#for those three years you just know they were the most loving parents a kid who doesn't know himself could have

[treefey]

I like this! But! I wish they had just made it explicitly Eowyn narrating rather than Miranda Otto doing her best Galadriel. I didn't really like the narration except for the prologue and epilogue parts (sorry). I also hate that they open with the Rings theme-- we'll get to my imaginary better alternative later

If they were gonna reference LOTR, I think a frame story where explicitly Eowyn is telling the WOTR story would be perf. She's telling the story to her kids, maybe they're sick à la Princess Bride. Which would also be perfect because she's a healer. We don't even need visuals; honestly it would probably be great without it because the audience could feel like we're the kids. And who doesn't want to feel like you're in a boring post-war Gondor with the best parents tucking you in and telling you a very bloody bedtime story? Also it would shut up the conspiracy theorists who think media is pushing women to not want kids, not that we need to bend to those people

I love the opening over the map, so open over a map of Gondor with the Gondor theme. And then have Eowyn talk about how she is gonna tell a story of her people, maybe that she knows we want to hear about the war of the ring, or Merry & Pippin's homeland, or one of their dad's ranger adventures, but instead she's gonna tell us a little known tale of the Rohirrim, a tale of adventure and loss and the human spirit. A time when the shieldmaidens' banner hung proudly in Meduseld. Then pan over to Rohan and say the story takes place during the first line of Rohan, x years before Theoden reigned. Idk, maybe it's cheesy, but the right lines could make it soo cozy and focus the story a little bit more.

Maybe there's kids in the voiceover, maybe not. Depends on just how much cheese we want. And how much you think the audience would believe that we could have a very maternal storyteller who is also so unfazed by blood she'd tell her kids this story. (I mean, she probably has had her hands up to her elbows inside people when there's a farm injury or a breech baby, so I'm not surprised we get a bit more gore than LOTR)

There's other things I would do to focus the story around the war more, give it more a three-act structure. But specifically in regards to doing a frame story rather than regular narration, I wouldn't do any more Eowyn voiceovers until the end. Or if we did wanna do the whole Princess Bride version, have a kid ask why Gondor didn't help out and have her or Faramir answer what was going on in Gondor at that time (would be funny if Faramir started answering and Eowyn interrupts and says it's time for a Rohan story right now, and the two kingdoms weren't always as close as close as they are now, let's get back to the story). But back to the end, I like the "that's how the first line ended and second line started." We could add more, like the throne passed from uncle to nephew as it did later. And remember whenever you feel alone or scared, that not only does the blood of Helm Hammerhand flow in your veins, but also the blood of his daughter who protected her people by wit and by sword. And even though most accounts have forgotten her name, we're all still here because of Hera's bravery.

I'm obsessed, actually, like parts of the story that reflect Eowyn's (and Eomer's but mostly Eowyn's) story from LotR sort of in an "each stanza rhymes" kind of way until it occurs to you that Miranda Otto is narrating with this sort of implication that it's Eowyn herself telling the story and reading it through her own experiences plus the fact that it's mostly a behind the scenes sort of story and all the great deeds were attributed to other people (Hera isn't even named in the appendices) alongside the explicit statement that Hera isn't remembered in any of the songs, making this something Eowyn either heard passed down in a non-traditional way, reconstructed from historical evidence she found herself, or possibly learned about from Gandalf, which loops back around into Eowyn's own complex with regards of all the great deeds being done by the men and not remembered for great deeds in songs -- and like okay maybe I'm reading too much into it but I'm obsessed okay

[girl-drink-drunk]

they had to time skip in episode six because then we would've seen rebecca and jeff kaplan be better parents than wanda ever was or pretended to be

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm XI

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: An old face watches a match

She wasn't as young as she once was.

Teaching hadn't originally been her first choice as a job but after finishing school and spending a few years bored senseless as a receptionist, at age twenty-five, she'd made the change to teaching children in their first year of school.

Now, twenty-five years later, she was getting older and her students seemed to be just as wild and excitable as they always had been.

This school trip hadn't exactly been planned by the school, not fully anyway but a generous donation from who knows where had her and a few other teachers taking a three classes of wiggling and excited five year olds to a home match for the Barcelona women's team.

"Let's get to our seats now," She says, trying to get everyone in her class seated and happy but it's like trying to fight a group of wet cats - a losing battle.

"Miss, he pushed me!"

"Miss, I want to sit with my friends!"

"Miss, I can't find my bracelet!"

"Miss, my Mami gave me spending money!"

"Miss!"

"Miss!"

"Miss!"

She sighs to herself, rattling off instructions in a way that only a practiced teacher could.

"Lucas, stop pushing people. We use our nice hands with people. Isabella, you can sit next to your friends if there's space. Ana, your bracelet got put into your bag. Pedro, spending money can be used at half time. Now, everyone needs to sit down or else they won't start the match!"

It takes a little while to get all the kids settled and she briefly thinks about how this would be a hell of a lot easier if the school had more people who could chaperone.

It's a fleeting thought because she knows she can't do anything about it now but still, it would be nice.

Nice like it is now to watch one of her old students walk out as one of the most well known footballers not only in Spain but the world as well.

Alexia Putellas, the captain of Barcelona, leads her team out - head held high and back straight. A far cry from the little girl that used to slump in her seat in class and cry when someone took her ball at breaktime.

There weren't many students that she remembered so well - a handful that have ended up in politics, one that somehow ended up at the UN and one whose arrest made national news.

But Alexia was one of the good ones, helpful and polite most of the time.

She can remember though, with startlingly clarity the second day of classes.

It had been her second day as a teacher ever and she'd been supervising the playground at lunch when Alexia had appeared and dragged her off.

She'd dragged her all the way to the slide where you'd been waiting.

"You have to marry us, Miss," Alexia had said, eyes wide and incredibly earnest," We want to get married."

"Er..."

"You have to, miss," You'd joined in," Because we're in love and my Papa always said that people in love get married."

She'd been speechless then but still done as you and Alexia said, a little charmed by those two little girls begging to be married under the slide.

Alexia was easy to follow now, her exploits known throughout the country on and off the pitch. You'd faded though and your old teacher wasn't quite sure where you'd ended up.

Likely something successful and important.

Even as a little girl, you'd had a good work ethic. Work before play, always, was something you'd abided by.

She could see you as something important now. Your parents were doctors, she's pretty sure, so maybe you followed in their footsteps.

It would suit you, she thinks as she watches Alexia slam the ball into the net for a third time today.

Barcelona wins.

But that's entirely to be expected.

What isn't expected though, is for the staff from the team to invite the classes down onto the pitch to meet the players.

"Carlos, don't run! Mia, don't yell over someone! Lucas, again! Stop pushing people! Everyone will get a turn!"

"Some things never change then."

She turns with a smile. "Alexia."

"Hi, Miss."

