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pellucid-constellations · 4 months ago

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Favoritism

Pairing: Line Cook!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel always seems to be working. Well, not always. Sometimes he's on the phone outside the restaurant with a massive smile on his face.

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: None

a/n: Another little piece for this AU!! I'm loving building it up and including all the characters. I'm also loving characterizing Azriel!!! I can't wait for it to get more juicy and to add some angst in the near future ;) Thanks for reading!!!

Main Masterlist ♡

“Here again, Azriel?”

“I picked up Lucien’s shift,” Azriel explained, moving the pan side to side atop the flame.

Elain hummed, her hip against the counter. “You all have such weird names.”

Azriel rose a brow. “Your sister’s name is Nesta. And Feyre isn’t very common either.”

“Yes, well my sisters are included in my definition of ‘all’.”

Azriel hummed, pinching salt into the pan and flipping its contents. The heat from the stovetop warmed his fingers as he went, calling his attention to the tan lines along his knuckles—rings he constantly needed to remove for work, an action that had been even more prevalent in recent weeks.

Elain spoke up again. “I feel like I see you here every time I work.”

“You call out every other shift. Of course you’re going to see me on the off-chance you come in,” Azirel droned, but there was a hint of a smile on his face that had Elain scoffing out a laugh.

“Oh, ha ha,” Elain mocked. “But seriously, Az, you’re always in this kitchen. I know for a fact that Rhysand wouldn’t make his best friend work so much. What’s the deal?”

Azriel knocked his head to the side as he considered Elain’s question. He plated the meal he had been working on—the one that would send Elain and her barrage of questions away—and set it on the counter she occupied. He gave his hands a quick wash, flipping a hand towel over his shoulder and crossing his arms. The waitress had not moved from her spot.

“Money.”

Elain did not budge. “Money? You? I know you can afford that house of yours without all of these hours. Rhys pays you far too much.”

Azriel gave her a look as if to say that’s my explanation. Take it or leave it.

Elain was not taking that explanation, clearly. Azriel watched her roll her eyes and let out another scoff before swiping the plate from the counter.

“Always so stupidly secretive,” she huffed. “You are ridiculous.”

Elain missed the small laugh Azriel breathed out as she left in a flurry.

Azriel then noticed the small break in orders that was typical for this time of day and used the opening as an excuse for his break. He called out to the others in the kitchen and then made his way to the dining room with his phone loosely gripped in his hand.

A few taps on the screen and your voice came through.

“Hi, Az,” you greeted, a smile clear in your words.

“Hi, baby,” he smiled right back. The earring on his right ear clicked against the phone as he licked his lips and continued. “You not in class?”

“I tried to plan my schedule around your lunch rush. No class between the hours of two and four.”

Azriel felt his face heat a fraction. “Right. Forgot about that.”

You giggled. “So, how’s work? I didn’t expect you to go in this morning.”

“It’s fine. Work. I was just picking up a shift as a favor. But I’ll be off in time to get you for dinner.”

Azriel listened as something shuffled in the back of your call—bikers whizzing past you, he assumed. That damn campus always gave him a heart attack. You called out a small apology he was sure no one was listening to before speaking to him once more.

“You seem to owe a lot of favors, Az. Are you causing that much trouble over there?” you joked. A small pause. “Also, do you think we could eat in? I don’t really have the money for a restaurant right now. My financial aid is not aiding me in the ways it should.”

Azriel felt his heart clench at the humorless laugh you released. You lived on campus and relied on the school’s dining plan which did very little for you nutritionally and emotionally. He had offered—countless times—for you to live with him or let him buy you groceries or just straight-up give you money, but none of that made you comfortable.

So, Azriel found other ways to solve this problem.

Azriel hummed in feigned contemplation. “We could. But the boss gave me a gift card to that new place downtown. I figured we could use it to celebrate.”

“Oh yeah? And what are we celebrating?”

“You.”

“Me?” you asked with an incredulous laugh. “Why on earth would we be celebrating me? All I’ve done recently is complain and cry a few times.”

Azriel couldn’t remove the smile from his face. He slotted his wrist in the crook of his elbow as he leaned against the wall outside the restaurant. Damn you and all the ways you made him melt in public.

“You only cried twice this month. We should celebrate that record. Not to mention you were crying over chemistry which we established was an acceptable response to that class.”

You gasped and began rambling about your chemistry professor. Azriel briefly checked his watch and relished in the fact that he had twenty more minutes to listen to you speak. He happened to miss, however, the waitress who was listening in just around the corner.

Elain was furious.

First, Azriel had a girlfriend that she had no idea about. Which was ridiculous because Elain considered Azriel to be one of her closest friends. And second—and perhaps most appalling—Rhysand was handing out gift cards to the staff and she had not been a recipient of this graciousness.

Elain narrowed her eyes and glared and the stucco lining the building before she slammed her way through the restaurant and straight into Rhysand’s office. The man calmly glanced up from his computer upon her arrival, an amused brow raised at her apparent fury.

“Hello, Elain,” he greeted. Rhysand leaned back in his chair and interlaced his fingers at his stomach. “You seem in high spirits.”

“Where’s my gift card?” she demanded, closing the door behind her with a harsh click. “You’re giving out gift cards and I have yet to receive one.”

Rhysand blinked. “I haven’t given out any gift cards.”

“And now you’re lying—great.” Elain plopped down in the cushioned chair on the other side of Rhysand’s desk. “I just heard Azriel talking about a gift card to that insanely expensive place that just opened. Rita’s or something. And he was talking to his girlfriend—did you know he had a girlfriend?”

“I did—”

Elain hadn’t been looking for a response. “He said you gave it to him. If you’re playing favoritism I will call the Better Business Bureau. And I’ll tell Nesta. You know how she gets around you. Also, why does Azriel, like, live here? Aren’t there laws around overtime? None of his seems fair and—”

“Elain,” Rhysand calmly interrupted. “May I answer any one of your questions? Or, perhaps, speak?”

Elain bit the inside of her cheek and nodded in annoyance.

“Perfect.” Rhysand crossed his ankle over his knee. “I haven’t given out any gift cards. If I do, I promise you’ll be the first to know. It’s possible that Azriel used me as a way to take his girlfriend out to dinner—as he has done countless times. If you were to meet her, you’d see why that was a necessity. She’s very much like Feyre in that way. In that explanation is also the reason why Azriel is always here, working.”

Elain felt her vexation deflate, but some of it lingered. “And why are you so knowledgeable about this mysterious girlfriend?”

Rhysand only shrugged. “Azriel’s private. Protective. He knows all of you are a bunch of gossips.”

Elain scoffed for the countless time that afternoon, still pissed that there was no gift card to be had.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #azriel au #modern au #azriel x y/n #azriel fanfic #line cook au

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surielstea · 7 months ago

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Lunch Break

Based on this request.

Pairing: Modern!Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel surprises reader at work with food and a clingy attitude.

Warnings: Az being handsy with reader | cursing

2.5k words

I was in the middle of scheduling a meeting on my boss's calendar when the loud ringing of the phone made me jump.

I quickly picked up the phone and tucked it beneath my ear then continued my typing before I lost my train of thought.

“Velaris enterprises, how can I assist you?” I say with a polite tone.

“It’s Feyre, can you tell Rhys to pick up his phone?” A familiar female voice sounds on the other side of the line. A smile curves my lips.

“Hi Fey, I’ll transfer you to him right now,” I say to the woman with a light tone.

“Thank you,” She sings as I redirect the call to my boss who seemed too busy to pick up his wife’s call.

The line ends and I hang up the phone and then return my attention to my desktop, I had only one more report due until I was letting myself take my lunch break, reclining in my chair with a huff as I continue to type, manicured nails clicking along the keys at a fast pace. In the middle of my sentence, the phone rings again and I pick it up blindly, keeping my eyes on my screen.

“Feyre I could knock down his door but I doubt he’ll answer—” I begin but I am cut off by the other line.

“It’s me.” Is all I heard and my spine straightened at the baritone voice that was so very familiar.

“What’d I tell you about calling my work phone?” I say slightly hushed, afraid my coworkers will notice me being off task.

“You weren’t answering your texts,” He defends, his tone playful, making me suppress a smile.

“What’s so important you couldn’t wait until my break?” I ask, the amused tone in my voice unavoidable as I mindlessly doodle on a blank sticky note, unable to multitask when talking to him.

“I brought you lunch, come downstairs,” He replied and a smile tugged at my lips.

“Right now?” I mumble into the phone with a soft sigh.

“Yeah, c’mon gorgeous it’s going to get cold,” He urged and this time I let myself smile.

“Alright, I’ll be down in five just need to finish something up real quick,” I say, and before he can protest I hang the phone up.

I rush to finish my report, doing it in three minutes instead of five, and feeling slightly accomplished with myself as I close the tab.

I stand from my chair, brush my short skirt down, and round my desk to approach the door to my Boss’s office. I knock lightly before creaking open the door, only to spot Rhysand on the phone with his wife presumably, feet propped up on his desk casually as he did anything but work.

“I’m taking my break,” I whisper and he nods, giving me a wave of my hand. I close his office door and pivot in my high heel.

I walk down the aisle of cubicles with a small skip in my step, excited to see my boyfriend, and also the food he brought for me.

“Taking your break already?” A man named Matthew had asked, leaning back in his chair and peering up at me.

“Yeah, I didn’t get the chance to eat anything this morning,” I reply politely, passing by him.

“You should come out with me and some of the other guys after work tonight, we’re going to the bar off Ninth Street,” He gestures westward and my brows raise a fraction.

“Sounds fun, I might have plans but I’ll let you know,” I say with a gentle smile and he nods, then turns back to his desk.

“Have a nice lunch,” He lowly whistles as I continue my path toward the elevators.

Mathew and his friends had always been so kind to me, I hadn’t really known why, they knew I was with Azriel, which meant they knew they had no chance. And they didn’t seem like the type to respect women, especially not secretaries. So it was best to let them down easy and politely decline their offers or at least give them false hope.

I clicked the button of the lift that would take me down to the lobby, the ride was long from the top floor, giving me the chance to wonder what kind of foot Azriel had brought for me since he hadn’t mentioned it.

I bounced on my heels impatiently until the elevator dinged and the doors parted. I smile and walk out, tucking my arms behind my back to contain my excitement. Gods, I felt like a teenage girl meeting her first boyfriend in the hallway.

“Hi, Mrs. Levvy,” I wave to the older woman who sat at the check-in desk in the building.

“Leaving, dearie?” She asks with a soft smile that I return.

“I’ll be back, just going to pick up lunch,” I say and she nods, pushing her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose.

The automatic doors open and I immediately spot my boyfriend leaning against his black bike, arms crossed over his chest as the sun beams down onto him. His eyes lock with mine and a dimpled smile takes over his features as I approach him, taking in the way his compression shirt hugs his large arms or the way his tattoos run up the side of his neck.

“Hey, gorgeous,” He greets, hands coming to my waist as I stand between his legs.

“Hi, handsome,” I return, wrapping my arms around the nape of his neck and pressing a soft peck to his lips then pulling away a moment later. “What’d you bring me?” I ask, pinching my bottom lip between my teeth. He turned to his side, his helmet and a paper bag propped onto the seat of his bike. He grabs the bag and hands it to me. I peer inside and am immediately met with a familiar savory scent. I look up at him with a beaming grin. “My favorite?” I ask and he nods.

“For my favorite girl,” He hums, hands lowering to my hips.

“Thanks, Az,” I sling my arms around him and hug him tightly. He returns it, his head nuzzling into the crook of my neck. He stays like that, not wanting to move away until inevitably I pull back.

“What’s the occasion?” I say, placing the bag beside his helmet, I still had ten minutes left to my break, and I was determined to spend every last second with him.

He shrugs. “I didn’t get to make you breakfast before you left this morning,” He said and I smiled at the memory, how he sleepily clambered from bed only to coerce me back to the mattress with his deep voice and lazy kisses. It hadn’t lasted long before my alarm went off for the umpteenth time and we both knew I had to leave if I didn’t want to be late.

“That’s sweet of you to leave work for me,” I smile down at the bag and then back up to him, one of my hands intertwining into his hair.

“The shop was slow today, I only had a few appointments until I decided to close early,” He excuses and I tilt my head up at him.

“Still, means a whole lot,” I murmur, leaning into his chest as his hands snake down until finding purchase at the curve of my ass. “Az,” I warn.

“What? This skirt is so short and I’m only a man,” He defends and I roll my eyes.

“Keep it in your pants,” I scoff.

“Afraid I can’t, gorgeous,” He shakes his head. “What about all the other men in that office? They shouldn’t be staring at what’s mine,” He practically whines and I look at him in both disbelief and amusement.

“I assure you, they know I’m yours,” I put him at ease, my hands coming to his jaw.

“Now you know how I feel when you wear these slutty shirts,” I say, tugging at the hem of his compression shirt. He smiles because he knows exactly what I’m talking about. The bastard was highly aware of what he was doing to me.

“Guilty,” He smirks, his hands gripping my ass and I squeal, an uncontrollable grin coming to my features, I was going to retort only to be cut off by the alarm from my phone, that familiar ringing that only meant separation for us. Azriel audibly groans as I quickly silence my alarm, my smile fading away.

“I’m sorry, babe I’ll see you at home okay?” I say and he pulls me impossibly closer, stuffing his face back into my neck.

“Don’t go,” He practically whines and I run my hand through his hair reassuringly.

“You know I’d stay if I could,” I sigh and he tears from my neck in favor of looking me in the eyes.

“Come back home, I’ll take the rest of the day off and we could spend it together,” He pleads, the male awfully clingy despite his usual cold demeanor.

“Az, I can’t my boss—” I start.

“Who? Rhys?” He cuts me off and I frown up at him, then give him a dip of my head as a nod.

“Let me talk to him,” He urges. “I promise you’ll get the rest of the day, paid,” He says and I look at him pointedly, not believing him one bit.

“And how are you going to do that?” I retort.

“He owes me,” He shrugs.

“For what—” I start but he grabs my hand and pulls me towards the entrance of the building.

“C’mon, I want to be home already,” He says as I intertwine our hands.

Mrs. Levvy looks up through her glasses at the two of us with an arched brow. “You can sign her out, she’ll be leaving soon,” Azriel says, dragging me towards the elevators. I apologize for his behavior as the doors close on me but she only waves me off with a chuckle.

“Why are you so needy today?” I say, poking his abdomen as the lift takes us to the top floor.

“Can’t help it when you’re dressed like this,” He replies, arms slinging over my shoulders and hugging me from behind.

“So possessive,” I murmur as the doors slide open and I leave his grasp. I walk down the line of cubicles, heads turning as Azriel walks behind me with his hands stuffed into his pockets casually. “I’ll tell him you’re here,” I whisper in the quiet office, dialing on the phone but when I glance up at the brunette I spot him opening the door to Rhysand’s office. Panic rises in my chest and I pale, rushing to stop him.

I enter the room and wedge between Azriel’s frame and the door. Rhys looks at me expectantly. “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t know what he’s thinking,” I smack my hand against my boyfriend’s chest before gesturing him out of the office. My boss only chuckled.

“Relax, if you think this is the first time Azriel’s barged in on me you’re sorely mistaken,” Rhys says with a coy smile.

“Gather your things, baby,” Azriel says with an outmatched confidence. I stare up at him in bewilderment and he only jerks his head as a gesture to my desk and I glare in warning, silently telling him that I’ll kill him if he gets me fired.

Reluctantly, I leave the office and go back to my desk, the door closing behind me. Anticipation rolls into a mass of anxiety. To distract myself I do as Azriel said, collecting my items and putting them into my purse, slinging it over my shoulder, and by the time I was ready to leave Az had exited the office with a soft smile on his lips.

I look at him expectantly. “You ready?” He asks and my jaw nearly drops.

“Wait, how did you?” I say with creased brows, looking at the closed office door and then at him quizzically. He shrugs innocently.

“When you’ve known someone since you were eight years old it’s easy to convince them,” He explains and I narrow my eyes on him.

“You blackmailed him, didn’t you?” I accuse and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

“I did, yeah,” He grabs my hand and guides me back towards the elevators.

I smiled up at him amused, before halting in my steps when I heard my name called.

I look to the culprit, spotting Mathew with raised brows. “I assume you found plans?” The man asked and I feigned a frown.

“I did, I’m sorry maybe next time,” I tilt my head sympathetically, the way one might pity an animal. My boyfriend’s hands snake around my waist protectively and I nearly roll my eyes at his theatrics.

“Maybe,” Azriel restates, emphasizing the low chance of it.

“Right, next time,” Mathew nods, and the male behind me tugs at my waist, urging me along.

“Have a good rest of your day, Mat.” I give him a small wave.

“You too,” He nods and I pivot on my heel, Azriel glaring daggers at anyone who stared for a moment too long.

Once we were back in the elevator, alone, he dropped the menacing act in favor of his original clingy one. “So are you going to tell me what you blackmailed Rhys with?” I tease and his brows raise.

“I’m sorry, gorgeous, but there are some things I can’t speak of, even to you,” He sighs and I giggle, knowing it must be bad if he didn’t have it in himself to tell me. I dropped it, knowing I wouldn’t be able to get it out of him if I tried.

The doors opened and we both exited. “I need to sign out,” I say to Mrs. Levvy, approaching her desk. She waves her hand dismissively.

“I already did, dearie,” She says and my brows raise, looking to Azriel who only had a cocky smile on his face.

“Then have a good rest of your day I suppose,” I say, backing away towards the doors.

“You have fun you two,” She waves and I return it before Azriel has me outside.

When we get back to his bike he opens the hatch at the front, the compartment holding my helmet. He hands me the light pink item and I smile, putting the helmet over my head and securing it tightly, flicking down the visor.

“You’re so cute,” He admires.

“Shut up,” I say, my words muffled through the helmet and mount the bike.

“You’re not driving,” He looks at me pointedly and I grasp the handles, looking up at him cheekily.

“Why not?” I arch my back playfully and his eyes trace down the crescent shape of my body, then back to my covered eyes.

“No,” He declares before grabbing my waist and taking me off the bike, placing me back onto my feet as I pout up at him. He straddles the bike and puts his helmet on. I huff and get on behind him, my arms wrapping around his torso reflexively. “Ready, gorgeous?” He turns his head to look back at me.

I nod, pressing the side of my helmet to his back, squeezing around him tightly, beyond excited to be going home for the rest of the day instead of heading back to work.

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emilys-bangs · 1 month ago

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this is me trying | e.p

Tags: established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff at the end, mom!emily, no use of yn, use of petnames

Summary: Emily misses one of Eloise's milestones and tries to deal with it. Requested here.

Word count: 2.7k

A/n: my longest fic is officially a momily fic oops...(gimme more momily thoughts please) also I did the convo with Hotch instead of JJ because he's surprisingly easier to write than her :p

Emily was having an okay day. It was her second night away on a case and it was unraveling quickly, quick enough that she thought she’d be home for dinner.

She wasn’t.

Instead, she gets a call from you around Eloise’s bedtime. With the ring comes a twist of guilt in her stomach; she’d promised herself she’d call this time instead of you, but her reminder to set an alarm slipped from her mind, and soon she got swept up in an endless whirlpool of case files and paper trails. Silencing her phone, she pushes her chair back and stands up, her eyes flitting over Reid and JJ’s forms bent over the conference room table. They can handle a few minutes on their own.

Emily slips into an empty office, shuttering the blinds as she accepts the video call before it rings out. Crackly noise comes through and she smiles at the sight of you and Eloise on the plush carpet of her nursery, the little girl already in her pajamas and sitting in the cradle of your crossed legs. Some of the tightness in her chest loosens.

“Hi there,” Emily smiles softly as you hold the camera away from Eloise’s grabby hands, her eyes tracing your faces through the screen, “how are my favorite people in the world doing?” She asks, perching on the edge of the table.

“Good,” you say, smoothing a hand over Eloise’s damp hair. “Sleepy, but someone won’t—”

“Bye-bye!” Eloise interrupts cheerfully—her favorite word as of late.

Emily chuckles, her shoulders slumping at the bell-like tinkle of her daughter’s voice. “But I just saw you, sweet girl. I don’t wanna say bye so soon, do you?”

“Bye,” she repeats.

“Think I should go,” Emily wrinkles her nose at you, the playful gesture pulling a laugh from your toddler.

“Maybe she’s finally starting to learn it’s bedtime,” you say, kissing the top of her head. “We’re starting to feel sleepy, aren’t we, Eloise?” Your voice softens as you trace your finger down the soft bridge of her nose, a trick you and Emily use to soothe her to sleep.

But Eloise stubbornly shakes her head. “Nnn.” She turns her face away, placing two hands on your knee.

Emily smiles at the domestic image, her heart tugging with a need to be home. To join your daughter in the circle of your legs, feel your arms around her waist as you both worked to lull her to sleep.

She breathes through the ache, forcing herself to smile. “Well, we both know where that came—”

Her playful jab falls away when she sees Eloise stand, her hands still on your knee to hold herself up. Emily holds her breath, waiting for her to topple, but her daughter steps over your leg and walks to the drawers behind you. Her movements are wobbly but she doesn’t fall, babbling bye, bye, bye under her breath as she fiddles with the handle of the drawer at her level.

You don’t give a reaction apart from a guilty twist of your lips. Still, Emily waits for something; surprise, shock, excited laughter. The only thing that happens is an apologetic shrug of your shoulders, resigned and defeated.

Her heart sinks.

“She—” Emily sucks in a breath, her throat dry. “She started walking? When?” She hates how her voice is croaky, how it breaks as her heart picks up its pace.

You guiltily chew on your lip. “Yesterday morning.”

Yesterday morning. She was on the jet by then. Something bitter coats her tongue, digging into her molars; the inside of her cheeks pucker.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

But it’s obvious why you didn’t.

“Emily…”

“Mmamamama,” Eloise comes over again, her small, onesie-covered feet showing up on the screen. She grabs the phone from your limp fingers, her sweet, clueless face reaching the edges of Emily’s phone. “Ma,” she babbles, and Emily forces a smile.

