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awingedinsect · 9 months ago

Text

-Flood me like Atlantic-

Chapter 10

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: cursing, alcohol use, Vessel is that bitch. Minor character death

“What do you think of my gift?”

Vessel head is bowed. He can feel the mark on his forehead flickering, burning; carving his flesh over and over.

“It’s beautiful.” He says.

He can feel the earth beneath his knees. What was once a blank plane is now something rich and almost real, a dark forest that creeks and twists with ancient power. It’s serene.

There’s a black cloak on his shoulders, the hood draped over his head. Another gift.

He looks up slowly, eyes scanning the trees as they whisper to him.

“Do you have a form?” He asks, hands clamped to his knees. “Can I see you?”

There’s a silence.

“I am something beyond sight.” The forest says. “I am a force, a saturation of thought. Any form I take does no justice to my entirety, nor any name, to what I am. Though to you, I am something you have needed since first you opened your eyes.”

Vessel feels something cold along his spine, slithering over his skin and dragging delicately like a mothers touch.

“…I believe you know my name.”

“Sleep.” Vessel whispers.

There’s a weight over his face. It turns his vision to slits as he looks up, feeling the touch drag along his shoulders and to his chest. His breath grows deeper as he feels his chin tilt up. “I am the author of your dreams. And you are the catalyst of my hunger. Worship.”

His lips part slowly, watching as his colorless surroundings seep fog into the little clearing until it rises up past his eyes. There’s a form in the haze; a singular bit of color that splits into six pieces that slowly gather before him.

Six glowing slanted eyes bore into him.

“Be my voice.”

When he looks down, he sees his arms covered in ash. His hands tremor and climb up over himself, admiring the palette of the trees as it bathes his skin.

“Does it please you to dress me like your home?” He asks. “…Why do I have a new face?”

“This place is what you make it, not me.” The eyes say, trailing over Vessel’s body. “The mask, is a sacrament of your surrender. You don’t need a face, only a mouth. And what is not necessary is not shown. Did you ask them to wear the masks?”

“…yes.”

“Is it almost time?”

“…yes.”

“Then stand, Vessel.” The trees twist and spread into four corners around him, the canopies spreading black and consuming above. He gets to his feet, setting the empty glass he finds in his hand on a table.

“Give your voice to me.”

He walks through the wooden door and opens it into a hallway, feeling the lights and the fog and the crowd all beckoning him. His cloak flows behind him and he reaches up, adjusting the mask one last time before mounting the stairs.

Worship. He thinks, unsure of what it truly means.

Worship.

He steps over wires, brain sloshing a bit more than it ought to be. But he’s truly not sure he could have gotten on stage at all without a bit of liquid courage. II is there, behind the drums. IV stands quiet and still with his guitar, arm free of the sling just for the occasion; it’s obvious how happy he is to be reunited with his instrument.

Vessel’s eyes move to III, dragging over him slowly as he makes his way across the stage. He didn’t talk much before the show, which was probably for the better anyway, if not a little concerning. He had hardly protested when the idea of the masks came up; something Vessel did not expect. Although if only one of them hid their face it might seem a little strange to the hundred or so people gathered in this tent to witness a mostly unknown band with a completely unknown name.

He wanders to the mic stand.

There’s a lot of eyes. More eyes than he had on him the first time. He’s safer this time, for sure; the paint, the mask, the hood… these things come together in a concoction free of normalcy and full of interest that has practically nothing to do with who he actually is beneath. All they want is a show, not him. But even with that thought he can’t look up.

There is a single pair of eyes he wants on him tonight and it’s not in the bloody crowd.

He pulls the mic of the stand and wanders off, trailing the chord head bowed. Can they tell he’s nervous? He prowls slowly as the music starts, looking down at himself bathed in the pale lights. The paint is honestly half-assed; splotchy and missing a whole few centimeters between his jeans and hips, displaying a glaring reminder of how rarely he sees the sun.

Whatever.

He picks up a water bottle and takes a small sip, before twisting the cap back on and just dropping it on the stage floor. He can practically hear III’s anger, and he can’t help but smile a little.

His lips hover over the mic, parting slowly.

“And I’ll see you when the wrath comes…”

“Do you have any songs you wanna add to the set, Vess?” II had asked. He sat with a pad and pencil on the couch. “That song you played at the bar, maybe?”

“Knocking on your bedroom door with money…”

“…actually, I’ve kinda been writing a new one.” He said, fingers twitching at his sides. “…I was gonna run it by you guys at practice, see what you think.”

“Building you a kingdom…” Vessel’s voice is low. Breathy. It draws a few screams from the crowd, something that does nothing to put out the fire simmering in his chest. God, it’s so much easier. He’s just a mouth, and they're just ears. And whether he understands it or not there’s a god who approves of that arrangement enough to make him promises he can’t begin to understand.

He glances at III, heart lurching when he sees the bassist strumming intently to his words.

“Dripping from the open mouth. I’ll show you what you look like…”

Both hand graze the mic, caressing the chord like his heart isn’t beating at twice its usual pace. “…from the inside.”

He steps up to the front of the stage, now casting a brief glance at all the sets of cold eyes now warming up as they watch him. It’s euphoric. Interesting. And it’s enough to make his back sticky with sweat.

“And I’ll see you when the wrath comes around.”

When the breakdown hits him, he can’t help but move. The sound erupts in the little tent like a call to a whole new plane of being and he closes his eyes, jumping side to side on the stage as the crowd reaches and roars for that plane. That Eden. His bandmates don’t hold back either, pouring their hearts through their fingers and giving everything they have to offer. And when he sees III actually kicking the air to the beat his face splits with a glistening smile.

He loves this.

Suddenly his head flares with a shooting pain. He doubles over, hands reaching up with the mic still trembling in his hold. He gasps and scrunches his eyes as a thought loud enough to terrify him seeps through the cracks of his skull;

“Don’t be driven to distraction. I will build you a kingdom, so long as you know to who you belong.”

His chin wobbles, a line of spit falling from his glossy lips. “Let’s load the gun.” He whispers below the music. “Load the gun…”

A wicked laugh falls out of his mouth as he straightens, forcing the pain deeper and raising his hands in the air. He ignores the wet tracks making their way down his face. He just smiles and bows his head, feeling the music flood his fucking form.

He floats on the brief silence as the song closes, chest heaving. It’s an intense quiet. Like a grave, at the bottom of the sea.

Then noise thunders into his ears like breaking waves.

They’re ecstatic; screaming and clapping and demanding more, maybe more moved than he is. He can’t believe it. Do they really like him- the music, that much?

He suddenly feels very awkward, aware of how lost he’d gotten and how insane he must have looked. He just stands there, stiff and still with a mic in his hands.

He gives them a little nod of thanks and retreats back as the next song starts up; one of II’s own.

• • •

Vessel’s still in his costume.

He feels a little silly, standing around in almost plain sight behind the tent. Although he’s sure that a lanky guy in paint and a mask isn’t necessarily the strangest nor most exciting thing to see at this festival.

He sits on the rigging, swinging his socked feet and looking up at the sky as dusk sets in over the chaos. He likes being secluded.

He takes a sip of his beer.

“That was insane.” IV says, pulling his mask off and leaning back against the structure. He drops his head back, swiping his face with his still-weak arm propped up on his guitar, and pops the cap off his own beer with a keychain. “God, I’m tired.” He says, taking a swig. “You?”

“…where’s III?” Vessel asks, voice a little quiet. He’s pretty drained after all that, body quite literally dripping with sweat. IV shrugs. “Off getting lit, most likely.” He says. “There’s plenty more shows to watch before the nights over, and he’ll probably be in as many pits as possible.”

“…and II?”

“Meeting up with some friends, I think.” IV rolls his head over, lashes flickering up at Vessel as he takes another sip of his drink. “What are you wanting to do, Vess?”

Before he can answer, II comes around the tent with a much taller man in tow. Vessel straightens, clearing his throat and blinking behind the mask. He wasn’t expecting company.

“Vessel! I want you to meet someone.” II says, pulling the guy by the arm. He’s a brunette, with soft features and a flushed, smiling face. He’s probably hit up a few drink stands himself tonight.

“Matt, Vessel.” II says, dropping the stranger in front of him. “Vessel, Matt.”

“Nice to meet you,” Vessel says, considering offering his hand but opting to just clutch his beer awkwardly between his knees. “Drummer, right?”

“Likewise!” Matthew says, still smiling wide as he shoves his hands in his jean pockets. “And yep, that’s me. Listen, man, I managed to watch your set- that was fuckin brilliant. Brilliant.” His eyes suddenly flick up and down Vessel’s body, smile quirking thoughtfully. “I like your style.”

If it weren’t for the mask, Vessel’s pretty sure his blush would be record breaking. But he just sits there instead, nodding and tugging his mouth into an award straight line of an expression that says “thanks” in the most casual way he can muster.

He fails a bit.

“What’dya think of the new name, Matt?” II asks, stealing the beer from IV’s hand and taking a long sip. “Does it suit us?”

“no man, it’s sick.” Matt says, turning to his friend, though his eyes are always just a fraction away from Vessel. “Though honestly, can’t believe you changed it! But ‘Sleep Token’ has a hell of a ring.”

IV snags his drink back from II. “Well, we didn’t exactly want to go down as the band that played before the damn crisis of the year happened.” He says. “Besides, it was time for a new vibe. Vessel actually came up with it.”

At the mention of the Blacklit room, Vessel’s body tenses. But he’s quickly distracted once more as Matt turns to him, grinning. “Oh really? What was the inspiration, then? Or does it just sound cool.”

“Um, both… I guess.” He smiles. “I mean, We all need Sleep, right?”

They all laugh a little good naturally, eyes gleaming as the dark sets in.

“Well,” Matt says, rifling through his back pocket and producing a pen and napkin. He starts scribbling it, eyes drifting to Vessel midway with a small smile. “If you ever wanna tell me more about it.”

He sets the napkin down on the rigging besides Vessel, casually dropping his pen back in his pocket.

Vessel swears he catches a wink before Matt turns back to II.

“Man, your percussions were wild. What was the name of that second song? Halfway through I swear…”

Vessel stops listening, eyes flicking down to the napkin as his fingers curl around it. There’s a little flutter in his chest, a smile fast growing on his lips as he unfolds it just enough to see the beginning of an area code.

He shoves it into his pocket, eyes twinkling under the mask and turning to IV.

IV takes a sip of his beer and offers him a small thumbs-up.

That night they all crash immediately. II, IV and of course III. After about twenty minutes of searching they managed to find the bassist in a mosh pit, screaming and shoving every person in sight until the whole thing nearly required security. He was wasted, and fell asleep against the backseat window with II on his shoulder as IV navigated them through traffic. Vessel sat shotgun, blinking away the alcohol with his hands in his lap, mask, robe and paint getting second-looks from other cars.

He thought he looked sick.

The next day they did nothing but practice until 5:00pm, when II suggested they all go get sandwiches. They did. And when they got home, the sun was already setting.

They all got ready for an early night.

“Anyone wanna watch some tv?” II asks, wandering out of his room in an oversized shirt and boxers. III is already digging through the fridge again, and II ducks under his arm, pulling out a beer before disappearing in the living room.

Vessel is leaning against the kitchen counter, a yawn trapped in his mouth while IV downs a glass of water before filling it up a second time for the singer.

“I’m good,” Vessel says after II, checking the clock on the wall. He nods his thanks at IV and sips the glass he’s handed. “I’m fuckin beat. Guess I didn’t sleep all that great last night.”

III is hauling a half-eaten banana pudding into his room, not bothering to say anything at all as he retires for the night.

IV looks at Vessel.

“You know, you do look off.” He says. “You feeling alright, bruv? …I heard you get sick last night.”

“What?” Vessel rubs his eyes. “Me? I…“

A horrified scream suddenly fills the house, turning his blood to ice.

“What the fuck-!“ III speeds out of his room, charging down the hallway to get into the living room where Vessel and IV have already gathered.

They find II on the couch, jaw dropped and wide eyes filled with the reflection of the tv.

“…found dead early this morning, in an abandoned home three blocks from his apartment.”

Vessel covers his mouth, a choked sound leaving him as he sees the face on the screen.

No way.

III and IV are already holding II, trying to quiet his cries. But Vessel feels empty. Devoid of reaction or even the ability to move.

“The man has been identified as Matthew Todd, a 22 year old college student.”

Tags: @thevenomousseprent @moonlit-valkyrie @mmendez0124 @yourviscera @rain-down-on-me @xzero01

#vessel #vessel sleep token #sleep token art #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token iii #art #sleep token #sleep token fanart #sleep token ii #vessel art #fanfic #sleep token iii fanfiction #jennifer’s body au

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simonalkenmayer · 1 year ago

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You didn’t ask me to share my “theory”. Why are you putting words in my mouth?

I said flat out that weird things happen. What I also said is that those weird things make sense when you have a different perspective and don’t need to be embroidered. Be scientific. Take apart your experiences with strict acientific mindset. No preconceptions. None. Analyze what happened. Be disciplined.

With good enough tech and a comprehensive enough perspective, one can discern how things fit together. Prior to that, you’re blind. Seeing part of the picture. Accepting folllore and memes as Gödel. Yes that was a joke.

Let go of all of it. And recognize your own body and brain can be doing things without your awareness or consent.

Let me give you an example:

I am very electromagnetically sensitive. Very. I can feel it. I can interact with it. You can too but you aren’t usually as aware. However, some of you are. Humans who are sensitive, who step into a very strong EMF, will hallucinate shadow people. If you see those things, eliminate that possibility through comprehensive measurements and testing. Try to replicate. Etc. do science. Once you have eliminated that possibility, you can come up with and test a hypothesis.

Meanwhile, when you report seeing shadow people…I experience something else entirely. Something I know is tied to EMF, because of when and how I noticed it, have tested it, etc.

Humanity often will go with folklore, scream shadow people, and concoct wild pantheons of experience just to explain seeing shadow people. Meanwhile I am watching to notice how strong it has to be before they feel it, if I can fluctuate it, so forth. My perspective is very different and it gives me an idea outside yours.

I am happy to explain more and have. I have an FAQ for that purpose. But please don’t put intent into my shape and form. You have no idea what I am truly going to say.

What I meant regarding Parsons being a strange spectre in my orbit, is that his name kept coming up in various ways. I just think that's odd. Especially since a picture of him holding a device quite like one created to try to annihilate people in my family seemed a strange coincidence. Perhaps most devices such as that are similar in appearance? It was a homemade apparatus attached to a garbage disposal.

If you'd care to share your theory as to why consciousness can not be maintained after death I'd be interested. And the truth of how things work especially regarding supernatural or what is beyond or usual comprehension. Some people have more perception than others. That's usually do to genetics and I high level of severe abuse. Increases awareness and more primitive animal instincts the general population lacks.

Thank you

I am aware “paranormal” things exist. What they are, is actually a complex interplay between your inherent abilities you do not know you possess and the environment, which is far more complex than we’ve mapped. These supposedly “above normal” incidents are actually normal, but science hasn’t described them in any corrective way, because of stigma. For example, you mix table salt and chlorine, two normal every day chemicals, and you get an explosive. You mix a human enduring emotional trauma, and specific environmental factors and bam, you’ve got a poltergeist, a momentary “powering up” of place memory, etc. ghosts aren’t dead people saying things to you. They’re you influencing the environment to echo your expectations. You miss grandma. You influence the environment to sculpt what you want to see. Some environmental situations are very susceptible to flux and others aren’t. So some places stay haunted while others don’t. It isn’t terribly difficult, but humans complicate it by looking at it the wrong way around.

You can perceive and manipulate more than you realize, and so I see no reason to explain it to you lest you use it in a way that impacts me. I’d prefer ignorance.

And my “theory” isntt a theory. We know for a fact that mind depends on structure and chemicals. It depends on the road and the cars on it, so to speak. If the brain is damaged, identity changes. Sometimes it doesn’t, despite vast change. These two extremes teach us about the norm. There are too many things happening to physically fascillitate thought, like transmitter production, largely dependent on food and gut microbiome, nerve death/growth, types of neuronal connections, brain structure and growth due to trauma in early childhood etc. when the brain is not maintained, the identity fails. No hardware, no software.

If a person can physically go mad, then there is no life after death. Consciousness is temporary. Let me give you another metaphor.

Have you ever seen slow motion video of a full water balloon popping? If not

When you pop it, the water temporarily holds the shape, but with no external structure, the water falls out and resumes its normal level configuration, depending upon the external space and its shape. That’s the same physics that governs all things.

While the brain is dying, the energy is still moving in some recognizable pattern. Once the brain isn’t there to be the grooves, and the body isn’t turning food into electrochemical signaling, there is not energy production. No new consciousness. No life after death.

It’s simply not possible to have a consciousness as we have them, off of a biological substrate. All beings on this plant depend on this kind of structure. Other worlds perhaps not, though they are governed by the same physics.

I’ve tried before to explain how and why I understand this, but I cannot make any human understand. Have you ever gone along with an idea for the sake of a child’s whimsy? Santa brought you a sock! Gasp! But you know it wasn’t Santa because you saw your uncle put the gift under the tree, etc. that’s how I feel. Except that instead of letting you have your fun, I’m deemed an insensitive bastard for explaining that people do not actually want to solve this mystery, and they don’t want you to question whatever it is they e decided upon.

I have no interest.

As for Parsons, I’ve noticed a recent resurgence of Nicola Tesla nonsense too. New new wave spiritualism awakens. Ugh

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littlespoonevan · 3 years ago

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Congrats on 7k followers, holy shit. I trust you with any of the letter prompts, but if I had to pick, T. I'm super curious what you'll come up with. =)

aklsdjh alright, friend, you prompted "obscure au" and my mind went to a million different places, none of which i really vibed with. and then, last night, right as i was on the edge of sleep, my mind concocted an idea from fandom days of old:

professional cuddler evan buckley/touch-starved ball of repression eddie diaz

so this is...certainly a thing aksjdhf but also i'm lowkey obsessed with this concept now and i don't wanna let it go so if you could all please let me know if you would read a 5k-10k continuation of this fic, that would be great lmao

Eddie Diaz is a lot of things.

He’s war veteran, he’s a firefighter, he’s an (ex)husband, he’s a father.

What he is not, is good at asking for help.

Moving to LA had been an initially impulsive but still carefully constructed plan to snatch back his agency and his role as a father after feeling smothered for so long under his parents’ roof. In truth, he wouldn’t have had any problem becoming a firefighter in Texas but there was a special kind of vindication – a childlike ‘haha you can’t catch me!’ – that came with telling his parents he was moving to California.

And as proud as he is of himself for finally standing up for something he wants, moving to LA has been hard.

Not least of all because he’s got about a vault’s worth of unresolved trauma from his time in the army.

The combination of recently moving house, finally truly living as a single parent – who hasn’t managed to set up proper childcare yet – and beginning a new job as a firefighter has meant the walls he’s so steadfastly built up around himself to hold himself together since he first came home are starting to crumble.

And of course, because the universe absolutely hates Eddie, all of this stress and anxiety has decided to take the form of insomnia.

Possibly the worst symptom a single father who works 24 hour shifts could experience.

Which is why he’s one hundred percent going to blame his sleep-deprived brain for what he chooses to do.

It’s past 3am and Eddie is scrolling mindlessly on his phone when he first stumbles across the ad.

Some people, when they go online shopping at night, buy things they don’t need. Like a Fitbit or a novelty t-shirt.

Eddie…

Eddie buys a professional cuddler.

It’s the stupidest fucking thing he’s ever done but he’s so tired and he’d give anything to just get one full night’s sleep and the ad boasts about how prolonged and consistent hugs can help reduce stress and improve your heart health and before he knows it he’s filling out an application form.

He forgets about it by the time he does manage to finally drop off to sleep for a few hours before his alarm goes off but he’s helpfully reminded the next morning when he receives an email from an Evan Buckley who introduces himself as his prospective cuddle…associate? The email comes with a more detailed explanation of how the process works as well as a list of available time slots Eddie can choose from. Lastly, there’s an attached consent form detailing what is probably the opposite of whatever the hell one puts in a BDSM contract.

And the thing is, it’s stupid.

It was an impulsive decision his exhausted brain found in the middle of the night and he should absolutely just delete the email and pretend it never happened.

He doesn’t delete the email.

It’s a Tuesday morning just after he’s come off a 24-hour shift, Christopher is in school, the house is empty and Eddie feels like he’s about to crawl right out of his own skin when the doorbell rings.

Steeling himself, he takes a breath and opens the door to- well.

A stupidly gorgeous man.

The man – Evan Buckley, professional cuddler, he presumes – offers him a smile that rivals the brightness of the sun shining behind him and sticking out a hand.

“Hey,” he greets warmly. “Eddie, right? I’m Buck.”

Eddie stares, dumbfounded, for a beat before his brain catches up with itself and he hastens to shake his hand. “Yeah, sorry. Hi, I’m Eddie. You uh- you can come in.” He lets go of Buck’s hand – it’s warm, just like his smile – and moves back, opening the door wider to let him through.

Buck steps inside, looking around curiously, and Eddie feels self-conscious about the still-bare walls. His priority had been decorating Christopher’s room first and making sure he had everything he needed. Getting a couch and a dining table had been next on the list. The rest of the décor can wait until Eddie’s next pay check. Or next ten pay checks.

When he realises Buck isn’t making a move to go anywhere he scratches the back of his neck, looking helplessly between his bedroom door and the living room. “I uh, I know I signed the form and everything but I’m not really sure how this is supposed to work-?”

Buck’s expression brightens again. “Oh! Well, it really depends on the person. Some people prefer being in bed, particularly if they’re trying to fall asleep. But that feels too personal for some people so they tend to go for a couch or an armchair or something. It’s all about what you’re comfortable with.”

Eddie nods. He has no idea what he’s comfortable with. He still hasn’t quite reconciled that he’s agreed to pay this man to cuddle him, for fuck’s sake.

Buck seems to realise his indecision and his smile is kind in a way that makes Eddie want to duck his head in embarrassment. “You mentioned in your application form that you’re having trouble sleeping. Is it- is that what you’d like help with?”

“I guess,” he replies but he doesn’t sound sure even to his own ears. “I- I just came off a 24 hour shift so I was hoping to catch some sleep before I pick my son up from school later.”

Buck seems to take all of that information in his stride, nodding easily. “Cool. Well, in that case we could go to your bedroom if you’re comfortable? I can’t guarantee you’ll fall asleep first try but even just having your body at rest for a while can help you feel more recharged.”

And, because Eddie is clearly losing it, he nods and leads this veritable stranger to his room.

The actual getting-on-the-bed part is surprisingly okay.

Buck is dressed for the occasion, in soft sweatpants and an even softer looking pale blue hoodie, and he lets Eddie take the lead in selecting his side of the bed. However once they’re side by side Eddie feels himself clam up.

“What do you- what happens now?”

Buck eyes him speculatively for a moment and then simply asks, “Big spoon or little spoon?”

Eddie blinks. “What?”

“Big spoon or little spoon?” he repeats, the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “Once you figure out which you prefer the rest is pretty straightforward.”

Eddie feels himself flush, looking away as he thinks it over. It takes a good thirty seconds to remind himself that he’s paying for this and Buck probably already thinks he’s pathetic for having to hire someone to cuddle him instead of finding someone to be with the normal way, so he only feels a little embarrassed when he finally admits, “Little spoon.”

Buck grins and reaches for him and it’s possibly the most bizarre situation Eddie’s ever been in but he just- lets Buck rearrange them until they’re both lying on their sides. Buck presses right up behind him, pulling the covers up around them and wrapping a secure arm around Eddie’s waist.

Eddie holds himself perfectly still throughout it all, hesitantly settling his arm over Buck’s when he finally stops moving.

He counts five breaths before he has to break the silence, mouth dry. “What happens now?”

Buck hums and Eddie can feel the vibration of it where Buck’s chest touches his back. “Some people like to talk; others just like to lie in silence.”

Eddie contemplates it. He’s never been the most talkative person but he also can’t quite imagine lying here in silence for the next forty-five minutes of their session.

“So. Is this like, your full-time gig?” he asks before immediately cringing. That’s probably against some rule to ask.

Buck just snorts quietly. “Part-time,” he says. “I’m actually putting myself through the Fire Academy right now. I need some extra cash to help with rent until I certify.”

Eddie feels the ridiculous urge to laugh but it thankfully morphs into a yawn at the last minute. “I’m a firefighter,” he says and Buck does laugh.

“No fucking way?”

“Mm,” he hums. “Certified about a month ago. That’s why I moved here; new job.”

“People who suffer from insomnia can find the symptoms worsen under periods of stress or change,” Buck says, gently probing, and Eddie gets the vague feeling like he just sat down with a therapist.

“Yeah it’s-“ he starts, closing his eyes and releasing a tired sigh. “I really love it but it’s been a lot, with the move and everything.”

Buck nods, chin bumping Eddie’s shoulder, as his hand rubs small circles almost absent-mindedly against Eddie’s stomach. It’s around that point that Eddie realises his body has almost completely relaxed against Buck’s, limbs heavy in a way they haven’t felt in a while.

“How do you even become a…cuddler?”

Buck barks out a laugh, the action making him nuzzle into the nape of Eddie’s neck for a half a second. It’s the most intimacy Eddie’s experienced in literal years and he thinks for a second he might black out.

“It’s- I like research binges and a while back I got really interested in the benefits of physical touch therapy. I’d fallen down a love language rabbit hole,” he adds as an aside. “And the short version is I took a course and joined up with the company. I’ve been doing it for about six months now.”

Eddie makes a quiet noise of acknowledgement, staring at the wall opposite him until his vision starts to blur. “It must be a little strange for you though, right? I mean I know you have to fill out the whole consent form and everything but there’s gotta be some weird clients?”

“Not really,” Buck says, voice hushed. “Mostly it’s just been people who feel lonely. Or- or who have lost someone recently and aren’t used to being on their own. Or people who are struggling to sleep, like you.”

Eddie gets the vague urge to point out he’s so lonely he fears he might drown from it but he swallows it back.

Instead he lets the silence settle around them, surprised to find he feels so much more comfortable than he had at the beginning. Buck follows his lead, remaining a steady warmth at his back and continuing to run soothing circles over Eddie’s stomach.

