to the door when she was met with gold piercing eyes, not at all happy to see her.

“Hi, Amren. I just finished rearranging the desks.” Nesta brushed a stray hair behind her ear.

“So it seems.” She wasn’t looking at Nesta with those deadly eyes, she was looking at Cassian.

“Evening Amren.” Cassian nodded in her direction.

“Yes, how wonderful to know you can tell when the sun is going down.” Amren's face gave way to nothing but pure annoyance as she stared him down.

“Nothing gets past you!” Cassian smiled, completely unaffected by Amren.

“No. It doesn’t.” Amren’s eyes bore into his. Cassian seemed to decide that he preferred to be alive for the time being and leave immediately.

“Well, I’ll get out of your way and let you ladies finish up here.” Nesta could tell he resisted the urge to touch her as he passed but decided against it given their particular audience.

“How kind of you.” Cassian nodded at Amren and snuck behind her to get to the door. Only when he left completely did Amren look at Nesta.

Cassian mouthed “sorry” outside the glass door and then darted for the double door exit.

“Careful with that one. Many have tried, and none have succeeded.” Amren hadn’t moved an inch since she walked in, but somehow she overpowered any energy in the room.

“We’ve only just begun dating.” Netsa stuffed her hands in the pockets of her dress, feeling awkward talking about her personal life to someone she barely knew.

“Yes well, that seems to be where the trouble usually starts.” Was Amren even blinking?

“I appreciate the heads up, but I have everything under control.” Nesta tried to reassure her with a smile.

“Hmmm” Amren hummed to herself, not at all convinced as she eyed Nesta. “You have exceeded even my expectations since you arrived here to take over this position. Seeing as it’s the weekend, why don’t you head out early today. I can finish things up here.” Nesta looked at her in shock. Quite frankly, she had no idea what Amren thought of her. She was all sharp looks, judgmental glances, and blank stares. It was hard to get a read on her.

“Thank you Amren. I’ve enjoyed my job here and hope to continue doing so.”

“Very well.” Amren’s short heels clicked in a steady beat as she walked out before Nesta could wish her a good weekend. Her first instinct was to pull out her phone and text Cassian like a love-sick teenager, but she decided not to read too much into it.

N: Amren set me loose early!!

C: THE FIREDRAKE SET U FREE?! I was half-convinced she’d chain u there forever.

N: She’s more bark than bite.

C: I’ll take your word for it.

Nesta gathered her keys and wallet, shoving them in her purse to get ready to leave.

C: What do u think about staying at my place this weekend?

Nesta stopped in her tracks, staring at his message.

N: All weekend? Like, overnight?

C: Just an idea! Thought it might be fun.

Nesta hadn’t spent the night at a man’s house well, ever actually. Every Time she’d stayed at Thomas’s place, she’d wake up at sunrise and scurry home. She never felt comfortable living in his space. That should have been the first clue that he wasn’t the one for her. She’d made excuses and ignored her gut. Never again. She listened to her instincts now and her gut felt...fine? She found herself a bit nervous about morning breath and her early morning grumpiness, but other than that the idea of spending the weekend with Cassian sounded wonderful and all kinds of sinful if things went the way she thought they would.

C: I promise not to leave the toilet seat up :p

N: You better not.

C: Is that a yes, princess??

N: It’s a yes. Unless of course, I change my mind.

C: Challenge accepted. Not even you can turn down my killer breakfast skills!

N: We’ll see if you can put your money where your mouth is.

C: Oh, I can guarantee my mouth is more than capable. See you tonight ;)

Butterflies fluttered in Nesta’s stomach at the thought of sleeping under the same roof with Cassian let alone in the same bed. Her cheeks heated at the thought. Suddenly, a million thoughts crossed her mind at once about what she should wear, what she should pack, and whether or not it would be considered rude to bring a book with her. Her palms started to sweat as she walked outside and towards her car. Should she bring something sexy to wear or would that be too obvious? Did it matter? Come to think of it, she didn’t think she even had a scrap of lingerie anymore. She burned every memory of Thomas and that included all of her sensual attire. Nesta sighed as she turned the key to crank her car on. There were so many decisions to make that overwhelmed her, but then Cas’s face popped into her head. Suddenly, she realized her desire to know him, to be close to him, outweighed any nervousness she had. She smiled to herself as she started to drive home. The feeling in her chest was so unfamiliar to her. Was she falling in love with him? That couldn’t be true. It had only been a few weeks. Yet, she felt that feeling surge in her chest. And then the panic came.

She didn’t have time to fall in love. She had too many things she wanted to do first, things she wanted to be. She spent too long in her previous relationship putting her life on pause. She wouldn’t do that again. That decided it then. She wouldn’t tell Cas how she felt, she’d try not to get any more attached, and she’d do her best to appreciate the moment for what it was and nothing more. She refused to think about the future, or what could be. She would never again put her life on the back burner for someone else. She pulled up into her driveway, hustled into her house, and packed quickly without putting too much thought into her choices. She looked to her full-length mirror, overnight bag in hand, wearing workout spandex shorts and an oversized crop top. She took a deep breath. She could do this. She could have fun with a sexy professor without getting too attached and ruining her life. Right? She didn’t wait to answer her own question. She got back in her car, typed his address in her phone, and began to drive, hoping she wasn’t making another life-altering mistake.

_______________________________________________________________

Thank you for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think, but please not ACOSF spoilers!!! I know I'm horrible and haven’t read it yet ajdhgkajdfh

#nessian #sjm #nessian fic #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #librarian/professor AU #sjm fic #nesta x cassian fanfiction #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofs #my writing

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publiusvirgilius · 5 years ago

Text

A Hard Day’s Night

Beatles-inspired Hotchfic: Your boyfriend Aaron Hotchner is tired after a long trip, but exhaustion goes out the window when he sees you.

Author's Note: I wrote this in a day! This is my first time publishing a fanfic so please be nice, but I also welcome criticism and feedback. I have a longer, plot-driven Spencer Reid story in the works if any of y'all would be interested—I promise it's less dirty than this one :) If I do post it, it would be on Wattpad, same username. Also happy to take requests! Receiving writing prompts is always fun and keeps the creative juices flowing, so please message me for any requests or just to say hi.

Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader

warnings: mention of statutory rape (unsub), smut (hotch), biting

word count: 2.6K

This had been one of the longest cases the BAU had seen in a long time. There had been multiple kidnappings in a small town all within a week, and just when the team thought they had apprehended the unsub, a teenager had been abducted, leading them to change the profile.