“Mommy’s here, sweetheart.” She says hoarsely.

Her voice cracks around the blatant lie.

___

They’re on the jet home less than twenty four hours later. It was as happy an outcome as they can possibly hope for; unsub in cuffs, airtight evidence, families reunited with their loved ones.

And yet everyone notices Emily’s mood.

They notice it but say nothing about it, letting her churn in silence as she bypasses all the seats in the jet to sit in the back. Her go bag is thrown under her chair, her arms tightly crossed over her chest as she looks out the window and toys with her ring.

Takeoff is a blur. The lights dim and she chances a glance at her watch, hopelessly willing the time to go by faster. As she’s turning her head, she spots movement from the corner of her eye.

Hotch sits down across from her. He’s quiet as he places a mug of tea next to her phone, but when he leans back into his seat, she sees the concern—and the question—in his eyes.

“You’re upset.” He says.

If Emily wasn’t feeling so miserable, she might have scoffed. Maybe she could have deflected, or lashed out and told him to leave her alone and wallow in her self loathing.

But she’s too tired for that. And Hotch has kind eyes; he understands, what she’s feeling, more than anyone.

So Emily finds herself cracking.

“Eloise. She, uh…she took her first steps two days ago.” Emily says quietly, staring intensely at the mug he’s placed in front of her. The lump forms yet again, the threatening press of tears just behind her eyes. Her own words only make her gut churn. “...And I wasn’t there.” She adds unnecessarily, her voice lowered to a whisper because any louder and she’s sure it’ll break.

Her daughter crossed off a huge milestone. And instead of cheering her on, taking her into her arms and kissing her little cheeks, Emily was off hundreds of miles away, hunting down a pathetic, homicidal man rather than being there for her own child. Emily had promised herself that she’d always be there—for every dance recital, every parent teacher meeting. But she couldn’t even be there for Eloise’s first steps.

She’s just as bad as her mother, prioritizing a job over her own daughter. The thought makes her bite down on her lip, hard. The metallic taste of blood floods her tongue.

“How do you deal with it?” She asks thickly. Emily doesn’t look up at him as she twists her fingers into her necklace, smoothing her thumb over the engraved E and staring intently at the mug he’s placed on top of a coaster—because of course Hotch got a coaster.

The answer she gets is a low, heavy exhale that she feels in her bones. Emily looks up, chancing a glance at him even though she knows her eyes are probably shining under the low lights of the jet.

Hotch swallows, carefully measuring his words before he speaks. “I try to remind myself that I’m making the world a better place for him. Though most of the time it’s a lousy excuse.” His lips press together in a small, bitter, smile. A hand goes through his hair and a few strands flop back into his face; for the first time, Emily sees a rumpled, exhausted single dad rather than her put together Unit Chief. “I guess I try to deal with it by giving Jack 100% of my attention when I’m home. I shut everything out and focus on him, for however many hours I can get. I’d like to think I’m making a difference, but…” He trails off, shrugs.

Emily’s stomach sinks then. She presses her lips together, fighting against the shine in her eyes that now reflects in Hotch’s.

There’s no good answer. No way to make herself feel better about it. She knew that, and yet hearing it from him somehow makes it worse. The chain of her necklace tugs sharply against her throat.

“It helps,” he speaks up again, a tinge of sadness to his voice, “knowing that she’s not alone. She’ll always have someone. And no matter what, she’ll always know you love her.” He says gently. Somewhere in the shadowy corners of her mind, she realizes she’s never heard him talk this softly before, at least not to her.

Emily swallows hard. “What if—” Her voice shakes. She snaps her mouth shut, grabs the mug and takes a scorching sip. The chamomile doesn’t register on her taste buds, neither does the sweetness of two Splenda’s. Emily wraps her cold, trembling hands around the mug, looking into it as she forces herself to say the words. “What if she wants me? And if I’m not there…” Her voice grows hoarse again.

She swallows again. Drinks her tea, again. Closes her eyes against the tears, digs a thumb into her wedding ring. “What does that tell your child about you, Hotch? When you’re not there and they need you to be?”

Emily pretends not to hear the crack in her own voice. Hotch pretends, too, as he leans forward on the table. “You’re not a bad mom,” he says quietly. His tone is firm, unwavering. “You care and you’re trying and they’ll know that.”

They. Their combined children, victims of their job. He says it like he’s begging for it to be enough. For his sake and for hers.

Emily tries to believe it. She really, truly does, but she can’t stop the whispers that say it’s not enough.

___

When she walks into your home, the living room is empty.

Emily follows the sound of your voice and Eloise’s, her breaths coming easier as her feet lead her to the nursery. She inhales the scent of home; baby powder and your perfume and the detergent all of your clothes are washed with. Before she lets herself caught up in it—in you—Emily stores her gun in the safe, drops her go bag in the laundry room.

Finally, she stops at Eloise’s nursery. You’re sitting on the floor just like you were yesterday, Eloise again sitting between your crossed legs. There’s a book in her hands that she furrows her brows at, intently studying the colored pages as if she’ll be quizzed on them.

The sight makes Emily smile.

“Knock knock,” she says softly, briefly scaring you. The tension in your shoulders melts when you see it’s her, a small smile curling your lips as she toes off her boots and walks into the nursery.

“Hi,” you whisper. Eloise finally looks up from her book just as Emily settles next to you on the floor, where she wished she would be just last night.

“Mama!” Her baby squeals, and Emily’s heart constricts, and her vision blurs as she reaches her hands out to carry her into her arms.

“Hi, Eloise,” she whispers. She feels the scrape of tears in the back of her throat and swallows, pressing her lips to her daughter’s soft cheek to stifle them. “I missed you.” Another kiss goes to her other cheek, then one to her forehead.

Your hand falls to her knee and squeezes; Emily takes a hand off of Eloise’s back, places it over your knuckles. She skates her thumb over your skin, squeezes her daughter with her other hand.

“I heard my sweet girl started walking.” Emily murmurs, letting go of your hand to smooth Eloise’s hair behind her ears. It’s an adorable mess, the way it springs right back in her face bringing a smile to Emily’s lips. “Can you show Mommy, honey?”

Her dark eyes stare into Emily’s; twin pairs. “Hi,” Eloise mumbles.

“Hi, my love. I’m sorry I wasn’t there,” she says, her voice cracking on the last word. Her daughter doesn’t notice, too busy with reaching out to fiddle with her necklace. Emily runs her palms over the soft cotton of her onesie, hugging her close and trying to remind herself that she’s here now. “I’m so proud of you, Eloise. Mommy’s always proud of you, you know?” Tears balance on her lashes as she turns her head again to kiss a soft cheek. “You’re my girl.”

Emily didn’t used to be an easy crier.

Having a child changed that; she cried at Eloise’s ultrasound, cried at her birth. She cried when her daughter said Mama and when she was running a mild fever of 99.5. Tears were easy to come, at bumps and bruises, at small snippets of her personality that start to form with time, at a singular candle blown on her birthday. Undeniably, her daughter is her Achilles heel. Emily is still trying to deal with that, trying to adjust to having her heart walk around unprotected on tiny, wobbly legs that still don’t know where to go.

Emily doesn’t realize she’s been rocking her daughter back and forth until your arm wraps around her shoulders. The weight of it forces her to go still; when she leans back, she leans back into you.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffles. Eloise wriggles in her arms and she lets her go, only for the little girl to plop between both of you. Her small hands fiddle with the badge on her hip; Emily’s eyes dart down to her, a wobbly smile pulling on her lips.

“Em,” you whisper, cupping her chin in your hand. Her gaze meets yours again. “You have nothing to apologize for.” You say quietly. With more tenderness than she deserves, you wipe the wetness under her eye.

Emily shakes her head. “I wasn’t there.” She says, her lip trembling as more of her tears drip onto your palm.

An adamant frown pulls your brows together. “Look at her.” You murmur, both firm and soft as you catch a tear before it falls onto Eloise’s head. Emily does, her heart clenching when she finds Eloise’s chin already tipped up, their eyes clashing in identical shades of brown. “She’s just happy you’re home, baby. We both are.”

“But—”

“Mama cry?” Eloise’s sweet voice pipes up.

The palpable sadness in it breaks Emily’s heart. Eloise frowns fiercely as she shoves her small palms into Emily’s knee, steadying herself before standing on her own and taking two steps to reach her mother.

Pride flares in her chest. Eloise stands on her tiptoes, her small hands falling on her mother’s face; Emily’s hands go to her waist, steadying her. “Mama cry?” Her baby asks again, her eyes far too serious for a just turned one-year-old.

Emily smiles and this time it’s more genuine. “I’m okay, sweet girl.” She lifts a small fist off her cheek and brings it to her lips. “I love you.”

“Wuv.”

“You tell her, Ellie.” You lean against Emily’s side, your hand going to her cheek to wipe the remaining tears. Eloise’s hand joins yours and Emily laughs, shaky and wet even though your daughter is being none too careful. “That’s what we like to hear,” you murmur, tucking Emily’s hair behind her ear. Eloise falls into her lap and she instinctively holds her, her hands secure around her body even though she doesn’t break eye contact with you.

“Listen to me. You’re here now. That’s what matters, okay? It could’ve happened at any time—hell, I could’ve been at work when it happened. This is not on you.” You say firmly, your voice almost scolding. But your hands on her face are soft, cradling her cheeks with gentle care; the pad of your thumb skims absently over her jaw.

Emily’s lips twitch. Your words go through one ear and out the other; nothing against you, but she’s never relied on them for comfort. Instead she leans forward and presses her forehead to yours, closing her eyes as your noses bump together. Her shoulders slump, her body relaxing when Eloise presses her cheek to her chest.

“I love you.” She says, soft, pressing the statement into your lips.

“I love you too.”

“Wuv.” Eloise joins in.

You and Emily both laugh as you look down at her, a familiar warmth returning to Emily’s chest at being home, with her family. She lifts her daughter back into her arms and kisses her until she giggles, until the sound of her laughter drowns out Emily’s thoughts. She’s not sure if she trusts your words, trusts that your love and Eloise’s won’t simmer to resentment when this situation is inevitably repeated in an endless cycle.

But for now, she’ll believe them. Believe you.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fics #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss angst #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss blurb #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mom!emily #momily #fic

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chamomilewrittingblock · 7 months ago

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Solo Leveling Brainrots #2

Hi hi!l'm glad you lot liked my rots dhrufbjfnf here's more!! Fun fact: I actually wrote this a while ago, I just found it!

Hear me out: Jin Woo with a shy!s/o who can sing like a Siren but thinks their voice is bad

I think the first time he heard them sing he'd be shocked. First time he heard them sing was when he was an E- rank while reader thought he was asleep.This being after a particulary rough raid. Kinda just singing random melodies to help him sleep. When he asks about singing, s/o denys it using the excuse of the radio playing.

(When he hears a recording of the same voice, it's from Jin Ah's phone as a ring tone. Jin Ah doesn't dare tell him, being sworn secrecy by s/o, saying "oh, it's just a friend". It would be funny if this is something Jin Ah holds over him too ajdbhdbd)

After his second awakening, I'd imagine he'd finally hear the singing again. when he arrives home early without his s/o noticing using Shadow Exchange Divine melodies floating though the space, just to find his s/o by themselves filling the silence. Wher his presence is acknowledged his s/o is startled af and gets shy, denying profusely while blushing up a storm.

Jinwoo is now seriously considering trying tobuy a copy of his s/o's voice recoding from JinAh. (Jin Ah did not take the offer and insisted it was made for them, teasing him EVEN MORE)

Mf treats it like a forbidden fruit. aluxury that he keeps trying to indulgein. Jinwoo's been trying to find a way to hear them sing again but s/o hasbeen successful in his evasion after that one time sjbdidj. (He thinks the shadows are helping them .. He is 100% correct)EVEN THE SHADOWS GET TO HEAR THEM SING DIRECTLY TO THEM (ONLY ONCE OR TWICE BUT STILL)(doesn't even include the ones when s/o is just singing to fill the silence) Its even more funny if it BOOSTS MORAL foR The ShADOW ARMY TOO. Sure Jinwoo can hear them sing through the shadows but its muffled and nothing compares to hearing it in personally.

I think it would eventually accumulate to Jinwoo arriving home on a particularly bad day, drowing in his own thoughts. And reader being the only thing that pulls him out of it.

Jinwoo barely registers coming home at all, taking of his shoes. Nothing. Just him and his thoughts. The abyss threatening to take hold ofhis mind. Eventually he comes to his senses. First thing he registers, is a voice. After a while, it's then fingers combing through his hair, and then the surrounding softness. He's in bed, cleaned up, with his head laying on his s/o lap. Opening his eyes, Jinwoo sees s/o staring into space while feeling their running fingers through his hair. Serenading him with the same melodies from the first time Jinwoo heard them as an E-Rank. He doesn't dare break the moment of peace. When his s/o notices he's back, there's palpable relief, no shyness or doubt: And after checking in on eachother, they enter a comfortable silence before switching positions so Jinwoo is laying on s/o chest before exhaustion takes hold completely. The next morning, Jinwoo asks how he got cleaned up. Still in bed, and nestled in eachothers arms, his s/o very quietly confessed to just giving him commands while singing to getting himself cleaned up. But also notes the aid from the shadows too. (The shadow soildures taking comands from his s/o? S/o comanding him like a siren??? Questions for another day) Then he asks about why s/o doesn't sing around him. After a bit of resistance and wiggling in protest. Flustered, shy to high heaven and unable to escape Jinwoos grasp, s/o admits that they think their singing is bad. What.? ( The same voice thats Jinwoos been trying to hear again for months?? The same voice that his-sister uses a recroding of against him? The voice that shadow army worships to a concerning degree?? That voice??) After some silence, Jinwoo proceeds to reluctantly confess his obsession with their voice. The jealousy he has for his sister and the army hearing them sing before he could once again. (Hes kinda pouty but dosent want to admit it ajndjdn). All while showering them in affection, giving playful kisses here and there. Jinwoo savours how cute their s/o becomes as they fluster under the attention and giggle about his pettiness. In the end, s/o agrees to stop hiding their voice from them. A few days later, Jinwoo receives a recording from s/o of them singing a familiar melody. If he proceeds to lowkey rub it in Jin Ah's face, then it's none of our buisness.

After that, Jinwoo picks up the habit of sneaking up on his s/o singing and not saying anything untill their done Even teasing them a bit, before showering them in compliments wth the most lovestruck look. (Theres something so domestic about coming home to his s/o singing that fills him with so much love, that it makes him more determined to protect)

Its to the point that Jinwoo will ocassionally space out if he hears his s/o singing though his shadows… Has he gotten distracted durring sparing sessions with other s-ranks or during meetings because of this? Yes. Does he care? Absolutely not. Will it happen again? Probably. (Even funnier if he has a blank expression while spacing out scaring people unintentionally) It would be even sweeter if Jinwoo starts calling them "little siren" much to s/o flustered dismay.

Ajbdjndjdn oki thank you for reading…

#solo leveling x reader #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #solo leveling #brainrots??

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deceitfuldevout · 1 year ago

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Happy Purge

Purge AU: Soft!Dark!Mike Kiernan x Student!Reader

Word Count: +2,068

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Stalking, Kidnapping, Power Imbalance, Use of blood as lube, Mild gore, Purge day.

Author's Note(s): I was thinking about this and coincidentally it's kinktober haha!

It's been almost a decade since the first purge. A lot has changed since then. You remember a time when people didn’t have to worry about looking over their shoulder. Even the morning after was gruesome scene. There was an official purge cleanup crew for that reason alone. You couldn’t help but stare at the clock on the wall.

If you could squeeze in just one last assignment, you'll be free for the weekend. Suddenly, you hear your name being called. It breaks you out of your train of thought, turning to your instructor and apologizing, "Yes Professor! S-sorry..." now embarrassed that you've been caught by him. Professor Mike Kiernan

According to his students, Mike was more than an exceptional teacher. Every last one of them adores him. If not, well then he'd have to look out for tonight. You on the other hand, have always felt there was something off about him. As if he were harboring a dark secret. Maybe it was the building nerves. After all, tonight would be the start of the annual Purge Day.

Mike ends class an hour early, giving his students enough time to reach home safely. You on the other hand, take the opportunity to finish up remaining school work. Mr. Kiernan was also in charge of study hall. He notices you're the last student left and approaches your desk, "Forgetting something?"

You look up at him with your pen still in mouth, taking it out to speak. That's when the realization hits. "Oh sh—shoot!" Quickly correcting the slip up. You had completely forgotten. In about thirty minutes the sirens were going to ring, after that the Purge would commence. You lived a little more than half an hour away. How on earth would you make it to home on time?!

Mike notices your fidgeting, poor thing. You were so caught up in school work that you'd completely forgotten. Always so responsible, one of his best students. So kind and generous. You were always a good student, helping anyone that needed it. Was it bad that he wanted to keep it all for himself?

"Do you need a ride home?" he offers, "It's not safe out there, especially not for a young lady like yourself," kind, genuine words. Your phone is almost dead, and you had no point of contact. So you take his offer, "Thank you professor Kiernan, Seriously," You grateful to have someone like him. He walks you to his car parked on the edge of the lot. He takes his time walking to it. You on the other hand, were in a hurry.

You felt almost embarrassed by the way you held the door handle eagerly waiting for him. To unlock it. He chuckles, clicking the button of his keys to open it. You hurry inside, not wasting a second hopping onto the seat. As he began to drive off you could hear the first warning bell. There would only be two more before the final sirens. Your eyes are glued to the red sirens attached to each public building, the blaring makes you feel sick.

When the car makes a sudden turn off the main road, you begin to grow suspicious, "Professor?"

"Yes?"

"This isn't the way to my house..."

"I know, but it's too late for that now," he answers, "The third alarm is about to go off, we won't make it in time," his eyes are still glued to the road. You gather enough courage to speak up again, "Professor....professor where are we going?"

"I live nearby, you're more than welcome to spend the night," he answers, "The last thing I'd want is for those animals to harm a student of mine," he reassures. Mike lives in the more rural side of town. There's a growing feeling you have that something was wrong about all this. But what other choice do you have? It was better than being out there alone on the streets.

As soon as you arrive to Mike's home, he activates the security system. When he first bought the house, the first thing he did was install a Purge-proof security system. He walks into the kitchen, rummaging for something, "Would you like some tea?" he opens the pantry to fetch some herbs. While it boils he gets some jam and toast for it. As soon as he finishes up, he places both cups on the table.

You notice that Mike hadn't taken a sip from his drink. Your eyes widen with fear, "You haven't touched your cup..." there's a pause. Then he realizes his mistake, "Ah, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you nervous," he switches the drinks, "Here, have mine," he takes a sip from your cup to insure it hadn't been spiked. It calms your nerves knowing that there was nothing to worry about.

Mike had kept his promise that you would be safe here. It's been a while since he's had anyone over. He tries his best hosting skills, a round of charade, following by a board game. It was honestly one of the best purge experiences you've had yet. A great distraction from the events occurring outside. He insists on watching a movie to kill the time, you agree. Why not? Besides, Mike's company wasn't so bad.

It was during the middle of the movie when you needed to use the restroom. He points you to down the hall. On your way back, you notice a door had been left open. It was most likely the master bedroom. When you reach the knob to close it, you accidentally take a glimpse inside.

That's when you notice what was there. No....there's no way...You enter his room to get a closer look. Mike smiles to himself. To think that he'd been so worried about everything, and for what? You seem to be enjoying his company. He was right all along, there was something more to your relationship.

He hears you rushing down the hallway, there's an angry look on your face, "What the fuck are these?!" you toss the photos on the ground. Pictured in each and every last one of them is you. Some of them were taken while on campus, others were downloaded from social media posts. He smiles, "Now I know what you're thinking, but if you just hear me out--"

"Not a fucking chance!" you back away from him. He's confused, why now were you acting out? It was going so well between the two of you! Can't you see how much he cares?

"Don't you see the love and dedication I have for you?! And you know it too!" he nears, "I know you feel the same way..." his voice sounding more desperate, there's a deranged look in his eyes that doesn't meet his smile, "Tell me you weren't thinking the same thing, when you waited for me after class," he held a hand to his chest, expressing his love for you.

He's finally letting you know how he's felt for a very long time. You were at a loss for words, there's no way he actually thought--between the two of you? He's delusional. To think you and your classmates actually trusted him. You're pissed, "Get it through your fucking head! You're my professor! That's all you'll ever be!"

After hearing that Mike's smile fades. He could feel heart shattering into a million pieces. Maybe it was a mistake, bringing you here on your own terms. If he knew this was how you would react, then he would've just stuck to the original plan. He knows he could get away with it too. After all, it was Purge day.

Usually, he'd go against something like this. But what other choice does he have? It quickly turns into a fight or flight situation. You knew he was stronger than you, so there would be no point in fighting him. What other choice did you have other than running? Mike is much faster than you realize. He's quick to grab you before you've had a chance to alert the security system.

Mike drags you across his home. He stops by a door located on the side of the staircase. He almost rips the hinges off when he pulls you inside. You fought with all your might, scratching, pushing, hitting wherever you possibly could. To him, they felt like nothing. He's dealt with worse. In the struggle, you're sent tumbling down the stairs.

Mike uses his body to shield yours from the fall. He cradles your head against his chest. Yet still, you were fighting him, after everything he's done. You scurry towards the other side of the basement. As far away from him as you could possibly be.

Mike sighs with annoyance, "You have no idea what it's like..." he lifts himself off the floor, his hands now balled up into fists. He doesn't know how much longer he can hold himself back, "You have no idea what it's like seeing you every day, and not being able to do a damn thing!" he charges, slamming you against a wall, he leans his head closer to yours.