"You don't have to call me that anymore."

Alexia's brow wrinkles. "What else would I call you? You've always been my teacher."

"You're an adult now, Alexia. You don't have to call me that anymore if you don't want to."

"But I do. Is that alright?"

"That's okay. So long as you want to."

Alexia beams, the same big smile she had as a five year old when she would come to the desk with a picture she drew of herself in the Barcelona kit.

It's still strange to see that exact image in real life.

"I'd like to introduce you to one of my daughters. This is Maya."

"She's beautiful."

"Mi Amor is just changing our other daughter. They'll be out in a minute."

"It's nice to see that you're doing so well. A good job. A nice family."

"We have dogs too! And my wife's old cat! She built me a house, you know? My wife, that is. Not her cat."

It's nice to see that Alexia's word vomit from her childhood hadn't changed much either. She was so stoic and quiet most of the time but any topic that drew her interest could be (and would be) talked about for hours at a time.

"That's nice to hear, Alexia."

"And we bought a villa in Greece for our next holiday! And I bought her this nice matching bracelet and necklace set! But! You can't tell her because it's going to be a surprise!"

"A special occasion?"

Alexia looks affronted at the idea. "I don't need a special occasion to show my wife how much I love her! Just my love!" She turns, glancing over her shoulder and her whole face lights up. "Oh! Amor, you're back! Look, Miss Rivera is here!"

Miss Rivera looks over to the tunnel where you have emerged from, a babbling baby on your hip and a rock of a ring on your hand.

"Oh, hi, Miss!"

She sighs. "I told Alexia that you two don't need to call me that anymore."

You frown. "But you've always been our teacher. What else would we call you?"

"Miss, this is our new baby Elena." Alexia puffs out her chest proudly. "My wife gave birth to her. Doesn't she look good for giving birth a few months ago?"

You slap her on the shoulder before pressing a kiss to where you just slapped. "Don't listen to her, Miss. She'll take any excuse to talk about it."

Alexia nods solemnly. "It was very scary because there were complications but she's doing so well now. Both Elena and my wife. Right, Amor? She's a doctor, you know. Very successful."

Again, Alexia seems to preen like a peacock as if you being so successful and so smart brought her such pride.

"You've both been very successful," Miss Rivera says," I'm so proud. A long way from that marriage under the slide, huh?"

You grin, intertwining your fingers with Alexia's.

"But still married."

[millersfinest]

untethered | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 7.4k

series: chapter one (you’re here!), chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf (kind of), the millers, r is a writer, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, some physical violence, adopted kid trauma (shoutout to all the adopted kids!!), hella angst, repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut.

note: i have too much confidence writing for ellie. but here’s another series im starting because i realized the plot is too much for a single work on here, hence the 7 thousand words ijbol. hope you guys enjoyyy.

It was quieter upstate. Breathable and airy—you missed it more than anything. As much as you loved living in Manhattan, there was nothing like the countryside. Waking up to the sound of birds chirping and roosters crowing. Hearing the excited neighing from the horses you birthed and took care of. It was refreshing to be home again.

And, of course, you missed your parents.

They adopted you as a troubled child, and you’ve considered yourself lucky ever since. Babies and younger children were often the ones to be pulled from inconsistent foster homes, but they chose you. A pierced, attitude-ridden, thirteen-year-old who liked smoking cigarettes because they made you look cooler than you felt. And it helped you cope with the lasting effects of neglectful parents.

That trauma didn’t just disappear once Tommy and Maria entered your life. It was something that grew from nothing, and they were adamant in making your transition as comfortable as possible. You never experienced anything like it before them. Their strictness and structure did the opposite of what most would think. You went from sneaking out and smoking cigarettes to staying up late studying and finishing your favorite novels—still smoking cigarettes, though, but out your window. It was hard habit to break.

Once you realized that they could be trusted and had your best interest at heart, you gave them the right to parent you. Sure, it wasn’t easy. The three of you argued many, many times—but you respected them more than you have anyone else. Really, just for tolerating you.

The Miller’s were always very family oriented and social. Sunday nights always managed to be a grand event—Tommy grilling in the acred backyard, Maria handling the food items that could be cooked inside, and you diligently decorating and setting the table. Football Sundays were always the worst, but they were great memories to think about. That was the first time you met, basically, the love of your life at the time. Ellie Williams.

It was 1995 when you had completely fallen in love with her—only knowing her for around three years. Joel Miller wasn’t really her father, or adoptive father, he was just somebody who took care of her. He owned a guitar shop that sold, obviously, guitars and other instruments alike; as well as holding lessons for those wanted to learn how to play.

The story goes: Joel was working the register on a very slow day when Ellie showed up. There was a shiner on her eye, but she insisted that she was fine—asking for lessons with crumbled cash and dirty coins. She couldn’t afford the lessons on her own, so he gave her a job and proceeded with teaching her how to play.

She grew up similar to you; hidden under the confines of foster care. The only difference was, she was never adopted. At least not until the age of seventeen, when she’d spent so much time with Joel that she had a decorated bedroom in his house. They both had commitment issues, but after Tommy convinced him to do the paperwork… He did. Surprising her on her seventeenth birthday. However, the outcome didn’t really go to plan. Not how anyone would have expected it.

It was 1997 when she completely broke your heart… Not to be cheesy or anything.

Her seventeenth birthday was hosted at your house, on the farm. You knew her the most out of everyone, so you made it your mission to make this the best birthday ever. Decorating had become a hobby of yours after so many Sunday dinners—you spent all day stringing up lights and colorful streamers. Maria helping you out with a homemade cake that said: Happy Birthday Els! You were too anxious to write the words yourself, so you let her do it instead. You were even sure to invite the friends you shared; demanding they each brought presents to show how much they cared about her.

Joel had showed up before she did; just in time so they could all hide and jump out with big smiles on your faces when Ellie arrived. You would always remember the feeling of hearing the rumbling of her truck coming to a stop. And the shy smile on her face when everyone jumped out from behind furniture—blowing birthday kazoo’s. It was picturesque!

Dina had trotted over to her, snapping a blue paper cone birthday hat over her head. While you walked over with her birthday cake in your hands, brightened with seventeen candles. “Happy seventeenth, Ellie.” You had spoken, warmly. A bashful grin spreading onto your lips. She looked at you with such awe in that moment. Blowing out her candles and kissing your cheek, muttering a blushing ‘I fuckin’ love you’.

You knew about her surprise adoption papers before the party had started, excitement running through your veins when Joel meandered toward her—handing her an envelope of hope. Ellie took it, eyeing him, skeptically. “Open it!” You urged—that was your mistake.

