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gloomwitchwrites · 5 months ago

Note

What if prompt for the 141: In the Rain

"It's pouring rain, why are you here?" Or something to this nature. I love a confession in the rain, stuck in the rain, kissing in the rain, all of it! Lol

I too love a good confession in the rain. That final scene in Pride & Prejudice is still peak confession in the rain trope for me. I think about it all the time. I think about it on repeat. I want it tattooed on my eyelids. When I think "in the rain," I think of that scene.

So, these aren't smutty by any means but one (maybe two) have some spice to them. They are full of love and longing. There are emotions, angst, and lots of kissing. It's our soaked to the bone 141 boys confessing their hearts in the pouring rain.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, brief mention of alcohol, suggestive themes, grief/mourning, love confessions, kissing, emotional hurt/comfort, feelings, intimacy, non-descriptive sex

Word Count: 3k

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

There are few things that John Price indulges in.

Cigars. Whiskey. The thought of you as his woman.

That last one plagues him. It burrows in. Makes a home every night to flood his dreams with images of you. John awakens each morning with you on his mind—and then you linger the rest of the day, crawling forward to say hello when he least expects it.

John sits on a barstool in a dive bar, contemplating life in the bottom of his whiskey glass. It’s the middle of fucking nowhere, but that’s the point. This isn’t a celebration or a job well done. This is a “thank fuck it’s over” drink.

The dive bar is dark and smoky. A jukebox in the corner endlessly rotates between eighties rock and country music. Next to the jukebox is a pool table where a group of three play. Otherwise, the place is entirely empty.

John knocks back the rest of his whiskey, signaling the bartender for a refill. He’s only half-listening to the conversations around him.

Laswell, MacTavish, Garrick, and Riley are all here. Simon is silent, staring off into space as the other three have an animated conversation. You’re here too, sandwiched between MacTavish and Riley. You’re not speaking, but you are listening, nodding your head at all the right moments.

But you look tired. Like you’re about ready to pack it up and call it a night. It’s deserved. This mission sucked. It was brutal. Tough. A complete shit-eating stink of a job. You aren’t part of the team. Not really. Laswell dragged you in last second, and John is happy that she did. Otherwise, he’d never have met you.

And that would be a tragedy.

John only has eyes for you. It is a sweet tooth that cannot be satiated. He’s been a bit reserved in how he’s approached you, but you always have a soft smile for him or a cheeky remark. It’s devolved into flirting at times, and at points so blatant that everyone else chimes in.

“I think I’m gonna head out,” you yawn, pushing your empty glass to the edge of the bar. The bartender walks by and snags it, whisking it away to be deposited into the sink.

This is it. You’re about to walk away. John will likely never see you again unless Laswell decides to call on you. This might very well be his only chance.

You slip off your barstool, and John abruptly stands, his leg smacking into Laswell’s stool. Everyone—including Simon—turns in John’s direction.

He coughs. Clears his throat. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he says quickly.

MacTavish smirks and elbows Gas in the arm. The two men exchange a knowing glance before they both raise their eyebrows at John. MacTavish even shakes his shoulders a bit. John shoots them a cold look over your shoulder. They stifle their laughter behind their glasses.

You don’t notice at all. Your focus is on John, and that’s exactly how he wants it.

The entrance of the dive consists of one interior door, a small entryway, and an exterior door. As the two of you enter the small entryway, a crack of thunder erupts overhead. You pause, staring out the small window on the exterior door. It’s not pouring, but the rain is steady. Getting caught it in for any period of time will likely result in soaked clothes.

You turn slightly in his direction, and John is suddenly aware of how cramped the space is.

“You don’t need to walk me to my car,” you say softly, gesturing toward the downpour. “Not with the rain.”

John shrugs. “I want to.”

It’s true. He does. But there is an ulterior motive here. This is his one chance to have a final goodbye or a new start.

You smile softly, gaze flicking down to the floor before returning to his face. John’s cheeks heat—and it’s ridiculous. He’s a grown fucking man. He doesn’t get flustered. But this space is small. It is far too cramped. John is nearly on top of you.

Beneath those long eyelashes are your gentle eyes. It’s a look you only give him. Your lips part slightly. They’re gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. He wants nothing more than to lean down and close the distance.

“Okay,” you reply with a teasing laugh, opening the door.

The earthy scent of rain hits him first and then the pattering of the falling rain comes next. You slip out the door and stand close to the building under the small awning, attempting to stay out of the rain. John follows behind, coming up next to you.

Your smile is sweet as you gaze up into the dark sky. But then you turn to him, and that smile morphs into something devious.

“Should we race to the car?” you ask, as if conspiring.

John grins. “Think you can beat me?”

You laugh. “An old man like you? Absolutely.”

John can’t help but smile back, nudging you with his elbow. “Not that old.”

“What do I get if I win?” you ask, turning to look at him.

“A kiss,” says John automatically. It rolls right off his tongue. There is no way for him to take it back. And he doesn’t want to. “What do I get if I win?”

You wait a beat. And then answer.

“A kiss,” you reply slowly.

A kiss.

John blinks, his mind momentarily stuttering out. Your grin widens, and then you’re off, sprinting into the rain and to the car.

John nearly trips as he jogs after you. The gravel is slick and the rain splatters against his jacket. He isn’t all that interested in racing. John is only watching you, and the way your ass bounces as you make for the car. Your curves are lovely. He imagines opening the rear door and pushing you into the back seat, only to drag you into his lap to take whatever he wants.

You make it before he does, but John is right behind, nearly sliding to a stop in the wet gravel. You turn toward him, grinning. Pieces of hair stick to the sides of your face. John cannot help himself. He grabs the back of your neck and draws you in.

You don’t resist. You surrender.

John’s mouth crashes against yours and you open beautifully for him. There is no one kiss. There are many. Multitudes. It is endless. It is rain-laced. Whiskey-drenched. John might have the buzz of alcohol in his veins but you are quickly replacing it.

Your lips part and John slides his tongue inside. Your hands grab at him, fingers digging in. The two of you are pressed together, rain falling to drench clothing and skin.

With a low groan, John pushes you up against the car, intensifying his kisses. You eagerly greet him, accepting them all, returning them in equal measure. You are just as desperate. Just as hungry. Time is an illusion—and it isn’t until you shiver beneath him that John pulls away, aware that the two of you are now soaked through.

“Why are you still here?” you ask.

“You don’t know?” he replies, his hand cupping your face, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“It’s pouring, John.”

“I know.” You smile, and John goes in for one more kiss. “Do you not feel this? Am I the only one?”

You shake your head. “I feel it. Everywhere, John. I feel you everywhere.”

“Let’s go. Get out of here.”

“Right now?”

John’s grip tightens and you gasp, hips pressing against his.

“Right now.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

The rain is light but steady. It falls from the cloudy sky to patter against your umbrella.

The graveyard is empty, and yet you knew Simon would be here. He always is on the anniversary of Johnny’s death. Like clockwork. It’s routine for him. A ritual.

Simon’s back is to you, his head bent as he stands in front of Johnny’s grave. There is no body there. It’s ornamental. Something for family and friends. There are fresh flowers next to the headstone.

You have no idea how long Simon has been out here. Simon has no umbrella with him, and the hood of his jacket is off. He’ll catch a chill like this, which is why you came. Seeing him like this is always difficult, and since Johnny’s passing, Simon has grown more attached.

He is always checking in on you—always near. You’d call it protectiveness but it feels more like obligation. A duty. Most days, Simon appears to be on the cusp of telling you something, revealing a secret that he’s itching to confess. You don’t know what it might be. Couldn’t take a guess. But you have thought about it. You have imagined all sorts of possibilities.

The two of you are always finding the other. Always reconnecting. Always reaching out. If it’s not him, it’s you. Perhaps it’s Johnny’s death that has brought this on. Whatever it might be, Simon is closer to you than he’s ever been, and sometimes it frightens you.