And it’s been a long time since Eddie’s been held by anyone. Even when he came home from Afghanistan he and Shannon hadn’t been in a good enough place to lie like this all that often. But it’s nice, much nicer than he expects. He feels oddly safe in Buck’s arms.

He almost can’t believe it when he feels his eyes start to droop, lulled by the steady rhythm of Buck’s breathing. He’s on the verge of sleep, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, when Buck’s phone starts vibrating.

Buck silences it almost immediately but it means he has to let go of Eddie to do it and Eddie feels an awful kind of bereft at the loss of his touch.

“Sorry,” Buck whispers. “That was the alarm for the end of our session.”

“Oh,” Eddie mumbles trying to rouse himself, shaking his head to clear the brain fog.

“Hey, no,” Buck says, hand going back to Eddie’s shoulder. “You’re almost asleep. Don’t ruin all our progress now.”

There’s something soft and teasing in his voice and when Eddie cranes his neck to look at him he finds a smile to match his tone. “Stay here. I can let myself out. It was really great to meet you, Eddie. I hope you get some sleep.”

“Thanks,” he replies and it doesn’t feel like enough but he’s too overwhelmed to say anything else.

Buck shoots him one more smile and climbs off the bed. Eddie listens as he puts back on his shoes, as he slips out into the hallway, and then as the front door closes behind him.

And miraculously, before he can think about it too much, sleep pulls him under.

When Eddie wakes up there’s an automated email on his phone.

Thank you for availing of our services! We hope your session was a fulfilling and comforting experience. We’d love to hear from you so we can continue to better or services. Fill out the feedback form to leave a review here. Or, if you’d like to book another session, please follow the link below.

Eddie thinks of the lightness in his chest, of the way he almost feels rested for the first time in a month, and clicks ‘Book another session’.

#buddie #911 fic #asks #littlerosetrove #my fics #follower celebration #i'm not joking i want to keep writing this #yes my last long buddie fic was about them cuddling shut up this would be different #how you ask?#well for one it's from eddie's pov instead lol

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egcdeath · 4 years ago

Text

ways to say i love you without saying “i love you”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: you and steve explore love languages

word count: 5.1k

warnings: fluff, a little angst because of miscommunications, reader & steve being idiots, good intentions but terrible delivery, mentions of other characters

author’s note: this fic has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for so long. this fic is like, ancient. this fic was almost destroyed because it was briefly in the library of alexandria. when i reopened the document with this fic, there were mold spores growing on it. (p.s. steve’s love langauge is acts of service, and the reader’s is quality time)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Prologue

Steve was a multitasker. You knew this well. Perhaps too well.

That never seemed to bother you before, but if the man who was supposed to be taking a serene nature walk with you checked his goddamn flip phone one more time, you were completely sure that you’d lose it.

You paused your story about your obnoxious coworkers for a moment, stopping in the middle of the gravelly trail you two were making your way down.

“Steve, seriously, are you even listening?” you griped, ushering him towards the side of the pavement as a man on a bike flew by.

He guffawed a bit at this, “of course I am. You just said something about…” he paused, and you gestured with your hands for him to continue. “Okay, sorry,” the blush on his face was becoming more and more apparent.

You involuntarily scoffed, rolling your eyes as you did so, “I’m glad to know that whatever you’re waiting for on there,” you gestured to his pocket, “is more important than spending quality time with your girlfriend, who, must I remind you, took time off to be here with you.”

“Nothing is more important to me than you, I’m just on call. I’m probably going to get called to go on a mission any moment now.”

“Steve!” you huffed, “you literally just got back, like, two hours ago. Can’t someone else go? Tony? Vision? Anyone?”

“I might’ve volunteered myself-“

“You’re unbelievable, Steve. Are you getting tired of me or something? You’ve been avoiding me like the plague ever since I moved in with you. If I upset you, or you’re gonna propose to me or something, can you just tell me?”

“I promise you it’s not personal at all,” he reached for your hand and gently held it. “Everything’s just been crazy. I mean, these Hydra bases have been popping up left and right. Just give me a little grace, okay? I don’t get upset with you when SHIELD starts making you work those ungodly hours.”

You opened your mouth to debate him, but surely enough, the canny and familiar ringtone of Steve’s work phone interrupted you before you could even begin.

“Okay… Yeah. I’ll be there in thirty.”

You frowned at Steve as he spoke on the phone and shook your head disapprovingly, “unbelievable,” you muttered, storming in the direction of your home.

——

Steve was no fool, he knew when he messed up, and he was more than willing to take responsibility for such. Now was one of those times. He knew that he should’ve been making more time for you. He was well aware that he shouldn’t have gotten defensive when you pointed this out.

He just had no idea how to apologize.

You weren’t exactly making it easy for him either, taking much longer hours in an attempt to avoid him. While he could understand your frustrations, it became a little more difficult everyday for him to properly apologize to you in a way he felt was meaningful.

Eventually figuring to use your avoidance as a tool, Steve devised a plot to make an apology for you so considerate, so superb, that you could never be angry with him again. A plot that included a several course meal, all concocted by himself.

He could imagine the look on your face as you came home from work, shocked, but the good kind of shock. Pleasantly surprised that your sweet boyfriend had put in such a huge amount of effort to say sorry.

He couldn’t help but imagine the scenario: you would relax into your seat at the table after Steve pulled out the chair for you, hum in content as he poured your favorite wine. Moan happily at the taste of a homemade and rarely prepared salad dressing, before complimenting the melt-in-your-mouth entree he had spent an unknown amount of time laboring over. Finally, you’d gush over the dessert that Steve hadn’t had the chance to cook in years, tell him that he worked far too hard putting everything together, especially for a little argument. Steve would scoff, tell you you’re being too kind, and you would pull him in for a red wine and dark chocolate flavored kiss.

The thought of you, your genuine and warm smile after a long day at work, and an even longer week worth of unspoken tension between you both, was enough to keep Steve motivated through the hours he spent preparing your meal.

He greeted you at the door like an excited puppy as soon as he heard your keys jingle. Sure, work had kept you a bit longer than he’d expected, and your food was likely a little cool by now, but he was excited to make amends.

However, you did not seem to share the same enthusiasm as Steve.

“Welcome home, gorgeous. Come sit,” Steve nudged you into the dining area, and you sluggishly followed, exhausted from a tiring day of training new agents.

“What’s wrong?” he inquired, pulling out a chair that you didn’t even attempt to sit down on.

“I had a really long day. I kinda just wanna get to bed,” you shrugged before rubbing your creased temple.

Steve internally cringed at the thought of all of his hard work going to waste. For some reason, he’d not envisioned this less pleasant outcome before. “Sweetheart,” he began in a nearly whiny tone, but you weren’t in much of a mood to be persuaded.

“I’m sorry. Weird things were happening at work that I don’t care to get into now, and honestly, I’m not even that hungry,” you reached out and gave Steve’s hand a little squeeze. “But it all looks and smells so good! I Promise I’ll warm some up tomorrow for lunch.”

“I-,” he paused, “please. Maybe you could just take a few bites of everything. It took me a really long time to get everything prepped and ready.”

You frowned at the plea, feeling a bit guilty but almost… satisfied at the same time. Steve struggled to make time for you because of his work, and now he was getting a little taste of his own medicine.

“I really am sorry. But hey, now we’re even?” you offered with a playful wink, slipping away before you gave your partner a chance to respond. You truly didn’t have the energy for a four course meal that night, let alone another argument.

——

Wanda was silent for a moment as she sipped from a mug of coffee, watching you with a suspiciously focused look on her face.

“Wanda?” you prompted, seemingly snapping her out of whatever trance she had found herself in.

“Oh my God, I know exactly what you guys need,” she just about blurted, reaching across the café table to grab your hand.

“Were you reading my mind?”

Your friend didn’t respond, but the devious smirk on her face was enough of an answer.

“What happened to telling me before reading me?”

“You just looked like there was a lot on your mind. And absolutely no way that you’d tell me,” she shrugged nonchalantly.

“Of course I was gonna tell you! Why else would I ask my friend in a cute relationship to meet me for coffee?”

“Because you like me?”

“No, never that. I just needed advice,” the two of you shared a laugh for a moment.

“Well don’t waste your breath. When Vis and I had a rough patch, we just had to learn each other’s love languages. You’d be surprised just how much that synthezoid values those acts of services.”

“And you?”

“I’m a words of affirmation girl myself,” she shrugged. “You should find out yours, and try to figure out Steve’s. I guarantee it’ll be helpful in the long run. I can send you guys a test, if you want?”

“Oh god no, please don’t tell him that I told you about us. Actually, I didn’t even tell you! You were digging around in my brain, and I don’t appreciate that. Just do me a favor, and don’t share this with anyone, okay?” You paused dramatically, then leaned in to speak to your friend in a whisper, “but send me that test when you get the chance.”

Gift Giving

“A little reality-warping birdie told me you’ve been having some relationship problems,” Tony said teasingly once Bruce left the conference room, leaving him and Steve alone.

Steve paused for a moment, trying to decide whether he should lie or fess up to the allegation. “How did she know?” Steve finally responded, standing up and pushing the chair he was sitting on behind him.

Tony shrugged dismissively, “I don’t ask these kinds of things. I just hear in passing that the geriatric is having a hard time and tune in.”

Steve shook his head slightly, rolling his eyes to mask his clear embarrassment.

“Well, is it true?”

“We’ve just been having the occasional… rift. A little more than occasionally.”

Tony nodded, fake pondering the situation, “well, I always know what I do for Pep, at least after I tell her I’m getting rid of the suit. Go buy her something nice. Really nice, like jewelry, or a purse if she’s into that kind of thing. I would say a car, but I know that Social Security check isn’t getting you too far. You know what? Put it on the company card. My treat.”

Steve wanted to scoff, turn his nose up at the offer like it was a terrible idea, but it really wasn’t. Maybe a material surprise was the way to win you back. He made a soft ‘hmph,’ noise as he mulled it over. “That’s definitely not your worst idea. Thanks,” he gave his teammate a soft smile before collecting himself and heading out of the conference room.

His first stop after work was some local jeweler. Steve threw on a (not very) inconspicuous outfit before entering the building, where he browsed for a good hour, searching for something that he believed you’d like. After looking at more jewelry than he had ever cared to see in his life, he decided on a necklace with a thin golden chain with a decent sized diamond hanging off of it. It was a little pricier, and you’d be able to tell— but he hoped it would help the gift mean more to you.

——

When you arrived home late that night, Steve was sitting in the living room waiting for you. It was almost daunting, the sight of him sitting alone on the couch mostly in the dark, only the television illuminating his face. He kind of reminded you of a parent waiting to confront their child who just snuck out, or a concerned friend seconds away from staging an intervention with you.

Walking past the room, you peeked your head through the doorway, and observed the flat, small box in front of him on the coffee table.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he greeted, standing up so he could greet you with a hug and grabbing the little box as he did so.

“Is everything okay?” you probed, speaking into Steve’s shoulder.

“Of course. I just wanted you to know how much I love you, and that I’m sorry for not having as much time for you as I should,” he pulled away before holding the box out for you.

You hesitantly took the box and opened it, letting out a gasp when you viewed the delicate looking gold necklace.

You were having mixed emotions, because it was clearly beautiful and you were grateful to the gesture. But you knew that this must’ve been expensive, and that it was so unlike Steve to have done something like this. Your frugal, Great Depression era guy wasn’t exactly the most material.

“I love it,” you gushed, admiring the jewelry.

“Can I put it on you?” Steve asked, and received a nod in return.

Steve set the box down on the table and lifted up the necklace, bringing it up to your neck and focusing on clasping it in the back.

“Babe, how much was this?” you blurted, not even being able to filter the words before they left your mouth.

“Hmm? That doesn’t matter,” he dismissed, then stepped away from you to admire your clavicle.

“It just feels weird letting you spend so much on me.”

“It’s a gift, though. You’re not supposed to think about those things,” he hummed, pressing a chaste peck to your nose.

“Steve, I got you a Nespresso for Christmas and you wouldn’t stop complaining about how expensive it was. I love it, I really do. It’s beautiful and I’ll always think of you when I wear it. I just think that maybe we should have the same standards for each other,” you stood up from your seat and sidestepped him. “I need a shower.”

Steve watched you walk off, letting your words simmer in his thoughts.

That was the last time he would take relationship advice from Tony.

Words of Affirmation

This conclusion probably shouldn’t have taken you this long, but you were almost completely sure that this would be the love language to win Steve back over. You felt bad for some of the occurrences between the two of you lately, with sour exchanges and sweet moments that turned bitter on a whim.

In all honesty, you were concerned that Steve doubted your love for him. And if his love language really was words of affirmation, this would certainly convince him otherwise.

You sat at your desk the night before Steve departed for a two-week mission, trying to write a nice message for him. You tapped your pen on the stock paper in deep thought as you tried to figure out the best thing to say.

I’m sorry for arguing so much with you lately. You and everything that you do mean the world to me, even when you get on my nerves. I love you more than anything and that will never change.

The words looked cramped and unkempt on the little note. Your handwriting got messier as you went. You groaned at it, crumpled the paper, and tossed it in your trash bin. Time to start over again.

I’m sorry for arguing with you. I love you a lot. Can you stop picking up your phone when we’re spending time together?

You groaned at the passive aggressive tone of your message. That certainly wasn’t going to get you anywhere. Straight to the bin it goes.

I love you so much so don’t die on your mission or I’ll be pretty upset. Be safe out there xx.

The tone was even more off now. You needed to think of something that would really make Steve remember you while he was gone. For a second, you considered snapping a nude with a polaroid and attaching it to the letter.

I’m sorry that things have been so bad nasty for us lately. I promise that I love you, despite our ups and downs. Nothing will ever change that. I’ll miss you more than you know while you’re gone. Make sure you call me every day, my love.

A little cheesy, but you signed off with your name regardless, and contentedly looked at your work. The spacing looked correct, the tone wasn’t harsh, and you knew for a fact that Steve would appreciate it.

You stayed up a little later than normal, waiting for Steve to get home and change out of his ‘work clothes’ so that you could slip the note into his utility belt.

You folded the note to a small little square and set it beside an granola bar in a pocket you’d assumed he frequently used. Content with your work, you laid back in bed until your partner slipped in bed beside you, and sleepily cuddled into you until you were both unconscious.

—

Around two weeks had passed since Steve had seen you last, and he had decided to stop by the office and finish up paperwork before coming to see you. It had been radio silence on his end, despite the note in his clothing that clearly requested daily contact. Part of you wondered if Steve had seen it at all.

Steve had just finished signing the documents when he finally noticed it, reaching into a sparsely used part of his belt to have a quick snack. His hand landed on a folded piece of paper, and he cringed as he unfolded it, the letter becoming clearer and clearer as he did so. He wondered just how long the message had been waiting for him.

He read your sweet words with a frown on his face, the guilt from not opening it sooner overriding the sweet feelings that he would otherwise have. He grabbed his phone and considered texting you, but abandoned that thought altogether.

“FRIDAY, any idea where Y/N is right now?”

“I was told not to share any information about Ms. L/N, Captain Rogers.”

“Whose orders?” Steve pressed.

“Hers,” the bot quipped back.

Steve groaned aloud. He was really in for it tonight.

Physical Touch

“Have you tried touching her more?” Thor casually queried. The water that Steve had just consumed nearly flew out of his nose, and his cheeks reddened instantly.

“Pardon?” he asked, looking away from his friend instantly.

“I understand that you and Y/N have been having troubles lately. Perhaps she does not feel held by you. Maybe she wants you to show her off in public, to hold her hand, hug her,” he suggested.

Could Steve even be blamed for going there? He was having a chat with a god of fertility. Who wouldn’t think the same?

“Stark’s gala tonight. Show the world that she’s yours, and I guarantee that she’ll love every moment of it.”

——

You were confused. Really confused.

The night began with some simple touches, hand holding as you entered the building, a casual arm around your waist as you chatted with donors and politicians you hadn’t seen in months, a playful match of footsie under the table while waiting for food. But it came to a head when Steve had decided to rest his hand on your ass and grope you in the midst of a conversation.

Now, in any other situation, you would welcome this affection. But both you and Steve had never been a fan of PDA, and this was a bit too far.

As subtle as you could manage, you pushed his hand away, offering him a sour look as you did so.

“Excuse us,” you told some rich old man in an artificially sweet tone before ushering Steve off to his office for a bit more privacy.

“What was that about?” you questioned, sitting down in the padded chair behind Steve’s desk, and running your fingers over your necklace in a bit of a nervous tick.

“What do you mean?” he retorted, standing across from you at the desk and setting his hands on top of the clear table.

“Why were you groping me in front of people? That’s really... unlike you. And it made me uncomfortable.”

Steve frowned genuinely, looking down at the table in embarrassment. “I’m really sorry. For making you uncomfortable. It sounds ridiculous but I was just trying something new.”

“Apology accepted, but are you sure? You weren’t like, jealous of those guys or something? You know you’re the only hundred year old I have eyes for,” you set your hands atop of his and squeezed.

Steve chuckled at this, the flush of his cheeks only highlighted more by the laughter, “it’s just that, uh, Thor told me I should try showing you off more. Or something like that.”

“So you groped me in front of our guests? That’s silly. And a little unprofessional,” you glanced over at the cork board on his desk sitting next to his desktop, and amongst the neatly arranged scratched out to-do lists and random reminders, you couldn’t help but notice the creased paper of the note you’d left for his mission. Your chest warmed when your eyes fell upon it.

“When did you find this thing?” you asked, pointing to the note.

“I meant to say something, but when I found it, FRIDAY said you didn’t want to talk to me. SO I was going to bring it up when I got home, but you were still working. After that, I kinda… you know-”

“Forgot?” you finished with a hearty laugh, “It’s fine. You’re such a dork. C’mere so I can get my own groping in,” you chided, grinning to yourself when Steve wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace.

Acts of Service

Steve was quietly folding your laundry in your bedroom when it finally occurred to you, but when it did, it hit like a ton of bricks.

Steve’s love language was acts of service!

Things suddenly began to make sense to you, the way that he initially attempted to apologize by spending hours cooking one meal, how he consistently worked to make your life as comfortable as possible, and his great insistence to do house chores, despite you being more than capable.

Steve set down a stack of folded sweatshirts by your calf, snapping you away from your brief retrospective daze. If that really was the case, and Steve’s love language truly was acts of kindness, you had to come up with some sort of plan to communicate to him just how much you cared about him in a way that he really appreciated.

Luckily for you, you were a quick thinker. Before you even knew it, a week filled with random acts of kindness before he was off on yet another mission was quickly hatched.

——

You were up at the ass-crack of dawn. Really. Steve liked to get up earlier than the sun in order to run, or train, or whatever the hell it was that superheroes did. You were seriously regretting your decision to wake up around the same time as him in order to do some favors for him in the morning.

By the time Steve was back from his run, his favorite coffee was brewed and cooling, and you were in the laundry room at the dryer, preparing to give Steve a warm towel after his shower.

Despite the three mugs of coffee you’d just downed, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep your eyes open. It didn’t help that your eyelids felt like they weighed fifty pounds each, and the warmth of the dryer next to you was providing you with just enough comfort to drift off.

And drift you did. In fact, half an hour later, you’d missed the frantic calling out for you from your boyfriend as he searched for you around the apartment.

You finally awoke when he shook your shoulders, his amused voice bringing you back to consciousness.

“What’s going on here?” Steve grinned, pushing some hair out of your face.

“Mmm,” you began, “Iwantedtogetawarmtowel,” you slurred sleepily and incoherently.

“Even with super hearing I couldn’t decipher that. Let’s get you a mattress, okay?” Steve hoisted you up like you were nothing, and carried your half asleep body all the way up to your bedroom.

The next thing you knew, you were buried under your favorite comforter and propped against a mountain of feathery pillows. A gentle forehead kiss and an incomprehensible sentence about calling off of work for you later, you were back in a deep sleep.

So much for warm towels.

—

You were going to do better this time. That’s what you told yourself as you strolled through the grocery store, the same store that you hadn’t shopped in since moving in with Steve, as he preferred to do the shopping himself.

Equipped with a short paper list and sheer determination to make the trip as short and accurate as possible, you gathered all of the groceries that you believed were necessary— just enough to restock the fridge, and fill some gaps left in the cupboard.

Your time at the store was indeed brief, as you found yourself in the checkout lane after just twenty minutes (you definitely weren’t going to brag about that to Steve later. Definitely not), and back home with just enough time to unload the groceries, and further prep yourself to go to work.

You’d honestly forgotten about your trip to the store by the time that you arrived home, up until you found your boyfriend arm deep in your pantry, hellbent on finding… something.

“Can I help you?” you poked with a laugh, coming up beside Steve and peeking over his shoulder.

“I’m just… Did you happen to grab any protein bars while you were at the store?” he asked, pausing his search to look back at you.

“I don’t think so. Why? It’s not like you need any more protein,” you teased, squeezing a bicep to demonstrate your words.

“They’re pretty convenient when I’m out in the field. Don’t worry about it, though. I’ll just swing by the store and grab some before my mission tomorrow. Actually, I should probably go now. Y’know, before I forget,” Steve was already grabbing his car keys from the counter by the time his sentence was finished, leaving you to fight off your disappointment at your minor grocery store failure.

You looked at what you now knew was an insufficiently filled pantry and pinched the bridge of your nose. You had seriously underestimated the ins and outs of shopping for a super soldier.

Well, third time’s the charm?

—

After this week, you would never complain about waking up early again. You were now up at an absolutely ungodly hour, scrambling eggs, flipping pancakes, and spreading jam on toast for a sleeping, unsuspecting Steve.

You placed the plate on a sturdy wooden tray, poured orange juice and an extra glass of water, and set a nicely folded napkin, along with utensils, next to the items.

You hoped that the scent of bacon wafting up to your bedroom would eventually pull him out of his slumber, and seeing how bacon was the only thing left to finish cooking, you took a little break.

A round of Candy Crush turned into two, then three, and goddamnit, why can’t you beat this fourth level! You got so wrapped up in your mobile game that you didn’t even notice when the scent from your kitchen became slightly rancid, and when you rushed over to the oven to check on your now extremely burnt bacon, the smoke detector wailed.

You grabbed a kitchen towel and waved your arms like a madwoman near the smoke detector, the shrieking eventually stopping, but not before Steve was halfway down the stairs.

“Y/N, where are you? Is everything okay?” he nearly shouted, racing down the stairs and barreling through the smoky kitchen to find you. When he reached you, he wrapped his arms around your waist and began to pull you out of the kitchen.

“Steve, relax. Everything is okay. Except those pieces of bacon,” you rubbed your now sweaty palms on your pajama pants before breaking away from him to crack open the kitchen window.

“Christ, what happened? And why are you up so early?”

“I was trying to make you breakfast in bed,” you admitted, rather embarrassed by the dramatic scene you’d accidentally created. “Sorry,” you muttered.

Steve wrapped his arms around you once more, this time in a reassuring bear hug that left your cheeks pressed to his chest. “Don’t be. I really appreciate this, and everything else you’ve done this week. It’s the thought that counts, right?”

“I guess,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Besides, everything else looks delicious. And you tried your best for me while trying something new. I think that’s really sweet of you.”

“Really?” you pried, looking up at him.

“Really,” Steve confirmed.

“Well, I think it would be really sweet of you if you went back to bed and got all cozy so I can take care of you.”

Steve chuckled softly, pressed a little kiss to your nose, then nodded, “yes ma’am.”

Quality Time

Steve had been in a bubbly mood since getting back from his mission, and for no particular reason. It wasn’t like you weren’t happy that your partner was happy, but feeling like you were out of the loop was slightly concerning.

Before you could let your thoughts run too wild, you decided to pop the question during one of your evening walks.

“Okay Steve, what is going on with you?” you asked, veering to the side of the trail when a biker rode past you.

“Nothing big. Nothing too important. I’m just out of service for the next three months,” Steve said casually, playing it cool.

“What?!” you paused, your brows raising and eyes widening in surprise as you searched his face for sincerity. “You’re serious?”

“Serious as a heart attack.”

“Steve!” you gasped happily, nearly roaring out his name in excitement. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I was going to tell you before wining and dining you, but you beat me to it. So…?”

“…So I’m happy to have you back. I may need you to negotiate some time away from work for me in the next few months, then. I don’t wanna miss this preview of stay-at-home-dad-Steve.”

“Hey, don’t push it.”

“Oh, I’m planning on pushing it.”

Epilogue

The sun was beating down on you, but the soothing breeze that flowed past your checked blanket every so often provided a pleasant antidote to the summer heat.

You’d truly picked the best day for a picnic.

Despite spending a good amount of time with your partner, the last month and a half had truly felt like a whirlwind. You casually started looking for a forever home, found yourselves making plans for an early retirement, and you had a new, sneaking suspicion that a proposal was on the horizon.

In the midst of it all, Steve had suggested that the two of you take a midday tryst at your local park and throw yourselves a little picnic. Of course you obliged, because when your greek god of a boyfriend suggests going on a spur of the moment date, you agree.

You now watched the nearly cloudless sky with pure, unadulterated feelings of content and joy while Steve set a slice of cheese on a cracker, leaning over your body to feed you. As you opened your mouth, Steve paused abruptly at the soft vibration coming from his pocket.

Steve resumed as if nothing had changed, popping the cracker into your open mouth and letting his phone continue to ring.

“Don’t you wanna get that?” you questioned.

“It can wait,” Steve stated nonchalantly, slipping his phone out of his pocket and pressing decline with absolutely no hesitation before tossing the device to the edge of your blanket.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been waiting to hear those three words.

-------

a/n: this could’ve been solved in like 20 minutes by sitting down and taking a love language quiz together

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years ago

Text

forever, i choose you

desc: he’s always been everyone’s second choice, in every aspect of his life. george weasley just wants to be someone’s first.

word count: 3.9k

pairing: george weasley x muggle!reader

warning(s): idk you might cry, i sure did but what else is new. loneliness/discussion of sexual content/idk

A/N: i still have no motivation to write and/or read. and it’s the absolute worst. but i wrote the bulk of this story back in december/the beginning of january, and i figured maybe i’d try and write the ending and publish it and see if it’ll spark any inspiration in me. i’m real, real, real sorry if i haven’t gotten to your fics to read (i’ve got them all saved!) i just don’t know what’s wrong with me atm and it’s THE WORST. also it might evoke more emotion if you listen to this while reading this lil fic. thank you, to all of you, for your support and patience, always.

disclaimer: i do not give consent for my work to be posted on ANY other platform.