Chortling, she broke open the envelope, not caring if it tore. When she pulled out the certificate, reading the words on the page, her entire face dropped. “Adoption papers?” Her eyes squinted in disgust, glaring at Joel. The smile fell from your face, lips parting in slight shock. Her olive eyes glanced around the room, seeing the fallen expressions clouding everyone’s features. Landing on your fallen face, briefly—a look exclaiming, ‘how could you’. Freckled cheeks heating up in embarrassment and… Anger. “Joel, what the fuck?” She blinked at him, shoving the papers into his chest, then storming out of the house. Hands ripping the hat from the top of head, throwing it to the ground. The screen door creaking obnoxiously as she exited. It all happened so fast.

He quickly followed her out, calling for her, desperately.

Awkwardly, you turned to the frozen people around you. “Anybody want cake? It’s german c— chocolate.” You stammered, trying to keep your composure. Looking to Maria and Tommy for some sort of consolation, you frowned, placing the cake on the counter before fleeing to the bathroom.

You clenched at the roots of your hair, pacing around the bathroom. You could hear remnants of a solo screaming match from outside the bathroom window, causing you to grit your teeth. The papers were supposed to be a good thing! Ellie had always been a hothead—easily agitated like a stray kitten is distress. There were even moments where the two of you went at it. Until one of you caved, begging for affection as an apology. Your nerves burned at the idea of her not liking the surprise—was that selfish?

Instead of remaining in the bathroom, you swung open the door with your eyes fixed on the front door. Hands clenched at your sides, you walked through the kitchen, where Tommy tried to liven up the mood by handing out pieces of cake.

He tried calling your name, but you brushed him off, pushing open the screen door with an attitude that could be felt with every step you took. The brisk autumn air hit your exposed skin, the long-sleeve striped shirt not doing much to keep you warm.

Striding around the side of the house, you seen Joel and Ellie having a stern conversation. But by the time your eyes landed on them, they were in a beat of silence. Joel shaking his head with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Ellie had her arms stubbornly crossed, frowning. When her eyes found yours, he turned around to leave. “She’s all yours…” He solemnly sighed, walking back into the house. The adoption papers crumbled up in his hands.

Biting your bottom lip, you approached her with your arms crossed for warmth. “What happened, Ellie?” Your voice dragged, tiredly. There was something always wrong with her. “We just wanted to do something nice for you… Why’d you have to go and ruin it—?”

“Oh, I’m the one who ruined it?” She scoffed, a sneer resting on her lips. “I’m not the one who brought the fucking adoption papers!” Ellie exclaimed, gesturing broadly with her hands. When she was up in arms, she always gesticulated more. “Did you have anything to do with this? Because if you did—“

You interrupted her with scrutinizing glare. “So, what if I did? I thought this would make you happy, Ellie… Don’t you understand?”

“You had me open that in front of everyone knowing what was inside— and you thought that’d make me happy?” Her lips arched in disgust. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all.” Her words were venomous, lips twitching in anger.

There was nobody who understood you more than Ellie, and vice versa. You just got each other because you came from similar backgrounds—that was your glue. You don’t know me at all. That was new.

With your eyes growing warm with tears, your tongue rolled in your mouth. “I spent all day setting this up… For you. Because I love you, Ellie. I don’t know you— that’s bullshit if I ever heard it.” Your voice cracked, but you refused to let a tear run down your cheek. This was no time for tears—if she could get angry, so could you.

“I’ve known you long enough to have some semblance of understanding on why you’re upset, right now— that’s for damn sure.” You paused, averting your eyes to concentrate on keeping your rising emotions at bay. She watched you, cheeks still red with anger. “I’m gonna give you ten minutes— ten, Ellie! If you don’t get your ass back in there in next ten fucking minutes…” You lick your lips, shaking your head. “We’re over. Done!”

Giving a final glare, you turned to head back inside. “I can’t keep dealing with this shit.” You mutter, under your breath.

“So that’s what it is… Dealing with me?” Ellie voiced, a sliver of disappointment slipping in her moment of anger.

Wiping your cheeks, you peered over your shoulder. “What?”

“You got this perfect little life… Huh?” She began, approaching you intimidatingly. “The loving parents, the farmhouse— you became the perfect daughter for them… Gets the grades, does everything she can to appease them. This fuckin’ fantasy world that you chose to live in all because you wanted someone to love you… Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Ellie…” You warned.

“Well, newsflash, little-miss-perfect— not everybody wants that! Not everybody wants to play pretend for the rest of their fucking life just to be—“

It happened before you could stop it, fists clenching at your sides as she bad mouthed you till oblivion. Your soft spot—and she knew all about that. Both of you grew up as kids who got into fights and disputes more times than anyone could count; you just decided to clean up your act. However, that troubled twelve to thirteen-year-old still resided inside of you. And, in that moment, she wasn’t your doting girlfriend—she was someone punching down on you.

Your knuckles collided with the side of her face, knocking into her cheek bone. Features scowling as if she were a stranger. Ellie stumbled, holding onto her face with surprised eyes. For a second the version of her you loved came through, but she quickly recovered. Her lips curling at the ends, taunting you. “I knew you still had it in you… You’re no better than me.”

There it was.

Not only was it the straw that broke the camels back—it was the truth. The ultimate truth. Behind all of your petty little arguments. Behind all her wild bursts of anger. She was jealous of you. Grunting behind your teeth, you charged at her. Taking the collar of her jacket as her back hit the gravelly ground. Straddling her, you didn’t hear the rushing feet hitting the porch. You could feel her hands settling loosely on your calves, only angering you more. “I did the fucking work— nobody else but me!” Tears poured down your cheeks. “I am better than you. Because I fucking try—“

Arms pulled you off her body, wrapping around your abdomen. It was Tommy, questioning you in your ear, but you weren’t listening. “Everything went to shit because of you! Remember that!” Dina and Jesse rushed to her side, but she only sat up watching you get pulled back inside. They glared at your forced retreat—they were always more friends with her than they were with you.

Tommy released you, with a disappointed sigh. Maria walking inside, shutting the door behind her, frowning. You heaved, looking at all the decorations that mocked you. Sparkling and shining against the dim lights in the room. The barely eaten cake sat on the counter in the kitchen making fun of you—it was all too much.

“What the hell has gotten into you, y/n?!” Maria pointedly, asked. Not really wanting a response.

“What’s gotten into me?! What’s gotten into her—!” You pointed to the door as if she replaced it.

The blond man leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, bending at his hips. “Well, I don’t think it matters what’s gotten into her if you put your hands on her, Bug.” Tommy spoke, evenly. He was always the calmer of the two. “Did you… Did you put your hands on her?”

Maria stood with her hands on her hips. “What did we say about fighting—? And you don’t hit your girlfriend— you don’t hit the people that you care about!” She scolded, pointing her finger. “We raised you better than that…”

Your lips quivered, guilt setting in. “I didn’t mean to hit her! She wanted— she wanted me to… I swear!”

He glanced at his wife. “She wanted you to hit her?” Tommy deadpanned, pressing his lips into a line.