Still there was that look of admiration in his eyes, "We could've been so happy together," Mike grabs you by the throat, pulling you into a deep, searing kiss. In retaliation you bit his lip. He winces in pain, "Will you just...stop fighting me?!" his anger gets the best of him as he slams you against the wall. You're left stunned after getting the wind knocked out of your lungs.

Mike is quick to catch you. He panics, "Please! I don't want to hurt you!" He yells over and over again, "I love you! I love you! Please! I love you!" there are tears in his eyes, "Just please...let me love you..." he sighs against your neck, placing a kiss on the bare skin, "Look at what you do to me..." he grinds his bulge against your clothed mound.

You could practically feel how big it was, even through the many layers of clothing. It makes your skin crawl, how he's played the role of a caring professor and community member for so long. Could he even see himself right now?! "Look, whatever you want, a house, a baby, I'll give ya," Mike never knew he even wanted those things, not until he met you. Don't you see? You're all he's ever needed.

You fought him like a trapped animal. His feisty little wildcat. You use both fists to land a few good hits on his face, over and over again. Hitting his nose with a 'crunch' sound. But still, it doesn't stop him. Mike can't seem to understand why you were trying to escape. It was useless fighting him. This would be so much better if you just gave in. Because eventually, he's going to get what he wants. He pulls you into another forceful kiss.

For that, you headbutt in right in the face. Mike winches, pulling away from you with a now bloody nose. He throws you to the ground. Then pounces, caging his body on top of your own. He begins to unbuckle his belt, dragging his boxers down to free his cock. He spits a wad of blood in his palm, that'll do for now. He doesn't want to waste anymore time. Purge would be ending in a few hours, and he'll make sure to use every last minute of it.

He knows how the law works in this area. If a couple lived together for over a year, then it would legally bind them together as husband and wife. Mike doesn't mind that idea at all, 'My wife...you're going to be my wife," he sighs. Your stomach churns after hearing that, "No...no please, this isn't what I want!"

"You don't even know what you want" Mike starts lifting up your skirt, he's eager, almost giddy, "But I do," yanking down the waistband of your panties. He forces his member deep inside, groaning from the sensation of your walls pulsing. You scream from the intrusion. It resembles a cat's howl.

Tears begin to form, now blurring your vision. Your claws sink deep into his chest, as he began thrusting in and out of your channel. He doesn't stop, not until he finishes. He has only one goal on his mind, to plant his seed, leave a legacy behind, "Take it, take it..." he mumbles over and over again.

"Professor?" a student asks, causing Mike to break from his trance. His student asks the question again, "How was your purge?" genuinely curious. What did Professor Mike Kiernan, of all people, do to earn those nasty bruises? He's still wearing his sweater from yesterday, now caked in his own blood. The first thing he did the morning after, was drag himself out of bed and straight to lecture. He couldn't help but grin, "Well, ran into some trouble, but, no worries,"

His students and coworkers felt bad. They all said the same thing, how Mike was the last person who deserved something like this. If only they knew. After a long day of lectures, he finally drives home. He passes by the Purge's official memorial road. There are numerous photos of people who had either lost their lives or went missing.

When he sees your photo, he can't help but smirk. He parks his car on the side of the road, approaching the stand. He pockets the picture for keepsake, smiling to himself as he returns to his car. It's been a long time since Mike has looked forward to coming home.

Perhaps Purge wasn't so bad.

#dark!mike kiernan #reader #reader insert #reader x mike kiernan #mike kiernan x reader #dark!mike kiernan x reader #fem!reader #fab!read #afab!reader #my work #my works #cillian murphy character #cillian murphy smut #smut fic #dark fanfic #dark fic #dark!fanfiction #dark!fic #dark smut

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skrrts · 4 months ago

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Hey, are you busy right now? ft. HONGJOONG (drabble series)

✧ gn! reader x kim hongjoong ✧ genre: non-idol, slice of life, fluff, dating, video call ✧ word count: 904

You tried your best, really, but after hours of studying, you can't read another page. Calling your boyfriend seems like a good idea for a small break: When Hongjoong finally calls you back after missing your attempt of doing so, you can't help but wonder if he’s the one who needs to be reminded that breaks from work are important. It's hard to be upset with him when he's all sleepy, though.

You looked at your phone, pouting a little as it was ringing but it did not seem as if Hongjoong would pick up. No, you did not really blame him, honestly. If anything, he hopefully was asleep. Your boyfriend had an awful habit of overworking himself, accepting one or two too many projects at once.

You pushed yourself out of your seat, venturing into the kitchen to prepare a snack when you heard the soft buzzing of your phone, leading to you almost running, barely avoiding falling over your backpack when you answered.

It was dark, curtains keeping out the light but you could see a figure moving before a pretty face showed, barely visible in the dim light of the phone screen.

“Good morning,” his voice was still full of sleep but he smiled softly, tapping a painted nail against the screen

“It’s six in the evening, handsome,” you chuckled and he blinked, seemingly paying attention to the little clock on his phone.

“Oops,” his sleepy smile was one of the best, it was before all the worries of the day took over, Hongjoong always tried to hide all of them but you had gotten used to them.

“You need to work less, babe. What do I do with you?” you sighed as you closed your books.

Hongjoong rolled on his back, looking innocently: “I know… I just have a hard time to say no when they ask me if I can help out. For now, this is tough, I know but in the long run, once I made myself a name in the production scene, I will get better projects with more free time.”

For a moment, you stood there, contemplating, before carefully placing your phone on your nightstand, taking your backpack, and shoving things in.

“That’s not it silly, you need to look out for your health! I bet you did not only overwork yourself again but didn’t even have a proper meal, did you?” you held in and there was a hint of flush on your boyfriend's cheek, visible even in the dark.

“Maybe…?”

“Kim Hongjoong! What do I do with you and your bad habits?” he looked a little shy when you called him out by his full name but you chuckled, taking your phone.

“I just need to make sure you stay healthy. I know how important this is for you but you also need breaks, for your own sake and because your favorite person needs some of your attention too and to know you are doing okay.”

He chuckled, slipping out of bed, and turning on some lights: “Why do I feel like I was supposed to scold you? Did you study again for several hours without a break?”

You grinned: “Possible but now I was given a good excuse to stop with that for the day. I will pack a few things and come over, stay for a few days, if that's okay? I have the rest of the week off and I can just study at your place while you are off to work.”

Hongjoong hummed: “Challenging, when I have the most stunning person staying at my place, I am not sure if I can leave. There are so many things I’d rather do then: kiss, cuddle, whisper I love you over and over.”

Oh, you liked the sound of that. There was nothing better than falling asleep, feeling his arms curling around you by the time he came home and waking up with his pretty face snuggled closely to yours. The way how Hongjoong loved to cling to you from behind, eyes closed, chin resting against your shoulder, lazily following along while you prepare breakfasts, loose kisses here and there.

“I am afraid, you will have to take the risk,” you winked and the books landed in the bag too. Now you only needed to change into some other clothes and you would be good to go.

“Do you want me to buy food? We can cook together too. Honestly, I think I worked hard enough today, I deserve a break too.”

Hongjoong tilted his head: “Mh, cooking sounds fun.”

You clapped your hands together, smiling: “Gotcha! I’ll stop at the grocery store then. Anything else?”

You looked at Hongjoong in your screen and your cheeks turned red because he was looking at you in this very specific way, the one when he did not say I love you with words but his eyes.

“What’s with that gaze?” you asked shyly.

Hongjoong just smiled softly: “Nothing, was just thinking how lucky I am, having this amazing person kicking my butt cutely and loving this silly me.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled: “Somebody’s sappy this mor… evening but yes, he can count for that person always to be there!”

Your boyfriend grinned, leaning in a whisper: “So, would that person maybe … like to move in with me? Then we’d not have to do this via phone but in person… Instead, you could wake me up cutely with kisses and whisper how stunning I look, even with messy hair.”

Oh this guy!

“Joong!”

He laughed: “Sorry!”

You bit your lip, looking at him: “But… I’d like that. Let’s do it.”

Hongjoong turned on the lights in his kitchen and opened the cupboard. In there were two cups you did not know yet, very likely handpainted by him, with his and your name on, in your favorite colors and cute prints.

“Welcome home, Y/N.”

#hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong drabble #ateez x reader #ateez drabble #ateez imagines #ateez writing #kim hongjoong x reader #hj tag #reis writes #hey are you busy right now?#ateez fluff #hongjoong fluff

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emotionoitme · 1 year ago

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human, for a minute

part three of about a girl

read part two here

carmy berzatto x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of a stalker, mutual pining feels, crying, carmen in denial, a hint of steaminess

wc: 4.7k

a/n: angst chapter!!!!! i hope i make u all cry >:) please leave me a comment to let me know what you think! <3 i’ll be posting a spotify playlist link on my page for the series soon. if you’re enjoying the story stay tuned for one more part!

shame - human, for a minute

the phone rings again, for what seems to be the fiftieth time, blaring through the restaurant in a piercing shrill. clamor of utensils and dishware, the occasional shout of instruction breaking the static noise. the man feels a headache creeping on, trying to force himself to not check the clock again. it hadn’t been long since he last checked it, and he knew he would regret it the moment he did. his eyes dart upwards. it’s 1:35.

she wasn't supposed to come in until 3, scheduled to close that night, he reminds himself. in that moment he craved the sense of peace she brought to the environment, the noticeable ease in dinner services within the past five months of her employment reasserting her essentiality. orders were smoother, customers were happier, shifts seemed shorter. he also found it thoroughly grounding to be able to look up from his work, through the expo window and watch her for just a moment, not that he would admit to it. he had dropped her off at home on his way to the restaurant that morning, watching her walk up her complex stairs clad in a white shirt and a pair of hanes, both borrowed, and noticeably oversized.

he cuts back to his task at hand, setting a plate down, drizzling a sauce over the surface, not checking the clock.

he thinks back to when he had gently woken her hours earlier. slipping out of bed at the sound of his alarm, hand groggily coming to rub his face, making his way to the bathroom. he practically forgot she was there in his tired haze, the memories of the night flooding back to him when he returned to the bedroom, staring at her sleeping form. his heart inexplicably ached at the sight as he gently opened his dresser drawers, beginning to get ready for work. he dresses, mentally rattling off things that need to be done at the restaurant, running his hands through his unruly bed head. he brushes his teeth, locates his keys and wallet, and puts on his socks all before making his way back over to the sleeping girl.

he wanted to leave her there, come back home and find her waiting there just for him. the man checked the time on his phone, nearing 7 o’clock. he leans over the bed, placing a hand on her side and lightly rubbing. she shifts, blinking awake, meeting his eyes.

“hey,” he greets softly, brushing her hair behind her ear, resting his hand on her for a moment. she sleepily smiles, eyes bleary.

“morning,” she responds quietly, looking him over, “you gotta go?”

he nods, internalizing his disappointment, removing his hand from her hair.

“okay,” she responds, rubbing her eyes, “i’ll get up.” she slowly sits up, holding the blanket to her bare chest, trying to blink away the sleepiness. carmy notices the slight sway in her seated form, eyes heavy, watching a small shiver pass over her.

“you can stay,” he tells her, “go back to sleep if you want.”

she looks up to his standing form, tempted to accept his offer, wanting nothing more than to stay cozied up in a bed that smells like him. she rationalizes the situation, though, tying her hair up out of her face. she wasn’t going to overstay her welcome, telling herself, he’s just trying to be nice.

“you’re not scared of me snooping through your stuff?” she asks, eyebrow raising a bit. he lets out a laugh, slightly taken aback by her question.

“would you?” he asks.

she thinks for a moment, head tilting.

“probably not…but you would never know if i did,” she answers, grinning. he smiles in amusement, quickly raking his eyes over her face, trailing down to her collarbones, shoulders, exposed back.

“do you think you could take me home?” she asks, “on your way to work?”

“yeah,” he answers, “yeah, of course.” to which she smiles in response.

she goes to get out of bed when she remembers her nudity concealed by the sheet, pausing, embarrassment evident on her face. he smiles at her hesitation, the girl acting as if he hadn’t seen her stark naked the night before. she turns to him, “can i also borrow something to wear home?” she asks, “please? i wanna get back in bed.”

in that moment he couldn’t fathom saying no to her, immediately grabbing her a few things she could choose from, her selecting a plain white shirt and a pair of his checkered boxers. she gets out of bed, skin raised in goosebumps from the chill morning, slipping his shirt over her head, then walking past carmen to the living room, searching for her discarded panties. the man watched her, entranced, surprised at how viscerally affected he was at the sight. he loved the way she looked in his clothes, debating telling her to keep them forever.

he tries to ignore the implications of their time together, as he stands over the finished plate, phone on the wall still ringing.

“hands!” he calls, moving away from the dish, wiping his hands on the rag draped over his shoulder.

fuck, he thinks, what am i doing?

everything had been moving so fast— having told himself prior he wouldn’t pursue her at all, let alone invite her to stay the night wrapped in his arms, mind completely clouded with the thought of her. he thinks to his initial intention, a quick hookup, something to help him let off some steam, alleviate the pressure that built within him the second he laid eyes on her. it didn’t alleviate anything, though, finding himself stuck on the thought of her more now than ever.

“fuck, can i get some hands, please?” carmen yells out, already busied by the next task, eyebrows furrowed and jaw tight.

it was like he was trying to quit a drug by injecting it directly into his veins, incessantly tortured by his inner dilemma surrounding her. it was apparent to many that the restaurant required her help, especially amidst a rush much like the one happening now. he knew this. knew that she couldn’t continue to work here if the two of them were to grow closer than they already had, their current relationship being a major conflict of interest, to say the least.

gotta put an end to it, he tells himself, chest tightening at the thought. he shakes this away, takes a deep breath and refocuses himself on his work. he glances up at the clock again. an hour left. he rips his eyes away, mentally chastising himself.

i have to tell her today, the thought creating a sinking in his stomach.

—

she flings open the heavy metal door, quickly finding safety inside, heart rapidly beating from her rushed pace. she lets out a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. she walks further inside, opening a locker and setting her bag down, zoning out for a second, deeply perturbed by what she had experienced on her commute.

“hey, welcome in,” she hears a chipper voice, turning to see sydney.

“hey. thanks chef,” she responds softly, taking a moment to process the simple greeting, tying her hair back out of her face. the girl, heavy in thought, slowly makes her way to the front of store, passing by carmen’s office, his door ajar.

“hey, chef,” she hears him call out to her. she pauses, turning to the seated man.

“hi,” she gently greets, attempting to silence the waver in her tone. she pauses, looking at him, debating to tell him what happened.

“you okay?” he asks, concern on his face. she decides to shake it off, wanting to get through this shift without any tears, go home, crawl under her covers and never come out again.

“yeah,” she nods, “i’m okay.”

carmen keeps the same expression, tilting his head slightly, not fully believing her. she looks away from him, feeling as if by locking eyes she would bare her soul. he narrows his gaze, studying the girl, and she feels herself cracking.

“i’ll tell you later,” she compromises, crossing her arms.

“okay,” he accepts, nodding, eyeing her form before she turns to walk to the front of house.

the man feels a slight churn in his stomach, wondering if she would beat him to the conversation he wanted to initiate. except she had looked pale, almost like she had seen a ghost. he rubs his hand over his face, leaning back in his chair, letting out a heavy sigh.

the dinner shift that night was hectic beyond belief. broken dishes, incorrect tickets, increased waiting times— the kitchen was tense, carmen rounding off orders, sydney bustling back and forth between stations to assist. the usual rhythm the dinner crew seemed to fall into proved to be virtually nonexistent. the young woman at the front blamed herself for his, her head completely out of it tonight. she had punched in orders wrong, mixed up drink requests, misplaced seating sections. she brought her hand up to rub her forehead, trying to fix an error she had entered into their system, brain pulsing with a headache. she refused to check the clock, knowing she must be only four or five hours in at this point. her brain felt foggy, clouded by the jarring things that had been said to her on her walk to work.

i’ll get some cold water and go take a breath in the back, she thinks, trying to mentally encourage herself through the shift. she quickly walks to the back, trying to be as fast as she can, squeezing through the kitchen and darting for the back room. her body feels hot, panicked, as she nears the last turn.

“corner!” she hears all too late, slamming face first into a firm chest, the impact knocking the air out of her lungs for a moment.

“shit!” he curses, tightly grabbing her hips on instinct to steady her. she lets out a labored breath, bringing her head up to her forehead, pounding even harder. she looks up to meet carmy’s gaze, embarrassment on her face.

“corner, chef?” he asks, brow creased, letting his hands linger for a moment before letting go of her.

“i’m sorry, chef,” she breathes out, tears brimming at her eyes, a waver in her tone. the frustration on his face is replaced by a look of concern, bringing his hand to touch her arm.

“hey,” he says softly, “you alright?”

she takes a deep breath, knot heavy at the back of her throat.

“i’m alright,” she answers gently, “i just need a second.”

he softly says her name, deeply searching her eyes as if they would present to him all her troubles.

“i just don’t wanna think about it right now,” she whispers, lip beginning to tremble.

“okay, sweetheart, that’s fine,” he reassures her, the name slipping off his tongue unintentionally. she wants to cry, dive into his arms hearing his soft tone, quickly wiping a tear before it can slip down her face.

“why don’t you go sit in the office, huh? take a breather,” he suggests.

she nods, looking down to her shoes. he gives her arm a soft pat before removing it altogether, walking past her to the kitchen. the sight of her anguish was admittedly difficult for carmen to see, his mind rattling with possibilities of what could be upsetting her so badly. he waited in anticipation for closing time, trying to keep a close eye on the girl throughout the night, who seemed to be falling back into rhythm after her short break. the last three hours of business wrapped up quickly, staff numbers dwindling more and more as the night progressed. carmy spent the last thirty minutes of the night in his confined office, sorting through licenses and finalizing next week’s schedule into the system. he turns the computer off, closing his eyes for a moment to alleviate the strain he felt, reveling in the quiet. rising from the chair and stretching, he walks through the small office door, turning the corner to come into the kitchen. his eyes land on her, wiping the pristine flat top with a dry rag. she looks up at the movement, hard gaze softening at the sight of him.

“hey,” she greets softly, “i’m all done. just finishing the counters.”

“looks great, thank you,” he returns, nodding. she gives a small smile at the praise but he can still notice a heaviness upon her demeanor, eyes more dull than they usually are.

“i’m, uh, just gonna smoke,” he continues, “then i’ll take you home, alright?”

she nods. “thank you,” meeting his gaze, drifting her eyes over his incredibly handsome face. she doesn’t make any small talk, drying the last wet spot and walking to the back to toss the dirty towel in a hamper. carmen walks back into his office, removing his apron and pulling his wallet, keys, cigarettes from the drawer. he then switches off the small desk lamp, coating the room in thick darkness. he emerges towards the glow of the kitchen fluorescents, the girl washing her hands, drying them, and walking to retrieve her belongings out of a locker. they silently make their way outside, carmy turning off the lights behind them and shutting the back door. they both revel in the fresh air of the cool night, a sense of serenity in the silence that engulfed the alleyway. he hears her take a deep breath, fishing a cigarette from his carton and placing it in between his lips. he shoves his hand into his pocket, finding only his wallet and keys. he checks his other one, then the back pockets.

“fuck,” he swears, head falling back against the metal door, nerves pricking with inclination. he turns to the non-smoker in a glimpse of yielding hope, “you got a light?” he asks. she stares forward, fixated on the same point, leaning against the same door. it takes her a second for her to meet his eyes in a glance, her response delayed

“lighter? uh, yeah i think,” she answers, beginning to dig through her bag. she pulls out a bright blue bic, and he chuckles in relief. she hands it to the man, his fingers sliding over hers as he takes it from her. carmy ignites the flame, bringing it to the tip of the cigarette and deeply inhaling, a noticeable tension subsiding within him. he goes to hand the lighter back to her.

“keep it,” she tells him, bumping her shoulder against his lightly. he smiles, pocketing the blue object.

“thank you,” he responds, genuinely, taking another long drag. the two share a beat of silence, the girl unmoving from her position, shoulder flush against his. a breeze sweeps through the street, calm after the storm.

he clears his throat.

“so you, uh, gonna tell me what happened?” his tone soft, keeping his eyes trained forward. he feels her deeply inhale, mentally preparing himself for the worst. she thinks for a moment, piecing together her explanation. a cloud of smoke seeps through the alleyway from carmen.

“you know how i used to work at ricky’s?” she starts. he glances at her, nodding. “well, um,” she continues, “there was this regular that we had, some older guy. he was always there during my shifts,” she hesitates, “and, uh, he turned out to be kind of a creep.”

carmen turns to her, watching her closely now.

“like, he would wait for outside for me until i was off and try to talk to me,” she explains, voice beginning to strain, “and, uh, he got my phone number somehow? and started sending me these terrible messages.” the man holds her in an unwavering gaze, his jaw tightening. he takes a drag of his cigarette, watching her.

“so, i got a new number,” she clarifies, “and uh, a new job,” glancing at him, “and everything stopped.” her eyes start to brim with tears.

“okay,” he encourages, eyebrows deeply furrowed, but tone soft and sweet. he stubs his cigarette out, tossing it. she takes a shaky breath.

“and then this morning i was walking here,” quickly bringing her hand up to wipe a stray tear, “and this truck pulled up next to me,” her throat grows tight and hot, “and it was him, carmy,” she lets out in a sob. he instinctively pulls her into his arms, wrapping around her tightly, resting his head on hers. his gaze was fixated behind the girl on the ground, a hot wave of anger burning beneath his skin.

“what happened?” he asks, an urgency in his words.

she buries her face into his chest, slightly shaking, tears soaking his white shirt.

“he said all these…horrible things to me,” she sobs out, grabbing onto him as if he were her lifeline. he puts his hand on her hip, pulling back slightly to look at her, worry spread over his features, tears pouring down her cheeks, face flushed.

“hey,” he says in a concerned tone, her puffy eyes coming to meet his. carmen tightens the arm around her back, whispering her name, “what did he say to you, baby?” he really never means to call her that, it just slips out.

she bites back a sob, wishing she could melt into the man— escape from everything, remain engulfed in the soothing warmth of his safety forever.