Seven-year-old George Weasley watched with wide eyes and a goofy grin as his father twirled his mother in the family space of their normally bustling and loud home. But tonight, the Burrow was quiet. Everyone was already sound asleep, his five brothers and his younger sister. George should be too, but he just couldn’t fall asleep no matter how much he tried. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his sheets and kept groaning, and it wasn’t long before his twin brother Fred threw a few pillows at his face, and eventually, George decided to get up and go for a stroll.

He hid strategically on the staircase so his parents wouldn’t see that he was still wide awake at nearly midnight, and he watched as they swayed lightly to the music emitting from somewhere in the house. It was light as a feather, the music, a small piano tune that echoed through the lower level, its sounds traveling effortlessly up the stairs of the home. Mr. Weasley dipped his wife and Mrs. Weasley giggled like some of the young girls George had seen in the village, kind of a nervous giggle, and he watched her blush. He saw his mother placed her head gently on Mr. Weasley’s chest and they both closed their eyes, and George wondered if they were happy to have a moment of peace without their seven children running around causing mayhem.

He wondered if they danced like this every evening, after everyone had already gone to bed.

George noticed a weird sort of feeling in his chest; he wondered why his heart was hurting. Was it because there was something wrong? But then he realized that wasn’t the case, for the aching in his heart came from his pure desire to find exactly what his mum and dad had -- a love like none other, with seven children, a home with multiple stories, and more treacle tarts than one needs.

He vowed in that moment, as he watched his parents from the staircase and tapped his foot quietly in rhythm with the music, that he’d find love like that one day.

He wanted someone to choose him first, just like his parents chose one another.

He brought his hand to his chest, as if to calm his rapidly beating heart, for the sheer idea of finding a love like theirs filled him with such excitement that he was certain he wouldn’t be able to sleep now. Seven-year-old George Weasley laid in bed, ignoring the soft snores from his twin across the room, his eyes wide with wonder as he dreamt of the woman he’d dance with one day.

Twelve-year-old George Weasley wasn’t ready to date. He was only twelve years old! He much preferred to dream.

He knew when he looked at the girl across from him that she wasn’t the one, lovely as she was. He adjusted his Gryffindor tie and cleared his throat and focused on the Potions assignment in front of him. It wasn’t exactly a date, was it? He was in a Potions lesson with his classmates, and Snape. But when the cute blackhaired Hufflepuff approached him and asked if he’d like to work together on the next of Snape’s ridiculous concoctions, Fred poked his brother in the ribs and winked, as if to say, If you don’t partner up with her, you’re a right prat.

And so George did what he thought was gentlemanly and he said yes. He could tell by the rose pink colour that flooded her cheeks that she was smitten with him, and that she’d asked him to be her partner because she was smitten. And he had to admit, she really was quite cute and very, very kind.. and rather smart for her age as well. And he knew that she’d make some man very, very happy someday. It just wouldn’t be him.

He did what was asked of him. He measured out the correct amount of powdered Griffin claw. He made sure he and his partner had enough salamander blood for their strengthening solution. And he smiled back at his partner, though his heart and his mind were still with the girl he’d dance with one day.

The Hufflepuff tried her hardest to capture his heart, but it belonged to someone he had yet to meet.

She wasn’t the one that felt like home.

-- -

Sixteen-year-old George Weasley didn’t understand why all of his classmates wanted to snog people and move onto someone else without so much as a blink.

So many people were pairing off and lasting less than a week before moving onto someone new. George rattled his brain for answers, he searched the eyes of his classmates for explanations, but he couldn’t understand why people would want to hop from one person to another. Didn’t they want to find love, a love that’s long lasting and pushes boundaries and moves mountains and weathers the storms it meets?

But perhaps, he worried, maybe that’s where he was going wrong.

Maybe, in order to find what he truly yearned for, he needed to be reckless and love without really loving.

Maybe he needed to search less, in order to find her.

And so he decided, with much persuasion from Fred, that he’d ask that pretty brunette Ravenclaw to the Yule Ball, and he’d dance and drink firewhisky and maybe he’d even kiss her, if the courage he tried to summon stayed with him throughout the night.

And maybe if he did all those things, he’d forget about the one his heart desperately craved.

And for a little while, he really did forget. Perhaps he could get on board with this “love the one you’re with” mentality. Maybe he could just be in the moment without worrying about everyone else. Maybe he could kiss girls without feeling anything, maybe he could date casually, maybe he could be like everyone else his age and not think about weddings and marriage and having children.

“Georgieee,” the Ravenclaw slurred on the dance floor. She tugged on his tie and pulled him close. He could smell the firewhisky on her breath and his heart began to pound when she pressed her lips lightly to his cheek. “Dance with meeee.”

No, this wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted more than this. He’d always wanted more than this.

George begrudgingly agreed and caught Fred’s eye from across the dance floor. The elder twin threaded his brows together and pushed the air with his hands, as if encouraging his younger brother to go for it. The Ravenclaw dazedly draped her arms across George’s shoulders and he sheepishly looked down toward his feet, but didn’t wrap his arms around her.

“George Weasleeeeyyyy,” she slurred again, hiccoughing in between giggles, “I said dance with meeeeeee.”

He tried to fight it, tried not to think of what he always did, but he couldn’t help it.

This girl was not the one. He could tell, because there was no love in the way she said his name. There was no true feeling in the surplus of kisses she kept pressing to his jawline, and there was no warmth radiating from her -- not the kind that mattered, anyway.

He knew, as he placed his hands gently on her waist and swayed with her to the music, that this was not what love felt like. This is not what home felt like.

He danced anyway, even though it was not the kind of dancing he’d seen his parents do all those years ago, and he allowed himself to think about what the rest of his classmates weren’t -- the person he’d hold in his arms, who’d be the mother to his children, who’s kisses would send him spiraling, who’s embraces would become all too familiar in a way that would comfort him in the darkest of times.

He allowed himself again, to dream of true love.

-- -

Seventeen-year-old George Weasley was sick and tired of waiting for the one.

It sounded kind of dramatic in his own head, seeing as he was only seventeen, but he’d known now for ten years exactly what he was looking for, and ten years seemed like a lifetime.

It didn’t help that nearly all of his friends had gotten over their casual dating scene and were now all enthralled with their significant others. He felt so painfully lonely, though he’d never admit it to a soul. He could hardly admit it to himself.

One evening, he shot up from the couch and out of the common room in a fit of fury, for if he had to see Fred and Angelina snogging in the corner for one more minute, he was quite certain he was going to explode from disgust. He was happy for his brother, of course he was, but he didn’t need to see it. Not as often as that.

He found Ron sitting in the Great Hall with Ginny, Harry, and Hermione and plopped beside them all before engaging in exciting rounds of exploding snap. But as the night grew darker and he grew more tired, George noticed the undeniable chemistry between his sister and Harry and his brother and Hermione. Though they all hadn’t admitted to one another how they felt, George had found it obvious, and he politely excused himself before he tugged his jacket rather angrily around his shoulders before he walked out into the winter storm, just to feel the cold air numb his skin.

He walked out of the castle, over toward the owlery, through the treacherous amounts of snow. Anything to distract George from everyone who’d apparently been hit by Cupid’s bloody arrow.

Ever since he was born, it had always been Fred and George. What about George and Fred? Was it because Fred was older? And why were people always lumping them together? Just because they’re twins? George loathed that. They were individuals too. He was always second, in everything.

In getting hand-me-downs from his older brothers. In being referred to with his twin. In lessons when the professors would call out their names for attendance, because F came before G in the alphabet. And even when it came to love; all the girls always seemed to flock to Fred instead, because he was more exciting. More boisterous. Less shy.

The cold, winter air bit violently at his exposed skin, and he reckoned it hurt less than watching everyone around him find someone that chose them, all while he was still waiting for the right person to choose him.

George Weasley didn’t want to be someone’s second choice.

He wanted to be someone’s first.

-- -

Twenty-year-old George Weasley didn’t know how exactly he ended up here.

He didn’t know how he ended up in a relationship three years deep, without having said “I love you” once and actually meaning it.

George thought he might’ve found her, his person, during his seventh year. She was beautiful and kind and everything he thought he’d hoped and dreamt of. Her soft touch, her yearning eyes, the way she curled up next to him in the dormitories late at night and held onto him as she slept -- it was everything, and it seemed to be perfect.

He thought that maybe, perhaps, she was it. But even so, he found himself waiting, still, for that feeling… the one on the staircase he’d felt so long ago.

But the pain of realizing that she wasn’t who he’d been searching for was more heartbreaking than the pain of him asking her to leave.

He’d been looking at her through rose coloured lenses and had been ignoring the truth that was right in front of him.

He should’ve left years ago, when that Gryffindor girl began to make backhanded jokes about the shop, and his dreams of becoming a business entrepreneur, claiming that she was only joking around.

He should’ve left when that girl showed up late to the grand opening of their shop, nearly a year into their relationship.

He should’ve left when he held her in his arms, and still didn’t feel comfortable beside her.

His heart ached for it, what he’d felt on the staircase at the mere age of seven. And perhaps he’d become so desperate for it, that he took something disguised as true love.

But the truth was that he knew, deep in his soul, that this Gryffindor girl wasn’t the one. He’d just chosen, outright, to ignore it. Perhaps if he could forget that idea that “the one” would smack him square in the face with an overwhelming sensation of knowing, he could have learned to love her, even when he hadn’t had that smack in the face moment when he’d met her all those years ago.

But it hadn’t happened, had it? He hadn’t grown to love her. Not truly, anyway. And she hadn’t grown to love him. Not in the way he wanted to be loved, at least.

Because it was more than just heated kisses and lazy days in bed and all things physical that he wanted.

It was about love. Pure, blinding, unadulterated love.

He stood frozen solid in the middle of his tiny flat and watched as that Gryffindor girl grabbed her coat off of the hanger and raised her hand slightly before slipping silently into the dimly lit hallway for the very last time. And George poured himself a glass of bourbon and sat near the window, looking up at the stars, expecting to feel sad at her departure, but in fact, he didn’t feel sad at all.

He felt hopeful.

He hadn’t found the one yet, but he knew she was out there, getting to him as fast as she possibly could.

Though his brothers had urged him to come to the pub and meet someone else, George didn’t fancy the idea of doing that. He was over that entire scene, just as he was in school when everyone was pairing off and moving on immediately. He didn’t want something fleeting, and he didn’t want something meaningless.

He wanted something true.

-- -

Twenty-three-year old George Weasley was certain that he was never going to find that feeling ever again, for as long as he lived.

While all of his friends were out at the pubs, meeting people and fooling around as if feelings weren’t involved, George was walking aimlessly through the streets to work. He was constantly dealing with the haze above his head, waiting for it to lift. He was turning down girls left and right and ignoring his brothers’ insistence on dating casually again.

He didn’t want to waste any more of his time on people who weren’t going to reach out and trace circles onto his chest in the middle of the night, or who weren’t going to dance around the kitchen in his clothes while cooking dinner, or who weren’t going to look at him with eyes so tender, it would render him useless for days to come.

He’d been waiting sixteen years to find his person, the one who would choose him everyday over everyone else, and in hindsight it didn’t quite seem like a long time. But as he cried silently to himself every few nights in bed, feeling the empty space next to him and yearning for the one who was meant to be there, sixteen years felt like a lifetime.

He thought for a long while, that maybe she was in another country, or maybe she was an auror or something, fighting her way through the monsters of the wizarding world.

He’d thought for a bit that perhaps he just hadn’t met her yet.

But as the days dragged on and he found himself lost in crowds, searching face after face, looking for hers, he truly felt as though all hope was lost.

And so George paced back and forth in the kitchen of his flat, biting at his nails and pouring himself hefty glasses of wine, keen on ignoring everyone’s attempts at getting him to come out.

Maybe this was what he deserved.

Maybe because he wasn’t out there, sleeping with people whose names he wouldn’t remember come morning like everyone else, he was just going to be alone.

Maybe there really wasn’t someone out there for him. Maybe not everyone finds true love. Maybe his parents had just gotten lucky.

The dull ache in George’s heart grew stronger, and for the upteenth night in a row, he laid in bed and gripped the covers and cried himself to sleep, his tears sliding down his cheeks the same way the evening rain slid down the window terrace.

-- -

Twenty-four-year old George Weasley stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he felt it.

That feeling. The one from the staircase as he watched his parents dance, all those years ago.

Heart pounding, chest rising, hands freezing.

It hit him square in the chest without warning, nearly knocking him over though his feet were rooted into the ground at the spot, smack dab in the middle of that cafe in the middle of London.

Someone was playing a slow, soft piano tune coming from the other end. People were filtering in and out, asking the man in front of them what exactly he was staring at and why he wasn’t moving. But George Weasley stood where he was, not taking his eyes off of you.

You were reading furiously, flipping through pages of a book gripped tightly in your hands, as though you couldn’t devour the plot fast enough. George watched with admiration as a gentle smile tugged at your lips, as your eyes scanned the words quickly, as you tapped your foot on the ground, in rhythm with that slow piano.

He watched with dazed eyes and parted lips as you finished the end of your book. You dabbed your eyes with a tissue and clutched the book tightly to your chest, overwhelmed, clearly, by the end of the plot. George’s heart soared so high at your passion that he found himself struggling to hold back the I love you that was pressing behind his lips.

You immediately took a long sip of your tea and placed your finished book back into your bag, only to pull out another and immediately immerse yourself in the next story. George laughed to himself, stunned that you were so intent on falling into someone else’s storyline, if only for a little while, that you hadn’t dared take a break from one book to the next. You merely jumped right in.

He wondered if his overwhelming feelings called out to you like a signal of sorts, because just as he was working up the courage to walk over to you, you looked up. You searched the room for a moment before meeting his gaze and suddenly, the world around you both stopped.

George found himself wanting to know everything about you. He itched to devour up any and all information you’d be so kind to provide to him -- your name, your favorite color, your birthday. He wanted to know what book you’d just been reading, and what about it had moved you so much to the point of tears. He wanted to know everything, but deep in his soul, he also knew that he’d have years to learn it all.

In fact, he’d have the rest of forever.

Your eyes went soft and George began to feel the steady pounding of his heart increase, and to his amazement, he noticed a gentle smile tug at the edges of your lips.

And he smiled back.

He’d been right all along. That feeling of finding the one would smack him square in the face. He wondered, as he peered at you now, biting down on your bottom lip and looking toward the ground, why he’d ever doubted himself in the first place. And he wondered when you looked back up at him once again and raised a hand to say hello, if you’d been smacked in the face with that feeling too, just like he had.

He resisted the urge to pour his heart out to you, right here and right now. He’d have time.

Perhaps today was just about having today, and recognizing that you were everything he’d been looking for since that evening on the staircase.

He’d tell you this one day.

-- -

“And what does… Lumox mean again?”

George laughed and squeezed your hands. “You mean, Lumos?”

You bit your lip in embarrassment and laughed, too. “Yes! Lumos. That’s the one that produces light, right?”

George brought your hands to his lips and kissed them gently. You two were seated inside a bustling restaurant in Diagon Alley, and he wondered if people passing by realized just how cozy you two looked together. “You’re more brilliant than most witches I know.”

You cocked your head to the side with an air of confidence and batted your eyelashes at him. “What can I say, Georgie? I may have been born a… Mugglie… but maybe I was meant to be a witch.”

George had to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing. He couldn’t get over how painfully adorable you were as you attempted to pronounce these wizarding words and learn spells and charms and things as he taught you all things about the wizarding world. You took his wand and pointed it at your wine glass, pretending to transfigure it. You couldn’t, of course, since you weren’t a magical being. But George didn’t mind. He could watch you pretend all day long.

In all his years of studying magic, he’d never felt anything quite like this.

BONUS, just because i hate feeling sad asf:

Thirty-two-year old George Weasley rocked his redheaded daughter back and forth in his arms, until he was certain that she was sound asleep again -- her mouth open wide as she began to snore softly when he placed her back into her crib.

He peered up at the clock on the wall and blinked a few times before 4:32 a.m. came into focus. Exhausted, he made his way back into his room before sliding into bed.

And there it was again. That feeling.

You turned over in bed to face him, squinting in the darkness as your eyes adjusted to the scene unfolding before you. Groggily, you reached out and traced your fingers across his jawline. His heart nearly stopped. “Is she alright?” you asked sleepily.

George grinned softly and leant forward before pressing a kiss to your forehead. He whispered, “She’s alright. Go back to sleep.”

Though your eyes were already shut, you reached out again and took his hand in yours before bringing your lips gently to his fingers. “Okay.. I love you.. G’night..”

But you were asleep again before George could respond, so instead he pulled you closely to him and began to gently trace circles on your bare shoulders. He breathed in the smell of your shampoo, and listened intently for the beating of your heart that had fallen into sync with his.

Tears pushed at the edges of his eyes, but he slowed his breathing and reminded himself, again, that there was no longer an empty space beside him in bed.

Maybe he shouldn’t have ever given up hope, but perhaps giving up hope was what made finding you so much sweeter.

If only he could tell seven-year-old George what he’d find when the time was right.

And in the darkness, as the rain pattered on the rooftop of his house and he felt your embrace tighten around his body, he whispered into the silence, “I love you, too.”

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chuckbass-love · 4 years ago

Note

May I request a Ransom x Y/n fic where he goes to a pub after being taken out of the will and he see's y/n at a table crying because she's just been dumped

I love this idea!!

A/N: Just a heads up, i’m keeping the events of the movie in this where he goes back to the house to switch the medication and then have him go to the pub after that.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad or Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lots of angst, alludes to smut at first and then pure smutty filth. Fingering, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, daddy kink, ass slapping and fluff overload. Heavy alcohol use, swearing and alludes to murder (the plot from the movie).

Word Count: 8,770

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @roooogers go check them out💜

Shoulder To Cry On

“Please, Anthony. Please. Don’t do this” your voice shaking with the fear of losing the one person who you assumed would always be around. Your brain trying to register everything he’s just said as tears drown your vision out causing everything to go blurry.

Weak body, silent screams and shaky hands. It’s real. But it doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream. Like if someone were to pinch you now then you’d wake up and feel fine. But that’s far from your reality.

“You’re making a scene Y/N, everyone’s looking” he looks around him, watching on as everyone stares in your direction, enjoying the free show as they dine.

Is he serious?

“Me making a scene? You chose to do this here in front of everyone, knowing full well how i’d react” the anger coming out, the need to scream consuming you, so you do. You yell. You pick the food up in front of you and throw it at him. Bread, prawns, even your red wine.

“How could you do this to me? You fucking cheating scumbag” bottom lip trembling at the words leaving your mouth, the sick feeling working its way through your body and eventually settling in the back of your throat but you stop it.

You had plans for a lovely anniversary dinner tonight. Your boyfriend of 4 years Anthony. The man you’ve always seen yourself marrying and tonight, you thought was the night. That he’d finally get down on one knee and propose. But that was soon ripped away from you the moment the starters arrived.

He started his little speech about how he’s had the best time over the last 4 years with you, the memories you’ve made together.

Then came the moment that everyone dreads. The breakup speech.

He confessed to not feeling as happy as he once did with you and then he admitted to having a connection with some woman at work. His assistant. Jennifer.

And as much as he played it off like nothing happened, you’ve known him long enough now to see all of the tell tale signs. The way he rubs his ear lobe, the way he avoids your eyes and most importantly the way he stutters when he’s nervous.

His face has guilt and cheater written all over it. Your whole world feels like it’s crumbling around you and everything is a mess. Including your mascara.

You always had your suspicions about Jennifer but he was the perfect liar, a genius at concocting up excuses. The way he’d make your mind do a full 180 with your thoughts and feelings. Just like a magician tricking the audience. He pulled the wool right over your eyes and love enabled that, stopped you from asking all the questions that you should have thought to ask.

It’s like now, everything he ever said to you, all the happy memories and plans you made. They all seem so fake, like he never meant any of it. It’s gut wrenching. Sickening.

He’s a beautiful liar. He did it so effortlessly. Getting into bed next to you after no doubt being with her, touching her in the places he was only ever supposed to touch you.

But before you can even get to him, the restaurant staff make their way over, trying to remove you from the scene but you don’t even give them the chance.

“I’m going. Don’t fucking touch me” you hold your hands up, slipping your coat on and grabbing your purse.

“I hope one day you’ll experience how you’ve made me feel tonight” and that’s the last thing you ever said to him, picking your stuff up to leave.

All that anger and hurt eventually brought you here, the bar right round the corner from your house. You couldn’t bare the thought of even going home right away, let alone stepping foot in there. It’s too soon.

The house that’s jam packed with memories of the two of you. Photographs of you. The bed you’ve slept in every night with him for 2 years. Your skin itches.

That’s when you see someone sit down next to you at the bar but you don’t look. He still notices you though. Ogling you as he sips at his whiskey. The way your dress hugs your figure, the slit up the side, exposing your legs.

You hear his thick Boston accent ordering. Still refusing to turn your head. You really don’t want any bother tonight. You just need to drown him out. Drown out the way he smells, the way he touches you, the feel of his huge hands all over your skin.

Ransom doesn’t stop though, stealing glances here and there at you, trying to figure out the perfect chat up line to dish out. Then it comes to him, no chat up lines needed.

“What’s brought a beautiful girl like you here tonight then?”

The smirk that appears on his face comes out in his words, you can hear it but you’re really not in the mood so you order another drink, ignoring the stranger.

But the second you speak up, your voice giving your state away, causing Ransom’s head to shoot up, leaning closer to get a better look and that’s when he sees it. Your eyes that are filled with tears, the way you’re sniffles follow shortly after they fall.

“Wait, are you okay?” Genuine concern in his voice, not wanting to upset you even more by prodding too much.

“I’m fine” you spit, just wanting to be left alone to wallow. To over evaluate everything that’s gone down tonight. But that’s kind of hard to do with this man talking non stop.

“You don’t look fine”

“That’s because i don’t need nor want anyones pity” ouch.

“Who said i was pitying you?” he rolls his eyes, not even sure on what’s turned you so cold or should he say who. But he tried. Which isn’t usually in his nature.

See the events that lead Ransom to that little bar are slightly different to yours but nevertheless, he’s here with you so it doesn’t necessarily matter. The story should probably be told anyway though.

All was going so well in his world earlier today, he was happy as Larry, living off of his Grandfather, taking all he could get from him. He had everything. A bachelor pad that puts his friends one to shame, a beamer, scantily clad women at the click of his fingers and invitations to all the best parties in Boston. He was the most notorious playboy, everyone knows him.

The moment he stepped foot into his Grandfathers study, nothing was ever going to be same once he left. And that’s a fact.

Harlan broke the news about his will. How he changed it recently. Leaving his nurse Marta Cabrera with everything. Every. Last. Dime.

Meaning Ransom and his family will be pushed out of the mansion and Walt will be kicked to the curb when it came to Harlans publishing company, Blood Like Wine.

He argued with Harlan for what felt like forever, tried his best to plead his case and he even resulted to taking a threatening tone to his beloved Grandfather. Which of course, didn’t work. Leaving him angry, furious even. His blood was well and truly boiling. He’d had it. He couldn’t hear another word of that bullshit. So he stormed out. Bidding his great nana a swift goodbye in the form of resting his hand over her arm.

Once in his beamer, he screamed. Smacking the wheel with all of his might before stepping on it, pulling out the space and up the driveway. He had to get out of there and fast.

But halfway up the drive, he slams on the breaks when an idea begins to form, causing him to turn around. Parking away from the mansion first before creeping his way back in.

He climbs the wall at the side of it, up to the secret window that he discovered in his childhood. Once he’s in he finds Marta’s medical bag, opening it and switching his grandfathers meds, making sure to take out the one saving grace that could ruin his perfect plan.

With that secured in his pocket, the bag is zipped back up and placed back where he found it and he’s leaving the same way he came. Back down the side of the house but before he can make a quick run for it, he sees his great nana in the window. Staring at him, without blinking. He waits to see if she’ll speak but she never does, so he turns to leave, making it back to his beamer without a single person catching him. Great nana doesn’t count, there’s a very slim chance that she didn’t even know it was him. After all, she didn’t say a word.

All done now though, the plan is now in full swing. Soon Marta will take Harlan up to bed to give him his medicine. That’s when she’ll give him the overdose on morphine. Or the good stuff as they like to call it.

And eventually it’ll start to come together.

Marta will get arrested for Harlan’s murder, the money and all of the assets that were once hers will be stripped away and they shall all be returned to their rightful owners. His family and him of course. One thing that should be made abundantly clear about Ransom is that he’ll only ever help or get involved when there’s something in it for him. However, he’s not always evil, he has a soft side, it rarely comes out but make no mistake, it’s there alright.

With his evil plan in place, he heads back home but before he even gets there, he passes a quaint little bar at the side of the road. He could really do with a drink right now. Of course a taxi home will be required but with thousands about to grace his bank account, what’s 10 or more dollars on taxi fairs. Exactly, it’s pittance to him.

The second he enters, all eyes are on him. All but two. Your eyes. You’re sat at the bar, head in your hands and from what he can see, you’re dressed all fancy. Too fancy for this place that’s for sure. So he makes his way over, noticing the disgusted looks out of the corner of his eye. He’s never been here before, so of course he’s the newbie to all of the regulars.

That then leads to now.

You turn to face him, your sad eyes meeting his dreamy ones. The only way to describe them. You find yourself on the verge of getting lost before you break the gaze. Nodding towards the barman who slides another shot over to you to which you knock back like it’s nothing before continuing to sip Gin.

Just one look from you and he can see that something isn’t right.

“What’s got you crying all on your lonesome?”

“More like who” you respond, chuckling as more tears fall.

He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off “i had the lovely pleasure of being dumped tonight” you muster up your best fake smile, as if somehow acting like everything is okay will suddenly make it all okay for real. But it’s no use, you still feel torn to pieces. Your heart is still on the floor, it’s been stomped on way too many times for you to count on two hands and you’re life is a complete shambles.

He doesn’t love you, Y/N. He doesn’t love you anymore but then again, did he ever?

“I’m sorry to hear that and for what it’s worth, the guys a jackass for doing that to you”

His comment has your brows furrowing in question. What does he mean by that? But you don’t even get a chance to ask, he can sense your confusion a mile away.