It feels like more.

“I brought you an umbrella,” you say to Simon’s back.

He turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder. Simon’s gaze sweeps from the ground and then lands on you. His hair is wet and droplets of water speckle his face like freckles.

Simon fully turns toward you.

The rain picks up a bit, soaking Simon further. You rush to him, holding your umbrella over his head, cutting off the rain. The two of you stand under it in silence, simply staring at each other. Time stretches, and then Simon’s hand rises, wrapping around your own where you hold to the handle.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

You swallow, and gather your courage. “You shouldn’t grieve alone.”

Simon’s brow softens. “I’m supposed to be the one looking after you.”

“I never asked you to,” you reply.

“But Johnny did.”

You start, eyes widening slightly. “What do you mean?”

Simon licks his lips. A droplet of water drips from the tip of his nose. “I made a promise. To Johnny. I made a promise to him.”

“What promise?” you whisper as the rain picks up more. The rain strikes the top of the umbrella in loud patters that nearly drown out your voice.

Another droplet falls from Simon’s nose. He leans in slightly, and the movement is confusing. It’s too intimate, like he wants to close the distance.

“I promised that I would—” he abruptly cuts off, swallowing. Simon’s gaze darts from your eyes to your lips and then back again.

“What is it, Simon?”

He sighs. “Fuck it,” he growls, shredding any distance there might have been between your bodies.

Simon claims your lips, kissing you so completely that you’re momentarily stunned. You taste the rain. Mint. A slight hint of smoke. You return the kiss, not pushing him away or pulling back. You open for him, accepting it all, and Simon continues to take, his free arm wrapping around your waist to draw you closer.

Even though he’s drenched, Simon is incredibly warm. It’s unfair how he can be an inferno in this downpour.

The graveyard is forgotten. The rain is a distant. There is only Simon’s lips, and the groan he makes when you return each kiss in equal enthusiasm.

Simon goes in for a quick nip before drawing away. It leaves you breathless and wanton.

“Was that part of the promise?” you ask, only half-joking.

Simon shrugs. “In a way.” You arch an eyebrow and Simon smiles softly. “I told Johnny I’d make a move. And now I have.”

“Yes,” you agree, heat blooming in your cheeks and your core. “You have.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

There is no turning back.

You made a choice. Kyle made a choice.

This is how it is.

You don’t want to be at the airport. You don’t want to leave. This entire situation is shit. But Kyle seemed willing to let you go. He’s not here. He didn’t beg you to stay. He didn’t try to convince you that all he wants in life is you.

That’s all you need. To be wanted. To be loved.

After all of this—after everything, and Kyle isn’t here.

You’re not mad. Not really. You are both adults. You both have made a choice. Just because you don’t like something doesn’t mean you don’t understand. Because at the end of the day, you do. Truly.

Sighing, you haul your suitcase over the curb and on the sidewalk. The Uber that brought you here is already pulling away to go pick up someone else. The airport is packed on the inside, and the rain that falls from the sky in sheets. You have a coat, and the hood is up, but what you really need is an umbrella.

Already, you feel the water seeping into the unprotected places. Rain does that sometimes. Trickles in where it isn’t wanted.

You start to pull your suitcase behind you. A wheel catches in a small crack, and it nearly takes you down with it. Stumbling forward, you put a hand out to catch your fall. You expect your bare palm to land on concrete. To burn with pain.

But you don’t make it to the ground. You don’t touch it at all.

There are arms around you. They are strong. And somehow so damn familiar it’s frightening.

Then, you’re being lifted, guided back to your feet. Those strong arms ease you onto solid ground, and then you’re turning to thank the stranger that’s saved you from falling face first into the concrete.

But it is no stranger.

“Kyle,” you breathe, staring into the face of the man you’ve loved for years now.

Something breaks. Shatters.

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

Kyle hasn’t let you go. His arms are still around you. Your hands grasp his biceps, and his jacket is slick with rain. His hood is not up. And yours has fallen at some point. Already, the rain is soaking your hair. Strands of it stick to your face.

“Coming to right a wrong,” he says. Your lips part but Kyle shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t fight hard enough. I let you slip through the cracks.”

Kyle draws you in a bit closer. The people passing by and the cars are distant.

“I should have told you ‘I love you’ every day. I should have been present.”

“Kyle—”

Your next words are stolen. Kyle closes the distance, and then you’re wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, sinking into the kiss.

You can’t leave now.

You can’t.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The rain falls gently from the sky.

Johnny grins, staring up into it, opening his mouth. His tongue is out to capture the droplets. You laugh, and wrap your arms around his shoulders, going in for a quick kiss on his cheek.

As you draw back, one of Johnny’s hands shoots out, snagging your arm. You playfully yelp, and swat at him, thinking that Johnny will let you go. He’s flirty, and sweet, but there is nothing more to it.

At least, you didn’t think so.

But Johnny’s gaze is heated, and the way he holds you against him is far too intimate to be anything other than what it is.

“Johnny,” you laugh, trying to play it off, but he remains firm.

His smile faulters slightly but it’s not a frown. It’s a heated stare. His gaze is on your lips, and you can see the desire there. What would happen if you went for it? If you kissed him?

“What are we doing?” he asks. “Can’t I have you?”

Startled, everything leaves your head. “What?”

Johnny’s gaze flicks up, and those gorgeous eyes drown you—submerging you in his depths. “Why are we stepping around this? We want each other.”

You do want him, but you thought it was mostly one-sided.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, softly.

Johnny smirks, and then he’s lifting you up into the air, placing you on top of the low stone wall. “Should I use my words?” he asks, fingers sliding underneath your rain-drenched shirt. He is warm, and his touch heats your skin. “Or should I show you with my body?”

Johnny nips at your bottom lip as his hands ascend. One slides between your breasts just as his lips meet yours. Your core clenches, and then you’re grabbing for him, touching him as much as he’s touching you.

The two of you are in the Scottish countryside. There are no people around. Just the two of you, and rolling green hills.

Johnny slots himself between your legs, and you reach beneath his kilt, finding him hard and wanting. He hisses, and then groans when you stroke him.

Everything is warm. Everything is rough.

It doesn’t matter that it’s raining, or that it’s a bit cold. You allow Johnny to shove articles of clothing aside, to find the places where you’re needing him to be. His touch is a brand, and you love how it feels, pulsing through your loins like an overheated engine.

“Johnny,” you gasp into the rain, fingers threading through his hair as he goes to his knees to taste between your thighs.

There is only heavy breath. A twisting of pleasure.

When he finally brings your bodies together, there is nothing but him. Nothing but you. Just two people finding each other.

The rain is nothing.

It isn’t even cold anymore.

Johnny is all heat. And you are burning for him.

taglist:

@km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@enarien @saoirse06 @ferns-fics @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett

@ravenpoe67 @tulipsun-flower @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat @ninman82

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@haven-1307 @voids-universe @itsberrydreemurstuff @spicyspicyliving @keiva1000

@littlemisscriesherselftosleep @statixx-x @umno-yeah @blackhawkfanatic @talooolaaloolla

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@suhmie @jaggersinclair @jackrabbitem @lxblm @beebeechaos

@no-oneelsebutnsu @kidd3ath @certainlygay @thewulf @lovely-ateez

@arrozyfrijoles23 @gingergirl06 @eternallyvenus @smileykiddie08 @vrb8im

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olipeaksforever · 9 months ago

Text

some eighties album covers i redesigned with characters from twin peaks/david lynch stuff

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 8 months ago

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37 Minutes [pre-outbreak!Joel x f!reader]

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Last of Us

Ship: Joel Miller x you/f!reader

Tags/warnings: Cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, (kind of) forced orgasm, squirting, PiV sex.

Summary: You wake up one morning needing Joel, and he comes as soon as you let him know that. And while his life may be busy, he takes the time to thoroughly satisfy you.