“i can’t, carmy,” she cries, shaking her head. he feels a pit in his stomach, anxiety prickling through his body.

“okay,” he concedes, nodding, “that’s okay, you don’t have to right now.” he scans her face, bringing a hand to her cheek and gently wiping the tears from her eyes.

“you don’t have anything to worry about now,” he tells her, voice low, “i’m gonna take care of you, okay? that fucko isn’t gonna come anywhere near you,” he asserts, gripping her tightly.

“okay,” she whispers, the weightless feeling of the tremendous fear alleviating in her chest.

“let’s get you home, yeah?” he asks her, watching the girl shut her eyes, nodding, a few stray tears rolling down her cheek and sliding off her jaw, bringing her sleeves up to dry them. carmy keeps his hand wrapped around her hip, turning to slowly walk her to the car. he felt an overwhelming possessiveness clouding his rationality— an unyielding urge to do whatever he can to protect her, the thought of another man even looking at her wrong electrifying him with anger. they arrive at the passenger’s side, carmy opening the door for her and helping her into the car as she mutters a soft thanks. he closes her door, letting out a deep sigh, plagued by indecision, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the dark car window. the answer would be incredibly simple had he chosen to go with his heart, but carmen was reluctant in trusting something that had previously brought him only distraction and turmoil. he’s gonna be logical about this, he decides, reassuring himself no good boss should be fucking around with his young employees. he wanted to be a good man to her, too, feeling undeserving of her attention, her loving gaze. he makes his way to the driver’s door, getting into the car. he starts the ignition, pulling out of the alleyway into the street, turning in the direction of her apartment. the short ride was quiet, the exception of a few spare sniffles sounding from the girl. a soft melody played on the radio, drowning out the hum of the road. he glances to her, the girl’s gaze fixed on the passing surroundings outside her window. he turns down the music, slightly.

“you did good today,” he praises, impressed by her resilience. she lets out a scoff.

“i cried in your office for like ten minutes straight,” she responds, watching the light of the moving street lamps bleed together.

“i know,” his voice gentle, low, “i’m still proud of ‘ya,” he tells the sulking girl. she finds herself start to smile very softly at this, the man’s words warming the chill she had felt since being approached by the strange man. he slowly pulls up to her complex, shifting the gear into park, the girl undoing her seatbelt.

“carm,” she calls, directing the man’s attention to her, eyes expectantly meeting hers. she feels at a bit lost for words, unsure of how to express the tremendous gratitude she felt for him, how to express to him how much she feels she needs him. so instead she just leans forward, throwing her arms around the man, burying her head into his neck. he lets out a breath at the unexpected touch, wrapping his arms around her, bringing a hand up to grasp the back of her neck.

“thank you,” she whispers into him, “for everything.”

his heart clenches, a deep ache growing in his chest.

“you shouldn’t thank me,” he softly responds, holding her close to him, feeling entirely unworthy of the gratitude, knowing soon enough he would have to hurt her— end things completely.

she pulls back, bringing her forehead to his, closing her eyes.

“come inside?” she asks him, breath gracing his lips, “please,” she pleads.

carmen’s eyes flutter shut, sliding his hand from the back of her neck to the side, grabbing, savoring her sweet scent. he feels something ignite within him touching her like this, nose brushing against hers. he wants so badly to lean forward, engulf her lips in his, taste her. he lets out a groan, forcing himself to pull away from her, dropping his hand from her neck. he sighs, hesitating for a moment, fighting against every urge within him.

“i, uh… i can’t,” he tells her, drawing his gaze away from her, towards the illumination of his headlamps on the asphalt. she presses her hands onto the center console, turning and leaning over it to the man. she brings a hand to his face, pulling him in slightly, dipping her head into his neck to gently pepper kisses along his skin. her hand slides to his firm chest, pressing into him. his head falls back, clenching his jaw, rationality crumbling rapidly beneath her lips.

“please, carmy,” she prays into his skin, “come make me feel better,” biting to leave a small mark. he feels hot from the inside out, blood rushes through him, a growing pulse beneath his pants. he takes a deep breath, trying to recenter himself, focus on anything but the feeling of her against him. he says her name, sternly, the girl pulling away at his tone, meeting his gaze. he shuts his eyes tightly, running a hand over his face.

i guess it’s now or never.

“we, uh… we can’t,” he sighs, pausing, piecing his words together. “we can’t do this anymore.”

her expression remains flat, brows slightly furrowed.

“do what?” she asks carefully, sitting back in her seat, away from him. he just looks at her, implication in his silence. her brows set further, biting her lip to stop it from trembling. the look in her eyes is almost disbelief, a gnawing forms deep within carmen’s stomach. she shakes her head, slightly.

“where is this coming from?” she asks, voice quiet. he can’t bring himself to meet her eyes in the moment.

“i don’t want this to go… too far,” he hesitates, throwing her a quick glance, “I don't-,” pushing his hair back, taking a breath. she brings her hand to rest on his, moving closer.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” he admits, locking eyes with her, finding serenity in the depths of her irises, his shoulders noticeably untensing, leaning further in towards her when he doesn’t mean to. she scoots closer, her hands cold on his, falling deeply into his cerulean gaze. he selfishly pulls her into him, once more, strong arm coming to wrap around her, holding her against him, her arms coming to clutch his shirt. he smells her sweet perfume, deeply inhaling, feeling almost human for a moment. she pulls back just slightly, her cheek brushing against his, coming to rest her forehead against his once more, almost as if it would ease the pain. she shuts her eyes, inching impossibly closer, eager to feel him pressed against her.

“i don’t want you to either,” she whispers, tears burning behind her tightly shut eyes. his hand comes up to the base of her neck, carding his fingers up through her hair, softly grabbing. she sighs against his lips, yearning.

so close.

hearts pounding, skin hot, faces flush.

fuck it.

she leans forward, finally pressing her lips against his— warm, plump, so incredibly soft— the two moaning in tandem at the sensation. it’s almost overwhelming for carmen, his breath hitching at the contact, selfishly letting himself melt into her, the best thing he’s ever had on his lips. he knows this will blur lines between them even more, complicate, hurt, but he didn’t care, their kisses soft and slow, electrifying nerves. he grabs her hair, tighter, pulling her closer to him, gently sliding his tongue along her bottom lip. she accepts it, kissing him deeply, letting out a whimper, grabbing whatever she can of him, desperate to fully feel him against her. her hands fall onto the muscle of his bicep, squeezing, the pressure of his lips hot against hers, marveling at the intensity of the kiss. teeth clash, tongues embrace, pulling, grabbing, each exchanging a small piece of their soul through the heat of their lips. his free hand grabs her waist, slow, hot kisses increasing in ferocity, his mind feeling completely numb to any previous objection. she sucks his lip, lightly, the man groaning deeply, the sensation of her mouth greater than anything he’d ever experienced. he deepens the kiss. her core aches, wanting to hoist herself up, slide in between him and the steering wheel, have him take her right in his car. but she pulled away with a final few kisses, the two breathing heavily, car windows fogging with condensation. he frowns at the loss of contact, opening his eyes, meeting her face, lips swollen, eyes low.

“you’re right,” she admits, quietly. he looks at her in confusion, needing to feel her again. she bites her lip, a few tears growing in her eyes. “we need to stop,” a whisper.

his lungs tighten, pit in his stomach. he shouldn’t have kissed her back, he thinks, head spinning.

she wipes an escaped tear, leaning forward to hug him once more, savoring the feeling of him, safe and solid. he doesn’t know what to say, so he just holds her tightly, for what he knows to be the last time. she sniffles, coming back to kiss his cheek, then pulling away completely, grabbing her bag off the floor of his car.

“thanks for the ride,” she tells him quietly, opening the door, locking eyes with him, the two with a mutual look of pain behind their gaze. he just nods, not trusting his voice. she steps out into the summer night, taking a deep breath, turning back to him.

“goodnight, carm,” shutting the car door and walking to the stairs of her complex. once her back is to him, she lets the salty tears stream down her face, knot in her throat, face hot with embarrassment, heart clenching inexplicably. she knew this would happen, so why did it hurt so bad?

it was never supposed to go this far, but it did.

small fragments of heart scattering behind her like crumbled porcelain, leading back to the idling car where he sat, numb.

fuck, he curses himself as soon as the door shuts. he tries taking deep breaths to calm himself, to no avail, the space of the car now feeling confined as if it were closing in on him.

“fuck!” he yells, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. it was supposed to be the right decision— things were never supposed to go so far. so why did it feel like his heart was shattering beneath the weight of his ribs?

he watches her trudge up the stairs, her shoulders visibly shaking.

—

i really hope you liked it! final part coming soon, and will be a long one! <3

thank you for your continued support on this series!! :)

part 4 - under the moon

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagine #the bear imagine

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baronessvonglitter · 4 months ago

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Cherry, Cherry 🍒 Chapter 15 🍒

"Shameless"

pre-outbreak! AU!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: 3,469

Summary: secrets are revealed at Sarah's birthday party

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, age gap (reader is 18, Joel is 35), takes place July 2003, (not-so) secret relationship, morning quickie, unprotected piv (reader is later mentioned to be on birth control), Joel being a grumpy protective dad, jealousy, oral (m receiving), someone walks in on you and Joel during an intimate moment, revelation of your relationship (at last!), no use of y/n. If I've left out any tags please let me know!

Author's Note: there was a lot I wanted to cram in here because the next chapter gets quite serious. Also, anyone interested in the "Shameless" song can find it here. Fun fact: it was written by Billy Joel about a decade before Garth Brooks covered it and quite honestly, Garth sings it better. I feel like it just perfectly captures Joel’s feelings about helplessly falling in love.

Series Masterlist

Your phone rings on your nightstand, the tinny Nokia ringtone interrupting your morning quickie with Joel.

"Don't answer it," he pants behind you, slamming into you as he grabs your hips.

"Wasn't going to," you gasp, closing your eyes when he leans down to kiss your neck.

The phone rings again.

"Who's calling at 5:30 in the morning?" he grumbles, lips grazing your ear, his breath hot on your skin. He pulls you upright, his movements slow and steady. He palms your breast in one hand and toys with your clit, enjoying your little cries of pleasure as you snake your arm around to bring him to you for a sloppy kiss.

It doesn't take long for you to come, Joel hitting that hidden spot inside you this way. He stills long enough to relish the sweet, strong pull of your walls seizing around him. "That's it, my beautiful darlin'," he whispers against your neck. The scent of your skin keeps him spellbound, your pulse pounding just beneath his lips. He's going to think about this moment all day at work.

The phone rings again and, frustrated, you reach out to shut off the noise. Joel doesn't part from you, flattening you to the bed as you scramble for the little silver phone. "Not gettin' away that easy," he grunts, his chest pressed to your back. You turn off the phone ringer, cutting the annoying ringtone in mid-play and toss it on the floor where your clothes from last night are discarded.

Joel sweeps your hair to the side, his thighs on either side of your legs as he pumps into you, hands on your waist. Trapped between his legs you feel him even more snugly inside you, the friction almost too much. "Joel!" you moan, half-muffled by the pillow against your cheek.

"That feel good? You gonna come on my cock again, babygirl?"

Just him mentioning it causes an automatic reaction, your body so acclimated to him by now that his pleasure is yours and vice versa. "Yes," you moan again, pushing yourself up slightly to be heard clearly. "Harder!" you eke out.

He rumbles low in his chest, pulse racing, heart feeling like it might just give out, but what a fucking wonderful way to go. Your pleas for more are answered as his thrusts become aggressive. "Fuck!" you whimper, your body on edge as he continues his hard work.

"I can feel ya grippin' me so tight, sweetheart.. Jesus, I never get tired of feelin' you this way."

"Joel.." you beg. "Don't stop, don't stop..."

He sustained his pace, beads of sweat starting to surface on his skin and yours, his hands on your shoulders for leverage. When you break apart, cunt throbbing, hips and ass arching up to get every inch of him soaked with your sweetness, he can't help but finally let go, slamming into you one final time as he spills every drop into you, staying still, keeping you at an angle so that you get all of it, all of him.

With Joel in the shower (it took a lot of willpower not to join him, but he was already late for work due to your morning fuckfest), you find your phone on the floor and see who called you.

Of course it was your mom.

Three calls, two voicemails, and plenty of texts.

Suppressing a groan, you dial her back, quickly wrapping a blanket around yourself and heading out to the hallway.

She answers with an annoyed tone. "What are you doing that's so important that you can't call back immediately?"

You roll your eyes. "Mom.. it's super early and it's my day off. Can't I sleep in?"

"You should start waking up early, go outside, get some exercise, it's good for you. Plus school is starting soon anyway. Don't you want to pursue good habits?"

"Yeah," you tell her, though it's honestly the last thing on your mind. This summer has distracted you from everything you hoped you'd do, and given you something even better, something you never thought you'd have.. love.. sex.. things most people took for granted but you'd been gifted with simply for being in the right place at the right time.

"Tell me why I have a bill from my insurance for a gynecologist visit."

A large lump forms in your throat, as if a natural instinct to block the truth from coming out. You'd rarely lied to your mom simply because she was good at hounding the truth from you.

"I had a UTI. Sofia recommended a good doctor." In truth you'd gone to get on the pill, a decision you'd been proud of, taking care of your sexual health. Not to mention it made Joel more excitable than ever, and almost every night had been spent with him filling you up.

"Okay.." your mom doesn't sound completely satisfied with that answer, but she lets it go. You talk a little about your summer so far, talk about her boyfriend and the road trips they take. You pray she never makes the trip out here to ruin the peacefulness of the newfound independence you've forged for yourself.

"What're you doin' out here?" Joel asks, finding you leaning against the wall. He's freshly showered, dark hair slick, skin scented with Irish Spring soap. His dark red tee clings to every muscle, even the little belly you're so fond of that he sometimes feels insecure about.

"I had to make a call," you tell him, exhaling sharply as he removes the blanket hiding your body.

"Come on, lemme see."

Your heart thuds in your ears as you open your legs, the remnants of his cum leaving a sticky trail on your skin.

"God damn.. I never get tired of that sight.. gonna fill ya up again soon, babygirl. And don't forget about tomorrow."

Tomorrow.. Sarah's birthday barbecue..

"Sure thing, darlin'. Oh by the way, I put some air in your tire, it was lookin' a little flat. Don't want you runnin' off the road and gettin' hurt," he says.

"Thanks," you're genuinely touched by his gesture.

"Next weekend I'll change the oil," he says, putting the blanket back on you. "But only if you bring me some lemonade while wearin' a cute little skirt." He narrowly evades a swat from your hand as he ducks, laughing. "All right, all right, I'm goin'. Love you." He kisses your lips softly.

About to head out to the mall to get a birthday present for Sarah, you spot a CD on the console of your car. It's Garth Brooks' Ropin' the Wind. The blue-eyed country singer poses on the cover, clad in a black and blue dress shirt against a blue sky background. You had this poster when you were a kid. It's probably still in your room if your mom hasn't redecorated.

On the back of the CD there's a sticky note: play #6

You smile, seeing what track that is, and as you make yourself comfortable in the car, starting it and letting the AC cool your heated skin, you listen to 'Shameless'. The lyrics feel like they come from Joel himself, the passion and devotion, how you've transformed him, stripped away the person he used to be for someone better, happier.

A teardrop splashes onto your lap before you realize you're crying. No one has ever shown you this kind of love, this much love before. If Joel was here now you'd kiss him.

You put the song on repeat, the anthem of your love, the anthem of your last innocent summer.

"Ice cream cake? In this heat?"

"Do you have any extra towels? And sunscreen? I forgot mine."

"I think we're gonna need some more aluminum foil."

Your house is bustling with guests, mostly friends of the Millers, other people you know, and kids Sarah hangs out with. Not one for attention, she's still enjoying celebrating her day, even more so because Joel allowed (hesitantly at first) for her to invite boys.

"One boy," he said at first.

"A boy with a bunch of girls? At that age? He'll be scared shitless," you told him.

"Good. Then he'll leave early."

You and Sarah managed to sweet talk him into agreeing on inviting two boys.

Right now they're both in the water with Sarah and her friends, splashing, being kids.

"How's it feel to have a fourteen-year-old?" you ask him as he prepares the meat to put on the grill. The air is scented with seasoning as he expertly adds it to the chicken and ribs. Tommy's at the other counter making a margarita.

He shrugs a little, glances outside at the pool where the teens are shouting and diving. "Makes me feel old."

"You're not." You rest your head on his shoulder, and hear Tommy behind you saying, "Aww. When's the weddin'?"

"What?" you force a little laugh as you turn around, watching him watching you and Joel. Joel ignores him, face turning red as he prepares the food.

"I'm just sayin'.. y'all are cute together."

"I--" there's no other reaction you can think of on the fly except to act dumb, as you're woefully unprepared for his remark in the first place.

"Let her be," Joel grunts. "Babygirl, can you open the sliding door for me?"

Following you, Joel gives Tommy a look.

Hailey from the cafe shows up, bringing some Smirnoff Ice. You sit in the shade, sipping your drinks as you surreptitiously eye Joel at the grill, listening halfheartedly as she talks about the latest guy she dated, what a disaster he was in bed. Little could she possibly know the fun you've been getting into with your own man.

"He's so hot," she says suddenly.

"Yeah," you agree, still in your own daydreams. "Who?" you ask, alert.

"Joel Miller," she answers, eyes looking past you and at your boyfriend, at the grill, laughing at something Tommy's saying.

"Oh.. yeah.." Her assessment comes so suddenly that you aren't sure how to answer. What feels like jealousy starts to bubble in the pit of your stomach.

Hailey's eyes don't leave him, and it starts to irk you. You feel a smidgen of what Joel must have felt when that idiot at the saloon had his hands on you without your permission.

"I'm fucking him."

The look on her face is priceless. "What? You're kidding.. I thought you were a virgin!"

"Was," you say with some smugness.

"Damn, girl!" Hailey looks impressed. "Is that why you asked me about what it's like with older guys?"

"Sort of. Well, yeah."

"What's he like?" she asks in a whisper.

Now this is the part you want to keep to yourself. Let the world know this man is yours, but you won't give any more details than that. It's private, it's sacred. But now Hailey thinks it's just physical.

"I'm not wearin' that," Joel chuckles at Tommy, averting his eyes from the navy blue apron his brother has produced from a shopping bag.

"At least try it on."

Sighing deeply, Joel removes his old, faded black apron and puts on the new one, unable to take himself seriously.

It reads, EAT MY MEAT on the front, with a picture of a perfectly placed hot dog.

"I ain't wearin' this," Joel repeats.

"You don't gotta. It was just a joke. That's supposed to be your birthday present by the way, so happy early birthday."

"Thanks." Joel rolls his eyes, stuffing the apron back into the bag and tending to the barbecue.

"So.." Tommy sips the margarita in his hand. "How'd an old sourpuss like you land a college girl?" He motions to you, walking back towards the house. "And don't tell me 'nothing' because that ain't true. She was leavin' your house that one mornin', you brought her home the other night, carryin' her though the front door like it was your honeymoon. You're with her all the time."

Joel shakes his head, purses his lips as he ignores his brother's look. He's tempted to say, 'She's just a cute, feisty eighteen-year-old who takes care of my daughter and gives great head.' But he doesn't have it in him to denigrate you to his own kin.

"Keep this between us," Joel warns him. Tommy nods. "But yeah, we've been seein' each other."

A little smile forms on his little brother's face. "I knew it! Sofia owes me twenty bucks."

"Don't tell her. Not yet."

Tommy nods. "Okay.. but you might not wanna wait too long, brother. Makes you look guilty."

"Sometimes I feel guilty," he mutters. "I'm twice her age. What's she doin' with someone like me?"

"I'm askin' myself the same thing," Tommy laughs. "You deserve to be happy," he adds.

"I appreciate that," Joel says warmly. "And she does.. she makes me happy."

Coming back outside from taking a break in the AC, the first thing you zone in on is Joel. And Hailey is next to him, flipping her blonde hair. Touching his shoulder. They're laughing together.

Jealousy is not an attractive trait in a woman, you can almost hear your mother say, but for the first time in your life you feel it, like a cold spike in your belly, altering your brain chemistry, blinding you to everything except them.

Before you realize what you're doing, you're marching over to them, looping your arm through Joel's, telling Hailey that you need to talk to him.

You're on autopilot, your brain screaming at you to be normal, to stop while you still can, but the green-eyed monster has taken over, and it's this monster that brings you to your room, closing the door behind you as you tear his stupid apron off him and unbutton his cargo shorts.

"Babygirl, what--"

"Why were you talking to her?" you ask, relieved that he's not hard because of Hailey and disappointed that he's not hard because he's alone with you.

"She was askin' me when the food was gonna be ready," he replies, a little exhalation of surprise when you get down on your knees before him and stroke him. "What's this about, baby? Are you.. are you jealous?"

"Of course not." You seem offended he would even suggest it, but there's a desperation to the way you're handling his cock, as if you're afraid if you stop touching it it'll go into someone else.

"Baby, it's okay. I don't like her. Don't even know 'er."

There's silence, a small grunt as you get him worked up for you, finally hard and pulsing in your hand.

"She knows." you tell him, licking the salty precum off his tip. "I told her."

His dark eyes narrow a moment before going wide as he thrusts against your touch, needing friction, either the softness of your hands or the wetness of your mouth. "I told Tommy," he admits.

There's a brief moment where the air is filled with a sense of harmony. It's a relief to you both.

With a heart full of warm, fuzzy feelings, you bring him to your mouth, cupping his ass with your hands.

"I want to do the cake!" Sarah announces, emerging from the pool and wrapping herself in a towel. Her friends follow suit, still kids at heart despite the fact that they're about to go into high school. Sofia brings out the ice cream cake, perfectly thawed out, and Tommy places the candles on - trick ones that don't extinguish - as everyone begins to gather around.

"Wait, where's Dad?" Sarah asks. "Wait, let me go find him."