“I just meant that you’re gorgeous. He’s a fool” his nice side coming out to play, he’s never this nice to a woman unless he plans to sleep with her. But this time, it’s different. You’re different. He can never bring himself to pray on you like one of those other girls. Because he can see it, that you’re drained. You’ve had enough. Your ex made a fool of you enough already so who is he to add to that?

“Yeah right, he cheated so i doubt that very much” you snort, knocking back the rest of your drink.

At this point the bartender doesn’t even need you to ask for another, he’s probably realised by now that he should keep them coming.

“What an asshole”

Why does he care? He’s just a stranger. But still, you agree with him.

“Yup”

And just like that, a conversation blossoms.

Drinks flow as you explain the events of tonight and he doesn’t interrupt you. He just lets you speak, it’s almost like he can sense that you just need someone to listen, like all you need is to let out all of your emotions. Even if it is to a complete stranger.

Who by the way isn’t bad in the looks department.

Wait. No. You can’t think that.

Surely it’s fine to think it, just as long as you don’t act on it. Although, you are available now so there would be no harm.

“So let me get this straight. The man took you to dinner for your 4 year anniversary, let you get all dolled up, makeup, hair, nails. The works. Just to break it off with you and tell you he’s met someone else?” his brows raising and you nod, ashamed of how you’ve been treated because ultimately, you really did look like the idiot tonight.

You bought an expensive dress just for this very occasion and you did look the best you’ve ever looked. Radiant and glowing. Your makeup was on point, as was your hair. But now, you’ve got mascara everywhere and you’re way over the line of tipsy.

“I don’t get it. You’re well, you. I mean look at you and he left this for another woman? It makes no sense. There’s no way i’d ever give you up. No chance. No way” the way you feel your cheeks warm at his obvious compliment. You’re almost certain that he’s sweet talking you now. It took him a total of 2 hours. And he finally gave it a go. But you’re not complaining.

“LAST ORDERS” the bartender pulls you from your thoughts. That’s when you turn to look at him, still not knowing the perfect strangers name.

“Um, i guess i should get going” the very sentence makes that sick feeling come back but just like earlier, you push it away, stopping it before it comes spewing out on the bar. There would have been no time to run to the bathroom.

“I guess i should too” he smiles softly, shrugging his coat on and standing up.

That’s when the height difference is clear. He towers over you, making you feel small and dainty.

He gestures for you to head out first and as you glance back over your shoulder, you see him sliding some money to the bartender. No doubt, he paid for all of those drinks that you forgot to even pay for. Fuck.

These heels are way too high and your vision blurs a little as you stumble out the door but before you can even fall to the ground and face plant, he catches you, lifting you up and walking you over to what looks like a taxi.

“Come on you, let’s get you home. Where’d you live?”

Your mind goes blank as you stare at him before muttering “i don’t want to go home, i can’t go home. He’ll be there. Don’t make”

He cuts you off, pulling you closer to him and giving the cabbie his address instead. Wait. His place?

“I guess i should probably tell you my name being as you’re gonna be in my house soon huh?” he chuckles, spurring your own laughing fit.

“Do tell, mystery man”

“Ransom”

“I don’t have any money to pay you, not that i need to anyways, just tell me your name”

“No, no. My name is Ransom” his laughter fills your ears.

Strange name. Strange man.

“Surely not”

“Sure is. Well technically it’s my middle name. But i really can’t reveal anymore than that”

“Well i’m Y/N by the way and can i just say, you smell amazing” ah, the part where you make an utter show of yourself by leaning closer and closer, until your face is inches from his neck. That’s when you inhale really dramatically. Getting a good whiff of his manly scent. It’s intoxicating.

Luckily for you, he takes it all in good humour, probably because you’re drunk.

The rest of the ride back to his consists of you getting overly touchy, making random comments and with Ransom being the playboy that he is, it’s a real struggle for him not to fuck you here and now. Even in front of the cabbie. It wouldn’t be the worst place he’s fucked.

Yes you’re drunk but your hands are roaming to places they shouldn’t be and now he can feel a situation forming in the shape of a huge hard on.

Not that you notice, you’re too wrapped up in your own drunken state, blissfully unaware.

He can’t fuck you anyway. You’re too drunk. He’ll have to sober you up first.

The taxi comes to a halt and you look out of the windows, noticing a huge house, too posh for the likes of you but clearly fitting for a man like Ransom. He pays the cabbie before getting out.

You sit there clueless until you feel him scoop you up in his arms. He kicks the the door shut, walking the both of you to his house. He fiddles around in his pocket, holding you up with one arm so that he can open it and put you down on the couch.

“Is this your place?”

“It is indeed”

“It’s so big”

He lays you down, pointing his index finger in your face as he warns you “stay here, okay? Don’t move”

The child in you starts to emerge, the pout and puppy dog eyes coming out “yes sir”. You salute him and watch him strut away.

When he returns, his coat is off and he’s just in his white shirt, grey cardigan and his slacks.

“Here, drink this, it’ll help”

“Ew what is this?” your face screws up, disgusted at the taste “are you trying to poison me?”

“It’s just water, don’t be so dramatic. Drink it”

“What if i wanted another drink”

He just shakes his head disapprovingly. You’re really having none of it and he can’t fuck you like this. He makes it his mission to make sure all the women he’s with can actually remember what’s going on. Plus he needs your consent first.

“Drink. I won’t tell you again” his scary side showing just a tad but he soon shuts that off, realising how bossy and intimidating he sounds “wait, sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you”

Shouting and confrontation has always scared you. You’ve always had this natural instinct to cower and hide.

But this time, all you can really do is back up, to the other end of the couch.

“You’re just really drunk and it’s not doing you any good. Especially with everything that you’ve gone through tonight” wow. He’s even surprised himself with that one.

It’s not that he doesn’t care about you or your feelings because he most certainly does. He’s liked being there for you tonight, even if you did start out as two strangers at a bar. It distracted him from his own drama filled life. But your freaky side was showing on the taxi ride over and it awakened something inside of him.

Not in the way that some may think. Sure he’d love nothing more than to fuck you senseless, make you forget everything even if it’s just for the night but most importantly. He felt something more than just lust when you were touching him.

And as strange as that is to admit, it felt amazing. Like fucking you wouldn’t just be for the sake of it. You wouldn’t just be another notch on his bed post. It’s almost like his heart knows something that his brain doesn’t know yet.

Eventually he gets you to slowly sip at the water until half of it is gone and then the whole thing. You’re still tipsy but a little better than you were before the water.

“Did you want any food? I could order in? It might help?”

“I mean i did sort of throw my prawn starter at my ex”

He can’t contain his laughter, leaning back on the couch and throwing a hand over his left boob. You really are hilarious to him. He’s so amused by you and he doesn’t ever want this night to end. Even if it doesn’t end in sex, which it will. He’d be satisfied.

Something that Ransom Drysdale would never ever think or say.

“So food then?”

You nod before shaking your head aggressively.

“Actually no. No food. I already feel like i’m going to hurl. Food will just make that worse”

He seconds that, taking your empty glass from your hands and disappearing to refill it before returning it to you.

“You best drink up then if you aren’t planning to eat”

So you do as he says, stopping after a couple of sips due to your eyes noticing more and more about him that you never noticed before. Like his slicked back hair, his broad shoulders and oh shit. Is that a boner?

It’s gotta be right.

Your still tipsy self hands him the water for him to place on the coffee table for you and that’s when you do the unexpected. You make your way over to him, sitting way too close. Your bare arms rubbing against the soft and thin material of his cardigan.

“You alright?”

The way he acts like he cares, which, he does. It’s soothing, the gentle tone in his voice. The way he’s treating you like you’re glass and he doesn’t want to break you. And he’d be right, because you are delicate. Not your body of course but your heart, your soul, your mind. Not that there’s much left of your heart after Anthony broke it.

“I’m okay, i’ll be better after i get this dress off though” the flirty side of you starts to make an appearance. You look down, twiddling your thumbs as he clears his throat, clearly didn’t expect a comment like that.

“I guess i could fetch some of my clothes for you to wear?” his suggestion, whilst very cute and gentleman like, isn’t what you were after. And he’s far from a gentleman. You can just tell.

“I don’t think you understood” you turn around, back facing him “i need some help. Please” eyelashes batting as you quickly look over your shoulder at him and seconds later, you feel his hand move your hair to the side.

The zipper glides down with ease causing the straps to fall down your arms and soon enough. You stand up, letting it fall into a puddle on the floor. Leaving you in nothing but your matching blue laced, bra and panties set. Along with your heels of course. It’s the set that you bought for tonight too. For the sex you never ended up getting.

For the first time ever, Ransom is rendering on speechless, his mouth waters at the most incredible sight in front of him and he can tell from that look in your eyes that you want him.

Something he never expected to happen so fast. That’s when you sit back down next to him, resting your hand on his thigh.

“You know i should really thank you for tonight”

“Honestly, it was nothing” his words are aimed at you whilst his eyes are fixated on your body, not even trying to hide it from you but you just lap it up. You could use some attention right now. After all, your confidence was knocked with your ex boyfriend’s revelation.

“No, really. It was nice. You’ve been amazing. So let me thank you” but before your lips can touch his, he pulls back. Looking at you as his hand caresses your cheek, staring into your eyes like he’s looking into your soul and you feel close to naked in more ways than one.

That’s when his lips crash to yours in an intense and very heated kiss. As his hands roam around your half naked figure, you position them at the back of your bra, signalling to him that you want him to remove it. Which of course, he does.

He pulls away for a couple of seconds, taking a moment to look at your breasts. And the way he cups them with his large hands before using his thumb and index fingers to pinch at your now hard nipples, has you moaning into the kiss. Leaving your lips parted just enough for his tongue to slip in, adding to the build up.

The battle for dominance begins and it goes back and forth between you both, your hunger is very much profound. As is Ransom’s. The moans he’s eliciting are almost porn star like and he’s barely even touched you. But that’s the beauty of it, it feels so good that you’re keening for more. Which earns a low and raspy chuckle.

It doesn’t take long before you’re straddling him, legs either side with your hands cupping his face. His hands rested on your waist, squeezing slightly, almost like he’s making sure you don’t go anywhere. And after the day he’s had. He needs someone, whether he admits it or not. He does.

But that’s all he’s ever wanted. Is someone. Someone to talk to, someone who will listen and be there. He can’t complain about how that’s not the case though, he’s brought it all on himself. The loneliness, it’s killing him but he chooses to push everyone away.

His family though, that’s all them. They made him this way. A scheming, money grabbing playboy. It doesn’t mean the facade doesn’t drop once he’s all alone though.

However, it never drops around others. So why is it dropping around you?

“God, i needed this” he pants, in between his kisses that he’s peppering from your lips to your jawline and then your neck. It takes him next to no time at all to find the one spot that drives you insane and when he notices the way your whole body shivers. He smirks, sucking and biting it along with the equal amount of wet kisses.

“Me too. Fuck, right there” you mewl, back arching in his hands as they splay across it before moving down to settle on your panties. His finger traces the top of them, following them as it dips into your ass before giving your ass cheeks a hard smack.

God if this is how incredible you feel just kissing and touching the man then sex must be a real first place prize.

Just the way he’s handling your body alone is enough to send you over that sweet cliff but you stop it, holding back by pushing his face away from your skin, interrupting the hickey he was clearly in the middle of making.

“I wasn’t done with you, come back here”

You stop him again “i need you” you whisper frantically, both of your chests rising and falling. Your heart is beating like crazy.

“Patience baby” he winks, standing up with you in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist and your arms holding onto his broad shoulders for support as he carries you up the stairs and into what looks like his room.

Before you even have time to pause for so much as a second, he throws you to the bed.

“I wanna take my sweet little time with you” he starts, the bed dips as he gets on it, hovering above you “gonna worship every inch of your body” he lowers himself so that he can kiss your lips, then your jawline, then your neck and then eventually, the valley between your breasts.

“Gonna show you what your worth baby, prove to you that you’re better than that scum who didn’t treat you the way you deserve” also something that’s unlike Ransom. But if there’s one thing he’s a pro at, it’s pleasuring a woman. He knows what the fuck he’s doing. He can talk the talk and walk the walk. Which he’s about to prove to you right now.

He lowers himself down to your sex, the way the pool is growing more and more is obvious, he can smell it and even see it, the way the light blue material has darkened around your tight hole.

You spread your legs open wider, your way of inviting him in. Of course he accepts. He starts off by pressing a thumb down onto your clit, moving it around in circles and causing you to jolt. You’ve been craving someone, anyone at this point to touch you there. Maybe that should have been a sign that things were doomed with you and Anthony since he’s not touched you in months. Maybe that was a sign you should have seen, a red flag that you were too blind to notice.

“Look at you, so flustered already. God i can’t wait to fuck you”

“Please” you beg, pathetically.

“Nuh uh baby, i told you i wanna take my time, starting with this pretty little pussy” he hooks his fingers into the hem, using that to pull them down and off of your legs before throwing them behind him, not caring where they land.

“My oh my, it is a pretty little pussy, isn’t it. God you’re soaked baby, all this for me?”

“All for you” your confirmation leads him to lick his lips before pressing a couple of open mouthed kisses to the inside of your thighs.

“That man is an idiot. But i guess his loss is my gain. Ain’t that right baby” he winks as his kisses get closer and closer to your arousal covered hole.

“Ransom, plea- OH FUCK” his mouth latches onto your clit, sucking as his tongue flicks across it rapidly. A sensation you’ve never felt before that makes your breathing hitch, your hands run through his locks, no doubt messing them up, not that he’s showing any signs of caring.

All that Ransom cares about right now is making you feel good, making you cum.

“Like this baby? Like my mouth all over you?” his eyes meet yours as he uses his fingers to spread you open so that he can really get a good eyeful “you’re dripping” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself and not to you. He slowly slides one finger in before resuming his attention on your folds and your bundle of nerves.

“More, i need more. I need you” as flattered as he is by your desperation and need to feel every inch of his thick cock, he has to prepare you. Most of the women he’s been with have never had someone as big as him before, so he always likes to get them ready and you are no exception.

“Patience baby, you’ll have me. All in good time”

His raspy voice has you melting alone and the way he’s working you over, slipping a second digit in, should be criminal. How can a man like this be single and alone? It makes no sense. Plus it doesn’t hurt that he’s loaded too.

It’s a mystery that you’ll be sure to get to the bottom of once you’re done here.

A third finger is added and he’s curling them all more and more each time he bottoms out, your back arches again, your grip on his hair gets tighter. But he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t stop. Not even for a second. He’s a man on a mission right now.

The way he’s sucking on your clit, the way his fingers are filling you up and the way he’s slurping at you like a drink is something you’ll never and could never compare to anything you’ve ever experienced. He’s a literal god and he has your walls fluttering around him, your clit pulsating in his mouth.

“Feel the way your squeezing me baby, you gonna cum? Huh? Gonna cum all over my fingers” the pure filth that he’s spewing, is what has you coming face to face with stars. And Ransom can feel the way your hips bucks up into his face, the way your hands keep him locked there until they are pushing him away due to how sensitive you are. He doesn’t budge though.

He just laps at your sex again and again before finally withdrawing his fingers, noticing your slick coating them and dripping down his hand.

“Jesus, looks like somebody made a mess”

You can’t help the way your cheeks warm in embarrassment which he soon puts to bed by stuffing his fingers in his mouth to clean them off. Every last drop.

That’s when he takes it upon himself to drink directly from you, sticking his tongue into the honey pot, taking everything you have to offer “god so fucking sweet. I can’t get enough baby, tastes so fucking good”

A flirtatious giggle escapes, your hands covering your mouth but he rips them away.

“Don’t ever feel embarrassed or shy around me”

“Are you gonna fuck me now?” your teeth bite at your bottom lip as you shiver with the anticipation of what’s to come from him. His silence is deadly but exciting.

“Indeed i am”

He can most likely hear your heart race as he pulls away, getting off of the bed to undress himself. Starting with his cardigan and shirt. Once it’s off, his abs are revealed, his biceps are huge. You have the biggest urge to kiss him all over that chiseled body, sculpted by some kind of god. He’s gotta be a fantasy.

“But first baby” he trails off, pulling his slacks down and stepping out of them “you’re gonna suck my cock, get it nice and hard with that mouth of yours before i ram it into that tight little cunt” he pulls his boxers down, stepping out of them too and kicking both to the side before stalking closer.

You gulp, your eyes widen... he’s huge. Really huge. Thick too. Does he even need your mouth?

“What’s the matter baby? Is someone intimidated?”

“No” your denial, whilst very cute, isn’t believable. But he’s still going to let you have a go at wrapping that mouth around it.

You scoot off of the bed and fall to your knees, feeling even more dainty than you did before when he was towering over you like a giant.

“Don’t be shy baby, get to work”

Your hand wraps around him with your thumb swiping the pre cum that’s oozed out of the slit and you immediately pop your thumb into your mouth. You just want a small taste and as soon as the salty-sweet droplet hits your tongue. You all of a sudden crave more of it.

“Nice?” he asks, cocking a brow up “delicious” you smile, adding to his already blown up ego.

You gradually welcome him into your mouth, opening wider as each inch passes your lips until he’s almost bottomed out. That’s when you open wider and his tip hits the back of your throat making you gag, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth.

“You look so good taking all of me in that mouth, bet you’ll look even better when you’re taking me in that cunt”

Is he trying to kill you with his dirty talk? Most likely.

He’s a different man to the guys you normally go for. Maybe that’s where you’ve gone wrong. You’ve let yourself settle for mediocre sex, mediocre relationships and maybe that’s why you’ve never been truly happy, like happy to your very core. You’ve never fully believed that you deserve the world. Never known your worth.

He grips the sides of your head, stilling your movements so his can begin and he doesn’t go easy. His thrusts have you making an even bigger mess, more saliva dripping down from your face to the floor. He’s loving every second of it though. But soon enough, just as quick as he started, he stops. Pulling out and looking at you, content with what he sees.

“God you’re fucking beautiful like this, on your knees for me like a good girl. Get on the bed baby” you do as you’re told, sprawling out on the bed and waiting for him to join which of course he does. As soon as he gets a condom out, taking it from the wrapper and sliding it down his shaft. Size XL. You spy before he tosses the wrapper into the bin.

“You ready?” he asks, resting his tip between your legs and lowering his body so that he can slide his arms underneath your shoulder blades. His face inches from yours.

“Please, i need you now” and with that he slides home, not stopping to let you adjust to every inch as it comes. You can feel your pussy stretching, the way it stings slightly but it also feels incredible. It’s bliss.

“S’tight baby and s’warm. Feel that pussy stretching around my cock”

Your eyes roll back as your head lolls to the side, presenting your neck to him and giving him the opportunity to finish what he started earlier, which of course he does.

And the second is lips are on your skin, his pace picks up and the pain turns to pleasure. You feel him so deep inside of you that you just know if he were to pull out that you’d feel emptier than ever.

“God, yes. Ransom. Fuck” your legs wrap tight around his waist, forcing him in even deeper if that’s possible at all but still you do it. Wanting nothing more than to feel as much of him as physically possible.

So you wrap your arms around him, your fingers tracing shapes on his back, causing him to shiver and growl loudly “fucking take this cock baby, take it like a good girl” he starts, adjusting his pace from fast and rough to slow and hard. Ramming in each time he speaks “such a good girl” thrust “loving every inch of this cock huh?” thrust “god this pussy” thrust “is gonna have me cumming way too quick” thrust.

“I can’t have that now can i?” that’s when he shocks you, flipping you over so that you’re on top “ride me baby, show daddy what you got” the nickname he uses for himself has your walls spasming, catching his attention.

“Oh you like that huh? Such a dirty girl for daddy, aren’t you?”

“Yes daddy” despite never using that in the bedroom before, it feels weirdly satisfying, having him refer to himself as daddy and seeing how he gets when you call him that too, the way his mouth hangs open, the way his cock twitches.

It’s something you’ll never forget.

You start off by collapsing onto his chest, your breasts pushed up against his pecs as you slowly lift your ass up before sinking back down onto him, earning a hiss.

“Yeah just like that, make daddy proud baby” so you do, you go again. And again. And again. Getting quicker each time until you’re a pro at it. You then sit up, continuing to bounce up and down, grinding as he bottoms out, with his initial instructions of course. He guides you through it and before he even tries to help a second time, he takes his hands away, noticing how you’re doing it all by yourself.

Grinding like the whore he’s turned you into. You can’t help the confidence beaming off of you as you go to work, slamming yourself down on his cock eagerly. You need that sweet release now more than ever, as does he.

“That’s it baby, make yourself cum”

The best pout and puppy dog eyes make a return “fuck me. Please daddy” and who is he to say no to you?

“You’re gonna be the death of me i swear” he flips you over again, keeping himself seated deep inside of you as his pace turns animalistic.

“Mhmm, give it to me, i’m gonna cum” you plead, not that he’d ever deny you a mind blowing orgasm in the first place as it’s clear you’ve never had one like the one he’s about to give you.

“Bet he could never fuck like this huh? Make you moan like a fucking porn star for him. Gonna have your legs shaking baby, hold on to me”

So you do.

Your grip tightens around his neck.

With every hit to your g-spot, he nudges you closer until yet again, stars cloud your vision and your toes curl. Your back arches up so that you’re chest to chest and you cum with a shaky and satisfied cry. He doesn’t stop though, plowing into you to chase his own release. Your legs are most definitely shaking.

Your walls continue to clamp down on him, spurring it on.

“God i’m gonna cum”

“Cum for me daddy” is all he needed to hear to go crazy and that’s when he spasms himself. His thick seed filling the condom and his thrusts get slower and harder. Riding both of your highs out.

Your breathing is heavy, your heart beat is out of control but you feel complete.

You’ve never experienced anything like that before.

He pulls out, disposing of the condom and rushing into the en suit for a second before returning with a wash cloth. He uses it to clean you up, taking his time and making sure to be extra careful with you. You try to prop yourself up on your elbow but struggle due to him fully ruining your body.

“Just relax baby, let me take care of everything” he presses a couple of kisses to your thighs and then your stomach, pausing to throw the wash cloth into the hamper before making his way back up to your lips.

He lays down next to you, pulling you into his side and draping an arm around your body so you lay your head down on his chest.

“So” you both say at the same time, causing a laughing fit to erupt.

“That was certainly an experience”

“I told you that i was gonna worship you and i think you can agree i delivered”

“You did more than just deliver Ransom”

“Please do tell me more” he laughs, stroking your hair.

“How on earth are you single?” the question that’s been on your mind since you and him got talking at the bar. He’s acted in a way that not many men do these days, it’s hard to believe no ladies are lining up to be with him.

Plus his dick and head game is A-1.

“I’m single more by choice than anything else”

“How come?” you feel bad for asking but surely if you were over stepping the line then he’d say.

“I mean, my family life hasn’t always been the best. I’ve learnt to not trust anyone that i’m related to and growing up with parents that just chucked money at stuff to solve it. If i was upset then it was always take this money, go shopping. Or if i needed my mother for girl advice it always lead to my dad telling me i should never trust women which is rich seeing as he cheats on my mom all the time”

It’s quite sad actually, a man that seems to have it all together, is clearly broken inside.

“I’m sorry, that’s awful. I’m guessing that’s why you’re single then, why you choose to keep away from dating”

“Yup. I prefer to just fuck with no strings attached. It’s easier, I don’t have to do anything other than make them cum. I’m not filled with pressure to be the perfect boyfriend. I can just relax but sometimes it gets lonely”

“How’d you mean? Sorry if i’m prying” you rest your head on your hands as you look up at him, his finger tracing shapes on your back now.

“It’s fine honestly, don’t sweat it. I guess the best way to explain it is that i can have all this money from my grandfather, all the cars, girls and friends in the world but i can’t trust any of them enough to let them see me when i’m laying in bed at night. The times when i just want someone to hold, someone to hold me, tell them about my day, hear about theirs. Someone to wake up next to and fall asleep next to. But whenever a woman gets even remotely close to me in a way that is too deep. I back off, i give her the cold shoulder and just ghost. I get freaked out because to me, there’s nothing scarier than someone seeing all of me, the good, the bad and the ugly”

It takes you just a second to realise, he’s just bared his soul to you. After saying that he backs off whenever a woman gets too close. After saying that he struggles to trust. That he’s scared of being himself around someone. He’s just been himself around you. And you have no doubt that he feels comfortable enough with you to do that so that’s gotta count for something, surely.

“I get it. It’s hard. Loving someone is easy but allowing them to love you, that’s the scary part. Because ultimately when you let someone in enough to let them love you whole heartedly it opens you up to the chance of heartbreak i mean, look at my life”

You both laugh a little “It’s not even just regular heartbreak, it’s the fear of being cheated on, having my trust shattered. Having someone use me for my family’s money”

“Well, for what it’s worth. I think you need to just bite the bullet, let that guard down. How do you ever expect to find what you want and need if you’re not willing to open yourself up to it. It’s a risk that is worth it sometimes, that eventually, all the heartaches will lead to something greater or someone. Someone that will accept every flaw you have and be there regardless of how messy things can get”

Ransom is just so relaxed right now, he feels at peace, at ease with you. The way you’re listening. Your head rested on his chest, letting him hold you and giving him proper responses, it shows you’re paying attention, you want to be there for him. He’s completely taken back by you. How could anyone want to cheat and leave you, it’ll always remain a mystery to him.

You’re like this ray of light, that came into his life tonight out of the blue. Someone who’s hurting too but somehow you amazing him with the sunshine you provide. You’re everything he’s always wanted in a girlfriend but he’s spent years pushing girls just like you to the side due to fear. Only difference is, he’s able to be himself with you. With them, he could never.

His body lets go as he turns on his side, turning you with him so that he’s cuddling you from behind.

“You’re right. I’ll get there eventually. I just, i need time”

Your silent for a while, taking his words in before you speak.

“Seems like you don’t need any time at all”

That’s when you hear quiet snores from behind you, he’s dozing. And after a couple of minutes, you decide that it’s probably time you see yourself out, you never wanna over stay your welcome and right now with him asleep, you already have.

But before you can even get off the bed, you need to remove his hand from around your frame. Which isn’t going to be easy considering you have to try not to wake him up.

You succeed, finally managing to scoot over to the edge of the bed. But that’s when you hear his tired groans, followed by a hand to your wrist.