Words: 2,092

A/N: This is inspired by this post by @swiftispunk. It came across my dash around Easter and it's been living rent-free in my head since then. Finally had time to write it. Enjoy!

It’s just one of those mornings when you wake up with that itch that your own hand or your box of toys can’t do anything about.

Getting out of bed and pulling on a t-shirt, you grab your phone and go out to the kitchen to put the coffee on. You send Joel a text, short and to the point: Got time?

He calls you immediately. You smile as you press the green receiver.

”That was fast.”

”You read my mind,” he tells you in a muffled voice. ”I woke up thinking about you.”

”Then come over. And you could’ve texted me that.”

”Texting takes twice as long, I ain’t got time. See you in fifteen.”

You barely get to finish your coffee before you hear Joel’s truck on your driveway, and you’re not even by the front door when he knocks on it. As soon as you open the door, he’s through it, arms around your waist, lips on yours. He’s in a hurry, you can tell, but you love these hurried meetings, if only because he wants you so much. You love being wanted this much, this hard, this desperately.

He tastes of coffee, same as you, and a little sweat on his upper lip. It’s early, but the temperature is already in the mid-eighties. Your AC is keeping your home nice and cool, though.

You shove the door close and wrap your arms around Joel's neck, kissing him back and groaning when his hands slide down to your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pushes you up against him. He is already stiff, and you wonder if he’s been so during his entire drive here.

"Don't have long," he lets you know between the kisses. "Gotta get to a building site across town in an hour, and - "

"Then make it count," you cut him off, and Joel reacts immediately, grabbing the hem of your t-shirt, and pulling the garment off of you. He presses his lips on yours again, hands on your tits as he walks you backwards to the bedroom. The kiss breaks only for as long as it takes him to get rid of his own clothes before he pushes you down on the bed. He immediately kneels before you and pulls down your panties before leaning in to kiss your cunt. You sigh out the first little hint of pleasure, but that sigh turns into a moan as Joel wastes no time teasing you. His tongue, quick and agile, starts to work your clit.

“Joel…!” you keen, legs opening wide to give him better access between your thick thighs. He’s sloppy and loud, but not aimless in his endeavor. His hands travel up your thighs to your belly, then to your breasts, where he rolls your nipples between forefingers and thumbs. You buck against him, keening to encourage him to go on, take hold of his hands and push them against your tits to make him grab them. He hums against your clit, looking up and grinning at your enthusiasm. How he can smile and have his tongue do that to you at the same time is beyond you, but you do not dwell on it as Joel puts it into a higher gear. Tongue on your clit, he pushes you quickly towards your peak, and when the pleasure turns more intense, you start to grind against him, your fingers plaiting with his and holding on, head thrown back to your Yes, yes, yesyesyes! until his tongue takes you over the edge. Your legs twitch as you try to catch your breath, but Joel doesn’t give you much of a respite.

“’nother one, beautiful,” he murmurs, licking his lips and letting go of your hands. “You taste so fuckin’ good.”

He attacks your clit again, licking, pushing, and prodding. Your hips buck up but are immediately locked down to the mattress by one of his strong arms placed across your lower abdomen. Your pussy clenches when you feel his fingertips at your opening. The second after, he slides two fingers inside you, his tongue and lips still on your clit as he finds that magical spot on your front wall. You shout out, back arching off the mattress, hands digging into the sheets as he massages that spot.

“God, Joel, oh God, don’t stop, fuckfuckfuck!”

He’s breathing heavily against your folds, but his tongue doesn’t stop, and his fingers are insisting on drawing a second orgasm from you. It’s almost too much, but you woke up wanting him, needing him, so you let your mind go blank and surrender, your moans turning more and more breathless the further you go. When you come, there is no sound, only a momentary stiffness in your entire body before you fall apart. You’re trembling all over, but Joel still goes on licking you. Your clit is on fire, your pussy is clenching, but goddamn him, he doesn’t stop.

“Joel,” you cry out, “stop, I can’t, I need a rest!”

“One more,” he tells you gasps, letting your clit be for just a moment. “I know you can, baby, be good for me now, gimme one more.”

You shake your head and press your thighs together, trying to crawl away, but Joel exhales sharply and grabs your waist.

“Just stay where you are, sweetheart, it’ll be over soon.”

He pries open your legs again, and this time he plants his mouth on your clit, and sucks. Your upper back shoots up from the bed but Joel already has his arms around your thighs, holding them open, locking his head firmly between them. The pleasure is almost painful in its intensity, shooting through your entire body, and you’re desperately trying to hold onto his head, the sheets, yourself, anything to relieve the force with which he’s sucking your overstimulated clit. But Joel doesn’t budge, and when you start to kick, he gets up onto the bed and lifts your lower body up into the air. Never once does his lips leave your clit, and you feel his scorching, labored breath on you, but nothing else suggests that he’s having any trouble lifting half of your heavy body off the bed. You kick, and he growls, finally letting go, but only to grab he backs of your thighs and bend you double. Your swollen pussy is obscenely on display, and you don’t get to ask him to wait before he slots his lips over your clit again.

You’re helplessly trapped, bent double and held in place by Joel’s strong builder’s hands, moaning and cursing until the pressure becomes too much. You hear a splash, Joel who hums and slurps, and you laugh without knowing why. Warm liquid is running down between your ass cheeks, and Joel latches back onto your clit, this time gulping the wet before getting a hold.

The third orgasm finally tears through you, and Joel releases you to tremble before him. You want to close your legs, but your hamstrings are so intensely stretched that you have to roll over onto your side to press your thighs together. Your clit is throbbing painfully, the skin around your pussy is grated raw by Joel’s facial hair, but he’s already nudging you to return onto your back.

“You did great, darlin’,” he praises you thickly, his tongue stiff after its service. “Just lemme grab a rubber, and I’ll fuck you good, okay?”

You whimper in return and blink your eyes open. Joel’s face, blurry at the edges, is somewhere above you, smiling at you before disappearing out of sight. You can dimly see the ceiling fan rotations, but truth is you can barely see at all, so you rub at your eyes before drawing your fingers through your hair.

Joel returns next to you, and you dimly hear the rustle of the condom wrapper. He takes his place between your legs, opening them gently.

“Be a good girl for me, or I’ll eat you out again,” he asks you sweetly, and you know you won’t survive that, so you let your knees fall to the sides, even if your hips are getting tense.

He slides into you slowly but surely, one inch after the other until he’s fully sheathed. Bending over to kiss you, his tongue slow now, he gives you a moment to adjust before he straightens his back, takes you by the waist, and starts to pump into you. It’s fast and shallow, and he gets breathless quickly, huffing out each quick breath before sucking in new air in time with his thrusts. You don’t even know if you’re breathing at all anymore, but you’re catching up with him now, and raise your hips slightly to meet his thrusts. He growls and comes down onto his forearms, getting in deeper. You embrace him, pull him down and into you, guide his head right next to yours where he hides his face in your neck as you pant your encouragement into his ear. You kiss, bite, and suck his neck, scratch your nails down his back, and slap his ass.

“Harder, Joel, harder, I need it harder!”

He snarls, his head snaps up from your neck as he gulps air into his lungs. His arms curl around your head as he picks up the pace. His cock is so deep, so hard, filling your pussy to the brink of annihilation it seems, and he doesn’t stop, he just goes on and on fucking you, his body slick with sweat that rubs off on you, his breaths growing increasingly audible for each thrust.

“Fuck!” he finally grunts before pulling out. “Roll over, baby.”

You obey, getting on all fours, and are immediately shoved down onto your chest as he slams into you. Hands on your hips, he goes hard and fast, groaning now as he breaths, one hand scrambling for a grip on your lower back without finding. His cock keeps assaulting your pussy, you are in heaven, and you still keep asking him to go harder. He pushes you down, hands pressing into your lower back as he goes on fucking you, reaching impossibly deeper each time, until you’re screaming and have to muffle yourself by pushing your face down into the sheets. Joel swears, his hips start to move erratically, and then he drives himself deep inside and stays there as he roars, pushing even deeper.