The townsfolk weren't helping, either. One would think that a small town would come together in a time of crisis, but parents were blaming each other, the teenagers were getting into trouble, trying to escape the grief of their younger siblings' disappearances through drugs and alcohol, and the local police was beginning to question the FBI's methods and abilities.

After two weeks of chasing the unsub around, the team finally caught him. The person responsible for the kidnappings had turned out to be the sheriff himself, working with a seventeen year old girl. They claimed to be in love, and their crimes had been fueled by the desire to have children of their own, which had been impossible, for statutory rape aside, the sheriff was over fifty years old and impotent.

All in all, it had been a frustrating case, and the team was more than ready to go home as soon as it was over. They arrested the couple and got them to confess just within a couple hours of figuring out that they were the ones responsible, but by the time they finished, it was past 11 p.m.

The agents all agreed that they would rather fly back home now than wait until the morning, eager to leave the small town.

This is how Aaron Hotchner found himself as the only conscious individual on the jet back home. He had always had trouble falling asleep on planes—unlike his agents, who, as soon as they boarded the craft, each found their own corner of the jet and promptly dozed off.

Aaron checked his watch. 11:45. Y/N was bound to be asleep by now. Aaron's girlfriend woke up early for work every day, and since today was Sunday, she would definitely have turned in early to prepare for work tomorrow.

Still, she had made him promise to call her when he was on his way home, especially after a case this long.

Aaron settled for a text, not wanting to wake her, even though he ached to hear her voice. He smiled as he opened up his phone to the last texts they had sent each other:

Y/N: "I miss you <3 Come home soon xx"

Aaron: "I miss you too. Say hi to Jack for me."

The last message had been a photo Y/N had sent of her and Jack snuggled up on the couch on Saturday night, his son fast asleep as a movie played in the background.

If any of his colleagues had been awake, they would have teased him about the wide grin on his face looking down at his phone. Aaron rarely let his team see his emotions, but ever since he and Y/N started dating a year ago, he found himself smiling more often. And when he had asked Y/N to move in with him a month ago and she had said yes, even the people outside of his department had noticed a difference in his mood.

The thought of Y/N erased all of the gruesome images and dark thoughts that came with the job at the BAU from Aaron's mind. And unlike a year ago, when he would spend the flight home thinking about how a case could have gone differently—which of his decisions had led to more deaths and what decisions would have prevented them, and what his job meant about the state of humanity as a whole—now, all he thought about was who he got to go home to at the end of the day.

Aaron opened up the picture of Y/N one more time, smiling at her sleepy eyes in the dim living room and the way she was holding Jack close to her chest, before typing out a text to let her know that he was coming home.

Aaron: "I'm on my way home. Should arrive by 2 a.m. but I hope you're asleep when you get this."

During the last two weeks, the time difference had made it difficult for Aaron and Y/N to find time to talk, especially since during a case, the workdays tended to end late, but Y/N had insisted on calling him each night before he went to bed.

Just tonight, Aaron hoped to relieve Y/N of a late-night call, and when she didn't text back, he breathed a content sigh. In his mind, the perfect welcome home would be cozying up next to his girlfriend in their warm bed and holding her close as she slept.

What Aaron didn't know was that Y/N was still awake. In fact, she had never gone to bed. She had put Jack to bed around 8:30 p.m., but then, she came back downstairs and set out to get ahead on this week's work with a cup of caffeinated tea as she waited up for Aaron.

As soon as the jet touched down in D.C., the team hurried to get out, eager to get home. Sometimes the BAU would go out for celebratory drinks after a case, but this time, everyone was too worn out to do anything but to go home.

"Thanks for your hard work the past two weeks," Aaron said to the team. "I know it was a long case."

"Can we please have tomorrow off?" Emily half-joked.

"You're welcome to take any of your designated sick days, Prentiss," Aaron said with a small smile.

Emily scoffed at his remark as the rest of the team snickered.

"Don't even think about calling us before 10 a.m., JJ," Derek said.

"Go home and get some rest," Aaron said. "From what I recall, a certain amount of paperwork follows a complicated case, and like it or not, tomorrow is Monday."

By the time Aaron pulled into his driveway, it was 2:30 a.m. When he got out of the car, he felt the weary effects of having been awake for eighteen hours. As he walked up to the door, Aaron started slightly when he saw that the light in the kitchen was on.

Y/N probably forgot to turn out the lights, he thought.

But he was wrong. When he stepped through the door, his weariness instantly dissipated. His briefcase dropped from his hand with a heavy thud.

Y/N was seated at the kitchen counter, clad only in one of his undershirts and a pair of thin pajama shorts, her hair in a messy bun atop her head, her large glasses balanced over her delicate nose, chewing on the tip of her pen as she pored over an array of papers. To Aaron, it was a sight for sore eyes.

"What are you doing up?" Aaron asked dumbly.

"You thought I wouldn't want to see you as soon as you got home? After I haven't seen you for two weeks?" Y/N hopped down from her seat and padded across the wooden floors to her boyfriend. "Let's get you to bed, baby. You must be exhausted," she said, loosening Aaron's tie and pushing his jacket off of his shoulders.

When she touched him, it was as if she had switched on a circuit, blowing out all the resistors and capacitors. Aaron's senses caught on fire, and he burned for her touch.

"I think you've got it wrong, Y/N," Aaron said, his eyes darkening. "I will take you to bed, and I want to see you naked and coming for me as soon as possible."

Before Y/N could retort, Aaron had her thrown over his shoulder and was heading for the bedroom.

Once Aaron had her laid out on the bed, he started to remove her flimsy clothes. "I missed you. So. Much." He bit out each clipped syllable, biting and sucking behind her ear, on her neck, and on her collarbone between each utterance.

Y/N gasped, trying to catch her breath. "Jack's asleep," she whispered.

"That's none of my concern, since my mouth is going to be occupied with something else. But I suppose you'll just have to do your best to be quiet," he said.

Aaron continued kissing and licking down her chest, pausing at her breasts to tease each little pink bud with his tongue. When he reached the junction of her hips, he bit down lightly on her hipbone, causing her to cry out until she quickly bit down on her fist to quiet herself.