“Don’t leave me” his voice is laced with worry

“What?”

“Everyone leaves me” his words break your heart all over again, you’ve been left before and you’re not about to do this to him. Besides, it’s not like you wanted to, you just didn’t think he was the type to want you here all night.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to be here when you woke up”

“Well, you thought wrong. Come back and cuddle, don’t leave like everyone else does”

It doesn’t take much more to convince you to crawl back into his arms. He presses a couple of kisses to your shoulder as you get under the covers with him. Then the kisses move to your cheek and eventually, your lips.

“I’m here to stay then i guess”

“Good”

You feel warm and happy somehow in his arms, like everything has gone away, even if it’s just temporarily.

“Goodnight”

“Goodnight Ransom. sweet dreams” something you’ve always said throughout your whole life. It’s a nice thing to say and it has him smiling into one last kiss before he closes his eyes for the night.

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

General Tags: @deadlymistress24 @coffeebooksandfandom @chris-butt @holtzkinnon @mychemicalimagines @llamadelreyx @haus-of-bitch-talk @buckstaybucky @thewinchestergirl1208 @chrissquares @patzammit @adriannajackson @dummiesshort @cevans-fics @americasass91 @toni9 @aaliferouss @bradfordmyworld @thereisa8ella @rockyrogers

Just Chris & His Characters Tags: @onetwo3000 @persephonequeenofthedead @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @rynabarnesrogers @princess-evans-addict @stxvercgersslut @chris-evanslover @bval-1 @thejemersoninferno @denisemarieangelina

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missroller15 · 3 years ago

Text

A very special date night

ok, here it finally is! I’m sorry about the delay but I got it finished and I’m actually pretty nervous to post this but here goes, I hope you all enjoy it <3333

________________________________________________________________

Finally.. It was date night. EJ and Gina couldn’t be more hyped to finally get their time together.

Due to busy schedules (EJ in college and Gina with highschool, theater, etc.), time alone just got cut shorter and shorter. They decided enough was enough and planned for one day a month where they could both simply be together but of course, to make things a bit more interesting, one of them would choose the location while the other got to choose the meal or place to eat.

This month, EJ was choosing where they’d go but the thing is… Gina truly had no clue what he could be planning. Usually, he’d drop a huge obvious hint but assume he didn’t just reveal but this time around, no hints or anything.

The day finally came, a bright Friday afternoon. The sunlight beamed through Gina’s window as she yawned while stretching her arms out. Still in the process of waking up, she suddenly heard a buzz come from her phone.

Hey, G. Sorry, I couldn't text sooner! I’m at the zoo with Big Red so I won’t be home most of today. Enjoy some of the breakfast saved in the fridge and get your game face ready for tonight with my cuz ;)

Before Gina could respond, a second message came in putting a stop to all her suspicions.

And nope, can’t answer any questions! Anyways, have fuuuuun

She let out a long sigh, so many questions rushing through her mind and the only way she could think of putting them to rest for the moment was by focusing on something else so the girl sluggishly got up and went to shower.

Once she was out, most of her impending questions had settled (not all were gone, to be clear though) and as she walked downstairs, yet another message came except not from Ash this time.

From EJ: Ready for one of the greatest date nights ever, babe? ;)

A smile grew on her face as she headed to the door and found EJ waiting outside beside his car. He was leaning against it, specifically by the passenger side, most likely waiting for Gina to arrive so he could open the door for her like the incredible sweet boyfriend he is. Blush spread across her face as he noticed her coming out.

“So, am I still not allowed to ask questions?” she joked once they were both sitting inside the car.

“I mean, of course but this is gonna be an interesting date and honestly I’m curious to see your reaction without any ideas..” he explained as they drove. Gina raised an eyebrow but kept her thoughts to herself. While they sat in a comfortable silence, she started to try and contemplate where they could be going. The biggest hint she had was Ashlyn’s text but even then, with how vague it was, she still remained puzzled.

Just then when they arrived, all that curiosity disappeared from her mind and she finally realized what she meant by getting her game face ready. They were about to play Laser Tag.

As they walked in, she couldn’t help but already feel her adrenaline start to rush. She finally realized what Ash meant when she said to get her game face ready and Gina was going to do just that.

The teams were selected by random and EJ already had their names filled out on the form so now all they had to do was wait for the announcer to begin calling out names. Gina and EJ anxiously but even more excitedly stood waiting for the announcement to come already with their hands interlocked.

As they stood waiting, EJ leaned over to whisper something into Gina’s ear sending a chill down her back. “Just know, that if we’re on a different teams and I beat you, I will like you just the same as I do at this moment.”

Gina scoffed at the comment and looked him dead in the eye, trying to stifle her laughter. “Don’t try to intimidate me, babe.. It’s not gonna change anything, I got my game face on now and it stays till I win.”

He jokingly rolled his eyes at the snarky reply. Before he could respond, the announcer finally came on.

“Ok ok ok, let’s do this! So excited to kick-off the first laser tag game of the day and as most of you already know how this goes, blah blah blah be safe. Once you’re hit, you’re done for a good ten minutes. Now anyways, now back to teams..” he quickly rambled.

Gina glanced over at EJ who just gently squeezed her hand while they expectantly waited to hear the team names.

“Alrighty then, let’s begin… for team red, EJ Caswell…” he started, considering the teams only consisted of six players for this round, it didn’t take long to name all the players and before they knew it, it was already time for the blue team.

Since Gina’s name wasn’t called out for the red team, it was obvious she’d be a part of the blue team meaning that they were going to go against each other. To be honest, the idea of being able to hold the win over the other’s head enticed them both.. A lot more than they liked to admit.

The teams began to disperse and head to the main room for setting up. While in there, this time EJ shot a glance at Gina, who was zipping up her dark blue vest. She turned for a second to wink at him before returning her attention back to her team.

EJ did the same and not too long after, the whispers and small talk went silent as everyone’s laser guns began beeping and flashing most likely because they were being turned on while the lights dimmed down. The announcer came on one last time soon after.

“Players, prep time is over… the doors to the laser tag area are now unlocked and you may enter. Let the games begin.”

Everyone immediately separated and went to find hiding spots. Gina immediately knew the second level was the place she needed to be. As she navigated through the dark space, something felt off… almost as if she felt a presence following behind her.

“It’s probably just your nerves, don’t break focus”, Gina muttered under her breath. Soon enough, she began to turn a corner, that feeling came back again. She immediately began dashing and ended up finding a small pitch dark corner to hide in right by the stairs she was finding to the second level in the first place.

Just as Gina thought, once she slipped behind the corner someone came not long after and it didn’t surprise her one bit who it was.

“Aw man, I lost her.” EJ groaned in frustration. Gina bit the inside of her cheek to contain her laughter at seeing the poor green eyed boy mope.

The fun ended though as he started to explore the area and he began getting dangerously close to her corner so she did the only reasonable thing a person would do if they felt threatened.

While his back was turned, she took the opportunity and leaped onto his back. He immediately toppled over and Gina had the upper hand for the moment. Gina clapped her hand over his mouth before he could start yelling for help.

“Shhh.. don’t fight it.” she whispered softly leaning in closer. Now she hadn’t planned for this part of the plan but he was right there.. one little peck wouldn’t do anything.

As she slowly removed her hand from on top of his mouth, her body went into shock when he went in for the kiss. She didn’t even think twice once her brain started to function again and reciprocated.

Her hand gently released its tight grip on the gun and Gina’s focus finally broke. They broke apart after about 30 seconds to take a breath but then Gina heard something that made her blood run cold.

Her vest was beeping and so was her gun.

She looked at EJ, who had a satisfied smirk resting on his face. “I thought you knew this, G. I play to win.” He said so while holding his red glowing gun up.

Gina, shocked and possibly just a bit impressed, remained speechless. He played her at her own game and won?! Gina wasn’t gonna let this go, there was still a chance and she wasn’t going to waste it.

In the ten minutes that Gina was out, EJ knew she would be out to get him and only him. He played an extremely dangerous move by playing Gina like that but it’s obviously what she was planning for him so if anything, at least she’ll know now that he knows most of the tricks up her sleeve.

What scares him though is what she has left…

Within a couple seconds, he manages to find one of his teammates and the two stuck together for a couple minutes. They found a good spot and chilled for a second after all the navigating and running.

“So, the girl that’s currently out.. She’s your girlfriend, right?” the boy said, he looked around 14-15 but EJ couldn’t exactly tell.

“Yep and once she’s back in, we’re gonna need to hide really well.” he warned, followed by a chuckle. “You really think she’s gonna be that furious?”

Poor kid. He really doesn’t know what she’s capable of, he thought to himself. “Oh yeah, she’s gonna be infuriated. Don’t worry though, she’s probably gonna come for me only. We’re just super competitive like that. It runs in our blood.”

EJ glanced back to see the kid terrified. “O..k.” he let out. The conversation didn’t go much further but at least before they split off, EJ did manage to get across the fact that he was only joking.

After a while of walking, he checked his watch and realized that Gina would be out any second. Just as he thought, not a minute after checking the time, a beep came from the speakers signaling that a player would be entering the game.. It was about to get a whole lot more dangerous than before.

Once she was out, Gina knew exactly what EJ would be thinking.. He knew that he was her main target and that’s what he needed to get out of his head.

So, Gina put her focus on getting his teammates out first, with the help of hers as well of course. If she was being fully honest, she really did not expect to work as well with her team as she did. They were just as cunning and competitive.

This made Gina’s plan that much easier to complete. While waiting out her ten minutes, she had concocted a pretty simple but effective plan.

Her teammates and some of the opposing team members were actually everyday regulars here at the lasertag so they knew the routes and pathways that the others would take. With this information, it was decided that they’d take care of their own personal friends and get them out while Gina was left to find EJ and get him out.

Yes,it was simple but if Gina was going to win, all she needed was for it to be efficient.

Not much time was wasted, once she got out. The beeper signaling that players were out began to go off every couple of minutes, she quietly counted while swiftly moving through the area. Out of the corner of the eye, she saw something from behind. No way, she was turning her back this time.

She quietly and carefully walked back to the spot where she noticed something and immediately let out a breath of relief at seeing a kid resting back in the corner, his eyes shut tight. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll tell you where he is. Just please don’t tell him I told you. I can be out, it’s ok, I-”

“Ya know, kid. I actually kinda like you for that but what did EJ tell you?! Did you really believe I was seriously out to murder him, it’s just our thing.. Don’t worry and well, if we’re bargaining here.. The best I can do is you give me EJ’s location and I’ll give you an extra ten minutes to go hide.” she explained, holding her hand out to seal the deal.

He looked down a bit worried but shook nonetheless. He quickly whispered where he thought EJ would be hiding and ran away within a second after.

Gina followed his instructions and slowly crept up to the second level of the arena. She knew that kid gave it up way too easily and there was no harm in being cautious so she walked towards the spot that the kid described as quietly as possible.

Once she was there, she looked around but not carefully enough because now she was back to square one when she heard his voice. “Well, looks like my plan worked. I’m just so touched with how well you’re taking this, G.”

“Aww Eej, you think you’re really gonna end up winning”, she started, as she turned and began slowly walking towards the proud boy, “-tsk tsk, you’re too good and naive for your own good, babe.

EJ furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and ever so slightly,let his guard down. Rookie mistake, Gina thought as she jumped towards EJ again. He saw it coming and dodged the attack but ended up causing Gina to trip over his foot.

She yelped at the collision with the floor. Pain shot through her wrist as she sat back up. Within a second EJ was already at her side, helping her stand. “Maybe we got a little too intense with the game..” he joked, walking to the arena exit with Gina.

“Ya think?” she laughed, while gently massaging her palm and wrist area. Once they made it, the two returned their gear to the set-up room. There was still about a half hour of laser tag left but it was obvious, the game was done for today.

Even if their initial idea got cut short, that didn’t mean the day was over. As EJ and Gina walked to the car, they couldn’t help but continuously chitter and chatter about all that occurred. From Gina’s surprise attack on him to EJ’s interesting conversation with the young boy.

By then, Gina’s wrist had relaxed and the pain toned down. While they drove, the chitter chatter turned to a comfortable silence. It was just that time where words didn’t need to be said anymore. The glances, little laughs here and there, it was just really nice.

The drive didn’t take too long and before they knew it, they’d already arrived at Ashlyn and Gina’s place.

“So.. we’re here. Look, I’m sorry about the wrist thing and I just got a little too into it, you see when I-” His rambling got cut short by Gina pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Hey, it’s alright. It was just a game and it’s not like the day is over yet, I’d like to use up all the time I have with you today.” she smiled after breaking off the kiss. EJ proceeded to continually caress her cheek as she spoke.

“Ok. This time, you name it though.”

Gina decided on a movie night to end the day.

Honestly, this month’s date night wasn’t the most planned and perfect but that’s what made it all the more fun. Both EJ and Gina couldn’t wait for the next to see what surprises were in store.

#portwell #portwell fics #ej caswell #gina porter

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shuadotcom · 4 years ago

Text

Read Your Mind | KTH (M)

♦ Summary: You just want to find your friends and enjoy the party, but instead you find out that maybe you aren’t where you’re supposed to be.

♦ Pairing: Vampire!Taehyung x Human Female!Reader

♦ Genre: Vampire AU, supernatural AU

♦ Rating: NC17

♦ Warnings: Cursing, teasing, implied sex

♦ Word Count: 2.9k

♦ A/N: For @btsholidaybingo | Bing Square: Vampire | Songspo: Read Your Mind - Avant

This has been 98% done for weeks, but I couldn’t write a proper ending for the life of me. Huge, giant thank you to Mars (@joheun-saram) and Danna (@unoriginal-username15432) for beta reading this and helping me try and scrounge up an ending I didn’t hate! ❤️❤️

You can swear that Mingyu texted you the right address. The house number on your phone clearly reads 1230, which matches the numbers on the beige paneled house in front of you. The street is quite dark for it to be nearly 10:30 pm on Halloween night, but the music is loud enough that you can hear it from the sidewalk.

You glance at your texts once more and make your way up to the porch, music blaring as soon as you open the door. The inside of the house is not as dark as it looked from the outside, but it’s still dim, and there aren’t enough lights. Surprisingly, it doesn't smell like cheap beer and weed, which you’re used to smelling, having been to many house parties. Instead, the air is reminiscent of burning incense and something that you can only describe as a coppery scent.

Squinting, you see if you can recognize any of the nearby faces, but you can’t place a name to anyone around you. You pull your phone out of your clutch and shoot a quick text message to the group chat to see where your friends are.

Y/n: Hellooooooo I just walked in. Where are you losers?

Mingyu: Wow and only an hour and a half late

Wonwoo: We’re in the kitchen

Vernon: I will literally down all of these jell-o shots if you don’t get your ass in here

Y/n: IF THAT INCLUDES THE CHERRY ONES I WILL END YOU CHWE 😡

Vernon: 🍒👅

Y/n: 🔪🔪

With nothing but cherry jell-o and strangling your friend on your mind, you miss the multiple sets of eyes staring at you until you put your phone away. A group of costumed party-goers is watching your every move from where they’re standing near the staircase. At least two of them have glowing red contacts, which doesn’t help your unease. Eager to leave, your eyes scan the room, and you decide to venture to the left of the house, away from most of the crowd.

Upon reaching the kitchen, you don’t see Mingyu, Vernon, or any of your other friends. The kitchen itself is empty altogether. After sending a quick text telling your friends to stop fucking with you, you decide a drink is in order.

A quick survey of the dismal spread tells you your only options are clear bottles of red wine and a punch bowl of what you can only assume is jungle juice or another alcoholic punch concoction.

Deciding on the punch, you ladle yourself a cup. It’s oddly thick when you scoop it, and it drips instead of pours into your plastic cup. Taking a sniff, you notice it’s the same coppery smell that got your attention when you first walked in. Up close, the scent makes you gag, and you recoil. What the fuck is in this drink?

Before you can take a cautionary sip, the sense of a presence has you halting and whipping around, only to knock into the solid body that appeared behind you. Two sturdy arms belonging to the man who caught you wrap around your waist, keeping you from busting your ass completely.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” You laugh awkwardly and try to remove yourself from his arms, but his grip is much stronger than yours.

“No need to apologize, doll. It’s an honor to be this close to you.” You narrow your eyes at him. Something about his tone is off, and you don’t like it. With a quick survey of him, you see that admittedly, he’s extremely good looking. Between his dark, curly hair, thick thighs, and tattoos peeking through the sheer sleeve of his grey shirt, he’s definitely your type, but again, something is off, and you can’t pinpoint it. Even in a bunny-eared headband and a painted-on pink nose, it doesn’t seem right to be here with him like this.

“Well, uh, thank you,” Again, you attempt to wiggle out of his hold, but instead, he pulls you closer, burying his nose into your neck. “What the f-”

“Do you have any idea how divine you smell?”

“Thank you? Look, just l-let me g-go,” A sudden fuzzy sensation takes over your body, and your ability to form coherent sentences seems harder than earlier. You hadn’t even taken a sip of punch, so you know it can’t be that.

The mystery bunny man uses your lethargy to his advantage and places a few kisses on your neck. His lips are cold and send a chill through your body. You want to shove him away, but your mind is hazy.

“This’ll only hurt a bit, doll, but you’ll like it, I promise,” he murmurs into your skin. Your mouth won’t let you ask what he means, but then you feel the sharpness of his teeth grazing your skin. Your brain is screaming, but no sound leaves your lips. This is wrong. Very, very wrong. Are you seriously about to be bitten by a vampire?

“Jungkook, what do you think you’re doing?” A deep voice ringing out through the kitchen has the man you now know as Jungkook pausing before his teeth pierce your skin.

He lets out a scoff and pulls away from you. “Oh, come on, Hyung, what does it look like?”

The man enters your vision from behind Jungkook, and you make eye contact, doing your best to plead with him without words.

“Let her go and stop using your powers on her. Poor girl’s eyes look as dead as your heart.”

Jungkook mumbles something you can’t hear under his breath and releases the hold he has on you. You slump back, and in an instant, the fog that was swirling around your head lifts. You blink a few times as your senses return.

“You’re no fun.” Jungkook pouts at the other man before stomping out of the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone.

After watching Jungkook go, the man turns back to you, his chocolate eyes scanning you from head to toe. You can’t help but shrink further under his gaze. His vibe is different from Jungkook’s, less menacing, but he is just as attractive, which still makes you nervous. Slicked back black hair showcases intense eyebrows and a chiseled jaw. He’s tall and not as muscular but can still clearly throw you around like a doll if he wanted to. And honestly, you kind of want him to.

“I do apologize on behalf of him. He’s the youngest of my brothers and still behaves recklessly sometimes.” He smiles widely, and you see fangs poking out, even though he is very clearly wearing the signature purple suit of the Joker. “I’m Taehyung, and I like your costume, by the way. Are you a leopard?”

You adjust your leopard print jumpsuit, suddenly very aware of how form-fitting it is. “Y/n. And no, I’m Scary Spice. You know, from the Spice Girls?” This makes him chuckle.

“Of course, my mistake.”

You point towards his outfit. “If you’re the Joker, why isn’t your face done up to match?”

Taehyung shrugs. “It’s an old costume that I threw on last minute. I didn’t have much time for the whole thing.” He’s still smirking at you. “What’s the matter, kitten?” He asks, but his tone suggests that he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

You do your best to ignore the way his use of the pet name affects you. “I just want to find my friends. They should be here waiting for me.”

“Oh? Who are your friends? I know everyone at this party.”

“Uh, do you know Mingyu, Vernon, Wonwoo, or Seungcheol? They’re dressed as the other four Spice Girls, so they’re not hard to miss.”

After a few seconds of thinking, the man shakes his head. “Nope, can’t say anyone by those names are here...but I think you knew that already.” He starts to advance towards you, trapping you in place. “It seems you’ve stumbled into the wrong Halloween party, kitten.”

You dig your phone out of your clutch and double-check the address, showing it to him. He shakes his head. “That’s the next street over.”

Something had told you before even walking into the house that something was wrong, but hearing Taehyung confirm it proved that you weren’t just paranoid. The smell of copper and the red liquid in the kitchen, the alleged glowing contacts of people in the front room, and the fact that Jungkook nearly took a literal bite out of you all pointed to what this was. You believed in the supernatural, sure, but it was never at the forefront of your mind that you would run into a supernatural person. Until tonight.

“How interesting,” Taehyung starts. “The realization that you’ve shown up to a party hosted by a house full of vampires doesn’t seem to stress you out nearly as much as it should. Why is that?”

You’re honestly not sure, and when you tell him that, he laughs. “You know, you humans are always so fascinated with the supernatural, especially with us. We’re truly not that different than you all, you know.” Taehyung has you pressed against the counter, and you know he can hear how fast your heart is beating. You watch as his eyes flicker from brown to a deep red color.

The way he’s looking at you is different from Jungkook’s earlier gaze. The latter made you feel helpless since you had seemingly lost control over yourself. It was scary, and you are more than glad that Taehyung swooped in when he did. With him, though, the way that he’s hovering over you and studying your face is exhilarating.

Maybe you’ve finally lost it. Maybe every failed relationship you’ve had has finally gotten to you. Perhaps you’re that desperate right now. Either way, being in the arms of a vampire is better than any human you’ve been this close to.

“Your heart is racing right now. I already know the answer, but tell me anyway; what are you thinking?” He’s so close to you that his lips graze your earlobe. All of your senses are on high alert in the best way possible.

“About you.”

“And what about me?”

“Kissing you.”

Taehyung chuckles and licks his lips. Slow and deliberate. “Oh my, how forward of you. We’ve only just met, kitten.”

You stutter as a blush creeps up your neck. “I-I’m-”

“I’m only teasing you.” Taehyung’s nimble fingers come up to toy with one of your bra straps peeking out of the neckline of your jumpsuit. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you since you walked through the front door.”

He watched you walk in? How long had he been watching you? Before you can ask him, his lips are pressing into yours with a sense of urgency as he brings his body closer to yours. The marble countertop digging into your back is insignificant compared to the way your body buzzes in response to Taehyung. His mouth tastes sweet, and his lips are so soft, which are both heavy contrasts to the way his broad hands are gripping your hips so tight you’re sure you’re bruising through your outfit.

The way his teeth nip at your bottom lip elicits a soft moan from you. He uses the opportunity to suck your tongue into his mouth, and your quiet sounds grow louder, as does the stickiness in your panties. His sharp canines graze against your tongue, and you’re so close to begging him to take you on the kitchen floor of this strange house. Just as you begin rutting against his muscled thigh between your legs, he pulls away, leaving you panting and whimpering.

“You’ve got to go now, kitten.”

“Wh-What?” Your body is still buzzing while Taehyung looks much more composed.

“Your friends are waiting for you.”

“But I don’t want to.” You whine out, sounding childish, but you don’t care. You can’t believe he’s just going to leave you like this.

“Just close your eyes for me. Can you do that?” He’s whispering in your ear again, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Taehyung, I want you so bad.” Your words echo, and they sound slurred. It’s harder to open your eyes.

“And you’ll have me, kitten. Soon.” He places a kiss on your neck, and the same woozy, disconnected sensation you had felt with Jungkook washes over you. You can’t open your eyes, and you want so badly to say something to Taehyung, but your tongue feels impossibly heavy, and you seemingly have forgotten how to speak. Before you can gather any more thoughts, everything goes quiet and dark.

“Y/n? Wake up.” Hearing your name brings you out of your sleep-like state. As your eyes open and adjust, you anticipate the chiseled face of the vampire you were just kissing, but instead of seeing Taehyung’s piercing red eyes, you’re met with Mingyu’s brown ones.

Sitting up fast, you see your friend kneeling in front of you. Vernon, Wonwoo, and Seungcheol stand behind him with matching looks of concern mixed with annoyance.

“What’s going on?” You ask, thoroughly confused.

“We’ve been looking for you for like an hour! You stopped answering our texts, so we practically turned the house upside down, trying to find you!” Vernon explained.

“Come to find out you’re just here in the living room. Passed out on the couch.” Seungcheol deadpans.

Looking around, you see that you’re lying on a grey cloth couch. Around you is the rest of the party. A few people are glancing your way in concern, but for the most part, the remainder of the partygoers don’t notice you or your friends. The room is well lit and reeks of beer. The complete opposite of the house full of vampires you had just been in.

Or that you thought you had just been in.

“Where’s Taehyung?”

“Who?” Mingyu offers you his hand, which you take.

“Taehyung. Dark hair, dressed as the Joker.”

“The only guy here I’ve seen dressed at the Joker is Minghao.” Wonwoo gestures to another mutual friend across the room whose tongue is currently down a Harley Quinn’s throat.

“Well, now that we know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere, are you up to actually enjoy the rest of the party?” Vernon asks as he adjusts his Sporty Spice track pants.

You agree and follow your friends over to another group of people you all know. Your head doesn’t hurt, and the fog over your mind is completely clear, but you’re still confused. Recalling the handful of shots you threw back before you left home to pregame, you try to remember if it was enough to cause you to blackout on the couch. Your dream felt so real, from how Jungkook influenced your mind to the pure need that Taehyung filled you with. You can practically still feel his grip on your body and his mouth on yours.

When Vernon offers you a glass of water, you down it in less than a minute to calm your vivid memories of Taehyung and the dull ache between your legs.

Only another hour goes by before you, and your friends say your goodbyes and pile into your respective Ubers. Once you’re home, you get ready for bed with your mind still stuck on your dream and Taehyung. You think of him as you undress and shower, not able to resist touching yourself at the realistic sensation of him.

He’s still on your mind as you settle into bed and attempt to distract yourself by scrolling through Twitter. You’re so caught up in your head that you don’t even notice the figure reclining on your couch across the room until he clears his throat.

Nearly jumping out of your skin, you sit up and whip around, ready to fight your intruder. You abandon this quickly when you see him stand up.

“Taehyung?”

“Hello, kitten,” his smooth, deep baritone echoes through the quiet room. He is at your bedside in no time, your studio apartment not leaving much space between the two of you, to begin with.

“I-I thought, uh, I thought you were a dream,” you stutter as he crawls onto your bed. You notice he’s no longer in his Joker costume, but a pair of black slacks and loose, white button-down instead. He still looks breathtaking. “I was with you...but then I wasn’t? I was with my friends, and you were gone, and I-”

“Ssh,” he places a finger over your lips. “Don’t worry about that right now, kitten. I’m here now, and we need to finish what we started.” His hand travels up your thigh as he speaks, fingers dangerously close to your core. “I heard you in the shower a little bit ago. I know how much you missed me.”