He slumps down next to you, panting like after a marathon. You turn your head to better breathe, but you can’t turn move your legs. Joel lies next to you, eyes closed, mouth open as he draws shallow breath after shallow breath, skin glistening with sweat. You want to say something but have to lick your lips several times before you can form words.

“Fuck, but you’re good.”

He blinks, and slowly turns his head towards you.

“What?”

“You’re so fucking good at this.”

“Am I?”

His cluelessness is adorable.

“Yes, you are, Joel!”

“I don’t know…” He makes a move that resembles a shrug. “I just enjoy you.”

Like this is just any ordinary fuck. You smile widely, a new kind of warmth spreading inside you. Joel just is that kind of humble person.

He now draws a deep breath, sighs it out, and then sits up. He leans over you to kiss your back, shoulder, neck, and finally mouth.

“I gotta go.”

“Sure.”

He leaves the bed, throwing a glance at the bedside clock radio.

“37 minutes. That’s a new record.”

“Jesus Christ.”

You hear the rustle of clothes and manage to roll over onto your back. Everything hurts so good, and you’re grateful you don’t have work today.

Joel sighs. “You look so fucking pretty, baby.”

You hum, smiling at him. As he picks up his t-shirt, you remember something.

”Put it on the right way.”

“Huh?”

“You had your t-shirt on backwards and inside out when you got here,” you giggle. “Make sure it’s the right way now.”

“But then Tommy will notice, and he’ll know where I’ve been,” Joel points out pragmatically, still putting the t-shirt on the right way. It immediately gets dark spots in the front.

“I think he’ll know either way,” you yawn. Joel returns to bed for one last kiss.

“Fuck, I wanna stay.”

“I want that too.” You cup his cheek to keep his lips on yours for a moment longer.

“Mmm…” he hums into your mouth. “See you this weekend?”

“Absolutely.”

He presses one last kiss on your mouth before leaving you to your boneless rest.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #pre-outbreak!joel #young joel miller #my fic

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semisolidmind · 6 months ago

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Okay,okay how about this- you did one of a genderbend sorts of the Bloody Mary right? What about a kind of genderbend of Carrie? Maybe a ghoul whom spirit won’t rest until it gets its prom queen? (And if you don’t want to, then please ignore this and enjoy the rest of your day my dear:v)

here’s your prom king and (reluctant) queen

was thinking bout the idea, and i kinda imagined that our king here is from the fifties. a victim of a high school prank gone wrong; he was voted king of his senior prom, and suffered a horrible death when the blood bucket that was dumped on him fell and hit him in the head (like tommy from the og carrie movie). he became a poltergeist and now haunts the school gym where he died, causing trouble at every school dance since.

the gal he’s got his sights set on (in present day eighties) is an outcast like he was, and he uses his ghost powers to help her out; primarily by scaring off her bullies. our gal here has to thwart his attempts to kill off the popular kids on her behalf (though she isn’t entirely successful). the whole thing reaches a boiling point with the arrival of senior prom, where the undead kings’ power is at its peak.

#click for quality cause mobile is stupid #semisolid ocs #monster boyfriend #ghost boyfriend #was kinda stumped for the colors on this one #but I’ve been feeling the pink on green

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vxnuslogy · 6 months ago

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— unfinished business.

starring: stellaron hunter!sunday x gn!reader + the other stellaron hunters.

premise: on his first mission with the stellaron hunters, sunday hesitates, unable to push through. frustrated, you step in, taking on the task. when danger strikes, Sunday becomes your unexpected savior. the mission succeeds, but sunday is left wondering about your unfinished business in the capital of passion and your mysterious past before you joined the team.

— warnings: slight angst + arguments.

— author's note: another sunday fic to the collection yippie. pic credits to @helen_zzhao. | ~3.4k words.

the capital of passion always looked magnificent at night. here you were with your fellow hunters and your boss - in his cat form - standing above the capital at its highest peak. flashing lights of neon blues, pinks, and yellows obscured the night sky you preferred to look at when the moon was present. you were sitting on one of the ventilations of the building you were all standing on, silver wolf leaning on the railing playing video games, blade in some corner with his sword close to his chest and eyes strained away from the bright lights, and sunday stood awkwardly standing next to you with elio perched in your lap.

“you already know what to do right, mister?” silver wolf suddenly looks up from her game and drops a silver disc right in front of her. a hologram of the city below you showed up and two glowing yellow dots were running away from the blue dots who you assumed were the public security regulation. “we split up and corner the messengers, interrogate said messengers for more information about the supposed discontinued project, and leave before security catches us. ”

silver wolf looked at sunday with a different glint in her eyes. “you can do a simple task like this right?”

the man beside you crossed his arms together over his chest and gripped them tightly. brows knitting together in contemplation as his mouth opened just to close again. continuous beeping noises that sounded like alarms from the disc made you suddenly stand up. “they’re changing their course. i thought they mostly traveled in the skies? why are they suddenly using the alleyways?”

“we don’t have time.” blade interrupted with a pointed look to sunday. “can you or can you not do it? the clock is ticking.”

you look at sunday worriedly who has still yet to say another word. “i–”

“mister make up your mind, we’re going to lose them!” silver wolf shouted in worry. taking out her phone and quickly punching a few buttons. red rectangles appeared on a holographic map of the city, closing any passages the messenger could take to escape. “we need to go, like right now!”

you looked towards blade who was already getting ready to jump off the rooftop to chase the messengers. his intense gaze never once left sunday’s figure who continued to shrink more into the shadow.

“i can’t… i’m sorry.” sunday murmured, hand tightening their hold on his arms. you try not to show how your eyes widened in disbelief but with the way he avoided looking into your eyes, you couldn’t help the bubbling of frustration that started to fester in your chest.

silver wolf was always calm under pressure so it was strange to see her so shaken. “are you kidding me?!” she stomped towards sunday and pointed an accusing finger to sunday. tapping at his chest multiple times to emphasize her frustration. “you said you were ready! we did not just waste weeks worth of our time to train you for this mission only for you to say that you can’t do it?!”

“silvy come on, give him a break.” you tried to but in, keeping your own frustration hidden behind an understanding smile. “this is his first mission; a complete one-eighty of what he’s used to.”

“you’re being too soft on him, [name]!” a timer of 15 minutes suddenly appeared on the map. “we’re here on a mission. we could get caught!”

“silver wolf is right, [name].” you look at the black cat that sat by sunday’s legs. their head turned to look at sunday but the man only looked away in shame, wings covering his face. “you’ve agreed to become a hunter, mr. sunday. and you’ve also agreed to participate in this mission. need i remind you of the consequences when you don’t follow the script?”

elio never truly intimidated you, not when you first joined, on your first mission, or just in general. but with the way he was sizing up sunday with such judgement made the hairs on your arms and neck raise in realization. elio might have been kind to you, but they weren’t so much with others.

you look back to the map and blade, and then the timer that continues to tick. “i’ll go.”

“what?!” silver wolf’s attention was now on you. and so was everyone else's. “no one knows you’re a stellaron hunter! if anyone were to catch a glimpse of you all your hard work will be for nothing!”

“do you really want to risk that, [name]? ” blade asked, pushing you back to where sunday and elio stood. you felt their gaze on you as you stepped forward and pushed past blade. with a single tap on your earpiece a visor appeared in front of your eyes and showed you the map of the city. the same glowing yellow dots.

“[name].” elio warns.

“i’ll take the one in the west, the rest of you take the north.” you heard a collective shout of your name but you already jumped off.

the city was more jam-packed than you had imagined. though you were in the alleyways of the capital, bags of trash, old mechanical parts, and even trashed prosthetics laid on the ground making it hard to navigate through the already dimmed path.

you kept a close eye on the yellow dot just a few feet in front of you. furrowing your brows in confusion when it suddenly turned around and started charging in your directions. too focused on the map showing on your visor, you fail to notice the glinting piece of metal that was thrown straight at your head.

something warm encapsulated your body. you suddenly felt an arm wrap around your waist and your head as the figure in a cloak jumped over your body. a grunt left your savior’s lips making you turn around.