They both looked at you with separate expressions. Maria clearly overwhelmed with disappointment and utter disbelief. The same look she gave you when she caught you smoking cigarettes at the barn when you were fourteen—when you told her you quit. Tommy had an expression of pity, like he often did. That same look he gave when you had a meltdown at school when you first moved in with them.

More tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Maria… Tommy… She pushed me. Why would she do that? Why would she—“ You began to ramble, knees growing weak. Your strict mother-figure rushed to your side, catching you before you fell. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to— she was just being so mean.”

Sinking to the floor with you, her hands caressed your hair. Maria looked to Tommy, mouthing for him to go check on Ellie.

Outside, Ellie was dismissing the weary questions from her friends. She’d never seen you act in such an unruly way. Every time she came over, there wasn’t a hair that was out of place on your head. She was always the one acting out, swearing like a sailor. Sure, she knew about your smoking habit, but that was nothing.

Your girlfriend was envious of how everything was panning out for you—college was around the corner. You had an acceptance letter from your dream school, and without a doubt, you were leaving for the city. Leaving her behind to rot in the country. It wasn’t fair!

That adoption letter felt like pity. She wasn’t a fan of that feeling either.

As a bruise formed on her cheek, guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. Ellie had every intention on seeing the side of you that everyone talked about with a past tense that indicated warning. She needed to prove to herself that you weren’t the perfect person she saw you to be—but all that was left behind was remorse and a sore cheek.

She watched as Joel and Tommy stepped aside to talk. Their eyes glancing back and forth between the door and Ellie, as she leaned against her rusted red truck.

“I can’t believe she would do something like that… On your birthday?” Dina shook her head, with her arms crossed.

“It’s not like her…” Jesse narrowed his eyes at the auburn-haired girl. “What’d you do?”

Dina smacked his chest. “Jessie! She’s literally the victim here— domestic abuse!”

He sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying what she did was right.” Jessie began. “I’m saying that I know Ellie Williams, and I know how she is— she’s a pusher.”

The bruised seventeen-year-old scoffed.

“Yeah, I said it.” He stood tall, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re a pusher. Hell, you’re a professional pusher— you push people for a fucking living.” Dina glared at him, threatening to hit him again. “I mean, there was that one time… When we went into the city for that comic convention, and you completely obliterated Joel for worrying about you—“

The dark-haired, freckled teenager pushed her boyfriend out of the way taking his place. “We don’t have to relive that…”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Look, I know this is my fault…”

“Ellie… You’re the one with the bruise forming on your face.” She reached up, rubbing her cheek. Her wincing under her touch.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing her red eyes. “Yeah, and if it weren’t for me— for what I said… I wouldn’t have this fuckin’ bruise.” Ellie peered at where Joel and Tommy were speaking. They were wrapping up, giving brotherly hugs. “I am a pusher… And now my girlfriend hates me.” She pouted, tears welling up in her eyes. The blond Miller waved a hand at her, giving a tight-lipped smile that screamed I’m sorry. “I gotta go…” She pulled her keys from her pocket, getting into her truck.

That was the last full conversation the two of you had. Horrible, but the last. Everything in between then and the present was short and empty. Light conversations that only strangers and acquaintances shared. Letters here and there. It was a dispute that was so nuanced, for the first year after that, Joel barely said a word to you. Which bled into his relationship with Tommy. Maria tried to play middleman, but it didn’t work.

Perhaps, that was the reason you kept your distance. You didn’t want to continue to be the wedge that formed between two brothers. While you loved your parents, they were only a phone-call away. And, in the meantime, you could focus on growing in your career. Focusing on your book writing, instead.

You just wanted to forget about what happened when you were an emotionally undeveloped seventeen-year-old, but every time you seen her face—you remembered. So, avoiding Ellie Williams was a mission within itself.

A mission you were hoping you weren’t going to have to endure this year.

“You know,” Tommy began, sipping his fresh coffee. “Joel’s coming down from Jersey for the week.”

As you looked through the fridge, you snapped your head in his direction. “Is he now…?” You slowly question. Letting the fridge door shut on its own. The blonde woman to his right, sitting at the island counter, chuckled. Flipping through the interior design magazine you brought for her.

“And he’s picking up Ellie from the city.”

“What!” You exclaim, rushing to the opposite side of the counter. Pulling the mug from his lips, a surprised squeak left your throat. “Uh, dad… You forgot to mention on the several phone calls that we had in that last month that Ellie moved to the city.”

Maria perked up, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’s been there for about a year now… Brooklyn, is it?” She looked to her husband for clarification. He nodded, peering up at you with a plain expression.

“A year?! And none of you told me?”

“Bug, you did say that you didn’t want us to bring her up anymore unless you asked.” Maria stood to her feet, meandering to the stove and oven. “But that does remind me… They should be here in a few hours. Wanna help with the brownies?” She preheated the oven, walking around you casually.

Your mouth fell open, glancing between the two of them. “Okay, so they get brownies, and I get the worst news of my life…” An apron with your nickname embroidered on the front, Bug, hung in your mother's hand as an offering. “Yes, I’ll help with the brownies— this is very cruel to your very successful daughter.”

Tommy waved his hand, dismissively. “C’mon, that incident happened years ago now. You’re twenty-five, I’m sure she’s gotten over it.”

Tying the string around your neck and back, you pressed your lips into a line. It wasn’t really about her—you weren’t over it. You still harbored the same guilt you felt when you settled in your room that night. A crazy mixture of resentment and remorse all rolled up into one feeling; as you settled in your reading nook, with your hand out the window holding a burning cigarette with your index and middle finger. “I’m sure she has…”

Eventually, you switched the conversation around while baking. Falling into fits of laughter from mentioning past stories of your teenagehood. Teaming up with Maria to make fun of Tommy and his aging—all of a sudden, he was beginning to have a knack for playing a checkers. Only old people enjoyed playing checkers. Then, the waiting began.

To busy yourself, you pulled out your computer and brought it to the porch. Even though, you were taking some time off at your publishing job; when it came to your book writing, you had an agent to keep flooding your inbox with emails. Telling you to do this and do that—it was obnoxious. But you did as she asked anyway.

Typing away, a puff of nicotine fled from your lips. Murmuring under your breath, the words that were populating on the screen. On your hip, your phone rang, causing you to throw your head back in slight agony. Something always interrupted you when you were flowing. Flipping open your phone, the decorative chain swinging around as you placed it against your ear. “Hello,” You spoke, stubbing out your cigarette.

It was your roommate and closest friend, Sierra, complaining about the neighbors. Her strong long island accent echoing through the phone. “Oh, my God— they’re so loud! You’d think gettin’ an apartment in a nicer building would thicken the walls.” She groaned on the other end. “Please, come back. At least to tell them to shut up, and then you could go back upstate.”