The house is calm and cool inside, chilling her still-damp skin. Joel's nowhere to be seen, so she searches deeper into the house.

Getting closer to your bedroom, she hears something, a soft sound, a sigh or a moan. She doesn't think about what it could be, only who.

Your bedroom door swings open silently, and it's a long moment before Sarah can grasp what she sees: you, on the floor in front of her dad, the soft sighs coming from both of you.

It's just a second but it feels like an hour goes by as she leaves, closing the door behind her louder than she intends, walking back out to the party, a thousand-yard stare on her face.

She walked in on an intimate moment between you and her dad, and though she'd teased you about it, even predicted that something like this would happen, seeing it was very different. If she's walked in on you kissing it would've been different, but it's as if you've ruined her hopes, as if you've skipped the fairytale ending and shown a cruder, lewd side of being an adult.

When she returns, brushing the tears from her eyes, she simply says that she doesn't feel well, they can skip the birthday song, please serve her friends first, she's going home next door to lay down.

Joel's a little disappointed when he learns Sarah left early, attributing it to her burgeoning teenage attitude, which he'd rather not deal with at the moment.

Selfishly, you're more preoccupied with whoever it was who closed the door on you and Joel earlier. Obviously someone had seen you, accidentally, and left quickly. It could be anyone at this party. Walking back after your hookup feels like going in front of a firing squad. A glance from this person means one thing, a word from another person means something else.

As the day grows late you keep at Joel's side. He doesn't try to push you away. You make yourself comfortable, sitting next to him as you eat, letting your thigh brush his. You even lightly brush an imaginary piece of lint off his shirt, your hand lingering on his shoulder as you talk with the other guests.

You forget who's idea it is to tie knots into cherry stems. You've never heard of the challenge, and when a bowl of leftover cherries from the cocktails made earlier that day is brought to the table, you bite the sweet bulb of red fruit and easily tie a knot on one with your fingers. Joel teases you, telling you, "No, babygirl, with your tongue."

A little moment passes between you, a shared look that is not lost on the others. You take another cherry and he bites off the fruit while you take the stem and place it in your mouth.

It's a hidden talent, one that impresses the table when you effortlessly tie a knot into the stem using only your mouth.

And that's how you get the nickname Cherry.

"You know what this is s'posed to imply, right, darlin'?" Joel rasps, twirling your tongue-tied knot in his thick fingers.

"No idea," you smile, lost in his eyes.

"It means you're good with your tongue," he murmurs.

It happens so quickly, so naturally that you don't realize it until it's happening. Your lips are on his cheek, loving the feel of his stubble against your soft skin, and everyone else is looking at you.

"What?" Joel asks, addressing the table, pink showing up on his cheeks. "My girlfriend can't give me a lil' kiss?"

Cleaning up the kitchen later on, Sofia comes next to you, busying herself with packaging leftovers and rinsing off dirty dishes. You can feel the tension between you.

"I don't approve," she says sternly, not looking at you.

"Of what?" you try to sound innocent, but you know she can see right through you, that it's pointless to lie.

"Of you and Mr. Miller," she says, using the formal surname you should have been using all along.

"You don't have to approve," you say, scrubbing particularly hard at a stubborn spot on the stove.

"He's twice your age, cousin," she says with concern. "I'm supposed to be looking out for you while you're staying with me. How's it gonna look, me letting you date someone older?"

"That's all you care about? How it's affecting you?" you shoot back. "Please. You sound like my mom."

Sofia sighs. "This kind of relationship can't be healthy. He's done more, he knows more.."

"I know."

"Please don't tell me you've-"

"We have." There's no pleasure in telling her this, but it's a massive relief to tell someone.

"God damn it," she mutters. "Are you at least being careful?"

"Of course!"

Sofia's at a loss, unsure of what to say, the warnings countless on her tongue, but unwilling to part from her lips.

"I love him," you tell her. It's whispered confession, as if your own truest feelings carry the worst sin of your life.

Another author's note: just wanted to clarify that Sarah didn't see anything too inappropriate, but she definitely understood what was going on.

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itsgodepi · 11 months ago

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If I lose my mind | Ch. 8

Series summary: When you're buried under a mountain of problems and can’t seem to catch a break, it might feel like you need a complete reset. But did it really have to come with a one-way ticket to a new dimension? Surely, a little problem-solving would’ve done the trick. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 5.4k Also on AO3

“Your things arrived a few days ago, the... uh, what’s it called in English? The portier?” Charles questions with furrowed brows, repeating the French word once again, much slower and carefully, so you can have a fair try at guessing its meaning

It takes you a second to give a meaning to what he is trying to say, “Is it like the one that manages the building, kind of?”, the exact word he refers to not coming to mind no matter how much you try. Your mental dictionary is running a bit low after everything went down today.

“Yeah, that’s it” he smiles at you over his shoulder, leading you out of the elevator and into a small corridor. The suitcase’s wheels clattering across the black tiles, following your path to one of the apartments’ doors, number 7 “What, you know French now?”

“No, no, I wish” you laugh, shaking your head at the possibility that you would ever understand any other word in that language “It just sounds similar to the word in Spanish, portero”

Charles opens the door before answering, a sight that leaves you open-mouthed being discovered before you. You do not know in what to focus first, if the sight of the tall buildings and the port drawn out in the floor to ceiling windows or the expensive looking furniture that decorates the rest of the room “Well, you’ve come to the best place to learn”

Because yes, you have in fact encountered the perfect opportunity to learn the language. After all you'll be living in Monaco for at least ten days before going back to the crazy life of a Formula One driver. That is enough time to grasp a bit of French or drive yourself crazy, we’ll see which one of the two comes first.

Your morning had started with a chain of events that leaned more towards the second option. You had woken up in the late morning, the warmth of the soft bedsheets and the darkness provided by the thick curtains almost fooling you into believing you had finally escaped this bizarre dream, that you were back home, and your alarm was pushing you out of bed for your practices. There would be an awful day ahead of you, but at least a real one.

But that hope was short lived.

Instead of your alarm, that ringing noise turns out to be coming from the hotel’s phone, a man on the other line animatedly informing you that this is your wakeup call and to have a great day when you pick it up. Apparently, Nick had been the one to request the service, sceptic that you would make it in time to the airport without him nagging you about it. The exact same reason why he had prepared for a car to be waiting outside for you at least an hour before, just in case.

Charles and Carlos are already waiting when you arrive to Budapest’s airport, inside a very expensive looking waiting room that hosts only the few people travelling alongside you. Yeah, it seems like flying private actually means flying private, with all the special commodities that brings. However, it also means that the first time you hear what country you are heading to is when you are strapped down to your seat and about to take off. Monaco seems alright, doesn’t it?

“He called me like, right before FP2, back in France, because a couple of suitcases had arrived for me.” Charles continues recounting the events of last Friday, inviting you in and taking the heavy bag that you insisted on carrying from you “I wasn’t expecting anything, so I almost turned them all away, all your luggage for the break! Seriously, you have to text me or something next time you send your things over...”

Mindlessly, you give in to his nagging and apologise for not warning him beforehand “Sorry, my mind’s been all over the place lately”, even if you have no idea what those things he is complaining about are or what that implication for a next time actually means. It is easier this way.

Charles seems to perfectly understand what you are saying, the confession about the hardships you have been facing holding a deeper meaning for him than you could ever fathom “I know, it’s okay”, but he does not even know half of what you are going through

After weeks upon weeks of waking up alone in a cold and unfamiliar hotel room —what little belongings you have pushed to a corner and some clothes thrown over a chair—, it is not surprising that the sight of Charles Leclerc sleepily going through the kitchen’s cabinets makes you feel all warm inside. The man is wearing a white baggy shirt and blue shorts, his hair a mess and lips pursed in concentration.

He turns around as soon as he hears you padding through the corridor, a grin slowly taking over his expression “Good morning! Did you sleep well? I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“No no, it’s alright, I’ve been up for a while” you calm him down, walking up to the countertop and awkwardly leaning on it. Unlike him, you are already dressed up and pretty clear-headed, you never know what your mind is going to put you through in this new day. Your room is pretty far apart from the kitchen and his room too, there is no way you could have heard him with how huge huge his apartment is “And you? How did you sleep?”

“Great, it always feels nice being back home” Charles prepares the rest of the breakfast while you chat away, inviting you to sit on one of the highchairs at the other side of the countertop when you do so much as try to help him fix the dishes. He somehow knows exactly what to prepare for you, his plate and yours starkly different and yet he is not doubting a single one of his choices, as if he had done it a thousand times.

“So, what do you want to do today? I have to make a few calls but, after that, I’m all ready to go” the man explains, finally pouring himself a cup of coffee and coming to sit beside you. In response you can only give a shrug of your shoulders while you munch on the toast Charles so carefully prepared, you have no idea what is there to visit in Monaco. Thankfully, Charles has given the trip some though —well, he was bringing you to his literal hometown, how could he not?—, and in a second has your day all planned out.

The conferences take longer than expected, the driver coming to apologise over and over again when he has to shut himself off into his improvised office for another ‘final’ call. That is how the hours keep ticking by and you end up also having lunch at his apartment. “This is the last one, I promise” he swears after you both get up from the table, the leftover of two delicious dishes which appeared out of thin air, still in front of you.

You are not upset about it, not that much at least, you can understand this is his job and he needs to be on top of all these interviews and meetings —you only got a couple emails to respond and a call from Nick, but you guess this is what being in a team like Ferrari really is. Nonetheless, it does not mean it doesn’t annoy you a bit, you really had been looking forward to all the activities he had been talking to you about. Charles managed to distract you easily enough though, got you some Netflix, games and food so it all would pass in the blink of an eye.

“Oh, sixteen? That’s yours?!” you gasp, a bounce added to your step as you approach the red Formula One car placed at the entrance of the new room. The centre of your attention in a space filled with cars from every single year and brand you could ever imagine, the mirrors on the sides and covering the ceilings giving you all of the perspective of the machine.

“Of course it is, you didn’t know it was here?” Charles lets out a chuckle at your outburst, a grin now permanent on his lips as he follows you. The visit to the Prince of Monaco’s Car Collection had been worth it just for the look on your face, the fact that they kindly closed it for the two of you only adding an increased value to your reaction “They have the Alfa Romeo too”

Although you could discover what the Alfa Romeo thing meant if you moved your gaze a little bit to the left, you seemingly prefer to overlook that piece of information instead, completely entranced by the car in front of you “It looks so different...”

Possibly because everything around you is, indeed, different. After all, this is the first time you have had the opportunity to take step back and see the small details, away from the stress of the garage or the screams shaking the stands. That kind of atmosphere though, is irreplicable, the wave of emotions that fill your body as soon as you set foot into the circuit. Real or not, that is something you haven’t been able to get out of your head since this madness started.

You are unbelievable, seriously, after only two days of the break you are somehow already missing the track? Who could have told you that a month ago Wait, a month-?

“Does it? They have been making a lot of changes in the regulations lately, maybe...” Charles mumbles by your side, eyes ever so carefully looking over the car, and leaning over one of the signs on the ground, a half-smile pulling at his lips when he reads it “Oh, true, it’s the SF90! Oh my God, this one... Honestly, it wasn’t that bad of a year, I won a couple races too, but the car had so many problems. When it wasn’t the new tyres, it was the balance, then the understeering was awful at some point as well... It was just impossible to beat the Mercedes”

To finish off his explanation, Charles dismissively points with a tilt of his head to one of the Formula One cars sitting farther down the room, a Mercedes from who knows what year. Whatever, it illustrates his story just fine. Besides, this movement also allows for him to catch a peek of you from the corner of his eye, a big grin on your lips that you try to cover with a raised hand “Wait, are you laughing at me?”

“No! Of course not, I was just-” you splutter, looking up at him like a deer caught in headlights “It’s ‘cause you were, how do you say it? Like really into it? Contrated? I don’t know, I’m sorry!”

“No, no, I’m not telling you anything anymore! Go on, I’ll be quiet” Charles declares, not hearing you and acting so very much offended that you would be making fun of him. To better show his point, he starts stepping back and rises his arms to put some space between the two of you.

That is when you cannot hold you giggles anymore, the fact that he is trying to even avoid your eyes while you follow him “No, don’t say that, I promise I won’t laugh” you swear, taking a hold of his arm to stop him from walking away from you “C’mon, you’re the best tour guide!”

And maybe Charles takes that praise as a challenge, green eyes shining and cheeks full with a smile which he can’t supress no matter how hard he tries. Throughout the next few days, the Monegasque shows you the most beautiful spots of the city that saw him grow up —albeit on an intermittent basis, as he recounts the numerous trips he’s had to go on since he was a child—, a city that he adores and misses like no other. From the more touristic sites, the timetables of which he knows from A to Z and to which he has prepared private visits for each one of them, to the places that have a special place in his heart.

All of this without letting you pay a single dime, getting rejected each time you do so much as try to get your purse out, the little money you have gathered in your time in here resting inside without any prospects of ever getting spent.

It is a shame that when you are heading to one of the spots Charles has been looking forward to the most, you are caught red-handed. At first it is not as worrisome, a French fan approaches Charles for a photo and you politely step out of the way to let them take it, which catches the attention of a nearby couple that take this opportunity to ask you for a selfie —yeah, it still feels strange, even inside a dream. Maybe the husband talks a bit louder than needed about how surprised he is to see you here, or how happy he gets the moment Charles comes over to you, but after a couple of minutes you are being mobbed by half the people in Monaco. Flashes, screams and hands flying everywhere.

“It’s been a while since I last had to be rescued by the police...” Charles signs once he finally plops down on the sofa, changed into comfier clothes and the TV remote on his hand

You silently sort out the food on the small coffee table, still trying to wrap your head around what just happened, nerves tingling with the range of emotions this all brought up. It is not fear, that is something you seem to have somewhat become numb to, but something deeper. That is not something that had happened to you before, people are usually behind barriers on Grand Prixes, or they have someone better to pay attention to. This had felt truly overwhelming, suffocating even.

And yet, there it is, your lifeline. Again.

Charles’ hand comes to caress your hair after you spend a second too long in silence, hands tracing your strands as he brushes them away from your face, hand finally descending down to your neck and lightly massaging it. He had done something similar in the middle of that chaos, his hand on your arm, shoulder or back drawing tiny circles on your skin, a permanent hold that was supposed to prevent you from getting separated, but which had done so much more. “That smells great” the man whispers, leaning forward since you had chosen to knee in front of the couch.

The frown you didn’t feel forming relaxes as you look back at him, the thoughts previously swarming your head now vanished “Mm, yeah, it’s really tasty”

“What?! You’ve been stealing food while I was changing?” the Monegasque rightly accuses, disbelief painting his features

“You were taking so long!”

Charles seems to also know his way around the restaurants of Monaco, the stack of takeout you thought was way too much for two people ends up disappearing within minutes, the great amount of food you consumed leaving you to lazily lay on the couch, bellies full and watching TV after a night that had to be cut short.

The show you are watching is entertaining, you will give Charles that one, you have already gone through two and a half episodes and you can’t wait to see what happens next. It would have been even more amazing to not start it on season 3 though. It is true that Charles had started his offer to play it with a “Do you want to continue watching whatever-the-name-of-the-series-is?” and you had seen him scrolling all the way to the fourth episode of that same season without saying a word as well, but you had got accustomed to brush off things like this, like every other information from this reality that you don’t understand.

You nod and carry on with your ‘life’, that has been your modus operandi since the beginning, why change?

Thankfully, Charles gives you small explanations in the form of funny comments on every other scene, and although you don’t understand some of them, you laugh them off like anybody would do if he was looking at them the same way he does with you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you question at some point of the night, eyes fixed on the screen as if that could hide any of the unrecognizable feelings boiling within you

A chuckle slips out of his lips before he can begin answering, not fazed even slightly by your claim “You’re still so obsessed with the theme song...” Charles also meets your gaze straight on the moment you finally gather the courage to do so, not shying away from the way your big eyes stare at him “It’s cute”

A confession that catches you off-guard and to which your response is to smile and carry on, snuggling under a blanket which has made you slip that much closer to Charles. Summer nights in Monaco are cold.

About halfway into your vacation, Charles presents you with a different type of plan for the day “I’m going out with my mother and Arthur in a couple of hours... do you maybe want to come?” the way his green eyes look up at you in expectation betray his previous show of confidence, his gaze lowering to the toasts he is preparing.

The invite makes you stop in your track, hand half-way in the air with a piece of fruit you had tried to steal from one of the dishes. Honestly, from all the challenges you had expected this universe to throw at you today, not once would you have imagined that having lunch with Charles Lecler’s mom would be one of them, that’s for sure.

“Oh, your mother knows I’m here?” it is the stupidest question you could make, you are aware of it, but this seems so out of the blue —yes, you have apparently reached the point where jumping into a Formula One car feels more ordinary than whatever this is. But it’s because, like, you aren’t this close, are you? Yes, you flew with him, you are spending the break in his apartment, he has prepared your breakfast every single day, but-

“That you are staying here? Yeah, of course she knows” Charles answers, matter of fact, as if it was no big deal “But it’s okay, I know you get nervous with things like these, I can tell her you have a meeting or something”

Perhaps if the man had not been so understanding and given you such an easy way out, you would have accepted the outing, what is the worst that could have happened? That his mom was a wonderful person who had spent hours baking a typical pastry to gift you? If you had not felt bad enough this morning when declining Charles’ offer, now you sure were feeling like the worst person to ever walk on earth. Safe to say you almost tear up when you read the note she left you on the box: Enjoy your stay, my dear. I hope we’ll see each other soon. More so when his sons reveals he had to help her write it in English.

You miss your family that much more now, if that was possible.

Unfortunately, you do not encounter any other opportunity to meet Charles’ mother, the days flowing past you faster than you could have imagined. Charles has surprised you with organized trips to other cities near Monaco, from both Italy and France, every new sight he shows you more breathtaking than the last. The fact that this man, a Formula One driver for Ferrari nothing less, is swimming in money, taking the sweet little activities you had thought about to a whole other level.

Nonetheless, spending a bit more also becomes a need when you are trying to keep a low profile, neither of you want a repeat of what happened in Montecarlo —for more reasons than because it is dangerous. Which means that booking private terraces to watch the view is sometimes required, other times you get a tour through a closed section of the museum solely because they recognized him, or you, which is still something you are struggling to come to terms with, but you can’t complain.

Tonight, to properly finish off your stay in the country, Charles has invited you out to a fancy restaurant. It is built in the outskirts of Monaco, a place where the waves of the ocean are louder than the noises of the city. You get seated in open space that overlooks the sea, the quiet and elegant atmosphere of the place captivating you. You are thankful to whoever had prepared those suitcases which arrived at the apartment before you even knew you were visiting, because the black satin dress that was waiting for you inside one of them, is the perfect fit for the occasion.

The hunt for the perfect outfit had also brought a discovery that you couldn’t quite believe yet. Inside a white jewellery box that you had been carrying since the beginning and that you had not cared to open until today, you had found one of the most important pieces you ever owned, one you had been missing dearly: your grandmother’s favourite necklace. It had been a gift given to you many years ago, your grandmother’s promises of how it would make your wishes come true and protect you still echoing in your ears. Upon its discovery, you heart had skipped several beats, your hand snatching it from the box faster than you could think about it to bring it close to your chest, a place where it now proudly rested and that it would not ever leave again.

The only piece of a reality which appears evermore distant and unreachable each passing day.

The dinner is spent chatting away and tasting delicious dishes that you cannot pronounce the name of, your knight in shining armour —in this case, a navy-blue suit that fits him like a glove— saving you time and time again from embarrassing yourself trying. That gesture in itself being a blessing in disguise. It is fascinating watching Charles talk in French, sounding ever so charming speaking words you do not understand, his voice and demeanour changing when talking in his mother tongue. You have not learned a word in French, but if the hours you have spent staring at Charles talking counted, you would have the highest level.

That is some of the nonsense you keep thinking about in the way back to the apartment, your body comfortably relaxing back into the passenger seat of his Ferrari while the city lights keep flowing by your sides. The Monegasque takes his hand off the gearstick after reaching a red light, resting it atop your knee and gently squeezing it when you don’t peel your eyes off the window.

“Sleepy?” he queries in a soft voice, amused.

You shake your head in response, the “No” slipping from your lips too low to even hear it yourself. Your hand reflexively comes down to wrap around his in reassurance, an act which only manages to further confirm his suspicions.

Charles walks to your side to help you out of the car, the excuse of being sleepy —although the expensive wine and your high heels are playing a big role in your clumsy walk— useful enough for you to hold onto his arm in the way up to his apartment. The silence is nice too, calming despite the fact that it is hiding so many thoughts behind.

“So, did you have fun?” Charles is the first one to speak once you reach the parting point, even if it is only the middle of his living room and there is still time tomorrow before he takes you to the airport, it feels more important than that

“Yeah, I did, a lot. Thank you, Charles, for everything” you respond, the words coming straight from your heart, you are grateful for not only the material part of this vacation, but for how comfortable he has made you feel in this unknown reality. The man has truly made of your trip to Monaco an unforgettable experience, a memory that you will forever cherish. You hope he understand that.

Although he tries to downplay it, say how much of a good time he has had thanks to you and all of that, you are quick to shush him, repeating your thanks and not accepting any of the justifications he’s give. And he somehow lets you get away with it, that easily, a fond smile pulling at his lips while he looks down at you “Okay, okay... I’m just happy you are here, honestly”

Charles word’s startle you, your heart speeding to a hundred miles per hour in just a second. The man ignites this inexplicable feeling inside of you, one so familiar and foreign at the same time, slowly building inside of you, a warmth that threatens to overcome you at any second if you let it. This silence and closeness not helping you in the slightest.