"Good girl." Aaron looked up at Y/N and planted a kiss near her bellybutton, his tongue briefly flicking against the hot skin. He licked across the insides of her thighs, then softly blew cool air onto them as he ran his hands up her legs, making her shiver.

When his mouth finally landed on her clit, he lapped her up like a man starved. "You're so fucking wet," he growled. "Did you miss me while I was gone? Did you touch yourself thinking about me?"

Y/N struggled to nod as her body trembled.

Aaron sucked hard on her clit as he pushed two fingers inside her, dragging them against the pebbled surface of the top. Y/N covered her face with both of her hands, trying to hold back the sounds escaping her throat.

"I want you to look at me." Aaron pulled her hands away from her face with his free hand. He stuck his thumb inside her mouth, encouraging her to suck. Y/N looked down at her boyfriend's figure, and she nearly came at the sight of him alone.

Aaron's dark, cropped hair fell over his forehead, damp with sweat. He was still in his shirt and trousers, though he had managed to roll up his sleeves, and his tie still sat loosely around his collar, its length thrown back over his shoulder as if he couldn't get to his feast fast enough.

He continued to work at her clit, his tongue flicking back and forth faster and harder as he felt Y/N's body twitch more and more out of control. When his mouth reached a near impossible rhythm, Y/N clenched her jaw, biting down on Aaron's fingers in her mouth as her body writhed, falling over and over again into an orgasmic high.

Aaron pressed a kiss to her sensitive core, then to the inside of her thighs. Running his hands up her torso, he pulled her up into a sitting position in front of him, her legs still spread wide on either side of him, and he allowed her to lean forward against his chest, against the soft cotton material of his shirt, too spent to hold up her own weight.

Y/N kissed him slowly, his mouth hot from her own heat. She took his face in her hands, feeling the light stubble across his jaw. She pulled back, taking a moment to observe his eyes. Whatever weariness had been there before, it was gone, replaced with a ravenous hunger that drank in her flushed skin and her dark, swollen lips. Y/N's pupils were blown wide with arousal, her hair had come apart, the wayward strands framing her face, and her glasses were askew, just barely balancing on the tip of her nose.

Aaron had never seen a prettier sight. He felt like a soldier come home to see his wife after years of war, like Odysseus returned to his wife Penelope after ten long years. Wait a second... Wife? Where did that come from?

Aaron reached out to pull off Y/N's glasses from her face, then tipped up her chin to catch her lips again with his own.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

Y/N finally pulled his tie loose, tossing it off to the side of the bed, and she carefully unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers moving nimbly but gently. Aaron tended to come back from his cases with bruises and scratches that always made Y/N's heart ache to see, but at the same time, it filled her with pride, not to mention turned her on, to know that her boyfriend was out saving the world, one bad guy at a time.

This time, Aaron had been spared any major or minor injuries, but still, Y/N took her time undressing him, kissing the old scars as she went.

Once she had stripped him bare, Aaron took her hands in his and pressed a deep kiss to her lips once again. Y/N reached down to take his stiff cock in her hands, but Aaron shook his head and pushed her back down onto the bed.

"I want to feel you," he said. "Now." He lay down beside her so that they faced each other, and he fingered her clit between them, making her arch into him. Aaron hissed when she grabbed his ass, digging her nails into the firm flesh, making him jerk his hips involuntarily.

He pushed the head of his cock into her tight core, and Y/N held her breath, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt his familiar form meld into her, a feeling she hadn't felt in weeks. A feeling she couldn't imagine how she could have gone without for this long.

"Open your eyes, Y/N," Aaron said in a breathy tone.

Y/N locked eyes with Aaron for only half a second before capturing his lips in a searing kiss, all teeth and tongue and hunger and longing. Pulling his body closer to her so that no space remained between them, Y/N buried her face in his neck, biting at the sensitive skin, then biting down on his shoulder especially hard when he hit a certain spot inside her.

Aaron wrapped one of her legs around himself to access her body at a better angle, and he felt her muffled moans vibrating against his shoulder. Fisting his hand in her hair and gripping her hip with his other hand, he increased the intensity of his thrusts until he was nearly falling over the edge, a jumbled string of curses leaving his mouth.

Y/N arched into him, her hardened nipples to sliding against his chest through the thin layer of sweat that mingled across their bodies, and her own hips started, her leg locking his body against hers in a vice-like grip, tumbling once again over the edge, moaning Aaron's name against his skin over and over.

Aaron groaned his own release, pulling Y/N’s head back by her hair so that he could look at her face as she came apart, falling into pleasure and more in love with this girl whose lips were still muttering his name as she came down from her high.

"Aaron," she said between labored breaths. "Don't you ever leave me again. I don't want to spend another night without you."

Holding her in his arms, his eyes sweeping over her angelic face, Aaron would have given her the world if he could, and still, it wouldn't be close to what she deserved. He placed a kiss on her forehead and murmured empty promises against her skin, both knowing that eventually, he would leave, but also knowing that he would always come back, and that she would always be his waiting home.

#criminalminds #aaronhotchner #hotch x reader #bau #fbi #readerinsert #sexwithfeelings #domesticbliss #songfic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #emily prentiss

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doc-pickles · 5 years ago

Text

it’s nothing funny just to talk (p. 1)

What happens when you text that random number graffitied on a bathroom stall in your favorite bar? Jo Wilson is about to find out. - In which Bar Princess and Doctor Evil Spawn meet via text.

More Jolex on your timeline because y’all seemed to love what I posted before! Also I’ve posted this whole piece on AO3 as well so it might look familiar.

this idea came to me in a fever dream and i am not sorry that y'all have to deal with it. 99% of this fic will be in "texting" format, so be prepared for that.

Jo is regular Alex is italics

Saturday 11:04 PM

heeeeey is thiss doctor evil?

I gotta say ur phone sex namee needs sum weerk

u soud like a comic book village

fuck

village

VILLAIN

Who the hell is this? And how did you get my number?

i’m just a girl at thee bar!!!!

Joe’s Bar?

noooooo

i’m at enerlad city bar

You didn’t answer my question.

u asked a quesitoon?

whata was it?

i’m goos at takifjg tests

How’d you get my number?

it qas in the bathrooom!!!

it said “for a good tiem txt dr evil spawne”

so I did

I am ready to havee fun

You’re drunk, obviously, and I’m going to have to kill Cristina for putting my number up.

ooooooh is thatt ur girleifnd?

hirlefiend

girlfriend**

Wow you’re really gone. And hell no, she’s my roommate. One of them.

ooooh how many do u hav

roomees not girlfriends

Three. Two girls and a dude.

intereeesting...

well it’s tome for fireball shoots

steph is yeeling at me 4 txting too much

goodbey doctor eviel apawn!!