“Why don’t you… I don’t know…” You shut your laptop, replacing your butt with the boxy electronic. Strolling to the far end of the porch, leaning your arms against the bannister. “Tell them yourself?” An amused smile spread on your lips.

Sierra paused. “Because that’s your job. I’m the nice one, remember?”

“Okay, well I can’t leave. I just got here, and I’m not spending another grand on taxi fare.”

“I’ll spot you.” You could hear her smile on the end.

“Sierra, I’m not coming back until Saturday. So, your only options are to either bang on their door— telling them to shut the hell up— or you suffer listening to their relentless daytime sex.” As you spoke, a truck began rolling up the driveway. Identities unclear due to the intense window tint, but you knew exactly who it was. However, there were three heads in that truck.

She groaned on the other end of the line. “Ugh! I hate you—“

“You love me!” You grinned, but it dropped right off your face when the people exited the vehicle. From the driver's seat, it was Ellie; then, it was Joel who exited, seemingly in conversation. And, finally, a girl stepped out of the vehicle. Joel noticed you leaning against the bannister on the porch, waving his hand with a smile.

Your muscles reacted, waving a fleeting hand. “Maria, Tommy! They’re here!” You yell loud enough to be heard through the screen door. You were always insecure about calling them by their parental titles in front of people—let alone new people.

“You’re yelling in my ear, hon. If you gotta go just tell me.” Sierra complained.

“I gotta go.”

Before she could say her goodbyes, you shut your phone, sliding it into your back pocket. Your parents came out of the house in high spirits; Maria clapping her hands, excitedly, embracing Ellie. Tommy giving a firm bear hug to Joel, laughing heartily—at what? You were unsure.

Awkwardly, you stood there. Smiling with your hands held in front of your body as if you were presenting a project.

Joel looked to you, approaching you with open arms. “Look at you,” He began, wrapping his arms around you, warmly. “All grown up.” He pulled back to get a better look at you, nodding proudly.

“Yeah…” You tapped his shoulder. “You, too.” A chuckle fell from your lips.

Then, you looked to your right at the freckled girl with her arm around a feminine stranger. However, you couldn’t indentify her before you did Ellie. Her auburn hair was pulled into a low bun, with pieces framing her gentle features. Her round evergreen, tinted with slivers of brown, eyes. Freckles decorating her cheeks, bridge of her nose; the beauty mark under left eye—

“Hey,” Ellie drawled out the greeting, awkwardly. Leaning in for a hug that teetered back and forth until you reciprocated.

You kept that same plastered smile on your lips, wrapping your arm under hers. “Hey, Ellie.” Pulling back, you finally looked at the girl beside her. She had tattoos and piercings and looked so much cooler than you. “Who’s this?”

Her earthy eyes widened. “Oh, this is, uhm, my girlfriend, Cat.”

The only response you could give was a nod and a half-hearted wave. It was like a dramatic record scratch in your head. But your parents took over with the rest. Guiding everyone inside to the warmth. Tommy remained outside, giving you skeptical eyes. “Help me with the bags…”

“Honey, don’t be weird about this.” He spoke, as you followed him to the truck.

“I’m not being weird.” You whined, gravel crunching under your feet. “Seriously, what’s to be weird about?” Reaching into the open trunk, you pulled out luggage’s and duffle bags. This was a lot of stuff for a week stay—they brought more than you did.

He gruffly breathed, pulling up the handle of one of the suitcases. “You’re my daughter, I know you— just sayin’…”

“Oh, my God— please!” You complained, hooking the duffle over your shoulder, pulling one of the luggage’s. Leaving him to follow you toward the porch.

Dinner had come quicker than you had hoped. If anything, if you could magically skip over the thing, and still eat, that would’ve been perfect.

All six of you sat at the dining table, forks and knives scratching at ceramic plates. Tommy and Joel had gathered in the back, last minute to cook up some steaks. And, to busy yourself, you helped Maria with the sides while Ellie and Cat got situated in the guest house.

“So, y/n, how’s the book comin’ along?” Joel wondered, putting a cut piece of steak into his mouth.

You made a surprised sound as you chewed your food, rushing to swallow. “Shit, you’re writing a book?” Ellie questioned, leaning her elbows on the table.

Taking a sip of water, you decided to respond. “Yeah, I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes glanced at her, then moved on, quickly, to Joel’s. “It’s… Coming along.” A bashful laugh fell from your lips, as your hand reached for the glass of wine. It was barely touched, red hue swishing in the bulb of the glass as you took a sip. It’s fruity bitterness relishing over your tongue.

“What is it— like fiction or…?” Ellie pressed, genuinely.

“Non-fiction. A book of essay’s, really— written in different forms.” You nodded. “It sounds boring…”

Ellie shrugged, forking a piece of meat into her mouth. “Doesn’t sound boring to me.” She responded, with her mouth full.

“It’s the farthest from boring, honey.” Maria massaged your shoulder, sharing a small smile. You mirrored her in return, forking at the vegetables on your plate—perfectly steamed broccoli.

“How’s Brooklyn treating you?” You spoke up, raising your eyebrows.

Ellie lightly glared at Joel before answering, placing her utensils down. “It’s certainly treating me…” She muttered, rubbing her hands together, glancing at her girlfriend.

“It’s a great place for art, but just not Ellie’s art.” Cat chuckled, sipping from her wine glass.

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing.” You nod.

“I recall her using the words: too crowded.” Joel used air quotes to briefly describe the past conversation.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It makes me feel crowded— the city. When you say it like that, it makes me sound fucking stupid, Joel.”

“You did say crowded.”

“Well, I meant overwhelmed.”

You snickered at their bickering, leaning back in your chair. “Back to your art, I guess you’re experiencing the artistic equivalent to writers block?” Tommy inquired, still chewing on his steak, raising an eyebrow. The auburn-haired young woman nodded, chuckling to herself. “That’s why you’re stayin’ with us for a little while, huh?”

Another record scratch.

You blinked at you father, deepening your eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Joel had set his beer on the table, leaning forward. “Yeah, Ellie’s stayin’ with your parents for a little while to get her juices flowing, again.” He explained, pressing his lips into a soft smile. Ellie cringed at his use of the words juices, taking a sip of her beer.

Tommy and Maria told you nothing unless you asked for it for almost everything now—you at least deserved to know that Ellie was staying on the farm indefinitely. After all, when they’re dead and gone, it’ll be yours; so, they could’ve at least told you without you having to ask—that’s big!

“And, I’ll help out so I won’t be sleeping the day away— because I know that I will without a proper schedule.”

“I thought you guys didn’t need a farmhand.” You glanced at your parents, with your eyebrows still deepened with confusion.

Maria chuckled, standing to her feet. “We don’t need anything, but who could say no to a helping hand?” She grabs the empty basket of biscuits from the center of the table. “Anybody want more biscuits?”