Did you fall asleep with your phone in your hand? Is this truly happening?

You aren’t entirely sure, but the way Taehyung suddenly tears your shirt open and latches his lips around your nipple feels very real to you. The number of times he has you orgasming into the night is also very real, and the soreness you feel throughout your body stays with you even as you wake the next morning.

It’s obvious Taehyung is determined to make sure you stop doubting his existence and thinking your time together is some sort of dream, even if it takes him the entirety of the day and into the rest of the weekend.

#btsholidaybingo #btsnoonanet #ficswithluv #heartsforbts #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #thebtswritersclub #bangtanuniversity #btsbookclub #btswriterscollective #magicshopnet #thebtsficarchive #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #vampire taehyung #taehyung fic

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forever-rogue · 5 years ago

Text

A Good Man - Part 1

A/N: So...this turned out to be much more than I intended. It’s not a one off, oh no, could I ever really do that? It’s going to be three parts (and yes, I am committing to three and three only before this gets away from me), and yes I guarantee you there will be smut. You can’t have professor Javi without some smut, after all. Shout out to the amazing and lovely @rosetophighlander for listening to my ideas and inspiring me! As always, comments and feedback is welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! xx

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: none

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier Peña was a good man. At least that’s what he was trying to convince himself. He was a good man with a bad past. A past he had pointedly left behind in Colombia. But even now, years later, memories haunted him at night - it wasn’t a regular occurrence, but it was often enough. Enough to have him startle awake, drenched in sweat as his chest heaved up and down. Enough to make him feel like a bad man again.

But that wasn’t him anymore - no. He was a bad man then and he was trying to rectify that now by being a good man. He was a good man, and what was in the past was in the past. It didn’t matter it anymore; he had to bury it and let it die. But every time he thought he had, he still found himself plagued by the memories. Shit.

He’d returned to Texas when everything was said and done, and taken up a post as a university teacher. It was boring; drool, but most importantly, it was a safe bet. A college professor, who would have thought? If you would have told him this a few years ago while he was in the midst of the drug war trying to bring down both Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel, he would have laughed in your face and told you to fuck off. But that was then, and this was now, a very different reality with a very different version of him. Well...no. Javi was still Javi underneath it all, the same man he had always been, he was just trying to be the best man he could be. Trying to make right what in his head claimed made him so bad.

He was regimented now, almost to a fault, keeping up a routine that claimed most of his mind that wouldn’t let his mind wander too far off track. Gods, he needed a therapist. He knew he did; it was forever on his to do list. Forever the one thing he would get to eventually because it wasn’t pressing enough. Forever the thing he would do when he had more time. Instead he found solace, a small sense of reprieve in his small four-legged friend.

He was a small, wiry thing with ears that always seemed perked up, colored like sweet milk and honey, affectionately named Stevie, much to Steve Murphy’s chagrin. He served as a good distraction and pseudo-therapist for all that seemed to bother the ex-DEA agent. Sometimes Javi felt bad about how he confided in his little friend but Stevie loved him back all the same, showering him in affection whenever he could.

His routine was the same almost every day, allowing for some variance on weekends. It was strict, almost authoritarian but he had come to have a certain reverence for it. Up at six, out for a jog or walk with Stevie, breakfast for the two of them followed by a shower, at work by 9, a morning class full of mainly bright eyed freshman, followed by office hours where he would check on the dog and then return to eat his lunch by himself, almost always a sandwich, coffee, and some sort of berry, two afternoon classes of disinterested juniors, seniors, and those who seemed to never leave college, followed by a few hours of paperwork and grading before arriving home between six and seven, followed by a simple dinner for himself Stevie. To pass the time he’d read or watch a movie or show, but it was almost always lights out by ten. Sometimes he’d fall asleep quickly, other times it would take him hours. Hours of his brain buzzing with repressed thoughts and emotions that he put off until he fell asleep and repeated his routine the next day.

Weekends allowed for some flexibility instead of the monotonous rigidity. He let himself sleep in longer, go for a long walk with Stevie and have a leisurely lunch, and laze about the house. Sometimes he’d meet up with a friend, usually a coworker from another department and have a drink or two, nothing too excess, before turning in well before midnight. On the rare occasion where he felt restless enough and couldn’t be alone with his own thoughts, he’d go and take himself to a movie, a play, a museum, something that would keep his mind occupied. But by Monday morning he was back to routine. Back to that rigid pattern that kept him on track.

And it had been enough. It had to be enough...right?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Teaching at his alma mater of Texas A&M in the sleepy town of Kingsville had proven to be both a curse and a blessing. When he’d left the DEA, unsure of what to do, what do he really wanted to do with his life now, he had turned his attention back home. One thing had let to another and, surely with some help from his former cohorts at the DEA, he’d lined himself up a fairly easy teaching gig. It wasn’t anything he had ever really given much thought to, but just like his routine, it had become familiar, mind numbing, and easy. It didn’t take much before it had become part of his regimented life.

He enjoyed the almost anonymity of it all; no one really knew who he was, the things, both horrible and great, that he had done, no one knew his previous reputation, no one judged him before they had the chance to meet him. He was, first and foremost, Professor Peña. The students came and went; no one questioned who he was truly was and he never offered. As far as his students were concerned, he offered them the tiniest shred, if any at all, of his personal life. It had it easy - simple - to keep things strictly business.

There had been a few times, a few moments when his heart had almost stopped, that a student would stop by his desk after he’d dismissed everyone and ask him his past. It hadn’t been more than maybe four or five in total, but it had still brought a grimace to his face each time. But instead of completely dismissing anyone, he’d politely decline to answer anything beside easy questions, the kind that were of public knowledge.

Otherwise he insisted that if they ever have any questions related to the course, exams, or homework, they were welcome to come to see him during his office hours. He had a presence about him, not intimidating per se, but firm and strong that usually deterred people from questioning him any further. They almost never came to his office hours; pretty much no one did. Which was completely fine by him because it always gave him a chance to stay on top of the mountains of paperwork the university imposed on everyone.

Much to his chagrin, however, this year the school’s newspaper had decided to start a professor spotlight column in their monthly magazine. Something about connecting students and professors and creating more of a sense of community. A load of bullshit, was what he thought, but he didn’t push the envelope. He wasn’t trying to ruffle any feathers, to step on anyone’s toes; no, he aimed to blend in. But something about having been the man to help bring down Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel made him a subject of interest; naturally it was only a matter of time before eager, hungry eyes were turned to him.

But Javi knew he couldn’t really decline, it would have been against decorum and he wanted no eyebrows raised in his direction. So, he answered the curious student reporter’s questions with basic answers, just enough to give a taste and satiate them, but not enough to have to dig deep. He let them take his picture, let them publish it in their magazine, hoping that not many students would actually read the column, and just gloss over it. He wasn’t sure if he could handle tons of students only signing up for his class for him. He had not plans on indulging them any further into personal life.

But his routine, regimented schedule was all fine and dandy, and surely he thought they would be enough. They had to be enough, right? That’s what he thought. Surely the monotony of teaching countless students would be enough; that’s what he had come to believe anyway. It had worked out for the two prior years, surely it should have been the same going into his third year there.

Until the day you stepped into his classroom on that first day of that brand new semester and school year. You weren’t like the others...you looked excited, alert, like you actually wanted to be there. Like you wanted to listen to him teach. Like you cared. The swarm of students surrounding you barely looked alive, but you did. There was a certain magnetic charm that you possessed that happened to draw in everyone around you, including the man at the front of the room. The man that was determined to adhere to the strict routine that he had concocted for himself; the man that vowed he not stray from his class structure. The man that so desperately just wanted to be a good man.

He hadn’t noticed you at first, keeping his gaze focused on the papers and stacks on his desk, picking up the roll call sheets and running through them with a sense of disinterest. Name after name of students that probably just took the class because they needed some sort of credit. They responded in voices that were barely audible, tones that strongly suggested that they did not care whether he made a note of them being in attendance.

But when he got to your name, calling it out softly, and he heard you confidently and happily respond with a loud here, his deep brown eyes almost jumped out of his sockets. He paused and looked up, taking a moment to push his thick, dark rimmed glasses up his noise, before searching for you in a sea of students. But he knew he had found you when he spied the beautiful face beaming back at him. You offered him the biggest smile he had ever seen within the confines of the small lecture hall.

He was momentarily phased, but the corners of his mouth lifted up slightly as he returned your brilliant smile with the best he could muster up. But before he could get too caught up in anything, even a singular thought that roamed freely, someone loudly coughed and snapped him out of his trance. Quickly switching back to his professor mode, he looked back at the roster and called out the rest of the names, tic marks and blanks boxes galore down the long sheet.

Like his life, his class structure was regimented, and while he thoroughly enjoyed history, he found it difficult, tedious even, to drone on about pre-revolutionary war America for hours. Sometimes it was enough to make his eyes almost glaze over; while it annoyed him that it got to his students as well, he couldn’t always blame them. But there was something about today, the way that you had smiled at him, that sent a spark off deep within him, and something just snapped. He found himself moving more about the lectern, his hands waving more animatedly as he gave his introductory lecture, and most importantly of all, he found himself stealing glances at you. And you met his glances, almost in a challenging way, never looking away when his gaze lingered a few seconds longer than necessary.

But, like everyone else, you were eager to pack up your bag and leave when he was finished and excused everyone. You glanced at him a few times as you slid your notebooks and textbook back into your satchel, wondering if you should introduce yourself, or hell, if he really even cared. But instead of acting on any impulses and potentially making a fool out of yourself, you hitched the bag further up your shoulder and left along with the rest of the crowd, letting them swallow you up and allowing you to blend in. It was the end of the day, everyone was eager to get home, especially after the first day of the new semester. Javier was too; first days were always tiring just alone with administrative tasks and getting to know hundreds of new names and faces. But none of them mattered, not really, they were just more students in an endless sea that he would teach and then forget about as soon as finals were graded and returned.

But somehow...you stuck in his mind. Your face, your curious eyes and soft little smile were already burned into his mind. He found himself musing on it, on how intently you had scribbled down notes, even if he didn’t feel like there was anything to memorize, how your leg bounced up and down the few times your mind seemed to wander as you had glanced around the room, taking in the other students. A low sigh escaped his lips as he slid his paperwork, texts, and other items into his book bag before throwing it over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to let his mind get hung up on you, or anyone or anything else for that matter.

Sure, you were pretty, very pretty, but so were plenty of other students. He wasn’t going to lie to him; he could admit, at least to himself, when he found a student attractive. Sure, you had a smile that had spoken to something within him, but -no. You were one student in a sea of hundreds the had for the semester. You would forget him as soon as you turned in your final and went on winter break. He was sure of it. Javier Peña was trying to be a good man, and letting his thoughts go wild about a student was definitely not part of that plan.

When he got home that evening, he walked in the door and left his bag on the small dresser he kept in the hallway, followed by his keys and shoes before eagerly greeting Stevie. He’d stopped by between classes to take check on him, always making sure he had plenty of food, water, and pets before he had to go back. He glanced around the small kitchen, already pondering what he would make for dinner, knowing he was stocked up on everything he would need for the week. In his retirement from the DEA he had become a meticulous planner, something that easily kept his mind busy, and Sundays had become his grocery shopping days were he loaded up on necessities for the week. It was robotic and allowed for little free thought; routine, routine, routine.

But before he could flick on the soft kitchen light, his hand lingered on the switch, fingers drumming lightly against the plastic plate while he contemplated his next move. Instead of flipping it on, he dropped his hand and grabbed Stevie’s leash off of the counter-top, dropping to his knees as the small dog wagged his tail in sheer excitement at the prospect of a walk. He gave him a few pets as he clipped the lease on, making sure his large ears received a good scratch.

“What do you say you and I go and pick up some pizza, huh? We’ll even get some beer. Call it a guys’ night,” Stevie made a small sound of excitement, clearly acquiescing to Javier’s plan. He stood back up to his full height, his joints crackling lightly as he grabbed his thin windbreaker, wallet, and keys, slipped his shoes back on and walked out the door, his mind already on the pizza place a few blocks away. It wasn’t even anything he really gave too much thought to, it was most certainly not part of his plan. No, this was all new - a break.

It was the first Javier Pena had strayed from his evening routine in almost three years.

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as you stepped through the door of your apartment you let out a long sigh as you tossed your book bag onto the floor and stumbled into the living room, flopping face down on the well worn couch. Sarah, your closest confidant and roommate throughout your college experience, looked up from her book and with a small smirk on her face. She’s gotten out of her classes and finished for the day hours ago.

“First day was that good, huh?” she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, as you turned your head to glare at her. She was in her last year of school too but had been smart, so you’d come to realize, and taken more classes than she needed in earlier years so her last year would be a breeze. You envied her and wished you’d done the same; now you were stuck with classes that were long, tedious, and required more thinking than you would have liked.

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive this semester,” you admitted with a heavy sigh; you had no one to blame but yourself. It still didn’t make your little pity party any better, “today’s classes were...boring at best, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a teacher that cared less than my last one. The topic’s already not my favorite, clearly not his, and I have no clue how I’m going to survive the semester, and this stupid class was the only one open that satisfied one of my last requirements. I’m trying to be excited, you know, to trick myself into liking it, but I dunno if that’s gonna work out.”

“If it all goes to hell, there’s always next semester,” she offered with a shrug before closing her book and tossing it on the coffee table, “what class it is?”

“Pre-revolutionary war American history,” you groaned as she gave you a pained look. Nothing about any of the words that spilled forth from your mouth sounded even remotely exciting, “aka hell. Whoever decided that there should be a whole dedicated college course to this subject clearly wasn’t in their right mind.”

“Hey,” she said suddenly, slipping out of the arm chair and trekking into the small kitchen, before rustling through a static of old mail. She was silent for a few moments before letting out a small aha and grabbing something out before tossing it at you, “I thought that class sounded familiar. Isn’t the guy teaching it the one that in the teacher highlight thing for this month or whatever?”

“You actually think I read this?” you scoffed and took the small magazine, shifting through the pages as you tried to find what she was referring to you. You made it almost to the end before finding the small article hidden and tucked away at the back. Quickly skimming it, you found your professor’s small, grainy, black and white picture staring back at you, “Javier Peña. Yup, that’s him.”

“He’s hot,” Sarah quipped over your shoulder as you silently rolled your eyes at her. That was most definitely not why you had signed up for the class. While you weren’t about to admit you mirrored her thought, you couldn’t help but think she was right. There was something about the small photo looking back up at you that suggested he was...very attractive. Hell, you’d seen him in person, and could confirm. The few times you’d gotten a good look at his face, when he wasn’t bent over his notes or facing the board, you couldn’t deny that he was attractive. Tan, golden skin, thick dark hair and eyes, a handsome face. Yeah, he was hot, but you weren’t about to dwell on that, “do you think he’s single?”

“Sarah,” you groaned at her as you read over the article, surprised to find that was ex-DEA, having apprehended some of the most notorious criminals in recent history. He had seemed anything like the man they had discussed in the article when he had stood in front of the class earlier that afternoon, “that is not...no, that has nothing to do with anything. I just need to satisfy a few more credits in history and I’m done. That’s it; nothing more.”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged before giving your shoulder a playful nudge, “a little eye candy doesn’t hurt. Especially when you’re taking a class like that. Good lord it sounds awful, I wonder how he got stuck teaching that. Was he as good looking in person?”

“Sar-ah,” you said with her namely slowly as you shook your head at her and sat up. She picked her book back up, a small playing across her features, “none of that matters. But, if you have to know, yes. He was very good looking, in that older guy kind of way.”

“Go on...” she feigned innocence but you could already see the gears turning in her head.

“There’s not much less to say,” you insisted, internally groaning, “wore glasses when he was teaching, white button up, I dunno, the average professor look.”

A damned white button up that had fit him perfectly, highlighting his broad chest, trousers that were slightly tighter than they needed to be, and a silver watch had sat on his wrist. Simple, effective, but yeah, a very good look.

“The average hot professor look, “ she sighed wistfully. The two of you, while best friends at heart, were polar opposites in many ways. While you namely cared about classes and just getting it done, she was more prone to getting lost in her daydream fantasies and pursuing matters of the heart, “I’m just saying! There’s nothing wrong with finding your professor good looking, as long as you’re respectful. Besides, he doesn’t need to know if you think about him at night or when you’re with a boy that you wish was a man like him. Besides, Javier Peña. Professor Peña. That even sounds hot.”

“Why are we friends?” you sighed as you rolled off the couch, a tone of amusement coloring your voice, “why are you the way that you are!?”

“You love me!” she called out after you as you made your way to your bedroom, deciding to get a head start on some work so you wouldn’t already fall behind.

“I’m questioning that,” you stuck your tongue out at her as you grabbed the magazine off the floor and took it along with you. You hoped she wouldn’t notice, but you were sure that her eagle eyed gaze wouldn’t miss a thing, “goodbye and good riddance!’

“Have fun staring at Professor Peña!” your cheeks felt warm and you were sure a deep crimson was already creeping into them. You remained silent as you grabbed your book bag and walked into the room, letting the door slam behind you.

Setting the bag onto your desk, you flopped on your bed as you reopened the magazine and looked back at the small picture again, re-reading the article. It didn’t say much about much him, or speak to who he really was. it was strictly related to business, just like he had seemed to be as he stood in front of the class and gave an almost two hour long lecture with no breaks. He didn’t seem much like a man that was running around and taking down criminals in the heat of Colombia. He had just seemed like a tired, worn out, disinterested man. A far cry from what was presented in the short little article.

And yet...you couldn’t help but think of the few times he met your eyes when he’d occasionally looked up from the board or his lecture notes. You swore there had been a smile on his face then, even if it was a small one, but then again, maybe you had been lost in your own delusions as you had watched him.

You’d even done your best to actively pay attention and take notes, both wanting him to know that you cared about class and because you knew it would be your downfall if you allowed yourself to miss anything. Even if it wasn’t your cup of tea, you wanted to give him your attention; it wasn’t his fault that it was a tiresome subject - someone had to each it after all. You’d felt bad as you looked at everyone around, all so zombie like and disinterested, looking like they would rather have been anywhere else in the world. You were sure he had noticed it too.

But you’d already decided to make an effort to actively participate in his class and do your best. You’d quickly scribbled down his office hours and told yourself that if you needed help or had questions you’d ask before you’d let yourself fall behind and struggle. Maybe he didn’t care, he didn’t really seem to, but you did. You somehow felt a need to prove to yourself that you could handle this class, and to prove to him that someone cared, that his efforts were worth it.

As you dogeared the page with his article on it, you closed the magazine and chucked it into your desk. You didn’t know what his deal was, or wasn’t, but you figured you’d be able to something out of him. Maybe learn more about the man from Colombia, and not just the professor that seemed so lost and wrapped up in his own head.

He had seemed so tired, so...run down that for someone reason it seemed to oddly affect you. Maybe it was because you had seen a glimmer of a smile on his face, watching as his dark eyes had crinkled up the few times he caught your gaze, how it almost reached them fully. Maybe there was more to him, maybe there was more to him than he had wanted to give out. But you were determined to find out what it was.

You were set that you would try and pull something out of Javier Peña, even if it was just a full smile. Something about him spoke to you, something had drawn you to something, causing an itch that you desperately needed to to scratch. And you sure as hell would.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña #professor au #professor!javi #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #narcos

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spacedikut · 4 years ago

Text

“let me do this for you. please.” ; aaron hotchner

pairing: aaron hotchner (criminal minds) x reader

summary: it’s left to you to help aaron with his injury. taken from this prompt list - 1781 words

a/n: this is kind of shitty trash but i wanted to add to the one hotch fic ive written

Aaron Hotchner, in all his glory, is more often than not described as strict. Maybe even grumpy.

It takes less than one conversation with the unit chief to fully understand this, sometimes all it takes is witnessing the way he walks and holds himself, and he’s become somewhat notorious for it.

However, you know more about Hotch than the average person. More than either of you care to admit. For a while you were certain he hated you, definitely didn’t trust you, despite being highly trained and told again and again by your team that that’s just how Hotch is. Emily, especially, pulled you aside to tell you she was also victim to his cold persona at the beginning.

It takes time, she’d said, but he’ll warm up to you. He won’t be able to resist.

It all changed when he appeared at your apartment door several hours after you’d been discharged from the hospital following a gnarly gunshot wound to your shoulder. He stood there, with his famous furrowed brows, straight-mouth look on his face, cradling a basket. He’d made you a ‘get well soon’ package – your favourite candy (he knew that?), some DVDs (including your favourite – he knew that?), and his favourite book (written by your favourite author). There were fluffy socks and a colouring book, too.

“I couldn’t visit you in the hospital,” He’d said, “So Jack and I made you a gift basket. He chose the colouring book.”

In your stunned silence you didn’t ask any further questions, just took the present and contemplated getting shot again in hopes he would pay another visit, maybe come inside. Maybe fall in love with you. You’re not picky.

That night you realised your unit chief doesn’t hate you and you definitely don’t hate your unit chief.

Now, almost a year later, there’s been some big changes. You’re pushing Aaron onto his bed as he grips the top of his bleeding forearm; he’s mumbling curses under his breath while pouting – yes, pouting, no matter how much he’ll deny it when you tease him about it later. It had taken you raising your voice at him to convince him to let you help at all, let alone clean the cut, so you allow his brooding.

When you sit on your heels of his bedroom floor in front of him, he instinctively opens his mouth to, once again, say something along the lines of, “You don’t have to do this,” or “I can look after myself.”

You interrupt before he can even begin.

“If you refuse to go to the hospital, refuse to let an on-site medic come to you, you’re gonna let me help you, you got that?” You snap, fuelled by worry and frustration.

On the scene he’d refused medical attention, telling the medics to focus on the victims which, fair enough, was valid. But then Rossi had tried to drive him to the hospital, to get stitched up because anyone could see the cut on his arm needed it, and he’d argued and argued to the point where Rossi shoved him into your car and said, “You take him. He’s being a child and I am too old for this.”

He kept telling you to just drop him off home and he’ll be fine, but you couldn’t do that. You have a medical background; you’ve stitched up everyone on the team at least once, excluding Hotch, and you’ll get peace of mind if you do the job and know he’s okay.

You followed him inside, he kept telling you to go home because he’s fully capable, and you kept telling him to shut up. Now you’re here.

Aaron says nothing in return – just stares into your eyes and maintains a tight, strained posture.

You recognise the look in his eyes, then. Everything clicks into place in your head and your heart hurts slightly.

“Let me do this for you. Please.”

Aaron is a leader. A protector. He always has been. He trusts his team with his life, of course he does, but he’s also stubborn. The idea of anyone, let alone the one person who’s somehow wormed their way into his life in a way he hadn’t prepared for, seeing him so vulnerable after a stupid mistake led to an even stupider injury is downright humiliating for him.

He’s embarrassed. He hoped he could sulk home, drink a little too much whiskey as he clumsily cleaned himself up, and move on like nothing happened.

But it’s you, all non-judgemental eyes and worried tone with your caring and reassuring words. You’re too good for him. You’re too good to him.

You work slowly and gently, in a very you way, and Hotch watches closely the entire time. You assume he’s watching so he can do it himself next time, can use this as an excuse for you to not do this ever again, but a part of you wonders if he still doesn’t trust you.

He sits patiently, until he realises how much blood he’s lost and starts to feel woozy. It’s very possible he has a concussion, too, along with the exhaustion from not sleeping for at least twenty four hours. His head feels like it’s swimming and his vision gets a little blurry.

You notice him swaying and stop what you’re doing to hold his biceps to steady him. His eyes almost roll, but he seems to jolt himself out of it. Aaron has this disturbing ability to act as if nothing bad is happening – for example, right now. The blood loss is alarming, he just almost passed out, but it’s like he flicks a switch in his brain that decides nah, let’s not do that.

“You okay?” You ask, voice quiet.

He nods and mumbles, “Yeah. Brain almost collapsed.”

You think that’s an attempt at a joke. You’re too concerned to laugh, even fake it, and slowly move your arms back to the med kit you’re rifling through.

“Brain dumb.” He adds.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes. Aaron surprises himself by wanting to cry at how beautiful you look.

“My name’s Aaron. You should call me it.”

You laugh quietly – the blood loss is beginning to get to him and he’s losing his professional barrier. The barrier that he lets down rarely, usually only when he’s in the comfort of his home, maybe relaxing with you and Jack. This is a special version of that, amplified by his injury.

“I’ll call you Aaron, then.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s alright, Aaron.”

He goes back to watching you, contentment coming off him in waves.

You’re done a few minutes later, Aaron’s cut all cleaned and stitched up. You wrap it in gauze and move the med kit aside, standing before him and sighing, hands on your hips.

“Alright. Bed time.” You say.

Aaron flops back on his bed, arms spread – it makes you giggle. It reminds you of the one time you had to bring drunk Hotch home.

“Move up, Aaron. Against your headboard.” You command.

As he moves, you grab some of the pillows he doesn’t use and place them under his legs to elevate them. You go to his ensuite and fill a glass of water, placing it on his bedside table, and look at the handsome unit chief seemingly asleep. You lean in closer to get a look at his condition – is he pale, cold, clammy?

His eyes snap open. You jump back in shock.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” His voice is rough, he’d almost fallen asleep, and his dimples begin to show when he smiles at your surprise.

“I’ll always take care of you, Aaron.” You say instantly, trying to fluff the pillow behind his head. You don’t realise what you do to him, he thinks, or what the things you say do to him.

“Let me take care of you, too.”

You smile, ignorant to the way he’s looking at you, “You do take care of me. You take great care of the whole team, A. You’re kind of amazing at it.”

You move to tuck him in, like you’ve watched him do to Jack many times.

“I mean-“ He stops you, large hands holding your wrists, “Let me take care of you. No one else.”

Your brows furrow, “What do you mean?”

“Me, Aaron, take care of you, Y/N.”

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

“I can take care of you.”

“Yeah, I know,” You laugh at the situation, the ridiculousness of how you’re going in circles, “I just told you that you take great care of me.”

He lets out a deep breath in exasperation, “Let me take care of you.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That sounds sexual, sir.”

“Oh. No, I didn’t mean it-“ He cuts himself off, “I mean, yes, but no, at the same time.”