Paired with these thoughts come other less comforting ones, a more logical part that warns you that you have been letting this go on for too long. You let your hold on Charles’s arm fall, instinctively taking a step back. This is too much, the wine must have been playing with your head, you have let this go on for over time and-

However, Charles doesn’t seem to agree with any of the thoughts boiling in your head, his hand following the movements of yours and catching it halfway, his fingers intertwining with yours. Not ready to let you go just yet. He can see the gears turning at full force inside your mind as well, hopes the gesture will stop you from overthinking it all and focus solely on this.

For you though, that train of thought isn’t as easy to reach, even less so when his touch has set your nerves alight. “Oh, yeah, me too! Well-, I mean, I’m happy to be here. The first day I thought I wouldn’t even see you in all ten days, but it’s been great ever since, I promise!” the tension of the moment is too much to handle, and it forces the first stupidity that comes to your mind out to break it

Charles tilts his head to the side, taking some extra time to process what you said “What?”

Sadly, instead of simply waiting for him to interpret your babbling, your big mouth keeps on talking “You were working, I completely understand! I mean, you’re in Ferrari, of course... I just got nervous at first, that’s all”

“Oh” the Monegasque simply says, his face void of any emotion as he watches you freaking out thinking you’ve upset him. You and your stupid brain that keeps making up excuses for a joke you had told to ease the tension, you should start thinking twice about it. The wine has also loosed up your tongue.

At some point Charles decides it is time to have some mercy on you and stop your monologue, a big grin making his eyes crinkle before he is using his hold on your hand to bring you in for a big hug — what a nice way to ask you to shut up.

“Seriously, this is driving me crazy...” he confesses with a giggle, tightening his arms around your body as you deflate in his hold, letting go of all the nerves that had so suddenly preyed on you “You know what happened? I prepared everything, arranged some visits and talked to some people, everything! And I thought: I’ll push all the meetings I have to Monday and Tuesday, so they won’t bother us at all, she’ll probably sleep until, like 2 p. m.” Charles narrates the plan he had so carefully drawn up for your visit, making a pause to lean back and see your reaction to all that happened behind the scenes before you came to the country “Well, turns out that someone, even after driving for 70 whole laps in Hungary and having not slept at all during the flight, just decided to wake up at 8 in the morning! Who does that?”

The belly laugh that escapes you is loud, cheeks hurting from the big smile that has managed to take over your face throughout Charles’ story, his expressions and gestures depicting how much it had surprised him to see you walking down the hall that morning. All dressed up and ready for the day, if you may add.

“Why do you think I took you to the Prince’s Car Collection that day? I thought, since she’s been pestering me for months about it, maybe that’ll make her forget she’s been locked away all morning”

“Aw, that’s so nice!” you compliment him, elongating the syllables and swaying him from side to side to further support your words, your hands still resting on his chest and his having claimed their place at your sides. You do not remember ever talking about the collection, but that is something that does not matter right now "You've been a great tour guide"

“I really am nice” Charles affirms with a smirk, like he cannot believe you didn't find that out earlier, and you can only nod at him in agreement. He has been nothing but amazing in the time you have known each other, you’ll give him that. "I don't know about the tour guide part though, you've been only laughing at me..."

You playfully hit his chest, smiles turning to giggles that give way to a comfortable silence, a moment to relax. Happiness is spilling out of every single pore of your skin as you look at each other with a silly grin on your lips, eyes analysing every feature of the other’s face and committing it to memory as if they were about to vanish in time. A strong hold on each other just in case.

You can see Charles debating wether to break the silence or not, a soft frown set in between his eyebrows while his eyes search for a sign in yours. His lips are pursed, the words that had been stuck in his mind for a while now about to finally be pronounced. However, a strange music beats him to it.

It promptly steals your attention from him, moment broken. Your head turns to the sound, recognizing where it seems to be coming from... your bedroom?

As if hypnotised, you step away from Charles, the Monegasque letting you go from his hold without putting up much of a fight —although he desperately wants to. Something inside of you pulling you towards the sound. The steps you take to the room seem endless, the heels clicking on the hardwood following your path and the noise getting louder, but when you open the door it all happens so fast. You somehow know exactly where it is coming from, hands digging with urgency inside the backpack you had taken to airport 10 days ago. Having come to kneel on the ground, you pull out a cloth bag and lay it out beside you, the realization that it is the same one Nick left for you in Hungary’s hotel and you had not even opened, being too vague for you to fully grasp it.

The music is louder now, your ears ringing with the stupid rhythm when you finally decide to empty all of its contents out on the floor for easier access. You find a lip balm, earphones, some papers and buried under all of it: a phone.

Another one. A phone you had never seen, the one Nick gave you at the start of this madness still secure in your bag. Where did it come from? Nick had said the bag contained the stuff you left behind at the track, but you sure as hell did not leave this.

You watch your hand stretching towards the device in slow motion, your mind pushing you forward but getting no response in return. The screen is upside down, the case vibrating against the floor and joining the cacophony of sounds that has been bouncing off your ears, a feeling of being underwater so awfully recognizable that you get dizzy just thinking about the last time you endured its consequences. The necklace burning in your chest.

What is this phone? Who is calling?

Your fingers tingle at the touch, the device turning in your hold ever so slowly to reveal the caller screen. At the top, written in big bold letters reads the contact's name you have been longing to see for so long:

DAD

A due reminder that none of this is real.

Author's note: Omg, this is so long, I got carried the fuck away with this one. As you have probably noticed it is not even proofread, if I keep it in my drafts any longer I'll keep adding to it. It ended up being as a kind of Charles' one shot thing so I hope you all enjoyed it. As always, any kind of interaction is greatly appreciated, thank you all so much for reading!

Also happy New Year to everyone!! This was supposed to be my Christmas present to all of you but it just kept going out of control.

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream @homie0sapien @minkyungseokie @carlossainzwho @rewmuslupin @kyuupidwrites @raevyng @lazybot @gills-lounge @hiraethrhapsody @jjkclub @darleneslane @therealcap @aespie

#charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one x you #f1 imagine

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jennay · 1 year ago

Text

I’m losing it

Request: let's say the reader has to stay at home to look after a sick older relative, but she is neglecting her own life, putting her own life on hold; so Noah pays her a surprise visit so they can spend some time together, so she can have a day to distract herself; just to remind her that she can count on him and that it's okay to allow herself to take care of herself.. That everything will be fine, he's there.

Noah master list

Word Count: 3500ish

No Warnings

An: I Hope this is what you were going for. Enjoy 💜

Noah waited for several rings before he decided it was time to hang up the phone. He texted you several times throughout the day, hoping to get your attention, but it seemed like you were busier than usual lately. He didn't want to be an overbearing boyfriend, but he also needed confirmation that you were okay, and he wouldn't complain about having some other company than the men in his band. He loved them like brothers, but even brothers got annoyed with each other, and while they were on tour, it wasn't like he could escape from them.

Noah laid back on the couch as he turned the TV on. He needed something to drown out his worries.

"What's got your feathers all ruffled?" Jolly asks as he sits on a stool by Noah. He hands Noah a beer, and he gladly accepts his offer.

"Can't get ahold of (y/n)." He pops the lid of his drink.

"She's probably fine, dude. It's like midnight there. Isn't she her Grandma's caregiver? Old people get up early."

Noah sits up, crossing one leg over the other, still staring at the top of his can, debating if he wanted the alcohol because he was stressed or if it was because he would enjoy it. "She didn't text me today." He frowns, checking his phone one last time. "It's not normal."

"Call her in the Morning-"

"Hold on." He said, quickly answering your video call. "Hey!" He exclaims, getting up and walking to the back of the bus, leaving Jolly behind.

He saw you yawn in the dim light of your lamp. "Sorry to wake you up."

You shook your head and stretched on the bed, holding the phone above you. "You didn't. I was just about to sleep. Sorry, I didn't text you back. I kept forgetting, and I had so much to do today. It's been crazy here, and I feel like I'm losing my mind." You covered your eyes with your hand, trying not to cry. You didn't want to burden Noah with your problems, especially when he was so far away from you. "I should get some sleep." You whispered, removing your hand from your face.

"Baby…" Noah said softly, noticing the tears in your eyes. You looked different. Your eyes were duller than usual, you had dark circles under them, and your cheeks looked hollow.

"Okay," He said gently; he wanted to talk to you more and listen to your day, even if it was chaotic and stressful, but he felt he didn't know the person on the screen. He wondered if it was the camera angle or if you were losing weight again. He felt anxiety at every thought that crossed his mind. Were you sick, was it stress, or was taking care of your Grandma too much for you? It wasn't like you had any breaks, and even when Noah was around and able to help you, it was only for a few minutes while you showered or cooked dinner. There wasn't enough time to relax and care for yourself.

"I love you." He said sincerely. "I miss you."

"I love you more." You said softly, closing your eyes.

"Are you challenging me?" He joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Because you'll lose every time."

You chuckled weakly, and he was glad to see you smile. "I'm too tired to argue with you right now, Love." You pulled the covers over yourself. "I'll talk to you in the morning. Sleep well."

He nodded in agreement, "I will soon. Bye babe, dream of me!"

You smirked, "I always do."

Noah walks to the other guys' lounging, "Where are we going next?"

Nicholas, who took over Noah's previous spot on the couch, gazes up curiously. "Why."

Noah shrugs, "I think I need to go see (Y/n). She looked rough and I’m a little worried."

His bandmates know better than to fight his ideas; once he was on a mission, Noah was not stopping.

"If you left tomorrow and met us out there. It could work, but you'd have what, less than two days to go there, fly out, and make it to the show?" Nicholas tells him.

"Sweet. Well, guess we're making a pit stop."

Your phone alarm buzzed, and you pressed snooze at least three times before turning it off and getting up. The phone read 7 a.m., and you weren't ready for it.

You weren't the type to complain. You never did, especially in this situation. Even when you felt exhausted, frustrated, or lonely, you kept your mouth shut and your smile on. You didn't want to burden anyone else with your problems or make them think you were ungrateful for what you had.

A part of you guilted yourself every time you thought about what it would be like not to have the responsibility of taking care of your Grandma through her decline.

You loved her with everything you had and didn't regret choosing this path, but you wished you had a better understanding when you offered to help.

You wished you knew how hard it would be to see her forget your name, struggle with simple tasks, or lose interest in life.

You wished you had more support, resources, and time for yourself. But you never said any of this out loud.

Making your way to the bedroom bathroom, you start your routine for the morning. You brush your teeth, wash your face, and comb your hair. You look at yourself in the mirror and try to find some confidence in your appearance.

You put on some makeup and a simple outfit that matches your mood. You exit your room and go to your Grandma's room, knocking on the door and waiting for her to respond. You hear her shuffling to the door, and when she opens it, she stares at you with surprise.

You smile wildly, trying to ignore the signs of her not knowing who you are at this very moment. "Hi, grandma, I was coming to get you for breakfast." You hold your hand for her to grab, remembering your previous training classes.

She smiles warmly and takes your hand. You observe her outfit and note that she dressed herself for the day; that usually meant it would be a good morning.

You take her hand and lead her down the stairs, letting her lean on your shoulder as she descends slowly. You feel her grip tighten with every step and squeeze back reassuringly. You reach the kitchen and help her sit at the table, then go to make some coffee and pop some bread in the toaster.

"What do you want to do today?" You ask.

"I've gotta go to work," She tells you. "That Ranch won't take care of itself."

You bite your bottom lip, knowing she hasn't worked in years. "Well," You say, grabbing her toast and coffee for her to bring to her. "You have today off. Grandpa went and asked that I spend some quality time with you. He said you need to have a girl's day with me." You hated lying to her like this, but you knew it was the only way to help her through these things. She was diagnosed with Dementia a year ago, and you'd been taking online classes and seminars in hopes of learning how to cope and help a loved one with the disease.

"Oh," She says, sipping her coffee. "He's such a good man. You know we've been married for 62 years." She smiles, and you wonder what memories are going through her mind. "We were so young, and he was just as handsome as ever."

You bring your coffee over and sit next to her. "I bet! He'd have to be to score a woman like you!"

She giggles at your remark, "Should we see Betty Lou today?" She asks, referring to her sister.

You must think of another lie quickly before she notices something is wrong, or your mood has shifted. "It sounds like you're trying to get rid of me." You joke.

She smiles, tilting her chin to meet your eyes, "You need a husband."

No matter how far gone she'd gotten or aged, she would never stop giving you a hard time about not having a husband. She often forgot about Noah, and when you'd show her pictures, she would gush and tell you how handsome he was and that someday you'd have beautiful babies; she couldn't wait for that day. She once told Noah she knew a priest who could marry the two of you in the kitchen that day, and when you refused, she scolded you.

"I think we should get some baking done today." You say, changing the conversation. "I love those chocolate chip cookies you make."

Her eyes light up at the thought, and she agrees without hesitation. One of her favorite things to do was bake treats for everyone.

When she finishes her coffee and breakfast, you take her plates, and she follows you to the kitchen. You wonder how this will end; the last time the two of you did this, you nearly lost your cool. You tried to be patient, and you tried to be understanding, but you would grow tired and frustrated just as anyone else would.

You put on some music and start gathering the ingredients for the cookies. You hope the familiar activity will calm her down and bring back some happy memories.

You smile as you watch her hum along to the songs she used to sing to you when you were little. You measure the flour and sugar and hand them to her. She pours them into a large bowl and mixes them with a wooden spoon. You take the time to crack the eggs and add them to the bowl, along with some vanilla extract.

You open the bag of chocolate chips and pour some into a small bowl. You hand it to her and tell her to add them to the dough. She looks at you with a puzzled expression.

"What are these?" She asks, pointing at the chocolate chips. She doesn't remember what chocolate chips are. How could she forget something so simple and delicious? You try to hide your sadness and explain to her. "They're chocolate chips, Grandma. They make the cookies taste good. You love them, remember?" She shakes her head and pushes the bowl away.

"No, I don't like chocolate. It's too sweet." She says, making a face. You stare at her in disbelief. She doesn't like chocolate? That's impossible. She used to eat chocolate every day, sometimes even for breakfast.

She would always sneak you some when your parents weren't looking. She would say that chocolate was good for the soul and that life was too short to deny yourself pleasure.

How could she forget that? You feel anger and frustration. You want to scream at her and tell her that she's wrong, that she's not herself, that she's losing her mind. You want to shake her and make her remember who she is, who you are, and who you were. But you know that won't help. You know that won't change anything. You know you must be patient and understanding, even when it hurts.

You take a deep breath and force a smile. "That's okay, grandma." You say, gently taking the bowl from her hands. "We can make something else if you want." You look around the kitchen and see a bunch of bananas on the counter. You remember that she used to make banana bread with you when you were little. Maybe she would like that better. Perhaps she would remember that.

"Hey, how about we make some banana bread?" You suggest picking up a banana and peeling it. "You used to make the best banana bread in the world."

She looks at you with a faint smile. "Did I?" She asks, taking the banana from you and breaking it into pieces.

You nod enthusiastically. "Yes, you did." You say, hoping that she will believe you. "And I'm sure you still do." You grab another banana and peel it, handing it to her. She takes it and adds it to the bowl with the flour and sugar mixture. Add baking soda, salt, butter, and milk, stirring everything together. You hope that this will work out better than the cookies. You hope that this will make her happy. You hope that this will make you happy too.

She is exhausted after a few hours of work, and you gently wipe her hands and change her into comfortable clothes. You tuck her onto the living room couch with her favorite show, I Love Lucy, playing on the TV. You sit beside her and exhale deeply, feeling mentally drained. You tell yourself you'll close your eyes only for a moment, but that moment turns into a deep slumber; opening your eyes feels nearly impossible. You have been sleeping with your door open at night and constantly listening out for your Grandma. It has been hard to sleep sometimes, and it has only worsened as her condition deteriorated.

It's been hard for you to watch her decline and to be her primary caregiver. Today was a good day, but you still felt overwhelmed. Love wasn't always enough. Your eyes snap open when you hear knocking on your front door. You don't bother getting up at first. It is probably the mailman reminding Grandma to check her mail. He does it almost daily, but you open your eyes and get up when the knocking persists.

"I'm coming!" It seems like whenever you need rest the most, you are interrupted.

You open the door, ready to take the mail from the man, but your mouth drops with surprise. You can't believe your eyes.

Noah stands at your front door, smiling and holding his arms out. He pushes through the door and wraps you in a hug. "Surprise!" He says, kissing you, but you're still in shock. "What?" He says, looking at you with amusement. "You're not excited to see me?"

"Noah," You finally say, tears forming in your eyes. "What are you doing here? How did you…?" You pull him back to you, resting your head on his chest, and hold him tighter.

"I just wanted to surprise you." He says casually. "I was thinking we could go out for a little bit." He pulls back, bringing his hand to cup your face.

You can see the worry in his eyes as he watches you intently. His thumb gently brushes the free-falling tear. "I can't, you know that..." You say, glancing over at your sleeping Grandmother. "I can't just leave."

You close the door behind Noah and watch his eyes curiously bounce around the home. "It smells like banana bread."

"We did some baking...and-"

He cuts you off quickly, "Go shower. You have flour all over your shirt, and your aunt will be here soon, so we can go out for the evening."

You open your mouth to say something, but Noah shakes his head, "Go, besides, Grandma loves me. We'll be fine if she wakes up." He leans down, kissing you again before hurrying you up the stairs.

You felt like you were in the shower for hours, but in all reality, it had been 30 minutes. It must've been the longest shower you've taken in a while, and it felt so nice not to worry about anything while Noah was downstairs.

You take your time brushing your tangled hair, putting on a little makeup, and getting dressed up in a lovely summer dress with cute wedged high heels, nothing too fancy or flashy. You don't want to draw attention to yourself or make Noah feel uncomfortable. He is already doing so much for you by being here.

As you walk into the kitchen, you hear dishes clink together and mentally slap yourself, remembering all the dishes you left in your sink. You had been too busy and stressed to deal with them, but now you feel guilty for making Noah do your chores. He is scrubbing away with a smile on his face while your aunt leans against the counter, talking to him. She seems to like him, which is rare for her. She usually disapproves of anyone of the male gender.

"You didn't have to do that." You tell him. You rest your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist.

He freezes briefly and then relaxes against your touch. "It's not a big deal, babe." He leans down and presses his lips against your hair, inhaling your scent. "I wanted to help out."

You smile, thankfully releasing your grip from around him. You say hi to your aunt but not much more. You weren't close with your family, and it often showed. You always thought it should be her caring for her mother, not you. But she had her own life and problems, and you had yours.

"Let's get out of here," Noah says as he dries his hands on the stove towel. Sensing the tension, he turns to your aunt, "It was nice seeing you again. We won't be too late."

When you exit the door, you hand Noah your car keys, "Where are we going?"

"I thought we could go downtown, get something to eat, and see where the night goes." He says, opening the car door for you.

You get in and close the door behind you. "I'm so glad you're here." You say, touching his arm. "Thank you for coming."

He pulls out of the driveway, "You don't have to thank me, babe. These are things you do when you love someone."

Noah glances from the road and at you, wondering what's going through your mind now. "I'm kinda worried about you taking this on by yourself." He admits. "I can see it's taking a toll on you."

You feel a tightness in your chest, "I'm okay, Noah. I just need to get into a better sleep routine." You try to sound casual, but your voice cracks.

He rests his hand on your thigh, rubbing your skin with his thumb. "Babe, it's not just the sleep." He looks at you with concern and love in his eyes.

You groan, not wanting to have this conversation with him, "Can we not do this right now?" You wish he would just drop it and let you be.

Noah pulls to the curb next to all the shops and small dinners. He turns the car off, walks to your side of the door, and offers his hand to you. "Well," He says, pulling you out of the car, "I think it's a conversation we need to have." He says as he guides you to the sidewalk. "You're neglecting yourself." Noah sighs when he sees you shutting down, your eyes staring at the ground, and you're hardly paying attention to what he's saying. "You know I'm happy to help, right?"

That gets your attention. Your head tilts up, brows furrowed, and you look at him, annoyed, "It's not your burden. Your job is touring the world and making music, not helping me care for my Grandma."

Noah stops in his tracks, growing frustrated. He pulls your arm back, dragging you to him. He holds both of your hands in his and leans forward, "My first job is taking care of you." He says, voice stern but calm. He wasn't budging on this. He cups your face with his hands and kisses you softly, "I love you more than anything, and I want you to be happy and healthy. Please let me help you." He pleads with his eyes, hoping you will open up to him.

You know he means well, but you feel guilty for putting him through this. You hug him tightly and whisper, "I feel like I have to do everything by myself."

Noah strokes your hair and kisses your forehead, "You don't have to do anything alone. I knew this was a thing from the beginning. We're in this together. Let me show you how much I care." He kisses your temple, "It's you and me against the world."

You look into his eyes and feel a wave of love, "Okay, okay. You win. I'll let you help me."

Noah beams proudly, "That's my girl. Come on, let's get some ice cream. You deserve a treat."

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian x y/n #noah sebastian oneshot #noah sebastian fluff #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian angst #noah Sebastian x you #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fic

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siampie · 7 months ago

Text

Finding You||Chapter 3

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings/tags: pinning, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome, mention of emotional abuse, mentions of SA

A/N: Enjoy this chapter, you guys. Comments and reblogs are always welcomed, greatly advised and strongly appreciate.

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Dividers by @cafekitsune

Yawning widely, you stumbled into your kitchen. You had stayed over at Michael’s, well into the night. You spoke of many things and of nothing. You caught yourself too late when you had mentioned your father. Michael had returned the courtesy, briefly mentioning his daughter Anna. But the conservations brought you back to Jamie. Which never failed to bring tears to Michael’s eyes. He tried several times to conceal them, to not let you see. In spite of your telling him that he didn’t need to. Not in front of you.

Standing in your kitchen, you waited for your coffee to brew as you texted your coworker; Bessie; to let her know that you would not come into work today. Thankfully, your company was quite lenient on sick days and did not require a sick note for one to two days of sick leave. Then, you sent a quick email to your manager to let him know, you won’t be in at least for one day.