“I would love some!” Cat spoke up, holding up a tattooed finger.

“Me too, honey.” Tommy also spoke.

A dry chortle left your lips, leaning against the back of the chair. “Are you staying on the farm, too?” You peered over at the stranger—the girlfriend, with a slight accusatory tone.

Her lips parted a few times before she responded. “Oh, no, I’m going back to Brooklyn. Not much of a country girl.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded, downing the rest of your wine. This week was going to be a doozy. When Maria came back to the table, you snatched a biscuit from the basket, biting into it. There was a perfect crispy layer on the outside, mixed with the perfect gooey, soft innards of the biscuit. “These are so good.” You muttered with your mouth full with its buttery goodness.

On your hip, your phone buzzed. Cursing under your breath, you plucked the cellphone from your belt, flicking it open. It was your agent calling you at eight o’clock at night. “Excuse me, I gotta take this.” You scooted the chair back, pressing the green button. “It’s late, Isa.” You started the call, stalking out of the room like the corporate woman you are. Taking the route up the stairs to your old bedroom.

“I need that new chapter by tomorrow morning— as in, 8am.” She scolded on the other line. “I’m personally reminding you. Since you couldn’t respond to my emails.”

You sighed, shutting your bedroom door behind you. “Isa, I’ve been traveling all day on public transport, and I’ve been trying to have family time— is that not what Thanksgiving is about?”

“You’re writer, hon. You have little bit of family time, then you hermit to finish your work— now, stop giving me grief. Time is of the essence.” Her smooth voice told, chuckling after her words. “I’ll be anticipating you’re new chapter tomorrow at eight! Have a great night.”

“Have a great night…”

Slapping your phone shut, you sighed, running your other hand over your face. Being a writer was relentless—just as relentless as you and your roommate’s neighbors. But, instead of lingering in frustration, you grabbed your heavy laptop and propped yourself on the cushion beside your window—your reading nook. Not forgetting to put a Sade tape inside of your stereo for some background music, before you began to diligently work.

You typed at your computer, rapid clicking sounds filling your ears. Although, it was no surprise that you worked your hardest after the sun set—it was like you had one too many espresso shots.

Every word was coming from the heart, and coincidentally enough, the guests at your home made it easier. This chapter was definitely reflecting the feelings you felt the day of Ellie’s seventeenth birthday. You used imagery and metaphors to describe that feeling of attack—being backed into a corner, having the worst part of yourself brought into the light. And, like most of your pieces, it was dredging it all back up again; the emotions.

That feeling of losing the only person that truly understood you.

Of course, you had a few relationships since then—a few, trying to chase that same feeling you felt when your hands touched. But there wasn’t anyone who could compare to her. How pathetic was it to still be harping on a highschool sweetheart?

Hours passed under the radar. Your parents being the mile marker in your work, knocking on the door to let you know everyone was heading to bed. Too busy with outlining new ideas, you barely spared them a glance, muttering a smooth goodnight.

It was about one in the morning by the time you finished the chapter. Still, it needed some tweaking, but it was good enough to send to your agent for the editor to look at.

Shutting your laptop, you finally took in your old bedroom. Various music artists slapped against your soft pink walls, attached with tape—some corners hanging off. Catwoman figurines lining the back of your large, white, wooden dresser; with comics stacked alongside them. Stacks of old books in the corner of your room, stacked from the floor to the middle of her wall. If you were to stumble into them, they’d experience one hell of a fall.

Suddenly, curiosity struck.

Hopping from the cushioned seat under your paneled window, you looked under your bed. Reaching for an old shoebox that was filled with many, many interesting things. You slid it from under the dusty bed frame, taking it back to that plushy seat you appreciated so dearly. Plucking the top off, you released a sigh. Immediately being hit with polaroids of yourself as a teenager—mostly standing beside, laughing with, and cuddling Ellie.

They were the photos you snatched from your wall after that fight. Oh, she looked the same. Still had that uncertainty in her earthy, olive eyes. You didn’t understand it then, and you most definitely didn’t understand it now. Ellie didn’t have to feel the uncertainty she was used to in foster care. She had people who believed in her—who will always believe in her.

Sifting through, your hands hovered over a letter she wrote. It was an apology letter sent around the time of her eighteenth birthday—almost a full year since the situation. The envelope was ripped open from the day you received it; stained with salty, heartbroken tears.

If only that day never happened…

A startling knock sounded at your window. It was no more than a pebble, which was confirmed when another launched within your sights. Scrunching up your eyebrows, you unlocked it, pulling it upwards. Once you peaked your head outside into the brisk, cool weather, a small smile spread onto your lips.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’ up there?” Ellie called from below. “I brought a little somethin’… Thought you could use a break from writing.” She waved a tightly rolled joint in her hands—which could only be seen if you squinted.

The corners of your lips spread wider, feeling horribly nostalgic. “You’re actually a little too late on that front. I finished a few minutes ago,” You pressed your lips into a line, continuing. “But I could never turn down smoke break. I’ll be down in a second.”

Dropping the letter, you scooted off the seat to grab your jacket. Stuffing your feet into the semi-stained Uggs you wore into the ground, before fleeing your bedroom. You didn’t feel the need to sneak down the stairs, but a part of you wanted to—to relieve that feeling of adrenaline you felt in your youth.

Ellie met you at the back door, holding open the creaking screen door as you exited. “I honestly wasn’t sure you still did this.” She chuckled, looking at the ground as you both began to walk away from the house. Putting some distance so the smell wouldn’t upset the elders in the home.

“What? Smoke weed?” You perked an eyebrow. “You think because I went all corporate, I stopped being down?”

“Actually… Yeah.” She responded, nervously snickering.

The two ofyou settled in front of this white-lined shed that was illuminated by the two warm, orange-toned lights on either side of the door. “Well, you’re kind of right…” You admitted, squinting your eyes, embarrassed. It’s hard being known for your adaptability. “I try to keep the pot smoking to a minimum. In the corporate world they test you for it.”

Ellie pulled the joint from behind her ear, placing it between her lips. She shook her head in response to your words. “Says the cigarette smoker…” She joked, eyeing you, teasingly. While she flicked her lighter to burn the tip.

“Hey, they don’t give a rats ass about nicotine— I need to make up for that loss somehow. I’m a writer for christ’s sake.”

When she finally gets it to catch the fire, she took two puffs before passing it to you between her index and thumb. “Where’s Cat?” You innocently questioned, taking a hit of the joint, then looking at it, before taking another hit.

Ellie became rigid, releasing an exasperated sigh from her lips. “The guesthouse, watchin’ some movie.”

You handed her the joint. “What, is she not down?” Mocking your previous words, with amused eyes. However, her demeanor had quickly shifted.

“She gets easily frustrated after traveling all day…” She shook her head in a dismissive way, like she didn’t want any further questions to asked.