You open your mouth to say What?!

“I’m trying to ask you out, Y/N.”

Oh.

You’re stunned, to say the least, and speechless. There’s nothing more you’d like than to go on a date with him, but he’s… vulnerable right now. Fragile. You’re not sure he’s in the right state of mind for this conversation.

Hotch senses your hesitation before you even register it yourself. He begins to backtrack.

“I’m sorry, I know that’s inappropriate-“

“Aaron.”

“Yes?” Despite the look on your face, filled with doubt, he’s still hopeful.

“I would really like to go on a date with you.” He smiles at that. “But you’ve lost a lot of blood and you’re concussed AND you’re exhausted. I can’t take what you say now as, like, gospel.”

He nod as if he understands, but the concoction of ailments he’s got going on make him incapable of truly recognising what’s going on. All he knows is that you said you’d really like to go out with him, and that’s good enough for him.

“Say this again tomorrow and I promise you I’ll make it worth your while,” You grin, now smoothing his hair away from his face as he blinks slowly at you.

“Make it worth my while, huh?” He sleepily smirks, a teasing lilt to his voice. If he wasn’t on the brink of sleep you’re sure he’d look too good for you to handle, but now he just looks adorable.

“Oh yeah. So worth it.”

“Alright then. Night night. You can kiss me on the forehead, if you feel so inclined,”

You roll your eyes and give a big sigh jokingly, “Only because you’re injured.”

You lean, give a quick peck to his forehead, and his dazed gaze follows you like a magnet.

“See you tomorrow, Hotch.”

“Aaron.”

“See you tomorrow, Aaron.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #mine #i think i hate this #im not sure

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jamiemackenziefraser · 4 years ago

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All That Was Fair

Chapter 24: The Rubber Stamp

Summary: “It seemed that every time someone was at the door, Jamie was confronted with a disaster. (...) He had no desire to answer it and whatever trouble it might bring.”

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a/n: I'm hardcore procrastinating right now, so here's a next day update! This chapter picks up on the same day as the last chapter. Hope you enjoy and thanks so much for reading <3

Chapter 24: The Rubber Stamp

There was a solid knock at the door, three raps showing no particular urgency but also leaving no room for Jamie to pretend he hadn’t heard. It seemed that every time someone was at the door, Jamie was confronted with a disaster. First it had been the mailman that had resulted in Claire crying in his arms over never being able to go home, and then it was Jenny… being Jenny— twice. He worried at first that it was his sister back again to stir up even more trouble, except the knock was most certainly not his sister’s style of ringing the bell like a maniac. Still, he had no desire to answer it and whatever trouble it might bring. He wanted to stay wrapped up in his fantasy with his faerie forever.

At the sound outside the door, Claire jerked her head up from where it had been laid on his shoulder. They were having a lazy Sunday afternoon, sitting on the couch in quiet companionship after having finished up their chapter of Lord of the Rings. Claire had been just slightly dozing at his side when the sound disturbed their peace.

“Dinna fash,” he said quietly as she shifted a bit so he could stand, “stay here.”

As he made his way to the entryway, he could sense his stubborn faerie getting up and following behind him. He stopped in front of the big oak door and Claire pressed herself behind him. He shot a glance over his shoulder to see her peeking curiously around his side.

“Sassenach,” he said patiently, “why dinna ye go wait in the other room?”

She shook her head stubbornly.

Jamie rolled her eyes and decided not to argue with her. (He was beginning to miss the early days of easy compliance— not that he wanted her to be as timid as she used to be, he just should have enjoyed telling her what to do while he’d had the chance). She seemed content enough to mostly hide herself behind him, so maybe she wouldn’t be visible to whoever was at the door.

He unlocked it and pulled it open a crack.

Outside stood none other than his Godfather, Murtagh Fitzgibbons, looking particularly dour under his bushy beard. As soon as the man caught sight of Jamie, he grumbled, “took ye long enough.”

“Murtagh!” Jamie exclaimed, feeling the rush of fondness he always did at the sight of his godfather, “what are you doin’ here?”

The only thing lacking from the expression on Murtagh’s face was an eye-roll. “Care tae explain why yer sister is bletherin’ on in my ear every day and night for the past week about how her brother has taken up wi’ a trollop and gone off the deep end? Mind,” he shot a look to the side of Jamie that made his eyes go wide, and Jamie felt a sinking feeling in his gut that his godfather had caught sight of Claire peeking around him, “I wouldna have been inclined tae believe her if not for the fact that I havna heard from ye. And now I see… ye do have... company.”

Murtagh gave a nod at Jamie’s side, where he knew Claire must have been showing herself.

Jamie let out a sigh and gave into the urge to check behind him. Claire had drifted forward and was hovering at his side, looking out the cracked door with huge doe eyes.

“This is Murtagh, your…?” she spoke up, addressing Jamie.

“Aye, my Godfather,” Jamie said, reluctantly accepting the unplanned meeting, “well I suppose introductions are in order. Murtagh, this is Claire.”

“Hello, lass,” Murtagh said, politely enough. He held out his hand, saying “so you’re…”

“The trollop,” she answered, completely innocently.

Jamie had to bite down a laugh. The lass didna even ken the meaning of that word…

Murtagh’s eyes went wide, and he looked rightfully embarrassed. “I didna mean… I—”

Claire still hadn’t taken his hand (yet another human custom she didn’t know— Jamie had to remind himself to teach her that one), and Murtagh glanced down at his proffered appendage, then back up at Claire. Assuming she was too offended by his earlier statement to shake his hand, he dropped it back to his side.

Jamie decided to try to ease the situation and offered, “why dinna ye come inside?”

Murtagh made a sound of assent deep in his throat and stepped inside the door. Just as Claire started to turn toward the living room, Jamie suddenly remembered that she was wearing the low cut dress— the one that so prettily displayed her wings. He threw himself behind her just in time to use his bulk to prevent Murtagh from seeing her exposed wings. With urgency, he grabbed Claire’s arms in front of him and pulled her against him so her back was pressed to his front, safely hiding the wings from view.

He herded her toward the living room, pushing her so fast that she nearly stumbled. But they needed to get there before Murtagh so he’d have time to rip off his jacket and give it to her.

Sure enough, Murtagh was ambling lazily enough, so the second they were in the living room, Jamie whirled her around so her front was facing the entryway and then let go of her to tear off his jacket. He swung it around her shoulders just in the nick of time before Murtagh arrived.

Trying to disguise what he’d been doing, Jamie pulled Claire close and draped an arm around her, feigning nonchalance as best as he could. Meanwhile, Claire was clutching Jamie’s jacket closed in front of her, holding on with a white-knuckled grip.

“Murtagh,” he said, trying to get his brain to catch back up to the situation, “I’m glad ye’re here, truly. Now ye can officially meet my girlfriend.”

To Murtagh’s credit, his eyes only went wide in shocked disbelief for a second before he managed a polite, “nice tae meet ye, lass” for Jamie’s now-claimed girlfriend.

“Why dinna ye have a seat?” Jamie suggested, gesturing toward a chair.

In the meantime, Jamie brought Claire with him over toward the couch. On the way, Claire reached up on her toes to whisper softly in his ear, “is it okay to hold your hand?”

He looked down at him, confused for a second to see her anxious expression, before he remembered their conversation about PDA and how it’d been inappropriate in front of Jenny. Jamie nearly had to laugh at her earnestness to do right by his customs.

“Yes, lass,” he whispered discreetly as they sat down together, “as long as ye dinna sit on my lap this time.”

Claire seemed greatly relieved by this, and as soon as they were seated, she reached out to lace their fingers together. She held on more tightly than normal, and Jamie gave her a squeeze, trying to reassure her that Murtagh was not, in fact, like Jenny, and she didn’t have to worry.

Jamie was rather worried himself though. Murtagh had been like a father to him ever since his own had passed a few years back; his opinion about Claire (who he hoped he’d spend the rest of his life with, God willing) meant a lot to him. He could only hope that Jenny’s sour words hadn’t already cemented Murtagh’s opinion.

Naturally, Murtagh began with questions that Jamie had a hard time answering.

“So, when did ye two…” he fumbled. It was unlike Murtagh to waver so indirectly, but it was clear what he was asking.

The next few minutes were spent feeding him the fake backstory Jamie had concocted. As he’d explained to Jenny, Jamie said that he’d met Claire at university in Paris and they’d kept in touch. When she’d come to visit, they’d reconnected. Claire extended her trip, and they both realized they’d been in love all this time.

Murtagh seemed to take it mostly in stride, nodding politely but keeping his expression neutral. Jamie had no idea what was going on underneath that impenetrable beard of his, and it worried him to no end.

“So, lass,” Murtagh said, sounding conversational, “let’s hear from you. How do ye feel about our Jamie, then?”

Jamie’s head whipped to her, and found she was smiling nearly ear to ear. “I love him,” she answered without hesitation, “I think he’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met.” Her voice was fond and sincere, and she looked up at Jamie with a smile, as if she couldn’t keep her eyes off him. “I think he’s kind, and giving, and thoughtful, and intelligent. And so much more than that. And I think I’m so lucky to be here with him.”

His heart clenched nearly painfully in his chest, and it took all his self control to keep from kissing her, or from breaking into tears. God, he loved her.

Forgetting Murtagh for a second, he grew lost in her warm gaze, that honey look like a caress on his skin.

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he said softly.

Murtagh cleared his throat pointedly, breaking the moment, but when Jamie looked away from Claire and back toward his godfather, there was none of the animosity in his eyes that there’d been in Jenny’s. His grump of a surrogate father just held his usual “why are you subjecting me to the nonsense” kind of expression.

Just as Jamie was about to open his mouth, floundering for something to say, Adso came prancing into the room, looking distinguished and ready to grab the attention. He was quite successful, too, because the non-existent conversation ground to a halt.

“Adso!” Claire cooed, as she always did when the cat approached.

The cheetie meowed back at her in greeting, and Claire’s face softened ever-further. She always got this sweet expression on her face around Adso, like the look of a loving caretaker. Jamie couldn’t help but wonder whether she’d wear the same expression with their kids… if they could even have kids…

His gut clenched for a second in uncertainty, thinking about the very real possibility that they couldn’t actually procreate. Jamie knew they would have to talk about it someday, but he was terrified of hearing that his dream of having children was an impossible one. He could manage without a big family— all he really needed was her— but he’d prefer to live in hopeful ignorance for a short while longer, imaging bairns running around with her whiskey eyes and his red hair.

When Jamie managed to drag himself back to reality, he saw that Claire had repositioned herself to sit on the floor, and Adso was already settled in her lap, purring away.

His faerie looked up at Murtagh. “Do you like cheeties, Murtagh?” she asked, looking the picture of innocent enthusiasm.

Murtagh— the hard man that he was and usually so unshakeable— looked taken aback at the question.

“I canna say I have a strong opinion on the matter,” Murtagh answered.

“Oh, well I love them. I’d never met a cheetie before Adso, but I’m sure he must be the nicest there is,” Claire said simply. Jamie had to clench his jaw, finding her incredibly endearing but infuriating at the same time. She was drifting carelessly into dangerous territory….

“Never ‘met’ a cheetie, meanin' ye’d never had one or…” Murtagh was looking dubious, and Jamie’s heart beat faster, his muscles coiling as if he could face the threat of Murtagh’s suspicions physically.

“No,” Claire said, and Jamie had to hide a grimace, knowing exactly where she was going. She was always so honest, his faerie. “I mean I’d never seen one.”

Murtagh’s brows drew together as he squinted down at her. “Where did ye say ye were from again?” He asked, not unreasonably.

“A verrra small rural town near Oxfordshire,” Jamie jumped in hastily, for fear that Claire would forget herself. She seemed to be going off the rails, there was no telling what she would say, even knowing as she did that she shouldn’t say anything to give her secret away.

Claire, still sitting cross legged and stroking the cat, gave a nod of affirmation.

Murtagh’s only response was a grunt, followed by silence. Ever a man of few words, he didn’t seem inclined to further the conversation himself.

Unfortunately, that meant that Claire, in her eagerness to get to know him, was jumping confidently back into the conversation. “So, Murtagh,” she said, “what do you do?”

Alright, good. That’s a relatively normal question. Good, lass.

“Construction hereabouts,” Murtagh replied, seeming less than interested in the small talk.

Claire’s eyes widened, and she put on an excited face that Jamie thought was very genuine.

“Building? That’s lovely! What do you build?”

While Claire likely meant the question quite literally, having no idea what the job of construction entailed, Murtagh thankfully took it at face value.

“Mostly residential. Many of the houses ye see hereabouts are our work,” Murtagh said, a hint of pride showing from beneath his busy beard.

“Ohh…” Claire said, probably sounding a little too awed for the occasion, but it was sweet nonetheless, “so you build places like this? How—”

Jamie, sensing that she was about to question how one goes about building a house, tried to avert disaster by quickly cutting in before she could finish her strange question. “Claire, mo ghraidh, would you mind grabbing me a glass of water?”

Claire shot a sweet, indulgent look at him from over her shoulder and gave a nod. “Of course, Jamie.” She unceremoniously dumped the cat from her lap as she stood, and she gave a polite nod to Murtagh, saying, “sorry for leaving the conversation, I’ll be right back.”

As she left the room for the safety of the kitchen, Jamie felt his heart rate drop back to normal rhythms.

Just as quickly though, it was ratcheted back up when Murtagh gave him a long look and commented, “She’s a wee bit… strange, isn’t she?”

Trying not to break out into nervous sweats, Jamie reminded himself that there were strange humans too, and nothing Claire had said had been that bad.

“Aye, a bit. But I love her for it,” he said honestly, throwing a look into the kitchen where Claire was currently studying the sink closely as she tried to recall how to turn it on. Jamie sent her good luck and tried not to smile to himself. They’d worked the sink together before, but she never really had a reason to use it on her own. Jamie was often around to turn it on for her after she’d been gardening and needed to clean up. He made a mental note to stop enabling her lack of human skills.

Murtagh was staring at him in the meanwhile, looking lost in thought and careful evaluation. Meeting those dark eyes, Jamie found himself feeling nervous over what was going on in the impenetrable head of his godfather.

“Ye’re sure about her?” came the question.

All Jamie managed to get out was an “aye,” before Claire was returning to the room, looking triumphant with a full glass of water in her hand.

The next few minutes were spent catching Murtagh up on the happenings at Jamie’s publishing company, which thankfully did not involve a grilling on why Jamie had been taking so much time off. Claire was quiet during the conversation, but feigned engagement well, looking invested in Jamie’s words in a way that made his stomach warm. The sweet lass truly knew nothing about his work, but apparently loving him was enough to make her love hearing about his passions.

Then, at a break in the conversation, Murtagh stood up, wiping his hands on his pants.

“I’m sorry to cut the visit short,” he said abruptly, “but I hafta be somewhere, I canna stay much longer. I jes’ wanted tae drop by and check on ye, lad.”

Taking Claire’s hand, Jamie stood as well, bringing her with him. Murtagh’s eyes fixed on Claire.

“Can I have a moment tae speak wi’ Jamie alone before I go?” he asked her once they were all standing.

“Of course,” she said graciously, “it was so nice to meet you, Murtagh.”

She shot a quick glance at Jamie over her shoulder and, at his nod, gave one last smile to Murtagh— who gave a soft “you too, lass”— before leaving the room. Alone with Murtagh, Jamie’s heart began to race, wondering if he was about to face the “are ye daft?” intervention talk.

Murtagh approached him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and walking him toward the door. When they reached the entryway, both of them stopped, and his godfather looked at him for a long second.

Jamie braced himself, trying to be strong for the moment Murtagh expressed disapproval. He could handle it. The world could hang, all he needed was Claire— he tried to tell himself despite the rising anxiety in his chest.

Murtagh’s stare didn’t break, his usual dour expression holding fast on his face. His bushy brows were low over his unreadable eyes, but there seemed to be a clenching in his jaw that was unusual for the hard man.

“What do ye think of her?” Jamie finally burst out, trying to bite the bullet he knew was coming.

Murtagh gave a sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Ye love her?” he asked simply.

Jamie nodded immediately and answered without hesitation. “I do.”

His godfather looked away, his eyes lifting toward the heavens.

This was it, the moment when Jamie would receive a famous Murtagh tongue lashing for his idiocy…

“Your mother…” Murtagh started, very slowly.

‘Would have disapproved’… please don’t say those heartbreaking words…

“Had the sweetest smile,” Murtagh said instead. He looked back up at Jamie, his eyes softer than he’d seen in years, “Would warm a man to the backbone jes’ to see it...” He gave himself a nod, as if reminding himself of the conviction of his next words, “Claire’s smile is jes’ as sweet.”

Jamie’s world suddenly fell entirely into place as Murtagh finally met his eyes, his godfather’s lips turning up into as much of a smile as the man ever gave.

Approval. Unspoken between them, but clear and plain as day. Murtagh gave another nod, now trying to smother the uncharacteristic smile on his face. Jamie’s excitement must have been showing plain.

“I can see it when ye look at each other, ken,” Murtagh said, clearing his throat a little, “ye love her, and she loves you.”

“Aye,” Jamie choked out, trying desperately not to fall to pieces in front of his godfather.

“I’m happy for ye, lad,” Murtagh finished. He placed a slap on Jamie’s shoulder.

Jamie gave a nod of acknowledgement, pouring all his gratitude into it, and he smiled so emotionally that his lips turned downward. Together, they walked toward the front door, and Jamie opened it for him.

“It was good to see ye, a ghoistidh,” Jamie said quietly.

“And ye, lad,” Murtagh answered.

Another moment passed between them, short but just as meaningful, and as soon as it had happened, Murtagh turned on his heel and walked out, with no more of a goodbye needed.

Closing the door behind him, Jamie was nearly bursting with joy. Quick as he could, he rushed through the room until he found Claire lingering in the kitchen.

“Sassenach,” he said, trying to keep his voice from trembling.

She turned toward him and had just enough time to raise her arms before he was embracing her, nearly overcome by emotion. He was so happy he was nearly shaking, and he hugged her tightly to him, squeezing her close.

“He likes you,” Jamie said, his voice nearly breaking as he spoke into her hair, “He approves of us.” He took another shaky breath before repeating, “He approves.”

***

a/n: I’m really curious if anyone reads on tumblr rather than AO3, so if you made it down here, would you drop me a comment? For research purposes? Thanks so much for reading, loves, however you choose to do it :)

#yes— another chapter!!#for your Sunday reading pleasure #🥺☺️#all that was fair #update #claire x jamie #outlander fanfiction #fae claire

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imaginedisish · 4 years ago

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Wish You Were Here (The Umbrella Academy) (Ben Hargreeves x Reader)

A/N: HI GUYS! I’m back already!! So this is based on a request I recently got. I was really excited about this one and decided to write it right away. It’s a long one, so get ready. I hope you all like it!!! Enjoy! Request some more stuff because my requests are OPEN! Woot woot see ya guys next time :) Stay well! P.S the title is based on the Pink Floyd album/song of the same name

Summary: You’ve been kidnapped by Cha Cha and Hazel, but Ben is there to help. (Kinda sort of AU where season 2 hasn’t taken place but it’s pretty different than season one and ah just roll with it LOL)

Warnings: Violence, death, cursing, kidnapping, and tons and tons of FLUFF

Word Count: 3,326

It’s cold, damp, and dark. The room, or closet rather, that you’re in is unwelcoming and decrepit. It’s disgusting and uncomfortable. The frigid cement floors are stained in certain places with a dry, dark brown something, and you know that stain could only be two things. You hoped to god it wasn’t yours.

The ceramic tiles behind you were like ice on your practically bare back. All you had on was a pair of baggy jeans and a tank top. You wished you could move, break free. You try to. But the handcuffs attached to the floor by a silver chain quickly remind you exactly where you are. Somehow, someway, they managed to kidnap you.

You were trapped, alone in a four walled box. No one was coming to help you, and you knew that. You defected from the planned out mission. You got a little bit too cocky. You thought you could handle things on your own. You’ve always been like this, and you always ended up getting hurt. But you were used to doing things on your own. You had been alone your entire life until you found the Hargreeves, or rather until the Hargreeves found you.

It was no more than six years ago. You were eighteen and fighting all the world’s problems by yourself. You had gone from foster home to foster home, but ran away from the system at sixteen because you just couldn’t take it anymore. So, you were young and alone.

That is, until you met Ben for the very first time.

It was in a situation just like this one. You had been captured, just seconds away from defeat, or worse death, when out of thin air some invisible thing and some crazy shirtless man managed to decimate the people you were fighting. You didn’t know then, but it was Klaus and Ben.

Then, Ben appeared in front of you. It felt like a dream. Klaus was there, too, but for some reason he didn’t phase you as much.

Klaus kneeled down and carefully began to cut the duck tape off your wrists and ankles. “Th-thank you,” You said to Ben specifically, making Klaus suddenly stop. He looks confused, concerned.

“You can see me?” Ben asked, looking as if he had seen a ghost.

“Well, yeah. I don’t know how you got in here or what the hell you two did, but I sure can see you,” You responded calmly, a slight smile playing at your lips.

Ben smiled a bit, but concern stayed prominent in his eyes, almost as if to say, “I’m watching you, kid.” And honestly, you felt like you actually heard what he was saying.

And then you realized that you did, because you’re a telekinetic clairvoyant. “Sorry,” You said, looking down. “I read your thoughts just there.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I still haven’t told you I’m a ghost.”

That’s when everything changed for you. The night you met Ben and Klaus would become the night you met the rest of the Hargreeves. They decided that even though you weren’t originally one of them, you should be. They let you in with open arms. They wanted you help you grow. They wanted to help you learn more about your powers and how to use them properly.

But old habits die hard, and you always found a way to piss someone off and completely isolate yourself, all in an attempt to do things the way you liked to. And every time you did, you would end up broken and alone in some shitty situation. You were truly insane, doing the same thing over and over again while expecting different results. This time, the Hargreeves weren’t having any of it. They left you to handle this one on your own.

Except this time you knew you couldn’t do it. This was it. The Commission had found you once and for all. You were done for, and you knew it.

You knew it because even Ben had left you.

Ben usually stayed with you on missions, but this time he didn’t.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes. You blink just once and it feels as though a million tears come crashing down your cheeks, making tiny puddles on the floor as they fall. This was it. This was how you would go out. It was hopeless. You are hopeless. You can’t help but feel inexplicably guilty. You ruined the entire mission. You made the entire team fall, all so you could go after Hazel and Cha Cha. Now they had you, and they would have the others in no time.

It’s all your fault and you know it.

You’re sobbing now. “I-I’m sorry,” You manage to cry out as the guilt grows bigger and bigger in the pit of your stomach. “F-fuck, please I-I’m sorry.” But no one answers. “P-please,” You look up to the leaky ceiling above you, asking some higher power for help you know it won’t give you. It’s pointless. “I didn’t want this to happen, I’m sorry,” You whisper finally as you pull your legs into your chest.

“Don’t apologize,” A familiar voice whispers, and a warm hand finds its way to your knee. You look to your left and there he his, sitting right next to you.

“B-Ben, what are you-,” You try to ask but he cuts you off, wrapping you in his arms. For some reason, you were the only person he was able to touch, and you were the only person that could touch him. You wondered if somehow, you were part ghost, but your research into your powers had never gotten that far, and based on your current situation you feared that it never would.

But for now, you try to focus on the fact that Ben is here with you. You try to focus on what was good, not the fact that you could die any minute now. Your warm tears still slowly fall down your cheeks. It’s uncontrollable at this point.

Ben pulls ever so slightly apart from you, just enough for him to take his thumbs and wipe your tears from your cheeks. “It’s all going to be okay, okay (Y/N)?” He says softly, staring deeply into your eyes.

You shake your head in disbelief. “I’m fucked, Ben. I’m done for. I feel so weak. I can barely use my telekinesis. I can’t move anything with my brain at least, that’s for sure.”

Ben sighs. “But you can see me, can’t you?” He asks, trying to get you to believe that you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.

“But that doesn’t mean I can take that door off its hinges with my powers and swat Cha Cha like a fly with it,” You say matter of factly. Ben can’t help but let out a slight laugh. His smile sets a million butterflies free in your stomach. It’s contagious, too, and you can’t help but smile back in his direction.

“I can try to help you out of this, but I don’t exactly know where to start,” Ben says as his tone of voice changes drastically. He seems somber now. He’s helpless, just like you. Sure, there are ways Ben could try to help you, but they pose a risk to you and him alike. If you weren’t careful, Ben could possibly get hurt if he attempted to possess someone. And even if he could possess Hazel or Cha Cha, it’s not like he could do it for long enough.

It finally dawns on you that all of this is up to you. The future of the Hargreeves, the future of the world. The future of you.

Any possible future of you and Ben.

That particular idea stings in your head and burns in your stomach. It had been six years of living with Ben and the Hargreeves, and yet you never managed to let anyone know how you felt about Ben. Absolutely no one knew. And, lucky for you, no one could see. The only one who had an inkling about anything going on was Klaus, and you made sure that he didn't know your true feelings.

You were nervous that if Ben knew you had loved him all these years, that things would change. You would lose your friendship with him. That could in turn make things awkward with Klaus, and if things were ever awkward with Klaus, they could become awkward with everyone else. The very thought of losing the only home filled with the only sort of family you’ve ever had was heartbreaking.

And that was a heartbreak you just weren’t ready to deal with today, or any day for that matter.

You needed to find a way out, and you needed to find a way out now.

You search around the room for something, anything to get you out. There are windows along the tops of the walls that touch the ceiling. They’re big enough for you to get through, but you don’t know where you are, or who’s going be on the other side when you get out. Ben could help you out with that part, but even if you could get out, the Commission could easily find you and kill you before you get to safety.

“What are you concocting up in that head of yours?” Ben asks as he drapes an arm around you. “Tell me what I can do to help.” He moves himself as close as he possibly can be to you. You’d think a ghost would be ice cold, but not Ben. Ben was warm and comforting. You let your head fall against his shoulder.

This is what he could do to help. Him just being with you was a help. You shut your eyes; a few tears slip their way out while you aren’t paying attention. You take a deep breath, and open your eyes back up again. You hoped that when you opened your eyes you’d be back at home.

Obviously, you were mistaken.

You begin to hear shuffling foot steps above you. There are a few grunts, a few shouts, and then some more shuffling. You knew it was just a matter of time before they came back downstairs, questioned you, and killed you.