Oh lord. Tell Steph you need water. Or an IV.

I’ve got her. she’s throwing up on her shoes. thanks doctor. - steph

Sunday 10:11 AM

You know you’re pretty funny, Bar Girl.

jesus christ what fucking time is it?!

10 AM

I’m assuming you have a massive hangover.

hold on I can’t hear you over the sound of me vomiting

TMI as the kids say these days.

what’re you a grandpa or something??

No I just don’t know how to use text lingo. Except WTF. I know that one very well.

quick question

who the fuck are you?

Dr. Evil Spawn. You found my name graffitied in the bathroom of Emerald City Bar.

holy shit

I thought I dreamed that... WHAT THE FUCK

Nope. I’m real.

holy shit i’m so sorry

my texts were so annoying

Who hurt you? I mean you were shitfaced, I’m assuming someone broke your heart into tiny pieces.

the opposite actually, I was at a bachelorette party

not mine, i’m so single it hurts

Ahhh that makes sense. So you got shitfaced in solidarity?

exactly you get it

you seem like you’d be the DD at a bachelorette party

Well seeing as I’m a dude I don’t do Bachelorette parties.

Well I did go to one, but that’s a different story.

hmmm you seem like a very interesting man doctor evil spawn

going to bachelorette parties, living with women who aren’t your girlfriend

OMG ARE YOU DATING THE GUY YOU LIVE WITH?!

George? No absolutely not. And before you ask, my other girl roommate is gay.

so you’re single?

i’m only asking so when you murder me the police have as much information as possible

Haha very funny. I would be a terrible murderer.

you didn’t answer my question

Fine. Yes I’m single.

i’ll note that in the “serial killer file” i’m building

gotta go, I have to do work :/

Have fun, don’t die.

Sunday 8:38 PM

Arizona is trying to set me up on a blind date.

who’s arizona?

My gay roommate. She wants me to meet this “bubbly blonde” she knows from her pilates class.

ahhhh. why don’t you go?

Bubbly blonde is not my type. Sounds like she’ll spend the whole date talking about how much she loves dogs or her knitting hobby.

Plus she does pilates, that tells me more than enough.

you’re making some good points. I don’t pity you.

You better not. How was work?

the longest day of my life

it was just paperwork, I don’t actually work on the weekends

What do you do?

hmmmm that’s exactly what a serial killer would say

i’m an elementary school teacher

Oh so you sing and dance and paint pictures all day?

what school did you go to?

were working on multiplication tables and basic photosynthesis tomorrow

Wow that sounds like a lot.

it’s may, ive got three weeks of school left so I have to cram all the crap we didn’t cover into these last few weeks

Ahhh that sounds more accurate.

and what do you do?

besides text strangers that you don’t know

I’m a pediatrician.

oh so you make kids cry and wipe snotty noses all day? two can play at that game

Well we both have to deal with snotty noses sooo...

I GET IT!! Doctor Evil Spawn!!

why evil spawn though?

I wasn’t this nice when I started med school. My personality is an acquired taste.

ha! that’s a funny joke.

so if you’re a fancy schmancy doctor why do you live with three other people?

I’m only a resident, not making the big bucks yet. Everyone else is a doctor too.

are they all pediatricians?

No. Arizona is too but Cristina is a cardiologist and George is a trauma specialist.

interesting!! I too live with my coworkers. it’s not fun.

the table is always covered in craft supplies.

Well I can never read the grocery list on the fridge. Stupid doctors script...

oh that’s a classic. you’re pretty funny Dr. Evil Spawn

Thanks Bar Girl.

I gotta go. monday tomorrow and you know how fourth graders can be. night!!

Night .

Monday 9:47 AM

there’s not enough coffee in the world for monday mornings.

Monday 10:52 AM

Sorry I was yelling at the interns. We have a decent coffee cart here. Keeps me alive. Are you texting in class?

no it was recess

now they’re at spanish class

i’m not totally irresponsible

Oh good to know the future of America is in good hands. Teacher Princess is “not totally irresponsible”

teacher princess?

Well, Cinderella lost her shoe, you puked on yours. Same thing.

wooooooooow

that was so uncalled for...

I thought it was funny. Gotta go set a broken arm.

broken arm vs. adverbs... can we switch? have fun lol

Monday 3:26 PM

I don’t even think I know what an adverb is.

how did you become a doctor??

Don’t need to know adverbs to fix a couple broken bones and snuffy noses.

oh darn I should’ve gone to school for seven more years then

Haha. How were the adverbs?

better than expected, grading papers while I wait for my roomies to be done

we carpool, saving the environment and shit

Okay Eco Warrior.

you text like a 60 year old man

you’re not a 60 year old man are you?

No I’m a 28 year old man though

28 a doctor and you’re single? your personality must be worse than you described

I’m a busy man, I don’t have time to settle down. And I have no desire to.

yet you have time to text a complete stranger?

hmmmm interesting...

Ouch, that one hurt Princess.

steph is making me socialize with the other teachers

if I don’t respond, they killed me or dragged me to an essential oil party

Hahahaha

Monday 5:18 PM

Did you get roped into a pyramid scheme?

nooo but therew as wine

I should sotp drunk texting you so often

It makes your presence that much more entertaining. And bearable.

woah woah dude

i’m a gem

I can tell. Elementary school teacher with a heart of gold.

awwww your too sweet tome

It’s a Monday. Who the hell gets drunk on a Monday?

teachers

we deserve it

You’re a teacher and you’re single and still going to Bachelorette parties. You’re what, 23?

i’m 25 and i’m doing greta thanks you very nuch

cnat believe that i’m supplying my perosnal info to a serial killer

What makes you so sure that I’m a mass murderer?

ur weird nickname and ur intimate knowledge of the himan body

Mmm yes well a good amount of women do find themselves screaming around me often. Or under me. On top of me...

omg are you sending me dirty jokes

you’re crazy

What can I say.