“sunday?!” he only gave you a flustered smile as you sat on his lap.

“hello…” he replied as you quickly stood up and helped him up. checking over your visor just to see that the yellow dot had taken a different route that you predicted. a curse left your lips as you kicked the trash bags in front of you.

“bladie they're coming your way. be careful, they're armed.” you heard a soft roger from the other end as your visor shut off. you look back to sunday who was dusting off his clothes. your brows knit together in confusion. “what are you doing here?”

he looked shocked by your question but quickly masked it. “i’m here to finish my mission.”

“i thought you said you couldn’t do it?” you wonder what kind of expression you were making to suddenly make the ever so composed sunday squirm.

“blade is right.” he takes a step forward and pushes your hair out of your eyes. wincing when his gloved finger suddenly grazed over the scratch you didn’t even know you had. “you’re too soft on me, [name].”

you raise a brow at him. “would you prefer i be a bit sterner then?”

sunday must have taken your words lightly because he only shook his head in amusement with a small smile on his lips. normally you would smile with him but this time a deep frown tugged at your lips. “i’m being serious, sunday.”

he ceased his silent laughter and looked at your eyes. “because i will be more strict with you if you’re going to continue acting like this in future missions.”

his shoulders tensed when you turned around, back facing him as you started to walk away back to your meeting point. no doubt silver wolf and blade must have caught one of the messengers and brought them back to the rooftop.

“let’s go back to our meeting point.” you didn’t wait for his reply when you started scaling up the walls of the alleys. clicking your tongue in disgust when you felt the grime stick to your fingers.

“are you mad?”

“excuse me?”

the both of you stopped. just a few feet away from you, you catch a glimpse of elio playing with the holograms. signaling you both to return to continue the interrogation. the night is going to be over soon and you’ve spent enough time running around trying to catch a wild goose.

“of course i’m mad!” you looked at him in disbelief as your voice raised in volume. “sunday, we're in a capital that's being run by a government body who doesn't care about privacy. the fact that we haven't been caught yet is a miracle!” you take a deep inhale and pinch the bridge of your nose. “you said you were ready. that you can finally start taking missions. elio prepared you a script and we helped you train for weeks. so i’m sorry if i’m mad that most of our efforts are going down the drain.”

sunday looked away. he almost looked bashful with one arm brushing up the other. “i apologize. i truly thought i was ready. but with the way you’re treating these people, i couldn’t help but think you’ll–”

“kill them?” he winced at your blunt reply. you continued making your way back to the rooftop, not bothering to slow down your pace as sunday followed you from a good distance. “we’re going to interrogate them. this is your first mission, we aren’t going to make you dirty your hands this early.”

sunday stood incredibly still. as if he's only realizing now what he's really gotten himself into. “so you do plan on making me a murderer.”

you scoffed as you pushed back your hair. taking a deep breath, you steadied your voice. “sunday, we’re wanted criminals.” your eyes narrowing down to glare as sunday tried to challenge you. “why do you think everyone has a bounty in the millions? of course we’ve murdered people. that’s our job.”

“this isn’t right.” he argued.

“well tough shit.” his eyes went wide, mouth opening slightly but closed just as fast. you weren’t one to curse or even raise your voice but tonight you were losing your cool. “sunday, you agreed to join us. of course you’ll have to get your hands dirty later on. you should be grateful elio gave you such an easy mission that doesn’t require that much force.”

“then what about you?” sunday knew he was pushing his limits, but he still continued. “if you’re all criminals then why have i not seen even a single wanted poster of you?”

sunday quickly regretted asking that when a wave of sadness washed over you. lips pressed together into a thin line as your hands curl into fists, knuckles turning white and slightly shaking. the two of you would’ve stood in silence forever if it weren’t for elio playing with the hologram. you quickly teared your gaze away from him and started to walk away in silence.

“we’re trying to do what’s best for you, sunday.” you say softly. “the consequences of the script getting derailed are catastrophic. trust me,” there was a certain edge to your voice when you turned to look at him. the bright lights of the capital casting a faint glow over your figure making the air sunday tried to inhale get lodged in his throat. “i know what kind of cataclysm might fall if you go off script.”

you reached the meeting point roughly 5 minutes later. elio was licking at his paw and meowed when they saw your figure approaching. squatting down to pet their head, you allow them to rub at your legs before clawing at sunday’s pants and climbing to his shoulders. the halovian let out a sound between a squeak and a groan, normally this would rip out a giggle out of you but your eyes remained focused on the man sitting by the ventilation with his arms tied behind his back. the man cracked one eye open and when his gaze fell over you he started scooting backwards.

“I-its… you…” your brows furrow together as sunday came to stand beside you, the same expression on his face.

“do you know him?”

you shake your head. “no, i don’t.”

taking a step forward, the man cowered and shook like a leaf, leaving you and sunday confused. “how are you alive?!” you were about to question him when he quickly followed it up with something you believed you wouldn’t ever hear again. “you’re that doctor from the train! you were supposed to be dead, i saw the explosion and you were caught in it!”

a lodge appeared in your throat. no sound left your lips when you squatted down to the man’s height to question. suddenly, sunday’s gold eyes felt too heavy and questioning even though you couldn’t see them. you curl your hand into a fist and let out a shaky sigh. closing your eyes to calm the drumming in your ears and heart. this was not the time to look back on the accident that happened amber eras ago.

“oh triple-faced soul,” you hear sunday approach from behind. “please sear his tongue and palms with a hot iron,” the air suddenly turned warm as a gloved hand wrapped around your arm pulling you up and tugging you to his side.“so that he will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows.”

elio jumped into your arms, tapping a paw at your chin making you look up at sunday with worried eyes. “this will be faster.” he said, waiting for you to ask the question you had prepared beforehand.

taking a deep breath, you take out your phone and give it to sunday. he nodded at you, a hand came to the small of your back to steady you. your mind swam with questions on how this man knew about the explosion, you were very sure that no one was there to see it. “come to my office after the mission.” elio spoke softly, breaking you out of your nightmares.

“question: what do you know of the windborne project?” sunday questions, his golden stare narrowed dangerously at the man’s figure.

“it’s a discontinued project,” the man gulped before continuing. “there were too many errors and too few researchers. the blueprints were leaked by an old messenger and not long after, the others were captured by the public security regulation.”

“do you know who leaked the blueprint? what about the original creator?”

“we don’t know! everyone assumed that a rat had gotten in through some means and leaked it.”

“do you possess the blueprint of the windborne project?”

the man hesitated. he started taking sharp inhales and let out shaky exhales. hands started shaking in his restraints as sunday took a step forward and kneeled to the man’s level. golden eyes not once faltering.

“i will ask you again, do you possess the blueprint of the windborne project?”

“y-yes!” the man cried out. “it’s in my bag, you can have it, so please, spare me..”

you let go of elio gently and made your way to the stray bag in one of the corners. zipping it open you pull out a gray cylinder and wouldn’t you know, the words “windborne” were written in white marker. taking off the lid and sliding out the paper, you open it and let out a hum.

“continue with the interrogation,” you tell sunday, taking out a pen from your pocket and started writing on the blueprint. circling and crossing out words like the materials needed, the measurements and instructions on how its supposed to be used.

“where can we find the holo-wings?” you felt sunday’s eyes flicker over to you but you pay it no mind.

“the tech labs in arcadia research department. they’ve been manufacturing them in secret and selling them in the underground markets.”

you hum and write more stuff down. “ask him about the nano-actuators.”

“and what about the nano-actuators? where can we get them?”