“Hm… That’s relatable.”

Silence engulfed the both of you as you passed the blunt back and forth until it was nothing more than a roach. Hearing nothing but the distant wind chimes sounding off on the porch.

Before speaking, Ellie took a deep breath, glancing over at you as if she were nervous to make eye contact. “I hope me stayin’ here for a little bit doesn’t bother you too much.”

Her words were double-take worthy, you looked over at her with expressive eyes—widening, in surprise. “Bother me? Why would it bother me?” You leaned your shoulder on the shed, kicking one leg over the other.

“You didn’t seem like the biggest fan—“

“Ellie, I was surprised. That’s all.” You waved your hand, shaking your head. “I feel like they don’t tell me shit anymore…” Shoulders shrugging, you glance toward the house standing tall in all its glory. “They didn’t tell me about you moving to Brooklyn, either. What does it look like when someone you’ve known your whole life moves to a city you’re actually familiar with and they’re not, and you don’t reach out to help them? I’m only a forty minute train ride away.” You rambled, deepening your eyebrows. “They basically made me look like an asshole.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d react if you knew about Ellie’s moving to the big city. Knowing your habits, you’d probably sit by the phone for hours before making the move to give her a call. But, it’s not like you were given the opportunity to figure it out for yourself. Now, it just appeared that you forgot about her—or could care less about her endeavors; which is farthest from the truth.

Her full lips cracked into a smile, chuckling. The auburn-haired woman, mirrored your position, leaning her shoulder against the wooden shed. “Always worried about what you look like…” She muttered, sucking her teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re an asshole— you just didn’t know.” Ellie shrugged. “It’s not like we talk as much as we used to…”

As much as we used to. That kind of stung.

Your eyes averted to the gravel under your boots. “Yeah…” There was an awkward beat that took its place between you. Swallowing, you shooed it away with speaking up. “What about your art? You’re living in one of the most creative cities in the world, and you can’t create?”

She puffed air from her lips, glancing in the direction of the guesthouse, priming her lips. “Okay… Confession— but only if what’s said here stays here.”

“What’s said at the shed, stays at the shed.” You affirm, holding a hand and crossing to fingers. The high from what you smoked clouding your mind, squinting your eyes and loosening your inhibitions.

“Cat and I moved in together pretty early— too early… I needed a roommate and she was the perfect option.” Ellie began, carefully. Olive eyes shifting under the dim light in thought. “I swear ever since I moved in with her… The inspiration to make anything new is fucking gone.” She ran her hand over her hair, which was actually loose without a hair tie. Dusting over her shoulders, pieces pushed behind her ears. “She, you know, hovers a lot— in a sweet way, it’s just irritating because not even her pushing me can be inspiring.”

Your heart skipped a beat; it was hopeful—you really are an asshole! “Damn… So, it’s not the city that makes you feel crowded. It’s Cat.” You hum, nodding your head, taking in your assumption. “And… You think staying here will help? Doing boring farm work?” A chuckle falls from your lips, borderline nervous, borderline humored.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I spent a lot of time here growin’ up…” Ellie looked at you, knowingly. “It was never boring when we did it together.”

“That’s because we were doing it together. I’m not gonna be here while you’re shoveling horse shit.” You chortled, peering at her through hazy eyes. She giggled and it sounded like music to your ears. It’s been awhile since you heard her laugh from something you said. Weed always did have a way of bringing people together.

“Well, maybe before you go, you could help me out. Jog my memory.” Ellie offered, raising her eyebrows. “It’s either you or suffering through Tommy’s jokes for hours—“

“I don’t mind, but we might have to jog each others memory.”

“Hey, you can take the girl out the country, but not the country out the girl.” She shrugged. “I have faith in you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, a smile spread on your lips. “You’re still so corny.” Shaking your head, a laugh slips. Wrapping your arms around your body, you acknowledge the cool weather. It pricked at your exposed skin, and even through your jacket. “It’s getting late…”

She scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I appreciate the joint— I needed it.” You pushed off the shed wall, licking your lips. In preparation to meander back toward the house, you rocked on your feet. “There’s some left over biscuits on the counter…” You drawled, but it was all right because Ellie had filled in for you.

“I’m fucking starving.”

Then, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder back inside. Giggling at stupid jokes, surfing over any of the past debacles you had. Turns out reconvening with your childhood lover wasn’t so bad after all. For now, anyway.

[cupidkenji]

killshot, baby

Pairing: Aaron Hotch x Doctor!Fem!reader Cw: Fluff (for real this time), LONGING (this is literally 9k words of pure yearning idek how I did that), mentions of blood, Hotch gets shot, Jack being adorable, Jack gets injured too :(, no explicit age gap, this is just rlly cute idk it's sweet I love Hotch so much I need him Summary: When you get hired as the BAU's stand-by medic, the team leader ends up being the hardest part of your job. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby! She's always fat coded, but like usual she's not described here. Just know a chubby person was imagined when writing this <3 WC: 9k (Hotch is the love of my life I could go on about him forever) This is definitely not medically accurate, please just enjoy for the sake of the story. I LOVE HOTCH I WANNA SMOOCH HIM

As weird as it was, band aids were the thing you remembered most from your childhood. You grew up as a canvas for any sort of scrape, cut, or bruise. Any wound that made your parents feel mildly worried to utterly terrified were ones that decorated your body frequently. You never tried to assign any meaning to why you became a doctor, simply crediting it as your call to the profession - to people. If you had to, though, your consistently bruised adolescent body is the best root cause you could think of. It seemed only right that the kid who couldn’t keep her skin in tact would grow to love helping others. You liked to think that’s how you kept your head an average size. Your bosses and co-workers had raved about your abilities no matter the job you took, and after a while you had to start prioritizing keeping your humility. You had started as just a kid with bruises. 

You tended to ground yourself with those same memories in times like this. For as long as you’d worked in the hospital, you held some disdain for agents. You saw many federal ones, being so close to the HQ for divisions like Behavioral Analysis, but some locals swung by too. You’d had far too many experiences of them being snappy, demanding, and usually inconsiderate to the team of people trying to save someone. You understood the individuals you were committed to helping often got there by doing monstrous things, but demanding to talk to someone when they were bleeding out and half-conscious always forced your tongue between your teeth in an effort to stay respectful. Especially now, pushing a stretcher with 3 other workers while trying to shake off the feds trailing after him. You recognized them, Agents Rossi and Hotchner, if you remembered correctly. 

“We’ll need to talk to him immediately.” The man - Rossi, you assumed, seeing as he was going gray and had less of a charge fueling his steps - spoke quickly as the two men followed your team.

“Be here when he’s out of surgery.” You didn’t bother to look back, trying to convey your annoyance and praying they got the hint. 

“He’s killed three women and has another one hostage. We don’t have time.” The other one piped up, easily keeping pace with you.