Gotta go, I’m on call tonight. Get to bed safe, Bar Princess.

mmmkay thanks Doc

Wednesday 11:29 AM

What do you think is worse: School lunch or hospital food?

hospital food, no doubt

thursday is mac and cheese day here... I could bathe in that stuff

We have Spaghetti Wednesday but that’s the only good thing here.

mmm how depressing

the teachers do a pot luck once a month and that’s always good

the art teacher next door to me makes the BEST blueberry muffins.

Lucky. All I get here is vending machine cookies. Anything interesting happening in the elementary world?

a first grader got lice last week so naturally we all have it now

I had to chop off six inches of my hair

Holy crap. Lice can be vicious, be thankful you didn’t have to shave your head.

it feels like I did, my hair hasn’t been above my shoulders since the backstreet boys were still touring

Wow. I’m glad to know you’re well cultured.

of course I am

gotta go, kids are back from music class

Don’t be too hard on them, they deserve a break every once in awhile.

Thursday 3:06 PM

Incoming Voice Call

“Jenna you forgot your lunch pail. Have a good day!”

“Hello?”

“Hi Mrs. Peters. I didn’t grade Henry’s test yet, I’ll have it tomorrow. Thanks bye!”

“Helloooo?”

“Steph I gotta grab my things, I’ll be there in a seco- oh shit. Hello?”

“Bar Princess?”

“Doctor Evil Spawn? I must’ve butt dialed you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay I... I don’t mind the interruption. Are you leaving work?”

“Just about, we’re wrapping up the solar system and I have to bring home the diorama.”

“I was never good at the models, I prefer working with the real thing.”

“Oh ho, a man that works with his hands. I can appreciate that.”

“You know now we’re officially talking and we still don’t know each other’s names.”

“Well around here I’m Miss Wilson, but you can call me Jo.”

“Jo. Hmm I like chicks with dudes names. I’m Dr. Karev but you can call me Alex.”

“Well nice to kinda meet you Alex. I’ll talk to you soon, I gotta get out of here.”

“Talk to you later.”

Thursday 4:34 PM

I wouldn’t mind if you were my teacher.

how did I know you’d send me something along those lines

I’m predictable. I’m still calling you Bar Princess.

as you wish doctor evil spawn

I get to assist on a surgery today. Tonsillectomy.

like removing tonsils? that’s awesome

for you, not for the kid

Oh she’ll be fine, she gets ice cream and jello for a week.

okay yeah I might be jealous of her now

id love to be off work for a week and have you waiting on me hand and foot

the ice cream is a nice bonus

You think that’s my job?

well you said you aren’t making the big bucks yet so.... yeah

Keep dreaming. I’ll talk to you later, gotta scrub in.

have fun!!!!

#jolex #jolex fanfic #jolex fanfiction #jo karev #jo wilson #jo wilson karev #alex karev #alternate universe #jolex fic #jo x alex #greys anatomy #greys fanfic #INFJTT #nina writes

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justsmilestuffhappens · 6 years ago

Text

A DILF vs Fire Hoes

He couldn't believe it. Buck was looking at the blog someone had mentioned while on a call saying he had been dethroned. What!

He wasn't jealous. Honestly. He was past that. Sure Eddie was hot but he wasn't just that.

It didn't make him feel any better about people objectifying his best friend. This was, creepy?

It was Chimney who found him.

"What ya doin Buck?"

"Nothing!" Buck replied.

"Eddie Diaz is a dilf. Hmm" Hen said behind him. When did she get there.

Buck quickly shut the laptop. Fuck! He hoped he didn't break it.

"Whoa buckaroo easy there man" Chimney hissed.

"It's stupid" it was.

"Well they may be right but maybe they shouldn't say it." Hen said while taking a sip. "What I'm not blind. But this DILF and MILF shit is kind of disrespectful to me." She said to Chimney's look.

"Exactly." Buck said while going to put his laptop up.

But why did his stomach still feel weird.

They were back from a call, in the truck, when Chimney told Eddie. Or well he tried to.

"So you see that thing?"

"What thing?"

"Buck didn't tell you?"

Way to throw me under the bus Chim. Buck thought.

"There was an article on people who know multiple languages having stronger mental dexterity or something. Made me think of you" Buck said earning silence.

"Umm. Thanks?"

Buck could punch Chimney if he wasn't his friend and Maddie wouldn't kick his ass. And well if he did that kind of thing. But seriously.

Eddie didn't need that shit. Christopher neither. It was better not knowing.

"I reported you" Buck heard as Hen sat next to him.

"What?!" He's innocent.

"I reported it. The blog, the other day. Well more sent a request for them to take that down. Mentioned the possibility for a kid seeing that stuff and maybe a lawyer looking into things like posting pictures or the location of people's houses. Half bullshit but could work."

"Oh" Buck thought about it. Hopefully that did it.

"Hey Hen, mind if I talk to Buck about something?" Eddie said coming over with a banana, a plantain?

"No, sure. I was finished with him, he's all yours" Hen smiled while going downstairs.

"So. Reading articles that remind you of me. That a regular thing?" He said before taking a bite.

"What? No. I mean. I don't read them because they remind me of you, I just hap-"

Wait. Not everything reminded him of Eddie right? Why'd he say that?

"Earth to Buck. You okay dude?"

"It's hard not thinking about your best friend once in a while. I think of Christopher and you" Buck shrugged.

Who was he trying to reassure again?

"That's nice. Only good things right. I'm not pushing him on you too much? " Eddie frowned.

"No! Being around him is great. I think, about, y'all being happy, and hope you two, don't get hurt"

"Good to know. You can relax your brain buddy."

"Don't ask questions that are hard to answer then"

"Sorry. Hard to tell. I'm not exactly in your brain"

But wasn't he? Sometimes.

They're done with shift. It'd been a long week.

Eddie was suggesting Buck come over for grilling with Christopher when Bobby came in.

"Eddie can I have a word."

"Huh? Sure Cap, something wrong?"

"You might want this to be private." Bobby said looking at Buck.

"No. I'm okay with him hearing it, it's Buck" he said like that answered it.

"I'm sorry. It was brought to my attention you were being harassed?" Eddie's face shifted.

"We got it taken down after their recent action. But they'll have an officer in the area if anyone tries something, for safety the next couple of days"

"What are you talking about?"

"The blog. I assumed you'd seen it. Chimney said you all knew"

"Bobby I don't know anything about a blog"

Bobby looked from Eddie to Buck who was staring at his shoes.

"Buck."

"Buck?"

"Kind of a funny story" he winced.

...