“It’s hopeless, isn’t it?” You ask, tears streaming down your cheeks rapidly again. Your breath is quick and sharp. You feel a panic attack coming on. “I’m going to die. I’m going to lose you aren’t I?”

Ben tilts his head to the side as he listens to everything you’re saying.

“I-I’m never going to see you again. Everything is going to be lost. I’ll be nothing. We’ll be nothing…” You trail off, deciding that it’s best not to get more specific than you already are. Now is not the time to profess your love to Ben. Now is not the time for this. You wasted your chances. You wasted everything.

You lost and you know it.

Ben inches his face closer to yours, and places his hands on the sides of your head by your ears. “You aren’t allowed to give up, (Y/N). Giving up isn’t a choice here. Do you understand that?” You shake your head yes in response to Ben’s words. “You’re going to get out of here. And if you have to, you’re going to get rid of Hazel and Cha Cha, got it?” You nod again, but at this point Ben is so close to your face that it’s impossible to concentrate on anything.

Before you could do anything more, the moment dissolves. You hear footsteps coming down the staircase that you assume leads to exactly where you are. This was it. Do or die.

Except you didn’t know what it was you had to do.

The footsteps march closer and closer.

“Ben,” you say, looking deeply into his dark brown eyes. Then, just like that, the words come pouring out. “I love you, okay? I’ve always wanted to say that, always. I’m so sorry if I don’t make it. I really am. Tell the others I’m sorry, please.”

“Don’t talk like that, please. I-,” But Ben is cut off as the door swings open.

It’s Cha Cha.

You look to your left, and Ben is gone. “Wh-where did he go?”

“Who, bitch? You’re alone and you’re done for,” Cha Cha says. Thoughts of never seeing Ben again fill your head. Your gut wrenches with pain. Thoughts of never seeing the Hargreeves find themselves infiltrating your head too. You know you can’t let that happen. You know you can’t let Cha Cha and the Commission win. You need to survive for yourself, for the Hargreeves.

For Ben.

“You’re just a parentless, useless piece of-,” But rage fills your core, and you cut her off.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch.” You shout, shutting your eyes tightly as you concentrate hardly and imagine the metal chain of your handcuffs breaking in two.

And just like that, they do. Suddenly, you’re free.

You extend your hand out towards the door behind Cha Cha, and watch as it break off its hinges, threatening to come crashing down onto her. She moves to the side, and aims her gun at you. It takes almost all of your energy, but you extend your hand out again, and as she shoots, you carefully stop each bullet in mid air.

She looks at you, stunned. “No fucking way,” She ways.

“You’ll want to run now, Cha Cha,” You say to her condescendingly, but she doesn’t. She stands her ground.

In fact, she laughs. “The Commission is already on its way. Kill me if you want, but you aren’t getting out of here alive, kid.”

Sadness fills your stomach. You know she’s right. No one is here to help you. You let the bullets fall. Where’s Ben? You think.

“…Wish you were here,” You whisper, looking down at the ground as you shake your head.

“I am,” Ben responds. There is was, right next to you again. He grabs your hand. “I thought I told you that you aren’t allowed to give up.”

That was all you needed to keep moving. You had a purpose again.

Cha Cha starts to speak. “Who the hell are you talking t-,” But you cut her off, extending your hand right out and pressing her up against the wall.

“I’m getting out of here alive, whether you and the Commission like it or not,” You say firmly. With your left hand, you’re able to mend your handcuffs back together, and bring them over to place on Cha Cha. You muster enough strength to keep a hold on her while you fix the door and put it back on its hinges, too.

“So what? You got the door back up and I’m in handcuffs. Big deal,” Cha Cha says.

You smirk. “You left the keys in the door, dumbass.” You walk over to the door, leaving Cha Cha behind. Ben follows.

“Oh come on. Are you really doing this? It’s a waste of your time. You aren’t getting out alive. At least let me mercy kill you,” Cha Cha pleads.

You grab the door handle, getting ready to shut it behind you. “You lost, Cha Cha. Get over yourself.” You slam the door, and lock it up, making sure there’s no way for Cha Cha to get out.

“I knew you could do it,” Ben says, pulling you into a tight embrace.

You feel so calm, so at peace. And then, you realize it isn’t over yet. “The Commission.”

You run up the stairs and realize you’re in some old, suburban house. You don’t remember how you got there or where exactly you are, but that doesn’t matter. You know that the Commission is already probably here. You know that there’s still a fight to be had. You make your way to the front door, and take a deep breath before opening it up.

The sky is a bright blue. The grass is a deep green. Things are…

Normal.

No one is there. There is no Commission. No guns. No one is there to hurt you at all. You turn to Ben, confused. “That’s it? That can’t be it.”

Ben smiles. “I might have enlisted some help.”

Six familiar figures walk towards you from separate directions, all covered in dirt and blood. Then you realize that bodies are scattered along the lawn. It’s an absolute mess, but you can only think about one thing.

They came back for you.

Five, Klaus, Luther, Diego, Vanya and Allison all came back for you. They smile and wave from the sidewalk.

Klaus walks up to you. “You really thought that Ben would’ve just left you for dead? I mean come on! He’s in absolute l-,” But before Klaus can finish his sentence, Ben cuts him off.

“Klaus, come on!” Ben yells. “Can you and everyone else just give us a moment?” Ben pleads.

Five shakes his head, overhearing the conversation from his place on the sidewalk. “A moment? I think a thank you would be nice too, you know. Or maybe even a thank you cup of coffee from the one who almost got us all killed because they just had to do things on their own.” You know he’s serious, but you can’t help but smile. As rude as he was trying to be, you knew that Five wouldn’t have ever let you die.

“Thank you, Five. Thank you, guys. Thank you so much,” You start to say. “I’m so, so sorry. I know I let you all down. And I feel like shit about that. I really am so-,” but Five cuts you off.

“It’s fine. No one here wanted you dead. And no one ever will. Just be more careful next time, okay?” Five says, and you nod your head in response.

“In other words,” Klaus says, “We love you. You’re one of us.”

Allison adds on, “And we’ll always have your back.”

“We’re family,” Diego says, a small smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah, yeah, enough of the soft shit. Let’s get this party moving,” Five says, but you know that’s just his way of saying he’ll always be there for you too.

“Well, alrighty then. We’ll give you two your minute now,” Klaus chimes in, and the group walks away towards the car that waits for all of you.

It’s just you and Ben now, standing on the porch of the weird suburban house you were kidnapped in just minutes ago.

Ben grabs your hands, and holds them tightly. “What I was trying to say before,” He pauses, taking a deep breath, “before Cha Cha came in, is that…” He trails off nervously. “Maybe this isn’t the right time or place for this.”

You shake your head. “It’s okay if you don’t love me, Ben. It’s fine. You don’t have to love me back, it’s all-,” But he cuts you off.

His lips come crashing onto yours unexpectedly. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. It’s perfect. It’s Ben. You want to stay in that moment forever. You feel safe, protected. You feel a feeling you don’t think you’ve ever felt.

You feel like you’re home.

Ben pulls apart from you. “I love you, I really do (Y/N).”

And with that you no longer feel like you’re home. You know you are.

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artxyra · 5 years ago

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The Secret Life of MDC | Part 3

Part 3 - Welcome to Gotham, now get out!

Part 1 | Part 2 |

Arriving in Gotham was just an absolutely massive mess, that quickly turned into a several page report for Marinette to send to the school board the moment she arrived in her temporary dorm at Gotham Academy.

Let recap back to the airport. When everyone got off the plane, Lila was quick to make up an excuse about Bruce Wayne sending her a private limo that she’ll be happy to bring the class along. Of course, Caline Bustier, absently believed the long-time liar telling her students to gather their belongings and for Lila to call the Waynes. It was as if she had completely forgotten the arrival procedures. Arriving in Gotham, proceed to find the bus driver, and meet up with the Gotham Academy Headmistress to retrieve the rest of the plans for the month. Marinette tried to tell Caline that what they were doing was against the procedure, something that she had to memorize for moments like this, only to be lectured about behavior the second she finished talking off to the side.

Then when they finally arrived at the school, Caline had the nerve to lecture her again about not informing her about the bus before being dragged off by the Gotham Academy headmistress, who clearly was not happy with the decisions made before they could even step foot onto the school grounds. Gotham is not a place to dilly dally unless you know the area or a native.

“Do you think, she’ll be fired after this?” Chloe asks while setting her things into the wardrobe as Marinette clicks the save button on her laptop.

“Maybe, no matter what happens, we’re here for a month regardless of the decisions the GA headmistress and Principal De La Fontaine decides in the coming days. All I know as the class president and temp. TA; my job is to help her overlook you guys.” Marinette sighs and closes the laptop's top before giving Chloe her full attention.

“I still can’t believe you graduated early. Though Adrien and I are grateful you managed to stay despite everything.” It was rare moments like these that made Marinette glad that she gave Chloe a second chance. Chloe had apologized one winter when she was freezing to death outside because her parent went on a tropical vacation on her request and decided to allow the staff to take a few days off. It was Sabine and Tom that took the former bully into their arms and made her feel loved, a love that she rarely receives from her parents. Since that day, Chloe takes pride in the honor of being Marinette’s sister just as Adrien did when they took him in also.

“I couldn’t leave you guys to perish in that class. Also, I just didn’t want to give Lie-la the satisfaction of winning.” Marinette says as her phones with the familiar sounds of “The Other Side” by Ruelle. Instantly, Marinette picks up the phone and smiles. “It’s Damian, he wants to go out tonight. Think I have time before—”

“Go, I’ll keep you from trouble, maybe even invite Adrien over if he isn’t doing the same with Jon.” Chloe pushes the noirette out of their room before closing the door behind the designer with a smirk on her lips.

As Marinette makes her way out of the dormitory, little did she know that Lila was just doing the same but for a different reason.

~*~

Damian Wayne @therealbloodheir I had a wonderful night with my beloved. I can’t wait for more nights like these. [Attached is an image of two hands intertwine with each other with the moon shining between them.]

Nette @GothamsFashionSense Replying to @therealbloodheir That sounds like a marriage proposal. Missing you too.

~*~

In the halls of Gotham Academy, conversations buzz around the single fact that Nette was back in Gotham for the first time in weeks. Groups of students gather around a single person, whose phone is out in the open, all gushing about theories on how the date went.

The same can be said for GA’s exchange students who crowd around Lila Rossi like she was the air.

“Gurl, spill, how was the date? You’re tending on twitter, again!” Alya squeals, gripping Lila’s arm.

“Oh you, it was truly romantic. Damiboo took me on this romantic dinner, but the first place we went to didn’t serve any vegetarian meals, and as you know I’m one but he’s not. We left and found another place that was just right.” Her high pitch voices drive a shiver down people spines, well anyone that is in clear hearing distance to the Italian teen's voice range.

“Do they truly believe that she’s Nette. Bitch please, we all know that Nette has dark hair from the back of the head photos on twitter.” A random student scoffs behind the trio.

The trio turns around looking at the person in a new light. The student had long braided blonde hair and wearing the GA uniform. “You’re not fooled? I was pretty sure that she would try and convert you the moment you step foot into the building.” It was Adrien that spoke first.

“I'm Allegra, besides me is Claude and Allen.” The student says shaking hands with Adrien before continuing with, “Anyone with brain cells can tell you that she is not Nette from @GothamsFashionSense.”

Allegra then takes the empty seat beside Marinette.

“Name’s Marinette, these dorks are Adrien and Chloe.” Marinette says, “About the brain cell thing, we’ve been saying that since she joined our class a few years back.”

“It ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, as to how they manage to hang on her every word. And one of them is a self-proclaim reporter. The bitch hasn’t reported anything remotely true since the liar had joined us and don't get me started on her early years.” Chloe places her two cents into the conversation.

This was the start of a blooming relationship.

Claude, Allegra, and Allen were quick to understand the environment that the Paris Trio was living in. An irresponsible, enabling teacher and a class full of idiots. With the Gotham Trio, the Paris Trio was able to understand how Gotham Academy works and learn the ins and outs of specific places. Despite the fact that Marinette vaguely knows just about much.

~*~

“So, how were your first three days at GA?” Dick Grayson asks as the Paris trio who are sitting on the couch inside the living room of Wayne Manor. "Is it about the same as it was when I went?"

“Dicky, I am this close to making heads roll.” Chloe’s fingers are teaching as a look of crazy twitches in her eyes.

“It wasn’t all that bad the first couple of days and then Lila tried to convince GA students that she was me by photoshopping our twitter photos. Other than that, I’m more worried about when Bustier announces that our class has been invited to the upcoming Wayne Gala. I’m already booked with mine and Chloe’s dresses along with Selina’s and Cass’s.” Marinette says, resting her head on Damian’s shoulder as their hands' interlock. Damian places a quick peck on her forehead.

The room was once again oddly silent before Adrien let out a loud giggle.

The family turns to the model who was staring at his phone with the biggest smile on his face. Adrien was no doubt in a group chat with Luka and Jon about upcoming meetings and plans.

“What?” Adrien asks, looking up to the group of extended family members staring at him. They all quickly look away, some whistling while others mess with the person they are next to. “Seriously guys, what?” The whining in Adrien’s voice just made it harder for them to pretend to do something as they hold in a laugh.

“Nothing,” Marinette snickers as Damian brings to play with her hair by braiding strands of it. She always liked it when Damian messed with her hair, he sometimes does something nice, surprising everyone with his styling skills.

“Hey, Pixie-Pop and Pixie-Pop’s friends. When did you guys get in?” It’s Jason, to which majority had forgotten about even though Tim was a close second as he is hovering over a half-full cup of coffee trying to stay awake but isn’t with them in reality. Maybe Marinette should make her special concoction that would knock anyone out for quite some time.

“Hey Mari, can you make the switch?” Dick whispers in the designer’s ear. Marinette huffs agreeing to the older sibling’s request. Damian nearly groans as his girlfriend gets off his lap and walks into the kitchen.

Marinette comes out nearly ten minutes later with a steaming coffee mug in hand. She walks over to Tim and pushes his cup out of his hand and replaces it with hers. Tim, absently, takes a sip. Within seconds he is knocked out, cold.

“I’ll never not be amazed at how fast your drink can knock Tim out,” Dick says as he picks up Tim and exits the room. Marinette shrugs and takes her seat next to Damian.

“When does Cass get back from her trip?” It was Chloe who decided to break the silence between them.

“Before the gala, that’s for sure,” Jason answers as he pulls out the controllers for the game console. He gives Marinette a knowing look, who smirks with mischief in her eyes. He should know better than to play against Marinette.

~*~

It was times like this that made Marinette wish that the school board had investigated Mlle. Bustier years ago, like for example when the liar first tried to get her expelled in college. Yeah, that was such a long time ago.

Today was supposed to be an easy-going day, but for some reason, Lila managed to convince the teachers, Mlle. Bustier specifically, to allow the class to visit a nearby street mall. Mlle. Bustier, of course, agrees despite the GA teachers telling her that it was a bad idea to let the student go out unsupervised in a place they still don’t know much about. Caline laughs it off stating that they’ll be fine, and it’ll be just like walking down the streets in Paris. That added another dash to her inability to be a proper teacher.

Which brings us to the street mall. Lila was going into stores left and right proclaiming to be Damian Wayne’s girlfriend or stating that she is the niece of some high profile celebrity in hopes of getting free or discounted items. That doesn’t dwell well seeing as Gothamites are not as gullible as Parisians.

The Paris Trio along with the GA Trio watch the mess that she was drumming up from afar. Chloe had invited Allegra to join them which then extended to Claude and Allan who wanted to go for the arcade.

Lila even had the nerve to ask Adrien to join her and Alya shopping trips with the underlying message of making him pay. Once being denied on numerous occasions, Alya managed to steal Nino’s wallet in hopes of paying for all their stuff. Yeah, that didn't help their relationship status.

“Alya I told you that money wasn’t for you,” Nino screams into his girlfriend’s face as she tries to come up with an excuse. He was infuriated.

“Nino, baby, if you love me you would have just given me the money. Lila really needed those items for her date with Damian.”

“I don’t care about Lila’s need; she is not my responsibility. In fact, neither are you, Alya. You just spent the money I had saved up for this trip.” Nino had wanted to go into a DJ shop that sold the equipment he wanted and started saving the moment the trip was announced the year before.

“Stop bitching, it was only a couple hundred dollars.”

Oohs and side-eyes make up the crowd they were drawing. It was a free drama tv for them.

“Ooh what do we have here, a lovers quarrel? Now would be the perfect time to spring my new trap.” Suddenly, it was like time freezes.

~*~

Chloe B. @QueenBeeOfParis The best thing about my idiotic classmates is television drama. #savemefromthem

Tina @thepinkmistress I was finding my own business when this shit happens. [Attach is a video clip of a couple arguing and goons dress in green takes over the streets]

Tim Drake’s Bish @rachelcovefe The nerve of this group. Just finished my shift only to be told by some foreigner that she was @GothamsFashionSense like bish please I know you ain't her. #anotherdayingotham

Kimmy @kimmyontheblock Replying to@rachelcovefe OMG same but she then added in that she was Jagged Stone's niece. Um excuse you but we all know that it's @MDCfashion

Mari Needs Coffee @MarinetteMemes So the first relaxing day in Gotham ruined by the Riddler and Lie-la’s fanatics. Yup, so good to be back. #memescomingsoon #goodgrief #imabouttoheadout

Part 4 >>

Tag List: *View my Tagging System guidelines for how to to be properly tagged or removed.

Note: The SPECIFIC Tag list is officially closed. If you wanted to follow the story please mark the tag fic:The Secret Life of MDC.

#daminette #maribat #teacher assistant au #teacher assistant Marinette AU #ta marinette #fic:The Secret Life of MDC #ml x dc #mlb x dc #dc crossover #ml crossover #damimari

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ragingbookdragon · 4 years ago

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The Christmas Cookie War

A Connor Kenway x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1,720 Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Aye! Day 14 of the Christmas fics! Bake some cookies this season! -Thorne

Connor was sneaky. Which was good when it came to his career as an Assassin. On the rare times that she’d actually seen him in action, she was utterly blown away at how such a heavily built person could move with such stillness. She’d watched him take down every soldier in the fort within minutes, and not a single alarm bell had been rung, nor did any soldier see or hear him coming—he was a master hunter, and she was proud that he used his skills for the better. That being said, Connor had a streak of using his skills for the worse.

***

She glared at him for what seemed like the millionth time and pointed to the doorway.

“Out with you,” she commanded. “You’re not allowed to put one foot in this kitchen until I tell you to.”

Connor shifted his weight between his feet, standing just outside the entrance to the kitchen. “But (Y/N),” he whined. “The cookies.” His eyes shifted to the tray she was about to put on the rack at the fireplace.

Shaking her head, she denounced, “But nothing, Ratonhnhaké:ton. If everyone else has to wait for the cookies to be made, baked, and cooled, then so do you.”

She narrowed her gaze and shoved the wooden spoon in his face. “If I catch you in here again, I will welt your hands black and blue.”

He met her stare head-on and she could see him internally mulling the pros and cons over before his amber eyes flashed with indignation, and she knew he was taking it as a personal challenge.

Connor conceded and tipped his head down. “As you wish, (Y/N).” He stood back up and asked, “Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime?”

Huffing, she remarked “I know what you’re doing Ratonhnhaké:ton.” She spun on her heel and marched over to the table. “Please take this in the nicest way possible, my beloved,” (Y/N) met his gaze and hissed, “Get lost.”

A growl sounded from his throat, but he turned and stalked off, the door slamming, signaling his exit. With satisfaction, she turned back to the bowl of flour on the first side table, watching as he walked past the window outside, glaring at her; she stuck her tongue out at him. Let the games begin.

***

The entire house smelled like one giant, mouthwatering concoction of every dessert ever made, and on more than one occasion, Achilles had drifted in to see what she was making for the Christmas party. Happy knowing that it all smelled wonderful, she’d showed him the trays of cookies and pies, managing to ease his dislike of the giant mess along the table with a promise of cleaning later. He complimented her on the outcomes of each dessert, especially the chocolate chip snickerdoodles she’d made—which also happened to be the cookies that Connor was hellbent on snatching from her.

Achilles wiped his mouth on the handkerchief he carried and nodded his head. “Those are excellent, (Y/N). Sweet, but not overpoweringly so.”

A warmth grew on her cheeks at the praise, because she knew that the old man wasn’t one to give it unless truly deserved—and even then, it was hard to get it out of him.

“Thank you, Achilles.” She murmured, turning her gaze to the crackling fireplace, a tray of apple pies baking to perfection.

“Has Connor come in yet?” he asked, humor in his tone.

(Y/N) tossed a glare over her shoulder. “Oh, he definitely has. Twice.” She scanned the kitchen, craning her neck to see into the dining room—he wasn’t in there. “I’m waiting for him to try again.”

The old man leaned on his cane, umber eyes regarding her with an amusing look. “You think he will?”

She scoffed and flattened the dough with a rolling pin. “I’d bet my last pound he will. The only thing bigger than his heart is his sweet tooth.” She paused and pointed the pin at him. “Mark my words, he’ll die by sugar coma if he doesn’t keel over of old age first.”

Achilles simply snorted and the rapping of his cane against the hardwood floor left her alone in the kitchen.

(Y/N) grabbed one of the cookie cutters and began cutting out the shapes of little men. With a smile, she placed them on the tray and switched them out for the pies that were done. Setting the pies aside, she swiftly turned and looked around, eyes narrowing with suspicion.

She grabbed the wooden spoon and walked to the entrance of the kitchen, sticking her head into the entryway. It was clear, and a quick glance to the hallway showed a spotless center as well—still, it didn’t ease the wariness and she moved back into the kitchen.

“I know you’re in here, Ratonhnhaké:ton.” (Y/N) walked to the dining room. “Let me catch you with a cookie,” she warned. “I’ll break a finger.”

Grabbing the handles of the dining room doors, she swung them shut and with a click, she locked the doors. Only one way in and out. She thought with a smug smile.

Though something felt off, she set the feeling aside and focused on the rest of the desserts, knowing that she had only a couple more hours until the Christmas party—she had to finish early.

As she passed by the clothed table, she paused and scanned the surface, satisfied that nothing had been touched. (Y/N) yanked the cookbook over to her and leaned over, reading over the recipe.

“Now let’s see…what were those treats that Father Timothy wanted?” she ran a finger down the page. “Sugar plums! That was it.” Her eyes drifted around the kitchen. “Do we even have any plums?”

Frowning, she checked the baskets in the corner of the kitchen, standing on her tippytoes as she looked in. She rummaged around a bit, then smiled as she found a bag of them.

“Here we go—” a thump sounded behind her and she whirled around, surveying the kitchen. She ran to the table and examined each tray until she came across the chocolate chip snickerdoodles—one of them was gone.

A growl escaped her, and she ran to the entryway, glancing in both directions. “Where are you!” she yelled. “I know you were in here!” (Y/N) ran through the hall to Achilles’s study, glowering inside.

The old man cocked a salt and pepper brow at her, but said nothing and she turned, sprinting up the stairs to check the bedrooms and galleries. Still, they were empty, and by the time she returned to the kitchen, she was about to tear her hair out. (Y/N) made thirty of those cookies—eight were missing.

“Ratonhnhaké:ton!” she screeched. “When I get my hands on you, I’m gonna—I’m gonna—I’m—ARGH!” Snarling, she slammed her heel into the ground. “I am going to make you a sorry man.”

(Y/N) sat down at the table and put her head in her hands, silently simmering with unbridled rage. Impulsively, she kicked out her legs and upon feeling her foot brush something she went still, suddenly calm.

She placed her hands flat on the table and seethed, “Are you underneath this table?”

A moment of silence passed, then she heard a quiet, “I love you, (Y/N).”

She leaned down and raised the tablecloth, staring into Connor’s wide eyes. The smile she gave him sent shivers up his spine and warning bells in his brain.

“I love you too, Ratonhnhaké:ton,” she said sweetly.

He swallowed thickly. “You—you do?” he questioned warily.

(Y/N) nodded. “I do.” Her face contorted from the kindness he loved to a wrath he’d never seen before nor wanted to see again. “But you have five seconds to run or I’m—”

She didn’t even get to finish her threat and he was scrambling madly from beneath the table, her clambering off the bench after him. She’d never heard Connor scream before, but the howl of terror that left him as he sprinted from the kitchen to the stairs told her he was in a state of pure fear.

“COME BACK HERE!” she fumed.

Connor gave a cry as he stood behind the stair railings, her glowering at him from the top step. “FORGIVE ME (Y/N)!”

If she’d been a cat, she would’ve hissed at him. “I’m gonna forgive you when I kick your butt!” As she set foot on the second floor, he turned on his heel and leaped over the railing to the back door.

(Y/N)’s eyes went wide, and she ran to the railing, staring down at him. “Don’t you dare,” she growled, and he smirked at her before disappearing into the kitchen, returning moments later with the tray of cookies.

“Put. Those. Back.” She demanded and he raised one to his mouth and took a bite.

“You have outdone yourself Otsi’tsa. They taste fantastic.” He replied before shoving the rest of the cookie into his mouth and fumbling behind him for the doorknob.

She glared at him as he pulled the door open and started backwards outside. “You’re a dead man when you come back tonight.”

Connor shrugged. “I have lived off the land all my life.” He met her gaze and retorted, “Who says I cannot do it tonight?”

(Y/N) placed her hands on the railings and leaned over. “Oh beloved, you’re gonna be doing it for a week after this little stunt.”

“We shall see,” he winked.

Sensing that her threats were falling on deaf ears, she stood straight and glared down her nose at him. “Come back tonight then. I dare you.” Connor chuckled and disappeared outside, leaving her to fume.

A silence entered the manor, then she heard from the stairwell, “That was your fault for not checking under the table.” Her face pinched at Achilles’s quip, then a devious idea came across her.

“Achilles, do we have any beet roots?” she asked.

“Probably in the baskets.” He went quiet. “Why?”

His question was hesitant and (Y/N) grinned evilly. “Rule number one of starting a war, Achilles. Don’t leave your gear where the enemy can find it.”

She walked down the stairs and smiled at him. “I think Ratonhnhaké:ton will look absolutely wonderful in pink robes, don’t you agree?” He simply sighed in return.

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