“cybernetic shops. their found all across the capital.”

“cybernetic shops…” you mutter after circling another portion of the words on the blueprint. after a few more notes, you roll up the blueprint and put it back in its cylinder. “you can let him go now, we’re done here.”

sunday stood up and dusted his pants, letting go of the man from his trance. a shiver went up your spine when he looked at you, the remnants of the order’s power swimming in them before they all vanished when he blinked. you follow his gaze towards the cylinder in your hand but made no move to question it.

“i told you everything i know, so please let me go…!” the man cried out with tears in his eyes.

“not yet,” you reply with a monotone voice. “my other friends still want something from you.”

his eyes widened and continued to thrash in his restraints. you only shake your head and pull out your phone to text silver wolf and blade for any updates. “are you really a nameless?” the man beside asked with so much gentleness. your initial frustration washed away completely you began to wonder if he was using his powers on you. but when you looked at his eyes, you saw nothing but sincere concern.

“was, sunday.” you look away from him and look over to the horizon, the sun is rising.

“is it connected to the explosion the man said?” he asks, voice laced with concern and curiosity.

you press your lips together, looking down at the cylinder container in your hands. “it’s all in the past now. irrelevant pieces of information.” elio meows at you both and starts walking to where the stairs are. “this is a story better left unfinished, sunday. so please don’t try to see how it ends.”

the trip back home was quiet and awkward. you sat in the passenger seat this time while silver wolf and sunday sat in the back. every so often, sunday’s eyes would flick over to you. silently looking out the window, the cylinder in your lap as you drummed a beat on it to try and distract yourself from the fatigue of last night’s mission.

an elbow to his side made him wince slightly. he turned to glare at the girl beside him who showed her phone. sunday squinted his eyes in confusion when he read the message silver wolf sent to him.

favorite?

“we’re here.” blade’s voice cut through the quiet and still atmosphere. both sunday and silver wolf looked up from their phones just in time to see you leave the car with elio in tow.

when everyone entered the building, you put the cylinder on one of the couches and greet firefly and kafka in the kitchen. briefly excusing yourself from the two and following elio down a corridor he’s never gone through before.

sunday’s eyes never once left your figure even after you disappeared into a room with destiny’s slave. mind swimming with more questions about your past and yourself in general. he pondered on what silver wolf meant when you were elio’s favorite. not to mention the sudden info dump on you being an old nameless from the astral express.

who exactly are you, [name]?

#—stellaronhvnters.#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail headcanons #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail sunday #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #hsr headcanons #hsr x you #hsr sunday #sunday x you #sunday imagines #sunday x reader #sunday headcanons #( 🂡 ) – royal flush of stories .ᐟ

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thatlittlered · 7 months ago

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florida!!! | aaron hotchner

warning(s): this will be a slow burn, but have faith

GIF by @katebeckets

author's note: A Hotch fic in 2024? It's more likely than you think. Part two coming tomorrow. Find me @MadeofLilies in Ao3!

-.-.-

It’s a two-hour flight from Quantico to Tampa, but the team’s already been up the day before for this case. There’s very little left in all of you to give right now so you’re mostly going through the files again or, more likely, staring blankly at the papers – sleeping with your eyes open. Rossi succumbs to the sweet call of rest first and he will most certainly be mocked for it tomorrow.

Reid is sat behind you and you can feel his frequent jolts. He’s coming in and out of sleep, always fighting it. Hotch is across from you and as always, an unwavering force. He is reading files and keeping notes without a single complaint. Not a single sign of discomfort or an urge to slow down.

You’d think he was a statue, but his humanity prevails through the peaks of facial hair just now growing in, the skin that sinks under his eyes and the softness of his breathing.

You’re no longer too aware of your surroundings, but from the corner of your eye, you see him squirm uncomfortably and glance at you before returning to his notes.

Then-

“You smell very good.”

“Oh, uh, it’s my body lotion, I think. Violet.”

He nods as if taking in the information that he can’t really use.

What exactly was the purpose of that statement? The thought of a scent emitting from the warmth of your body does something to him.

“I’m sorry, that was probably a weird thing to say.”

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t.” He nods again and silence ensues. “Maybe a little? I also feel weird complimenting people on their perfumes, it makes me feel like Buffalo Bill. It rubs the lotion on its skin.”

He laughs and his head drops downward. Full-hearted laughs from Hotch are a rare phenomenon and eliciting one is always a thrilling accomplishment.

“It’s a nice scent, let’s just leave it at that.”

“Let’s.”

-.-.-

Six hours of sleep in the hotel go by in a moment and do little to alleviate the headache that’s been building up. Tylenol it is.

Emily offers you a sympathetic smile when you meet her at the car and pats your back lovingly. You know she is just as tired.

“One of these days they’re going to stop working for me and then I’m really screwed.”

“You’re like a pretty house plant. You thrive only under very specific conditions.”

“That’s right. I only need a full eight hours of sleep, seventy-five-to-eighty-degree weather and a full stomach to not feel sick, I’m honestly very low maintenance.”

She laughs and hands you a coffee.

“I know, honey. I vow to maintain you to the best of my abilities.”

Hotch is listening from inside the car and he’s almost jealous at the comfortable banter. Chat always feels forced to him in one way or another, especially with you. It’s complicated.

You seat behind him and he looks at you through the rear mirror.

“Good morning, Hotch.”

Never boss. Never Agent. You called him Aaron once a very long time ago and he’s clung to it. He can hear it now if he tries.

He makes an effort to be warm to you and there’s a hint of a polite smile.

“Good morning.”

Emily and Spencer join you and after a quick check-in with the rest of the team in the other car, you’re ready to go.

Tampa is hot. And swampy. It was comfortable enough in the beginning when the sun was only coming out but you can’t escape its angry glare anywhere now. Your clothes are starting to cling to you and the Tylenol hasn’t worked.

Aaron notices your discomfort when you sneak away from the rest of the team and head back to the car for some shade. It’s been a long couple of hours driving around and looking at the perp’s dump sites.

“Are you okay?”

You look up and see him lean against the open car door. Brows furrowed, eyes on you. You’re always a little uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just needed a break.”

He’s not too convinced. “Is it the headache?”

“Yeah… I left my sunglasses back at the hotel and that doesn’t help much either.” You take a sip of water just in case it helps. “Who even has the energy to go around and murder people in Florida? I can barely move my arms up and down without wanting to die.”

He laughs again. You’re really getting good at this.

“That’s some fine profiling there, agent. It makes sense to assume the perp is a local.”

You squint your eyes to look at him through all the glaring sunlight and he’s smirking.

“Was that a joke from THE Agent Hotchner? Be still my beating heart.”

You smile at each other for just a second before the sun once again becomes unbearable. Your eyes close on instinct.

“Just give me a second and I’ll be back on my feet.”

“Of course, take your time.”

Next thing you know, you feel a gentle touch at the sides of your face, something being placed on the bridge of your nose. When you open your eyes again, Hotch is covered by a thin veil of black that gives you immense relief.

“Oh, Hotch, it’s not necessary.”

“It’s alright, you need them more. Keep them.”

“Thank you so much.”

He nods, now back to his regular self and walks away when he sees you’re looking better.

You follow close behind him and watch as he joins the group to comment on something Spencer said. Emily leans discreetly toward you, “Are those Hotch’s sunglasses?”

-.-.-

The air-conditioned hotel room is a lovely change of scenery by the end of it all. This time you can really take it all in, you’re not in a rush to go anywhere. A hot shower, clean linen and the scent of pine room spray in the air.

Pine might be an odd choice for a Floridian beach resort, but alright.

You’re drying your hair when someone knocks on your door, which surprises you. The usual routine for everyone in the team is a shower to wash out the filth that you witness and passing out in the queen-sized beds. You assumed they were doing the latter.

“Hi.”

Aaron Hotchner in a t-shirt is definitely something. Seeing him like this, you almost feel like you’re violating him even though he’s the one knocking on your hotel door at half past two in the morning.