"That's why I didn't tell you. I didn't want to ruin your day. And then I thought Hen talked some sense into them"

"Buck!?" Eddie was muttering curses. They may have been in Spanish but Buck and Bobby knew.

"Next time Buck just tell them. Make the time and say it" Bobby told him as Eddie was finishing getting his things ready and Bobby was out the door.

"I'm sorry Eddie. I didn't think they'd say something like this and if I did I'd have told you to keep Christopher safe, I would"

"It's fine Buck"

"It doesn't feel fine. I messed up. I didn't mean to but I did. I don't have to come over if you'd rather not see me" Buck sighed.

"Oh you're coming over. And you're cooking." Eddie said while getting to their cars.

"You really want to risk burnt food for me to make up for my mistake?"

"Guess you'll just have to make extra sure it's edible then huh"

Buck guesses things could be worse.

Eddie could hate him for a number of reasons.

Or they could have gotten catcalled by self titled fire hoes by now.

He's outside keeping an eye on the food as inside Christopher is helping his dad set up sides and toppings for the burgers.

The music is nice as there's a light breeze. A lady is jogging as she sees him from the street stopping to stare.

Suddenly Buck feels self conscious about having smudges on his face and arms. He doesn't know why. It hasn't bothered him before to be ogled at but maybe that was more of a Buck 1.5 thing.

He hears Eddie coming over as he remembers the food. Shit!

Only one patty is a little too charred but there's still enough for the three of them.

"Getting distracted?"

"No." He lied. "Maybe. You see her jogging before?" Buck nods toward her. She's stretching now.

"I'm not sure. Think so, but I'm not setting you up with a pseudo neighbor"

"I didn't mean- I thought she was one of-"

He feels Eddie's hand on his shoulder and instantly relaxes.

"Want to call patrol? Have 'em scare her off"

"She might not be though. I mean I'd feel bad if she wasn't, you know"

She's already leaving when Buck moves the burgers to a container.

"I don't blame you. You know that right?" Eddie's asking while Bucks checking everything's safe and turned off.

"No. I do? Still, could have gone about it better I guess but everything's like that isn't it."

"Yeah. Maybe I was a little harsh in my reaction. You didn't mean bad by not telling me and if people had done something you didn't make them. Plus nothing happened" Eddie said.

Buck fought not to say 'Yet'.

He felt an arm around his back in a sort of side hug.

"For the record, we think about you too."

Huh. That came out of left field.

Eddie wasn't meeting Bucks questioning eyes.

There was something there. Or was that just Buck.

Eddie was guiding him in turning towards the house.

"Christopher asks if I think you had a good day sometimes. You can ask him if you want" Eddie's smiling as Christopher looks up hearing his name from the couch.

"Are you done Buck? I'm hungry and dad said we can't have cookies until after we eat" the little guy was putting up his biggest pout.

"Yeah. Had to put some extra Buckley care into these for you guys. Hope it's really tasty buddy" Buck winks.

"Dad says were omnivores so you don't have to worry too much"

That earns a laugh from both of them at Christopher's words.

The burgers are good but best while fresh so they're devoured fairly quickly.

Christopher is finishing his first as Eddie and Buck are fighting food comas after their seconds.

"Dad what's a DILF?"

Bucks spilling some water onto himself as Eddie's beer is starting to foam.

"Umm. Where did you hear that?" Eddie asks.

"Is it a bad word? "

"No buddy. It's weird, some people don't like it" Buck starts.

"I heard Denny's mom say it."

"Christopher a DILF is-"

"It's a kind of pickle." Buck is chiming in as Eddie is turning his head too quickly.

"She could have been saying it odd or you may have heard it different buddy. A dill is a type of pickle like we ate. Not everyone likes them but they're not really bad"

"Okay. Can we eat cookies now?"

"Yes Christopher. Pick which you want." Eddie is opening the assortment for him.

Bucks wiping sweat off his brow like he just diffused a bomb. Metaphorically.

"Thanks. You're a lifesaver" Eddie whispers before Christopher is back in his seat.

That feelings back. But Buck notices this time it's more towards his chest than his stomach.

"Any time. I'm always here if you need me"

And he means it. He really does.

"You're the best Buck" Christopher is putting a cookie in front of him.

"What about me?"

"You're not a Buck dad."

"You know what? Here" Buck is breaking his cookie in two and handing it over to Eddie. "I don't think I could handle a full one. Mind helping me?"

"Sure. Maybe he is the best" Eddie's telling Christopher.

"I'm right here."

"Yep. Let's wash up and we can nap over a movie, sound good? "

Buck isn't arguing with that even if he wanted to.

"I wanna pick. Please." Christopher pipes in.

"Okay. Wash your hands then start it up. We'll clean up a bit so it's not too bad then go to the couch"

The dishes are soaking, other trash discarded.

The three of them are currently sitting with a large blanket. Eddie's head's lolling as Buck is drooling.

Christopher is giggling at them as he's tuning into his favorite parts and starting to lean.

"Odd how that sorted itself out huh?" Bobby says while looking at his phone.

"If you ask me it makes sense, in a weird way." Athena says while drinking on the couch with him.

"At least maybe now they'll leave them alone, hopefully."

"We can hope, but for every dozen there could be one that doesn't take this well. Some won't like hearing Eddie's off the market even if they'd never have a chance with him."

"Well if something does happen he's got us. Know what's stranger?"

"What?"

"I can kind of see it"

"See what?"

"See them together. Or why people would think that. They're already close, help each other,"

"Bobby they're grown men don't go trying to set them up"

"I might have already done that. Unintentionally"

"Well, then if they get together you're deserve a gift basket"

"Really? "

"I'm kidding" she laughs.

She's looking at the photo posted to the blog.

They look cute. Eddie's leaning into Buck.

He's looking almost possessive to the camera.

She wonders if he thought about this. No telling.

Sorry fire hoes. Is the hottest firefighting DILF taken? Titles the page.

People today.

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wndamaximov · 6 years ago

Text

Of Love And Secrets

Part 3: Meeting Her Family

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

Summary: While y/n was initially stuck in the book store because of the rain, she stayed longer for the handsome stranger that kept her company. But this handsome stranger has a secret- one he’d rather not let see the light of day.