The shrill sound of your phone ringing snapped you out of your thoughts. You jumped onto the counter and answered the phone. “Hello?” No answer. “Hello?” You said again. Still no answer. You could hear someone breathing on the other end, before the call disconnected. Pulling the phone away from your ear, you felt this knot in your stomach. Checking the number, you noted that it was an international call but not a number you recognized. Judging by the area code, it was from your hometown. The knot in your stomach tightened, your heart started beating wildly. Could this be your mother?

You knew your mother had your address but could she also have your phone number? Knowing your brother, it could be in the realm of possibilities. However, you really hoped you were wrong.

Pulling the strap of your bag on your shoulder, you saw Michael coming back to his house, as you were locking your door.

“Good morning.” You greeted him with a smile.

“Good mornin’.” He smiled back as he stepped closer to you. “Yer goin’ to work?”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head quickly. “I’m just going to the shops. I need to grab some things.”

He nodded at your words and then, silence fell upon you. You started to feel awkward, standing there, facing him. He scratched the back of his neck; you adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder, growing nervous.

“So, I’m sure this is a stupid question but—how are you?” You asked him.

Michael let out a long breath, the kind that one may let out when they were feeling drained and burdened by life. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Been dealin’ with a lot.”

“Yeah, I can only imagine.” You nodded, in understanding. You knew how crazy the next few days would be for him and his family.

He took a step closer. “Thank ya for stayin’ last night.”

“It was nothing, really.” You shrugged before looking down at your shoes.

“It was everythin'.” Michael replied, you looked back up at his face.

You held his gaze, his hazel eyes drawing you in. You didn’t seem to be able to pull your gaze away from him. The intensity in his gaze made you breathless. You swallowed your saliva, your tongue darted out to wet your lips. His eyes fell on them.

“If you—I mean—uh, if you need anyone to talk to, I’m—right next door.” You stammered out, offering once more.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Michael’s lips twitched up at the corner.

You took a slight step back. You needed to break away from whatever spell he had cast on you. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

He nodded with a small smirk, “Yeah.”

You walked away after waving at him. Michael snorted as he watched you walk away as you shook your head in embarrassment, mumbling to yourself.

Seeing you had made his day better, even if it was brief. Michael had met up with Jimmy earlier for drinks. It was clear that his brother wanted revenge for Jamie. And he understood, he did. But he couldn’t do that. Not if he wanted access to Anna. She was all that mattered to him. The most important person in his life. Although he was angry about Jamie’s death. He, too, wanted revenge for the boy’s death, he just couldn’t get involved. If he did, he would lose Anna too. Jimmy had been angry at his refusal, insisting that it would all be in the name of family.

He understood, he did. But Anna was family too.

Things had not gone better after their meeting with Frank, at Birdy’s house. Frank had wanted Jimmy to sit still and not to do anything. He had made it clear that they couldn’t go against Eamon Cunnigham. Jamie’s death had been an unfortunate mistake, they were going after Eric, he said. Even then, Frank refused to take actions against Eamon and his men. And to add insult to injury, Frank had given his brother a bag of cash to compensate for Jamie’s death. From Eamon. As though money would solve his son's death. Jimmy pissed on the cash and rightfully so. Money wasn’t what Jimmy wanted. Jimmy wanted blood. A life for a life.

A knock sounded on his door, Michael opened the door only to find Frank.

“Listen, Michael,” Frank shut the door behind him. “I know this is absolutely fucking shit for Jimmy and Amanda.”

“It’s wrong, Frank.” Michael agreed.

“But we are gonna get Moore,” Frank continued. “In time. Yeah? It’s like Birdy said, we just need to be patient.”

“And what if it had been Eric killed instead of Jamie?” Michael questioned.

“I’d be sayin’ the exact same thing. But it wasn’t Eric. And Jamie is not your kid, either.” Michael felt anger rose within him. He cast his eyes down on the kitchen counter before leaning on it. “Anna is, though. No court is gonna let you anywhere near her if this family is in a feud.”

“Look, I’m stayin’ out of it.” Michael assured him.

“Yeah,” Frank stepped closer. “And see if you can make sure Jimmy doesn’t do anything—fucking stupid—in the meantime. Can do that?” Michael only hummed in response, nodding his head. “Good.”

Of course, it was on him to keep Jimmy out of trouble. Of course, it was on him to make sure Jimmy didn’t start a war with Eamon Cunnigham. It was a shitty thing for Frank to use his desire to get Anna back against him. Just to make sure he wouldn’t agree with anything that Jimmy would ask of him. He was pissed off that Frank had to remind him, insisting that Jamie wasn’t his. He already knew that. Jimmy was his da, not Michael.

But Jamie was his too.

You sat on your kitchen counter waiting for your dinner to cook. This impromptu rest day had been beneficial to you. You had spent the day in town, enjoying yourself. A day away from work and taking people complaints on the phone. It could be draining at times, so this day was much needed. Even your brief encounter with Michael had somehow been welcomed, although it had been sort of awkward and embarrassing.

“What was that wave for?” You facepalmed yourself, still mortified by it. “That was so dumb.”

Your phone rang next to you. Same number than this morning. You picked up the call, there was breathing on the other side but no words were uttered. “Who are you?” You asked shakily. Still no answer. And before you could ask another question, the call was ended.

You had a terrible feeling about this.

“So, did he?” You were with your sister on the phone.

“Yeah, he did.” Your sister sighed. “But that’s not Mom’s number.”

“Then whose is it?” You asked her, panic rising in your chest.

“I don’t know.” Mary replied.

“I don’t like this, Mary.” You rubbed your face. “They had been calling all day. And every time I pick up, no one’s fucking talking.”

“Come on, babe, don’t go into a panic.” Mary tried to soothe you from across the pond. “Why don’t you block the number? It’s just probably someone prank calling you.”

“I doubt that.” You leaned on the wall behind you. “But yeah, I’ll block the number.” You let out a deep breath. “Do you think it might be him?”

“Who?”

“Her husband.” You said shakily. Your sister remained silent on the other side of the line. Her silence alone was enough to confirm it. You were terrified of the man, you always had been.

“I’m going to kill Dave.” Your sister almost growled on the phone. You snorted. “Or I’ll sent Matt after him.”

“There’s no need but thank you.” You moved to your couch. “But you can tell him that—that—he’s no longer my brother. That he can forget about me.”

“Are you sure about that?” Mary asked you softly. “I mean he’s family and—the kids love you. Especially little Sammy.”

“He doesn’t act like family. And as much as I love the kids, I can’t—” You pushed out a tired sigh. “He knew what he was doing and I can’t forgive him for that.”

“I know. Just—it’s just the four of us now. We are supposed to—I don’t know—be close like we used to. Be a family.”

“Yeah, but we grew up and maybe some of us forgot what that meant.”

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, gotta be.”

Growing up, your father had made sure that you all valued each other; that you would put each other first. Which had made you all very close to one another. You were a knit tight group. But as you had mentioned to your sister, you had all grown up. And unfortunately, some of you had grown apart. You always had this fantasy that all four of you would spend countless dinners together with your children and spouses. And that was all it was, a fantasy.

Priorities changed with adulthood, you had your jobs, your own family. You couldn’t prioritize each other anymore. And you understood that, you did. However, it didn’t mean that your brother could just go behind your back and betray your wishes in the way he did.

You were still family though. Was it really worth it to cut all ties with him? Even if it meant you would no longer have access to his children, including your goddaughter.

You blocked the number as you said you would. And just in case, your sister had given you your mother’s number so, you could block it too. Before the phone calls, you were sure that your mother and her husband would not show up at your doorstep. But now, you weren’t so sure anymore.

You woke in the middle of the night. And there it was standing at the foot of your bed, a faceless and shadowy figure. You tried to scream but no sound came out. You tried to move but you were paralyzed. The shadowy figure walked up to your bed, tears pressed against your eyes, your heart was racing underneath your ribcage, breathing was becoming hard. As though something was pressing down on it. The shadowy figure was no longer faceless. You recognized him. You knew him. You tried to scoot away from him as he stood over you with a smile on his face. Again, your body refused to obey to you. He moved his arm to pet your hair—

You gasped for air as your eyes snapped open. You sat up quickly, cradling your chest, feeling it rose as you took deep breaths. You switched on the lamp on your beside table. There was no one in your room with you. You were alone. Still, this knowledge wasn’t enough to reassure you. Your heart did not slow down. You got out of bed quickly. Rushed down the stairs, checking that your front door was still locked. And it was. You pushed down the doorknob four times, making sure it was in fact, locked. You even went as far as looking around your house, switching all the lights on, you looked in every room. Looking into closets and under the beds.

No one.

Eventually, your heart went back to a normal rate. You switched off the lights but you left the television on. Low volume. You laid down on your couch, you couldn’t go back to sleep in your bed. Not after this horrible nightmare. It looked too real. It had felt too real and it was fucking with your head. Although, you knew there was no one, you still looked around in fear.

You stared at the ceiling, praying for sleep to come. You were going back to work in the morning. And you didn’t want to deal with the lack of sleep on top of it all.

The television cast a blue soft glow over the room, the sounds acting as white noise. Your eyes drifted to the wall behind your couch. What was Michael doing at this hour? Probably sleeping, unlike you. You took a deep breath and turned on your side. Your back to the television, your face buried in the cushions, it was stupid, you thought to yourself. To seek comfort in someone that was on the other side of this very wall.

Was it wrong of you to want comfort and reassurance from Michael Kinsella? Maybe, it didn’t matter who was really offering it. Maybe, you just wanted someone to be there. Someone to put their arms around you, to make you feel safe.

And yet, it was Michael’s arms you pictured around you as you fell asleep. It was his voice you imagined, whispering words of reassurance.

As dangerous as Michael may be, it would never be worse than your stepfather.

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#michael kinsella fic #michael kinsella #michael kinsella x fem! reader #michael kinsella x reader #michael kinsella angst #angst #kin rte #kin amc

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pensivegreen · 4 months ago

Text

CH 2: Echoes of Darkness

Whispers In The Dark

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Note: not canon, diverges from storyline. Slow burn. Also, my first time attempting to actually write.

TW: typical criminal minds description of crime and criminal behavior

WC: 1.3 K

Ringing begins to pull you from sleep.

“Hotchner” Hotch states answering the intrusive noise. Naturally, he has a deep voice yet layered grogginess adds a deeper timbre that nearly has you groaning out involuntarily. You begin turning over to stare at your boss, noticing that the early morning light is just making its way into the room.

Hotch lay on his back with an arm behind his head and the other cradling the phone to his head. A course of hums rattle in his throat as the phone call progresses. “I understand, I’ll inform my team and head out”.

You continue to stare at Hotch waiting for an explanation for the unexpected wake-up call. He drops the hand from his ear onto the mattress letting out a heavy sigh. Hotch’s head pivots to look over at your curled-up form in the other bed, just being able to make out your open eyes from dawn's arrival.

“They found another body.”

You hum out in understanding, “he is picking up the pace and showing off”.

“It seems that way,” Hotch moves, sitting on the bed with his feet flat on the ground. Rubbing a hand across his face in what you perceive as stress, “you go ahead and get ready first I’ll call everyone and fill them in.”

· · ─────── · ୨୧ · ─────── · ·

Everyone gathers in the conference room at the station as Lieutenant Cook explains the details of last night's crime scene. Another girl has been found in a nearby park, fitting the same pattern of violence that has been troubling the team for weeks. The atmosphere is tense as the team listens intently, aware that the pressure to catch the perpetrator is mounting.

Rossi, who has been poring over the case file boxes, suddenly perks up after reviewing the new crime scene forensics. “Guys, listen to this,” he calls out, breaking the heavy silence. “The same type of fibers were found at every crime scene.” His revelation sends a ripple of realization through the room, providing a potential lead in their investigation.

Reid, who has been working on creating a geographical profile for the offender and the crime scenes, looks up with renewed interest. “Let me integrate that into the profile,” he says before dialing Garcia. “Garcia, I need you to help pinpoint potential locations. We’re looking for textile buildings that match this geographical pattern.”

After a few moments of computing, Garcia replies, “Reid, I need more information to narrow it down.”

Rossi interjects, “Garcia, look up companies that use the same material the fibers are made of. We need to find out any places locally that might be dealing with these specific fibers.”

Moments later, Garcia’s voice comes back excitedly, “Got it! There are three warehouses in the area using the same materials found at the crime scenes.”

“Morgan, Y/N, and I will each take one warehouse to canvas. Our main objective is to question the supervisors about their employees.” Hotch is already getting up before everyone can agree. “Prentiss and Rossi I want you to go over all the victimology again. Look for any possible connections between the victims that we might have missed. Focus on their routines, social circles, and any recent changes in their lives."

He turns to Reid next. "Reid, you continue working on the geographical profile with Garcia. Use the information about the fibers to narrow down potential areas where the perpetrator might be based or frequent. Make sure to cross-reference with any known locations of interest we've identified so far."

· · ─────── · ୨୧ · ─────── · ·

The industrial area is eerily quiet considering the gravity of what you are investigating. The desolation and stillness only add to the tension, making every sound seem magnified.

Arriving at the location assigned to you, you are surprised to find not a large warehouse but a small, nondescript carpentry business. The building is unremarkable, blending seamlessly into its surroundings. The sign reads “Handcrafted by James.” The name seems innocent enough, but you're well aware that appearances can be deceiving. Stepping inside, you are greeted by the owner, a middle-aged man with a warm smile and a polite demeanor. His calm and friendly nature seems almost out of place.

“Good morning. How can I help you?” he asks, his eyes twinkling kindly. There is no hint of malice or deceit in his expression, which makes you all the more wary.

Introducing yourself and explaining the situation briefly, he welcomes you inside. “Please, have a seat,” he offers, motioning towards a small seating area. “I am going to grab a water, would you like one?” His hospitality is disarming, almost making you forget the danger you might be in.

You nod, trying to maintain a professional distance despite his disarming kindness. “Thank you, that would be nice.”

As the man heads to the back of the workshop, you begin scanning the room. Your eyes take in the rows of sharp tools, meticulously organized on the walls. Various pieces of wood are in the process of being shaped, each one a testament to the man's skill and craftsmanship. However, what catches your attention is an unsettling number of leather bindings scattered around the workshop. They seem out of place in a carpentry shop, raising questions about their purpose.

A chill runs down your spine just as you begin to piece together the potential danger. Dangling on the wall in front of you is a handful of charms, the exact ones found at every crime scene. Before you can react, a sharp pain explodes at the back of your head. The world spins and your vision fades as you fall to the floor. The realization sinks in—the man holds a blunt object in hand, and you are now caught in the web of the unsub.

· · ─────── · ୨୧ · ─────── · ·

Hotch makes it back to the station, finding everyone rummaging through papers. Glancing around, someone is missing.

“Where’s y/l/n?”

Everyone’s heads shoot up and their hands still as the team gazes around the room.

“I haven’t heard from her but I figured she was in contact with you,” Morgan ascertains. Y/N was known for sometimes ignoring everyone but Hotch. She could get too wrapped up in her thoughts not wanting to lose her train of thought. Hotch was always the trump card, not just because he was her boss but also because he had a unique way of breaking through her focus when necessary.

Hotch's eyes narrow, sensing something is off. “She was supposed to check in,” he states, his voice betraying a hint of worry he rarely shows.

The team quickly mobilizes, tracing Y/N’s last known location to the small carpentry shop, “Handcrafted by James.” As they arrive, the eerie quiet of the industrial area heightens their anxiety. Hotch’s heart pounds in his chest, a mix of professional concern and personal dread gnawing at him.

Entering the shop, they call out but receive no response. The place seems deserted. Moving further inside, they notice signs of a struggle—a large piece of hardwood lying on the floor, tools scattered, and then, the unmistakable sight of blood on the floor. Hotch’s breath catches as he spots Y/N’s phone lying abandoned nearby. The realization is immediate and harsh: she’s been taken.

Rossi kneels to inspect the blood, confirming their worst fears. “It’s fresh,” he says grimly.

Hotch stands rigid, his jaw clenched tightly. Inside, a storm of emotions rages—fear, anger, guilt. He feels responsible for not being there, for not anticipating this. His mind races with thoughts of Y/N, alone and in danger. He let her down just like Elle. Just like Haley.

Morgan places a reassuring hand on Hotch’s shoulder, sensing his internal turmoil. “We’ll find her, Hotch. We won’t stop until we do.”

Hotch nods, his resolve hardening. “We need to move fast. Garcia, I need you to track any recent activity from the owner of this shop. Reid, update the geographical profile with this location. Morgan, Prentiss—start canvassing the area. Someone has to have seen something.”

As the team springs into action, Hotch silently vows to do whatever it takes to bring Y/N back safely. The weight of his responsibility feels crushing, but he channels it into determination.

#aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #bau team #criminal minds #slow burn

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xiaoluclair · 1 year ago

Note

20. clumsy attempts at flirting for lestappen pretty please?

okay confession, i have no idea what clumsy flirting even is beyond accidentally knocking over an avalanche of canned jalapeños onto you and your crush in the middle of a bend and snap. so i have a feeling this probably is not quite clumsy flirting but also i did not want to let the flow get away from me so eeeeeeenjoy!(?)

clumsy flirting attempts // lestappen // [ rating: T ] word count: 2.5k . yeah. not beta read either or checked over very well 😁

Max opens his front door and steps on a green bean. It's lying a foot away from a litre Tupperware box of... Max squints. Green beans.

He gives the hallway a cursory glance, then hefts the box into the kitchen and shuts the window his sister must've opened before she left the evening before. Something about needing more fresh air. Whatever, thinks Max, and grabs a pen to tick get green beans off the to do list on the refrigerator. He's not trading pneumonia for a tablespoon of chilled plant piss.

"Hey." Dilara gives him a smile, little Jerry stood between her legs and intently jabbing at a Samsung screen. Some garbled trumpet plays whenever he presses it. "How much were the beans?"

"Beans?" asks Dilara. "Oh, for your shopping? Around nine euros for a pack from Vie Claire."

"And you had, what, nine hundred euros to spend?" laughs Max. "Can you text me your account details for money transfer? My mum would probably shunt my d— um, dining table if I let someone spend that much on me."

At first, Max thinks he is about to get a smack for nearly cursing a three year old's ears. Then Dilara says, "I think. I am not sure what you are talking about."

So Max paints the picture from this morning and little Jerry stops trying to break his mum's phone with his thumbs to listen too. "You were the only one I talked to about it," as the elevator doors open and the three of them spill out into the little lobby.

"Someone might have overheard?" offers Dilara.

"Piano has beans," little Jerry informs Max sagely and Max.

Max snaps his fingers and says, "Of course, thanks mate."

Because piano has beans. Duh.

Max does not so much forget the bean incident as have a million other things piled on top of it. And then it gets lost somewhere. Maybe under a cupboard, or shoved between the radiator and the wall.

"It is broken, I think," says Max. "And the plumber said he is not free until the twenty second, so I guess that is me in socks and coats for the next three days."

Peter makes a delighted sound, a very different reception to Max's earlier lamentings on the lack of cat food in stock. "Did I ever tell you how my wife and I met?"

"Yeah," says Max, "on Gwyneth Paltrow's second cousins's niece's friend's friend's yacht's coach."

"Really?" say Peter. "Wow, that must have been fun. But the other time we met was — can you guess?"

"No."

"When my plumbing broke, of course! She was my neighbor, said I could take the left side of her bed for sleeping because the guest room had a fresh coat of paint. Of course," his jaw makes a quaint leer, "there was not much sleeping at all."

"Lovely," says Max, "I am going to get more gin. Happy birthday again."

Cue the next evening, and the doorbell rings. The peephole shows a slightly stretched suit, slicked back brown hair into a dramatically wide ponytail. Max sets down the last of the bean casserole, opens the lock, loops out the chain.

"Hello," he greets politely.

The woman with, actually, a normal sized ponytail gives him a grin. "Broken radiator?" She picks up the handyman's box of utensils next to her foot. G. MANNI, reads the orange block along the side. "I've got you covered."

"Are you a friend of Peter's?" asks Max.

"Who?" she says.

"Just a— never mind." Max waves her in.

What a bewildering scenario, he thinks later as he tugs off the three pairs of socks from his feet.

The radiator scenario would probably have suffered the same fate as the beans if Max did not, only the next morning, find 7kg of cat food waiting on his doorstep.

"Like angels dancing on my eardrums," Arnaav is saying when Max goes to wish them. "I asked him to record me a song as a present as a joke and he actually said I could listen to a demo."

"Wow," says Gertrude, "you lucky thing, you."

"Arnaav," says Max, "congratulations."

Arnaav beams. "Thank you."

"What was it, three years? Four?"

"Five actually. Masters with industrial placement. A dockyard up in Andora, lots of very ripped Italian men."

Max grins. "That sounds very lovely."

"Of course," continues Arnaav, "it seems like very ripped men are closer to home than I remember."

Gertrude giggles at that. Max feels his eyebrows arch together.

Arnaav gestures them both to follow into the kitchen. "Seriously," they say as they pass Frankie tying up a bright blue sausage balloon into a bright blue sausage dog to little Jerry's delight, "do you think I should shoot a shot? There is no way a guy like that is single though."

They are looking at Max imploringly. Max says, "Go for it." Then, "Who are we talking about?"

Gertrude chokes mid-chew on a bite of grape and gouda. "Gamer boys," she sighs, "always stuck in their computers."

"For once, I agree." Arnaav shakes their head. "I would point him out, but he's at his brother's for the weekend."

Dilara and Mag come laughing in then. "Mag," says Gertrude urgently, "Max does not know about the new tenant."

Which is how Max finds out, in the following five minutes, that the hottest man on the planet (Dilara's words, not his) has apparently been living two floors down from him since early November.

"Always fingering his music into late hours of the night," says Mag with a flushed sigh. "Have you ever wanted to be music so bad."

"Okay," says Max, and he takes the bottle of vodka and chugs for a little while.