“Hi, is there something wrong?”

His brows furrow. He looks anxious.

“Did I wake you up?”

“No, I just got out of the shower, was about to dry my hair and go to bed.” His gaze falls on the water stains forming on your shirt, your hair loose. It looks so soft. “Did you need something?”

“Uh, sort of. The Wi-Fi in my room isn’t working and I have to send in my report before we fly back tomorrow. I tried the reception but they can’t really do anything about it right now.”

“Oh! Of course, you can work from here if you want.”

“Are you sure it wouldn’t be a bother-”

“Hotch, get in here, of course it wouldn’t be a bother. You’re quite literally the most discreet the person in the world.”

He smiles at the praise. It’s a boyish sort of joy to know that you think so highly of him.

“Let me just grab my laptop.”

You watch as he briefly disappears in his room right across from yours and reappears with his laptop and a case file in hand. He stands awkwardly before you, waiting for you to invite him in again and you laugh at his insane need to always be so careful with his movements.

You step back and he understands, joining you inside the room.

“Give me a second to clear my things off the bed and you can get to work, okay?”

“I can just take the chair, it’s no big deal.”

“That’s actually even harder for me right now because all my clothes are on that chair. You can absolutely sit on the bed as long it’s not with outside clothes, because yuck.”

You both laugh and you think it’s because of your hyperbole but he’s laughing at the way your nose scrunches when you say it.

“I never wear my outside clothes to bed.”

“Of course you don’t.”

You make space for him in your bed that smells like laundry softener and you from the night before. It’s your body lotion. Violet.

He can’t help but think it’s a nice place to be.

“I’m just going to blow-dry my hair in the bathroom, hopefully that won’t make too much noise at this hour. Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Sure.”

You don’t think you’ve ever made this much eye contact with Hotch in a single day but tonight, he’s insistent on looking right in your eyes with every word he speaks. It’s odd, but not uncomfortable. You could certainly get used to it.

You only get a solid minute and a half of blow drying before you decide you can’t be certain that the walls prevent the sound from reaching other rooms. It’s a cruel thing to do at this hour, even though the only other person you know on this floor is your boss that’s currently sitting on your bed like a teenager doing homework.

“I’m done.”

He looks at you star-struck, something about the familiarity of this moment really getting to him. The two of you have never been like this before and he’s always felt a certain amount of regret over not being as close with you as the other members of the team have managed. That’s the curse of being a stone, he supposes. People will eventually treat you like one.

“I won’t take long; I just need to finish up the rest and send it.”

“Don’t worry, you can stay as much as you need.”

He glances at the bottle of melatonin on the nightstand.

“How come you’re not already dozing off?”

“I just wanted to relax a little before I did. Felt disgusting after today.”

He hums. Was it the heat? Was it the humidity? Was it the empty look inside the perp’s eyes when he was finally caught? Like there was no humanity there, nothing to see but cruelty. He won’t ask.

“Do you have trouble falling asleep?”

You also glance at the bottle, then at him. “Are you profiling me, Agent Hotchner?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be inquisitive. I just thought you could fall asleep everywhere. Several long hours in the jet have proved so, at least.”

His attempt to lighten up the mood works and he’s thankful.

“I can, I just have trouble staying asleep once I do. Especially with all the changes in time zone; it really messes with me.”

He smiles at you so warmly. This is Aaron. Not Agent Hotchner, not even Hotch, just Aaron sitting on your hotel bed with his knee bumping into yours. “Like a pretty house plant.”

You smile back and try not to think too hard about the repercussions of him calling you pretty, even though he’s technically repeating another person’s words.

“Do you have trouble falling asleep?”

“I do sometimes… it can be tough.”

Aaron’s brown eyes are so soft under the dimmed lights.

“It really can be.”

The spell of eye contact breaks before it becomes too intense.

“Do you mind if I also sit here until you finish?”

His hand twitches at his side, begging to touch; to reassure you.

“Of course not. It’s your bed.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You couldn’t.”

You watch some TV while he works away, often stealing glances at the way his hands move over the keyboard. They’re very nice to look at; all veins and rough skin. They suddenly stop and shut the laptop.

“I’m finished, so I can finally leave you to your rest. I’m really sorry for the intrusion.”

You sit up from your cozy spot, alarmed at the thought of his departure when you’re finally getting used to his presence here.

“I told you, there was no intrusion. I’m glad I was able to help.”

He smiles at you again, this time a little more reserved. It’s as if the bubble of intimacy has burst and now it’s all awkward again.

“I should leave so you can get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” You watch as he gets up and moves toward the door, “Although…”

The suggestion of something else following stops in him in his tracks.

“I don’t think I’m in the mood to sleep right now and I’d really just like some coffee.”

He moves again, turning to face you completely. Eye contact, again.

“I could actually go for some coffee. Breakfast doesn’t start being served for a few more hours though.”

You sigh, maybe it’s the sleep deprivation but it feels like neither of you wants to let go.

“Maybe we could head out? See if there’s any place open in the neighborhood?”

You watch as he glances at the door, then back at you. “Yeah. Yes, let’s do that.”

“Meet you in the hallway in five?”

“I’ll be there.”

-.-.-

The hotel is fairly close to the airport and you guess East Tampa is not the place to be for nightlife. The streets are empty save for the occasional passing car.

“Should we take the car?”

“We could do that, or…”

“Or?”

“We could explore the East Tampa wilderness by foot. I hear they recently got rid of the alligators.”

He laughs, “Will you ever tire of the Florida jokes?”

“Not ever, no.”

“Good, I like hearing them.”

East Tampa is more walkable than you expected.

“See, they even have tiny slivers of sidewalk! We might as well be in Paris.”

“Magical.” he hums, walking slightly behind you so you don’t bump into each other.

God forbid you cross that boundary while wandering around a foreign city with your coworker, alone, when it’s almost four am and you’re both wearing pajamas outside. God forbid.

You can feel him leading you through the streets despite being right behind you and neither of you really knowing where you’re heading. He guides you through his sturdy footsteps, the quiet breathing that finds and leaves your ear again with every step.

“We can try turning left here.”

You would trust him anywhere.

The moment you make the turn and make room for him beside you, a car practically zooms by. It makes you dizzy when he holds on to you immediately, pulling you toward him until you’re sure you’ve stepped all over his shoes. He looks so angry when you turn to him and for a moment, you think it might be at you.

“Going 50 in a 25? That guy’s going to get someone killed.”

“Yeah, I underestimated the traffic.”

“Are you okay?

“Sure, I am, it was just fast.”

“Take the sidewalk, I’ll walk on this side, alright?”

You don’t argue with him, there is no point.

“Thank you.”

At the end of the street, you can make out the joyous neon sign of a 7-Eleven.

“Ah! We’ve reached civilization!”

“Can you really call 7-Eleven that?”

“Barely.”

-.-.-

The coffee is so deliciously warm and even though the weather doesn’t call for it, it brings you comfort.

An employee is eyeing you suspiciously from the window while you seat on the pavement outside and you don’t know why. Your clothes are sleepwear, sure, but you’ve seen at least five people in the city strut around in nothing but jean shorts and flip-flops so is there really room for judgement here?

Aaron discreetly scoots closer to you as if to be heard better but the street’s already incredibly quiet.

“This was a great idea, actually.”

You smile at him and keep sipping your coffee.

“We can go back to the hotel now if you want.”

“Are you tired?”

“No,” you see him tilt his head in doubt and you think the bags under your eyes might have reached your chin by now, “I mean, my body is, but my mind is right here with you.”

He smiles back at you in such a sweet way, it reaches his eyes.

“I don’t want to then.”

If you do, you have to go back to separate rooms and miss this opportunity for one perfect sunrise.

You move closer to him and he thinks you might tell him a secret, “Should we keep walking?”

“Walk toward where?”

Your shoulders relax.