Warnings: Minor Language, Fluff, Abusive Boyfriend, PTSD

Words: 1, 316

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: Sorry for taking so long in getting this up. Thank y'all for being so patient <3<3<3

<< prev

Y/n laydown, nestled in the crook if Steve’s arm, running her fingers round and round in circles on his chest. They’d been dating for a couple of months now, and the Starks were dying to meet him.

“I think that it’s time for you to meet Tony and Pepper,” she voiced out loud. Y/n could feel Steve’s breath stop for a moment. It was a while before he finally let it go and relaxed.

“Don’t you think it’s… too early?” His voice came out uncertain, so different from the way he usually spoke.

Y/n pushed herself off of him and whirled around to look at his face. She smiled before telling him, “They can’t wait to meet you. In fact, every time I see them, they ask when they’ll finally get to see the living legend in person.”

Steve laughed. “A living legend? Is that what I am now?” As suddenly as the happiness had come, the gloominess returned. “What if they don’t like me?”

She leaned down to kiss him softly, leaving him- and her- wanting more. “They won’t like you; they’ll love you.” Y/n got out of the bed reluctantly to get ready for work. “I’ll see you when I get back?”

“Yeah,” Steve ran a hand through his hair then continued, “And tell Tony and Pepper we’ll meet them for dinner tomorrow, kinda like a double date.”

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Steve’s POV

After y/n left, Steve leaned over to grab his phone from the bedside table. He went to his contacts and scrolled down to Bucky’s. His finger hovered over the call button, as he debated whether or not to call him. On one hand, he wasn’t even sure he’d answer. He’d been ignoring Steve, ever since his first date with y/n. It broke his heart, but he knew Bucky needed his space. On the other hand, he missed his best friend.

Before he could rethink his decision, he pressed the button. Bucky picked up on the first ring.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Y/n’s POV

Y/n walked into Pepper’s office, carrying papers for her to sign. Tony was there too, trying to stop the swinging sticks from… swinging.

“Everything’s set for the press conference, I just need both of your signatures here and here.” She set the papers on the desk while pointing to the places they both needed to sign.

The swinging sticks clattered to the floor, still going, and Tony threw his hands up in defeat. “I swear to God, I’m going to throw this thing in the trash.”

Pepper gave him her signature glare and said, “No you’re not.” Y/n had been the receiving end of one of those multiple times(albeit, less than Tony) and she could say from experience that it wasn’t the best feeling in the world.

“Yes ma’am. However, would you consider donation?” The look persisted.

“Anyways…” y/n interrupted, “you both are invited to dinner. With Steve and me.”

“Oh my God, finally! Pep, you owe me one, crisp Jackson.”

“You bet on me?”

“Oh honey, we do it all the time. Speaking of time, when and where is our double date going to be?”

As she gave them the details, a bouquet of flowers perched on the edge of Pepper’s desk caught her eye. Blood red roses- beautiful, yet full of thorns.

“You get those for Pepper?” she asked Tony. It was Pepper who answered.

“No, they’re from a corporation that wants to do business. Hydra Technologies, I think.”

She nodded, the heat of tears stinging behind her eyes. “I have to go.” She barely made it out of the room and into the bathroom before the flashback started.

Ring-a-round the rosie,

A pocket full of posies,

Ashes, Ashes,

We all fall down.

His face swam before her eyes, his hands and feet following, not seconds after. She saw bouquet of roses he always sent as an apology, before the cycle of rage started again. And like ashes, she always fell down.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Steve’s POV

Bucky stared down at his coffee, slowly stirring the sugar in. Steve had just told him about the double date, and he had yet to respond.

He took a sip, then set the cup down, looking Steve straight in the eye. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem mad.

“Okay.” Bucky leaned back in his chair.

“That’s it?”

“No, that’s not it. If you want to be a suicidal maniac for a girl, I fully support your decision.”

“I’m not suicidal. They’ll never find out.”

“You really like her?”

“I do. I think I may love her too.”

“I’m sorry. For being the world’s biggest jerk. I still get to be your best man, right?”

Steve choked on the water he had just taken a sip of. “Who said anything about a wedding?”

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Y/n’s POV

After gathering herself together on the floor of the bathroom stall, y/n had went back to work, as if everything was normal.

When she got back home, all memories of… him, and been shoved back down into a lockbox.

As she got ready for dinner, she wondered where Steve was, seeing as he was usually waiting for her at home. That’s what Steve’s house had become for her. Home. She smiled to herself.

When the door opened, she was all ready for dinner, save for her shoes.

“Where were you?”

Steve grinned. “I got a job.”

Y/n ran over to Steve and gave him a congratulatory hug. “Oh my God, where? I need all the details!”

“At the bookstore. Bucky needed some extra help, and I volunteered.”

Y/n hugged him again. “Now go get ready, we can’t be late.”

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Steve’s POV

In the taxi to the restaurant, Steve’s knee wouldn’t stop bouncing. Up, down, up, down, up. Eventually, y/n put her hand on it, stopping the motion.

He couldn’t even relax with the girl he loved because of a stupid, drunken mistake he’d made years ago. Damn young Steve for messing things up for him.

On another note, he really wanted both the Starks to love him. They were important to y/n, and he wanted them to be important to him too.

Deep down in his subconscious, he wanted them to like him to make up for what he did, but that only made him feel even more guilty.

Too late to go back now; they were already at the restaurant.

“You ready?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

They saw Tony and Pepper and y/n ran up to them introduce everyone to each other. Then, Steve found himself in a seat, right across from Tony Stark. Honestly, the way he got there was a blur.

“So, how’d you three meet?” he asked, making small talk.

“Well, I started out as an intern in the public relations department at Stark Industries. When I was taking coffee to the big shots upstairs, a very hungover Tony Stark told me to come sit with him on the floor.”

“I still don’t understand why you did it,” Pepper interjected.

“Because he was CEO at the time! Anyways, we got to talking, and it turned out that we had a lot in common.”

“Yup! We only talked about morbid stuff though, like how both our parents died in car crashes and-”

Their voices faded away, and Steve wanted to be anywhere but here. Laughter interrupted his thoughts, and he zoned back into the conversation, determined to make a good impression.

But the memory of his past still lingered in the back of his head, from appetizers until after dessert.

≿————-　❈　————-≾

Y/n’s POV

After dinner, Tony pulled her aside and whispered in her ear, “I like him- he’s a keeper.”

“Yeah, he is,” she agreed, before going up to Steve and taking his arm.