The scenarios keep scenarioing. Max finds a wheel of cheese and two pounds of tomatoes in the mail. A couple days later, thirteen rolls of cat-patterned wrapping paper to replenish his dwindling stock. Then a stack of coupons for free petrol refills at any Shell in France.

It comes to an apex when he gets called down to the lobby to pick up an €800 gaming headset. Max takes it back up to his apartment and leaves it by the couch while he unlocks his phone.

Whoever keeps buying me things, it is very kind but please stop.

It is pretty late, so Max does not expect any replies. Does this have anything to do with the beans? says Gertrude barely a minute after he has sent it.

I think so, says Max.

amx is being sent things? asks Peter. *max.

Do not be jealous peter, says Dilara, I am sure we can find you your own courter.

Max blinks. Courter?

Person who courts someone else. Gives them presents to woo them that sort of thing.

I do not have a courter.

Sure you don't ;D

I don't.

HEY, Arnaav comes barrelling in, SHUTU P AND LET ME ENJPY THE MISIC.

its very lovely, agrees Peter.

Hey, has anyone added Charles? asks Mag.

Max, who does not particularly care for any person named Charles at the moment, least of all whether or not they've been added or deleted, whacks up the heating on his way to bed. He is about to turn off the light when a smack sounds from the balcony. Sassy makes a petulant expression when Max turns on the outside light.

"Idiot cat," he tells her, then slides opens the door. Immediately, the lethargic sound of piano floods into his ears. Sassy slinks inside as Max blinks.

His phone buzzes again. Mag: God I want him to play me like that.

So apparently Max's entire apartment complex spends their nights having a massive orgy to the new guy playing the piano. Charles, he gathers, playing the piano.

Charles gets added to the WhatsApp group too, renamed JDM GC (NOT FOR THIRSTING). His profile picture is black and white and contains three people, none of whom Max has seen before. He thinks they must be brothers.

not for thirsting? is the first thing Charles says. is this an inside joke i need to beg to be updated on? 😂. Max sees Mag is typing... pop up then disappear.

A few minutes later, he finds himself in a new WhatsApp group. JDM GC (FOR THIRSTING). Charles is not in this one. I'd make him beg, says Arnaav into it.

Same, says Mag, 💧.

Max thinks the exclusion is probably for the best.

He flies back in from iRacing contract negotiations a day before the Christmas Party. In the time left, he unpacks, laments to Dilara on the lack of green beans in store (“Christmas time,” she sympathizes), streams until two in the morning. Periodically checks his doorstep just in case.

Everything is fine. Then he returns from another green–beanless escapade and on his mat, is a parcel. Inside the parcel, is a dark blue wooly sweater with an outrageously bright design of red and green animals and a manger on the front, yellow sheen emitting from the neck hole.

There is a note.

Merry Christmas x.

Max takes it in, puts it on. Stares at himself in the mirror. Takes it off, wraps it up, and leaves it on the torn parcel paper to return later. He can give the money to the New Year's party.

When he takes the elevator down to Dilara's apartment, he is immediately accosted by Gertrude and slightly less accosted by little Jerry. "Max!"

Mistletoe hangs from the ceiling. Max takes the kiss she plants on his mouth with his hands on her arms to make sure it does not turn into Human Bowling, then blows out a breath. "Do you know who keeps giving me shit?"

Gertrude's brow furrows. "The beans?"

"The same person, yeah." Max rubs his temple. "It is starting to piss me off. I asked them to stop and they have not."

"Maybe it is someone not in the building?"

"Unless they bugged the place, no." Max sighs. "It was always ridiculous but now it is even more ridiculous. The whole 'courting thing' too is just stupid."

Litter Jerry looks up, Samsung held slightly precariously in his chubby fingers. "What about—"

"Charles!" erupts Gertrude brightly, looking into the distance. Max twists on the spot but there's just empty hallway. The stairwell door swings a little. Gertrude sways on the spot slightly.

"Let's get you inside," says Max and herds her back into the celebrations. At the jerk of his head, little Jerry sighs a great sigh and ducks under his arm, back into the loud apartment.

Nothing. Max opens the door: nothing. Max enters the lobby: nothing. Max gets his mail: nothing.

Max gets on with his life. Nothing.

Max sits on the balcony at night and listens to the silence. He checks the messages on his phone. Maybe he broke his hands, muses Dilara.

both of them at the same time? says Peter.

I just saw him, reports Mag, in the elevator. His hands are fine. Really really fine.

Back in JDM GC (NOT FOR THIRSTING), Charles simply says he has taken a break due to 'lack of inspiration'.

I will gladly inspire him, says Arnaav in JDM GC (FOR THIRSTING).

Not if I inspire him first, replies Mag.

Max keeps out of that one. Max keeps out of most of it, and: Nothing. The little Merry Christmas note stays in his nightstand and Max just. Forgets to take it out every single night. Whatever.

By the time Peter's New Year's party rolls around, life has settled and Max starts the year off drunk, happy, and listening to little Jerry toot Anaconda on the trumpet while next to him, Peter makes out with his new fiancée as of three seconds ago. Max has never seen her in his life.

The next morning is a slow one. For one, it is already eleven when Max cracks open his eyes. He rolls over. A chilled breeze stirs the hair on his arms.

He blames the alcohol for accepting that as he does. Getting out of bed, taking the wrong door to the bathroom and finding a closet instead. Taking the right door to the bathroom and the Palmolive soap has been replaced by a pot of L’Oreal Paris hair mask.

Then the cold wind comes back again and Max peers past his headache to see the window cracked wide open. He looks back to the mirror. He is naked.

“Shit,” says Max, with feeling.

A snore comes from the bedroom. Apparently Max bypassed an entire human being too. Stupid, useless alcohol. He’s going to go back to his place, take his stash of gin, chug it to forget this ever happened.

For now, he puts on his clothes. Rumpled, clearly discarded without much care. But on. Then he takes a look around. Lots of red. A centerpiece of fake roses sits atop an electric piano. The front door is the same as his. A shelf of photos over the TV contains the same three recurring men. In the corner of the kitchen, there is a large cardboard box held shut by a loaf of 50/50. Max moves it off and takes a peak. Inside is roughly two hundred bags of green beans.

The mop of brown hair forms a person eventually. Max has found an OralB tube by then and used his finger as a makeshift brush.

"Morning," says Max when they arise.

Charles takes one look at him before falling back onto his pillow. "Shit."

Max spends the first afternoon of 2024 swallowing Aspirin and slightly burnt Eggos. Suffice to say, Charles is a terrible host. And yet Max is still here. Pretty privilege. Hottest man on the planet, remembers Max. Yeah, okay.

He swallows, nods to the box in the corner and its counterpart bread loaf. “So were you the one stalking me?”

Charles chokes on his protein smoothie, glowers. “I was not— stalking, I was just. Courting.”

“Courting,” echoes Max. “Dilara’s going to have a fit.”

Charles stares at him. He was not in the WhatsApp group at that point so he wouldn’t know. Real funny, Max thinks to the universe. Great planning.

“So you, what,” he says, “bugged the building?”

“I just overheard sometimes,” says Charles. His cheeks are a vibrant, sick red. Fucking fresh air lovers.

Max thumbs his own temple. “What do I owe you?”

“What?” asks Charles, stupidly handsome and stupidly stupid. His fingers wrapped around the bottle are messing up Max’s already messed up mind.

“For all the shit you got me. If you say anything less than a thousand, I will know you’re lying so what do I owe you?”

A moment passes in which Charles blinks at him, Max realizes Jimmy and Sassy are probably upending the microwave, and Charles blinks some more. Then: “A date?”

“You are the worst flirter I have ever met in my life,” Max tells him sincerely. He slides off the stool and kisses him on the mouth. Charles drops the protein smoothie. The bottle breaks all over the floor.

Max buys him sixteen more.

#fic: mv1.cl16 #f1 rpf #xiao: writes #lestappen #this got far too out of hand im sorry #it's just SILLY #ladies and gentleladies . it is just. silly.#i think bc it has general similarities with another fic that my wife let me braindump into whatsapp so i was already feeling the vibes #god bless same sex marriage etc etc

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idontplaytrack · 8 months ago

Text

✧ My Girl

AJ Campos x fem! reader

Warnings: fluff, some coarse language, making out turned smut.

In which AJ makes a move and officially asks reader to be her girlfriend.

Requested? Yes / No

[Part 2 to Wait For You ]

Spacing is horrid, pls forgive me lol😭 it’s also lengthy bc I didn’t want to split it into another part🫠

Your eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the surroundings. Hit with the initial confusion of not being in your own bedroom, you were quickly snapped out of it when you felt a pair of arms wrapped around you.

“Good morning.” AJ spoke, the sleep still evident in her voice. Pressing a kiss onto your shoulder, she snuggles closer and rested her chin there. You still couldn’t believe you were here with AJ…even after a month of dating later. A smile creeps onto your face as you replied, “Morning.” Even then, the both of you fell back asleep. And when you woke up again, you had your arms around her and were laying on her chest. AJ was combing her fingers through your hair as she had her phone in her hand. You looked up at her, eyes barely open. She realised you were awake, “Hi, sleepyhead.” AJ put her phone down, and smiled at you. “What time is it?”

“A little after nine-thirty.” She answers, her hand now trailing down to your back.

“Oh.”

“Mhm.” AJ confirmed with a small nod, leaning down to kiss you on the head, “Are you okay?”

“Mm, yeah why?”

“You just seem awfully sleepy.” She chuckled.

“It’s Saturday after all.” You responded.

“You would so sleep all day if no one was there to wake you up.” She shifted herself and she was now face to face with you, capturing your lips into her own.

“That is correct.” You giggled, kissing her back, your nearly-nude body softly pressing up against hers. AJ happily carried on kissing you for awhile, cupping your cheek. “Wouldn’t want to start something we can’t finish, would we?” You joked.

“Hey.” She broke away, looking at you in feigned offence, “What was last night then? Need I remind you, we both…finished?”

You snorted a laugh, pulling her back in, “That we did. Thank you, baby.”

AJ’s cheeks began to form a light pink hue, blushing, “And what are we doing now?”

“You? You’re blushing.” You teased, breaking away from the contact briefly. AJ eagerly kisses you again, letting you know all you needed to know.

She’d never done anything like that before last night. And you too, so you were both just taking the time to explore. Teaching each other what to do and what felt good. Especially with no one else home, you and AJ were all the more, relaxed. You were currently on top, straddling her as you held her face in both your hands and kissed her over and over. She reciprocated with the same energy, her hands lazily clung onto your back. But they roamed after awhile, down to your ass and she rests a hand there which she eventually used to massage the muscle. Your lips ventured down along her jaw next and then her neck, now knowing that she had a sensitive spot there that would rile her up a little. A quiet moan falls from her mouth which you’d anticipated so you kept at it for a little bit.

“I want to kiss you, honey.” AJ says while her head involuntarily tilted back as a result of your actions. Her ring-clad fingers brushed through your hair as you continued to kiss and suck at her neck, just enough to elicit those little sounds you’ve quickly grown to love hearing. “Baby, please.” She requests, her voice even softer this time around. You could never say no to this girl. Biting back a grin, you moved yourself back up so she could kiss you like she’d asked. With one of her hands now comfortably in your hair to keep your face from moving away, the other was still trailing up and down between your back and ass- the feeling of her fingertips over the fabric makes you squirm because it tickles. And AJ seems to have figured that out and smoothly slid her hand under the fabric, gently squeezing your ass cheek. You laughed softly into the kiss, but she intermittently kept repeating her actions and resulted in a whine to come out from your mouth. Her teeth grazes your lip and her tongue attempted to slide itself into your mouth like a silent invitation. Which you’d accepted, and then started to do the same. Hearing each other start moaning turned you on as much as it does her.

AJ’s hand on your ass slid to your front, and her other hand that was initially in your hair was now on your upper back. She pulls away from the kiss to search your eyes for approval to do what she was about to do next. A strained incoherent sound and a nod swiftly came from you as you attacked her lips, needing the attention back. And so, her hand dips into your underwear and her fingers began to rub your clit in a slow, steady motion. She carefully bent a knee so you had another form of stimulation available. You instinctively shifted yourself over to that leg of hers and started grinding against it, going along with her actions. Her hand falls to your hip, “You’re so beautiful, honey.” She says, a sweet smile on her face and her eyes filled with so much warmth and love, it made you feel a crazy swarm of butterflies in your chest. Her leg straightens again, worried that you might fall off. You whined, frustrated. AJ remains calm and laid you on your back then joined you, laying down beside you.

————

As your hand clung to her back, you fiddled with the clip on her bra while you asked if you could remove it. She was doing most of the work now and you felt bad about it so…here goes. Holding her peaked pink nipple between your fingers, you gave it a little pinch. She chuckles into the kiss and gave you a nod of approval. You kept at it, alternating between massaging her breast and pinching her nipple. AJ’s fingers on your clit started going harder, with the sole purpose of building up your pleasure. And it worked, you were soon feeling the need to plead for more. But of course, AJ being AJ, she loved giving you whatever you pleased and you didn’t have to even actually ask. AJ just went for it to let you feel good.

Last night’s bit of awkwardness was quickly forgotten as the two of you got more familiar with everything little thing about the other person, until she asks you a completely unexpected question, “Baby…” You broke away from the kiss completely to look at her, “Yeah?”

“Can I…taste you?”

You shot her a look of bewilderment and gulped, chuckling, “Oh- you wanna-”

“Only if you’re okay with it, alright?” She laughs softly, licking her lips, “I don’t want you to say yes just because you feel like you should-”

“It’s fine.” You answered, “We can give that a try.”

“Are you sure?” AJ asks, caressing your cheek as she spoke, her gaze worried.

“Yeah.” You nodded decisively, “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” She smooches you on the lips before making her way down to the juncture between your thighs and slowly pushed your legs open. And my god did you feel vulnerable as hell with her face looking right at your cunt for the first time. You looked down at her at she almost seemed intrigued- she was eager to find out more about what makes you feel good. AJ’s left hand was on your inner thigh and the right was holding her own hair to keep it out of the way as she got closer and closer to the area.

Her tongue flicked your clit gently and you gasped, realising that you liked that. AJ proceeded to do that for a good couple of minutes before trying to lick a stripe up from your entrance to your sensitive nub. You whined, watching her. And when she heard you, she looked up- making eye contact with you. “Does that feel good?” She asks for confirmation. “Yeah, yeah it does.” You told her. So AJ kept going- licking, kiss and even sucking your sensitive area, getting to hear more and more sweet sounds of pleasure from you as the minutes went on. Her hand got back to massaging your ass which she already knew you liked, so it drove you even closer to the edge. Eventually, your hips bucked against your will so she held you down, continuing to lap up your juices as you were practically fighting for your life not to sound like a needy little girl under her touch. “Hey, hey…” She detaches herself from you, “It’s alright, honey. Make all the noise you want.”

Oh, God. Those eyes, the warmth of her touch and her tongue. You were getting giddy, and dangerously close to the peak.

Suddenly, you feel her fingers ghosting the mound, “Yes, please. AJ, do it.” You wanted to try that, so she added her finger to the mix with no resistance. AJ thought that it must’ve been wrong…having her face buried in your heat and her fingers so deep inside you, right?Feeling the coldness from her ring, you seethed right as she poked you in the sensitive area inside. It snaps her out of that thought that was quickly abandoned. You whined, and loudly, “Fuck. God, AJ that feels so damn good- keep going.” Getting a little cocky now, she went a whole lot faster hoping you let you have your release soon. With her sucking and finger-fucking you while her hand groped your breast, the combination made you clench- your pleasure was near the brink of unraveling. Of course, she could feel it all being actually inside of you. She may not very experience, but she was a quick learner. “Come on, baby.” She cooed, “Give me one. Let go.” And you did, as if on her command while your back arched off the mattress. You’d creamed her two fingers completely with your slick as your body trembled from the intensity of your high. She pulls them out, clambering back up to kiss you. “I love you, y/n.”

You smiled giddily, “I love you, too.” Brushing the hair out of her face, you ask, “You wanna have a go?”

She laughs, “Mm, sure.” Kissing you again, you were now laid on your side before she slid yourself down slightly to hold her nipple in your mouth for a beat. You licked and sucked it, while fondling with the other. She moans, biting down on her lip. “Don’t hold back, AJ.” You coaxed, “If it feels good let me hear it, okay?”

When she was under your touch, she was the one who got shy. Just like she did yesterday, but it seemed a little better today now that she was obviously more familiar with you and absolutely comfortable and needy. “Okay.” She agrees, and moans quickly chased her response, “Ah, ah- shit. Shit.”

Smugly, you start to tease her folds with a finger and she almost instantly whined. You pulled your finger away while moving yourself back up to meet her face just so you could witness the change in her expression. Gosh, she needed you to touch her so bad. But you wanted her to tell you. “What do you want, sweetie?” Your fingers danced along the side of her body as you gazed into her eyes expecting a specific answer.

“Baby, I need you to touch me.” AJ spat out hurriedly, hiding her face behind her hand. You pushed it aside, “I want to see your face, pretty girl, hmm? You need me to touch you, babe?” “Yes. Please.” She nodded, licking her lips.

“Okay.” Your finger returned to its position, sliding downwards just slightly then you start to rub her clit to see and hear what she thought of that. “You like that, babe?” You weren’t expecting a verbal response, but she tells you yes anyway. So you picked up your pace as a reward for her as she clung onto you for dear life, her leg now rested on your hip for extra support. Unlike you, the rougher you went, the more she wanted. AJ seems to like it a little more aggressive. And so be it, she let you feel good and it was now her turn.

Pretty soon, you slipped two fingers inside her easily, curling them so you could locate and hit her g-spot. AJ grew increasingly vulgar as you continued to ram your fingers into her, your actions and her noises matched up- one for one. It also wasn’t long before you felt her walls tightening around your fingers, you decidedly got ahold of her nipple again and twisted it in between your fingers will your other hand continued with the push-and-pull in her cunt. “Oh, fuck!” She cried out with a pant, and she came, just as you were hoping she would. Satisfied, both your hands detached from her. “Fucking hell, that was something else. Holy shit.”

————

A little later, you and AJ found yourselves in the kitchen to fix up some lunch. You were wearing one of her t-shirts that she’d picked out for you to change into after your shower, AJ was in a cute little camisole top and shorts. “Do you want the same one so I can just dump it in the same pot?” She asks you, referring to the two packets of instant ramen in her hands.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.” You shrugged.

AJ squinted at you, “Are you okay? Please don’t tell me I hurt you.”

“Oh, you definitely didn’t.” You assured, “Don’t worry. I was just- spacing out a little.”

“Alright.” She smiled, relieved as she opened up the packets of noodles then dumped them into the pot on the stove. You hugged her from behind, pressing a kiss to her shoulder blade. She chuckles, “Yes, honey?”

“Nothin’.” You said back, “Just wanted to hug you.”

“Cute.” She commented, “Hey, what do you say we go out for a drive tonight? Maybe get some takeout on the way and head to Broadway to see a show?”

“Sounds great.” You agreed, “I kinda wanna go to Times Square.”

“You do?” She knew you typically would stay away from a ‘touristy area’ since you didn’t like crowds that much.

“Yeah, but I kinda miss it. Just wanna do a little walk through. Then maybe we can stop by an observation deck for sunset first.”

“Sure, honey.” AJ answers while stirring the food in the pot and turning down the heat. You unwrapped your arms, loosening your grip around her and just stood by her as she portioned the noodles into two bowls. After lunch, you and AJ lazed on the couch watching reruns of old sitcoms on TV for a couple hours before going out for a walk.

On your walk, you bought tickets for AJ and yourself to The Edge in Hudson Yards- it was the cheapest option. Once the both of you got back home, you got dressed and ready for the evening. It was a two-hour drive into the city, but AJ thought you two should leave a little earlier just to be safe. She drove, you sit in front with her. Before you knew it, the familiar hustle and bustle of the city filled your senses. “We’re gonna go to the deck, dinner, show, Times Square then drive home.” AJ listed.

“Yep.”

“Alright, let’s park this car and get upstairs.” AJ grins, glancing at you.

Being 100-storeys up, you got a breathtaking view of pretty much the whole of Manhattan. You haven’t been to the city in ages and this had you in awe. AJ took you by the hand and led you to sit down with her at the steps after taking a few laps around the deck to look at the view and take some pictures. AJ tilted your face to face her own, “Are you sleepy already, honey?” She plants a kiss on your forehead and you rest your head on her shoulder, basking in her company and the gorgeous view in front of your eyes as the setting sun painted the sky golden hue. “I’m not.” You chuckled, “This view is gorgeous.”

“Just like you.” She mumbles, laughing to herself as she held your hand. Her free hand took her phone out to get pictures of you — which you didn’t realise, and the sunset.

“Hm?” You sat back up, looking at her now.

“Nothing.” AJ avoided eye contact. “AJ, no- please talk to me. It’s okay.”

You took in a deep breath, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, anything.” You nodded and smiled, intertwining your fingers with hers.

“We’ve been dating for about a month and I’ve been thinking…I want you to be my girlfriend. You know, like- officially? So I um-” She began, reaching into her purse. You watched her, concerned, honestly. Purely because she seemed so nervous. “I made you- this. Here.” She hands you a small package wrapped in what seemed like paper from a sketchbook. You untied the bow, carefully unfolding the paper. There was a bracelet in there, but the drawing on the paper caught your eye first- it was a Hello name sticker that said ‘I love you’ in the blank.

“Oh, my God. AJ. I love this.” You slid the bracelet onto your wrist and took a closer look at the little drawing she did, “I am totally framing this.”

She smiles, squeezing your hand even tighter.

You freed your hand from her grip and grabbed her face with both hands, crashing your lips onto hers, “Fuck, I love you so much, my girl.”

AJ chuckles and smiled into the kiss, “I love you.”

#auli’i cravalho #aj campos #crush #hulu crush #lgbtqia #queer fiction #sfw wlw #wlw #wlw fluff #romance #Spotify #reader insert #x reader #female reader

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