“Do you have your map with you? We can walk until we reach the beach.”

His smile doesn’t falter a bit, “I think the nearest beach is like, an hour from here on foot.”

“That’s a lot. We can walk until we don’t feel like walking anymore then.”

“Another good idea.”

“I know you live in constant admiration of me but all this praise might just get to my head.”

He gets up first and puts out his hand for you to grab, “Oh, has it not already?”

When you take him up on his offer, his grasp is incredibly strong, yet tender. He pulls you up like it’s nothing but he’s careful not to hurt you in the process.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, drinks in the casual banter like the two of you might never speak again.

Your other hand is holding your coffee and you instinctively touch your forehead to his shoulder in protest for just a second, “I am a very down-to-earth person.”

The bare skin under his sleeve grows warm where you touched it.

“The most.”

He, still, doesn’t let go of your hand.

“How cruel of you to mock me when I’m dressed like this and haven’t slept.”

He laughs.

“I’m sure you mock me all the time with the team when I’m not listening.”

His tone hasn’t changed to indicate if he’s serious or not, but you feel very uncomfortable at the thought of him assuming that you and the squad might speak ill of him.

“I would never mock you, Hotch. I know we all poke fun at each other, but I admire you. Deeply.”

“I admire you too. Deeply.”

You walk side by side and your hand rests loosely clasped in his. He tells himself it’s to keep you safe and you let him guide you everywhere; anywhere. Nothing but trust there.

After a while, he stops and looks at you.

“I do really want to go to the beach.”

You laugh because the notion of Aaron Hotchner really wanting to do something seems so alien.

So far, you’ve assumed he’s just going along for the ride.

“I guess we could look for a cab?”

-.-.-

It’s almost dawn and there is no one here you can see. Just soft sand that will most definitely get everywhere inside your clothes and the sound of waves crashing softly when they reach the shore.

You’re looking at them, he’s looking at you.

The two of you sit closer now than ever before.

“It’s going to officially be morning soon.”

He instinctively turns to his wrist but his watch is back at the hotel discarded somewhere, so you reach for your phone and show him the time. It almost ruins the illusion of no time existing around you, but he won’t allow it. He will bend it to his will as he does with all else, just to stay here.

“We don’t have to be back until nine.”

The realization that he also doesn’t wish to leave makes you smile. That’s barely enough time to get properly dressed when you’re back at the hotel and then drive to the airport. It’s so unlike him.

‘I haven’t been at the beach in so long.”

You can picture him now, turning bright red under the sun and playing around with Jack.

“Do you not go with Jack?”

His lips pull downward and you immediately regret asking.

“We haven’t taken a vacation in so long.”

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t want to-”

“Don’t worry, you didn’t say anything wrong. We probably should take one soon.”

Your hand touches his, just a tiny bit, pinkies finding each other.

“You should take him to the beach.”

“Perhaps we’ll take you too.”

“Oh, I don’t know if my boss will allow that. I am indispensable to the team.”

“I’m sure we can work something out.”

You laugh and lie backwards when your back has finally had enough of all the crouching.

“That was actually my plan all along. I lured you here to get more vacation days.”

He watches you from above, entranced by the image of you splayed out on the sand. Your hair forms a halo around you and the sand seems golden when the first rays of sunlight finally find it. Your eyes do too, “I should have known.”

It feels awkward, sitting when you’re lying down, so he succumbs to the sand at last. You beam at him when he does, relishing in the way he’s come undone before you. You can really look at each other now, there’s no more pretending that the sea has your full attention. Shades of pink and orange in the sky, sea foam landing near your feet, but this is really all there is.

“Do you ever think of quitting the job?”

This really messes with him all of the sudden. You can see the change in the way his body tenses.

“Do you?”

“I asked first.”

He releases a deep breath and you can almost feel warm on your face, “Sometimes, but it’s the only thing I’m good at. I wouldn’t know what else to do.”

“That’s not true. You’re good at many things.”

He avoids your gaze and you know you’ve really struck a nerve here.

“Not good enough.”

“Now, that’s really not true. You’re brilliant at everything you do.”

He sits up, suddenly very aware of his vulnerability.

“Or I just give everything I have to this job and my bare minimum to everything else. Even Jack.”

“That’s not fair, Aaron. You’re a very good father to Jack and I know just how much he looks up at you. Even if it’s the bare minimum sometimes, your bare minimum is a lot more than other people can give at their best. It’s just hard to keep a balance.”

He feels your hand touch his back gently, asking for permission. The way he relaxes under your touch grants it and you move your thumb in circles as a soft caress. He turns to face you.

“Are you thinking of leaving?”

Your hand drops, shocked at the sudden change in his tone. He seems so full of emotion like this; all layers peeled away before you.

“Not decisively. They’re just thoughts,” Aaron seems unconvinced by your answer and your gaze falls downward in an attempt to escape the scrutiny, “I just don’t know if this is something I can do forever, so from time to time, I think about what else there might be out there. Maybe going private, opening up an office.”

“You want to be a therapist?”

“I am licensed.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Maybe. It definitely seems… easier.”

He doesn’t really know what to say. He knows it would be good for you, he knows this job will eat away at you until there’s very little left there. It’s what it did to him, but the thought of it happening to you seems much more unbearable.

“The team would miss you,” is such a typically professional thing of him to say, so the rest surprises you, “I would miss you.”

“I would miss you too.”

Tenderness, again. Now that he’s started, he doesn’t think he can stop.

“This has been one of the best days I’ve had in a while. I mean, being with Jack always makes me feel much better, but this… being like this with an adult-with you, it’s really nice.”

You smile and adjust your body to be closer to him.

“Really nice.”

From the corner of your eye, you can make out a convenience store in the distance that’s just now opening up.

“Would you allow me to treat you to some ice cream before we go?��

He stands up first, offering you his hand like before.

“I think you know me well enough to know that I won’t,” he stands up first and offers you his hand like before, “I am definitely buying.”

“Worth a try.”

There is sand all over his hair and shoulders. Being this relaxed, it suits him incredibly.

“Can I?”

He leans down and toward you, surrendering to the freedom of your touch when you pat off what sand you can see on him. All these hours of crossing boundaries and you’re still not entirely sure how you’ve gotten so comfortable with him, but he melts every time you touch him, as if experiencing gentleness for the very first time.

Might as well be the first time, he figures.

“You have some too in your hair.”

You turn around and he almost envelops you, although he’s hesitant in the beginning. Both his hands entangle themselves in your hair, those lovely hands, and softly separate and pat where needed. You always knew he hid softness underneath, just didn’t know it was there for you to enjoy.

You get your ice cream, gag when you taste just how much lemon zest they have put in the vanilla and he offers to exchange with his chocolate. Says he does it with Jack all the time and you gasp at the connotation.

“It is absolutely not childish to not like citrus fruits secretly involved in every dessert.”

He hums and smiles at you, bites and licks right where your own mouth was a moment ago. It puts thoughts in both of your heads.

You walk the entire way back and your feet definitely feel it, but you’re too focused on the feeling of impending separation. You will see each other again in half an hour but it just won’t be the same.

It might never be the same.

When you’re finally ready to part from each other in the hallway, he thinks about kissing you. Thinks you would taste like chocolate and waffle on his mouth, thinks a lot about the tiny bit of violet body lotion left on your neck that he can smell from this distance.

Would it really change that much? Is that the final line to cross after tonight?

He doesn’t have any answers, so he doesn’t.

“I’ll see you in a bit.”

“See you in a bit, Aaron.”

He’s going to cling on your use of his first name for a while, although when you’re back in the jet, it’s as if nothing happened. Now clad in his usual attire, he’s regular Hotch; prim and proper, sat upright with crossed arms in his seat in the only way he knows how to rest in front of others.

Yet, you know. You see Aaron in the gentle shutting of his eyes, the tiny remnants of sand in his hair.

Something has changed.

part two

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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