Once Tony and Pepper were out of earshot, she said, “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

≿————-　❈　————-≾

next >>

What do you think Steve did... let me know in the comments! As always, reblogs are an added bonus!

Angels: @freshly-painted-duck @rebelwriter95

Of Love and Secrets: @theadventurousqueen @marvelgirl7 @little-ash-unicorn @diamonddia-mond @questionable-brimborion @jll72-blog

Send me an ask if you want to be tagged in this series!

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tablestoastandtime · 9 months ago

Text

SAHTW - Birds, Boats, and Ballistics I

An installation for my currently tumblr only Such A Heart That Will series/fic/thing. No a lot of context is needed for this, but its still the post-Take It Back Now Y'all setting. This is theoretically about half of the chapter it would be. Cheers.

In which Dick chases down a lead, and surely nothing could go awry from here.

There was a time and place for rebellion, and after a long year on the streets and several weeks of rehab after a run in with Two Face, Dick was a master at picking his.

Bruce had set a rule about anything to do with the Red Hood. Don’t engage alone, don’t actively seek out unless there was a strong reason to believe he was apart of an ongoing investigation, and under no circumstances assume you can sneak up on him without him noticing. That last one Dick found a little offensive. Sure Hood was good enough to catch onto when he was being tracked by a giant man in a kevlar composite cape, but Dick was sneaky and had managed to find ways to stay unnoticed while dressed constantly in bright colours. Despite the similarities, Robin and Batman were not playing the same game. If Dick didn’t want to be seen, he wasn’t going to be.

That last rule alone would have made the Red Hood a tempting target for some under the table recon, but that was without even getting into the jerkface himself. In his multiple encounters with him, Dick had found the Red Hood to be arrogant, obnoxious, and way more dangerous than he had any right to be. Whoever he was, he was a professional. To get that good someone had to make him that way, and if Dick could gather enough intel to start point fingers at who, then they might be in business as to figuring out what exactly this guy’s deal was.

And Dick was well aware that Bruce was both obsessing over that question and basically clueless. He was letting some of those early interactions and some weird behaviour by residents blind him to the reality that Red Hood wasn’t just some guy because if he was then he wouldn’t be anything like the way he was. Red Hood was lying to them, lying to everyone, and Batman and Robin were the only ones with anything close to a full picture.

If Batman couldn’t be objective about the case, then Robin had to be.

Which meant that there was less than no reason to hesitate as he made his way to Crime Alley on a school night.

The key to any good investigation was in the groundwork. Going to the right places, finding the right evidence, talking to the right people, was the only way to really get insight into a situation. Sure Batman seemed omniscient, but that was only because he spent hours cataloguing every kind of gravel in Gotham so that the one time it mattered he’d have the answer ready to go. If Dick wanted to understand the Red Hood, he was going to have to be that meticulous. With someone like this, there was no such thing as a clue too small.

So he started simple; boots on the ground and eyes in the sky.

So in the end Dick opted for the extra armour and snuck out in costume, ducking in and around air conditioning units that belched dust and exhaust pipes that stank of burning.

He’d circle back if he couldn’t find anything else.

Wet surveillance of people mostly just minding their own business was not more fun than dry surveillance. At least when he went to the docks just about everything was wet, including a bunch of guys unloading large tubs and buckets from a fairly small freighter in the middle of the night, so it wasn’t a Robin-exclusive problem. It kind of helped to make it a team sport. Everyone in the city versus the sky, and unfortunately this inning wasn’t going well.

But the buckets looked promising! First glance they looked like they were industrial, which was as vague as it was useful. There were a lot of industrial buildings in Gotham, but almost all of the reputable ones were on the other side of the city and usually got their deliveries from the mainland rather than the bay, and industrial buckets were one of the laziest ways to hide weapons Dick had seen. Cheap, yes. Deeply boring and uninspired? Also yes.

If the Red Hood was planning to make an official claim in Gotham, he was going to need weapons to get his point across. And Dick had a hunch he’d just found one of his shipments.

So Dick had to prove that’s what this was, that that’s where these were going, and then he could call in the big bad Bat.

He needed to get closer.

Probably best not to pull out new tricks when he didn’t have backup.

Too bad for them they were wrong.

The men were moving their cargo onto the back of a truck. Suggested either they weren’t going to a site elsewhere in the docks, or whoever they worked for had the foresight to check the weather reports. Dick wouldn’t trust Hood’s consideration for his employees as far as he could throw Croc. Hood was pretty scrawny, Dick was confident he could toss him at least a few metres if he caught him off guard. Moving Croc anywhere he didn’t want to be on the other hand required a kind of advantage Dick wans’t getting without multiple levers and a pulley or two.

These barrels, though, Dick was pretty sure he could throw at least a few feet. Even if they were full of guns and sand, he’d been working on getting past his regular body weight exercises into moving real amounts of iron. Dick was finally tall enough after his last growth spurt to be able to help with evac of potentially unconscious civilians without risking drag injuries, so now he needed to be able to move them easily and comfortably, and Bruce had stepped up his training to match.

He was pretty sure that would carry over into moving barrels full of crime. Probably.

And he only needed to move one far enough he could take a peek and some pictures, maybe throw a tracking device or two in there, and then he could go back home, get dry, and show Bruce that he was right, that Red Hood was dangerous and no degree of sad orphan vibes made him any less of a threat to the people they were supposed to be protecting.

Easy. Dick bet he could even convince Alfred to make him some hot chocolate when he got back if he pretended he’d gone out in the rain to finish his homework in the gazebo out on the grounds.

Urgh.

The barrel he’d set his sights on was indeed not that hard to move and there was a semi-reflective corrosives sticker plastered to the side of it, which to Dick cemented the reality that whatever was in here was a lie. Any corrosive in appropriate protective insulation ought to be heavier than this, just on sheer density. In the work of seconds Dick was able to teeter the barrel around the corner of the boat’s central cabin, not much space but hopefully enough for what he needed to do, and then it was just a matter of working the edge of a batarang under the lip of the lid, seesawing it back and forth until the steel popped loose.

Carefully, carefully, he took the lid in both hands and set it quietly on the deck. Then he took a look at its contents.

Dick had his proof.

The thought was a filament running through his chest, loops of glowing warmth wrapping themselves under and through his ribs. All he had to do was get home.

#dick grayson #batman #sahtw #my writing #been trying to find the right song to do the transition into the second half of this #and let me tell you its not going well lmao

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