Abandoning your previous strategy, you let your team push the man into the operating room, shutting the door behind them and whipping around to face the duo. “I understand that, sir, believe me.” You were more elevated than you would have liked, years of unease unfortunately slipping through your efforts to withhold them. “But whatever happened when you found him left him barely breathing. You can’t speak to a corpse. You’ll have your time when he’s stable. Go do your job and let me do mine.” You tensed your calves planning to turn around, but quickly felt the guilt catch up to you. “I’ll call you if he wakes up.”

“If?” 

You sighed. You hated profilers. “I’ll call you.” 

“Call the headquarters.” He was scribbling down a number on the back of a hospital business card. “Ask for Agent Hotch. We’ll be waiting.” You nodded your head once, taking the card from his hands. He started walking away as he thanked you. “We appreciate it.” Sure.

–

The surgery to save the man had been a trip and half. One of the bullets had internally ricocheted, and the other two were lodged next to crucial arteries. You praised your mother for giving you steady hands as you inched them out of him. It took you and your team six hours and fifteen minutes to get his heartbeat steady, you estimated he’d be knocked out all night. You should call, you thought. You had no idea how late these people worked but they were more than likely expecting to talk tonight and you didn’t know if that’d be possible. You fished the card out of your pocket, his handwriting was impressively neat for how fast he’d written the number. You heard the line ring twice before someone picked up. 

“This is Penelope Garcia with the Behavioral Analysis Unit, who am I speaking to?”

“Uh- I’m Dr. L/n down at Quantico Med. I’m looking for Agent Hotch?” Your words tilted up at the end of your sentence. The casual nature of his shortened name left a weird feeling in your mouth after you said it. “I have an update on a patient he was asking after.”

“Is this about an unsub?” 

“A what?” She lacked professionalism. You wondered briefly if he had just given you the phone number of an employee.

“I’m sorry-” she laughed slightly. “Is this about a suspect? Hotch told me someone might be calling.”

“Um - yeah it’s about a suspect. He was brought in earlier. Is Agent Hotch there? I’m sorry ma’am but I've been in an operating room for the past 6 hours and I want to go home.” You hoped she’d respect your honesty, you really didn’t have the patience to explain yourself to someone new. 

She chuckled. “I got you honey, I’ll page you over.” The line went dead for a second before the ringing resumed. Please be quick, you prayed, get me out of this fucking hospital.

“Hotchner.” His voice was rougher over the phone. You guessed the long hours started to weigh on him by this time of night. You always felt it the most around this time, too.

“Hi, sir. This is Dr. L/n from the hospital. We managed to stabilize your guy, but it’s unlikely he’ll be up before tomorrow. I know it was assumed he’d be awake tonight but it took longer to operate than expected.” Your guys put 3 bullets in him, so sorry for the inconvenience. “I’ll be here all day tomorrow. You can come by at any time and I’ll let you in.”

“Are you positive we can’t talk to him tonight? I understand the situation is difficult but this case is extremely time sensitive. I’m sure that’s not lost on you.” You cursed the man for not being more condescending in his delivery. Thinking of the poor person either trapped or dead right now due to the guy you just saved made you sick. 

“I know.” Fucking hell. “I can wake him up.” A quarter dose of adrenaline works wonders. “Be here in fifteen minutes. You won’t have much time to talk to him.”

“Thank you.” He hung up. You put your head in your hands. Just a little kid with bruises.

– 

The layout of the BAU made you envious of the workers here. You’re sure they’d dealt with atrocities beyond what the average person could stomach, but you also worked within the belly of the beast and man were those hospital hallways claustrophobic. The daylight shone beautifully through the large windows, and you asked yourself if you’d be able to cope with all the paperwork in exchange for a feel like this. There weren’t any front desks, nowhere to sign in, so you sat in one of the chairs by the door and waited to see if something would happen. You had been specifically requested to visit the building , a note signed ‘Strauss’ being left with the hospital secretary. You didn’t like being called on by a stranger, it made you nervous beyond belief. You’re sure anyone walking by assumed you were being charged with something. Sweating like a sinner in church.

“Dr. L/n?” A woman was standing near you, having completely avoided your eyesight until now. “I’m the board supervisor, Erin Strauss. Thank you for coming.” The woman was nice enough, but she seemed rigid, clearly confident in her authority. She led you to her office and gestured to the chair facing her desk.

“I’ll cut right to the chase.” She smoothed her pencil skirt as she sat down. “The BAU is seeking a stand-by medic and I’d like to offer you the position. You’re revered highly by your previous places of employment and your current boss has only good things to say. Along with a personal reference by an employee of mine, you’re certainly a person of interest. You’d be working interchangeably with three other individuals, however you would be the first one called when needed.”

That is definitely not what you were expecting. You were almost immediately ready to turn down the offer. You didn’t work well with cops. You worked well in a hospital, going into the field to patch the wounds of both good and evil was a less than appealing deal to you. 

“You’d be on call while you worked your current position at Quantico Medical, when you’re at home you can remain there, but you’ll be flying with the rest of the team when they leave. You will be entered into a federal database, and employed as a stand-in for hospitals near you when working abroad.” She went on to explain you’d be paid salary, and when you heard just how much you could add to your monthly income by doing this, you took it. You were doing fine, you definitely didn’t need the financial boost, but you had family that could use it. Your niece had been close to turning down college because of the cost, so some extra money could really set her up. 

“Excellent. You’ll start your field training next Monday.” She was shuffling papers into a hefty stack as she talked. “Come back when you’ve finished this and I’ll arrange a team meeting.” The stack was even heavier than you expected when you picked it up. It was far too early to be regretting your decision. 

–

The first day of training had been easy enough. You weren’t an agent, so you avoided having to learn weapons or combat. It generally consisted of learning efficiency, along with how to work properly with agents and the expected etiquette when dealing with an unsub. You had met the team only once by now. Everyone had been nice - Garcia especially - but aside from her nobody had been particularly welcoming. The conditions of your job were a bit strange, basically capitalizing on the what ifs that came with the FBI title, and that created a bit of distance between you and the rest of the team. They questioned the necessity of you, they’d survived this long without a stand-by medic with them, why did they need one now?

Above any disregard for those in law enforcement sat your stubbornness. You knew they were on the fence about you, the most logical thing for you to do now would be attend every session required of you and prove yourself through pure accomplishment. Easy in theory, much harder to execute when Aaron Hotch is the one you’re learning from. He was a good teacher - you’d give him that - he had a confidence to him that easily dominated a room, attracted eyes in a way other men couldn’t manage. You’d ignored the initial stir in your stomach when meeting him in favor of attempting to scold him and his partner. Now, it was much harder to quell the slight pound in your head or the sweat on your palms. He was just standing up front, lecturing on the importance of a team, but his attire was the only thing able to break through the haze in your mind. Every time he’d shown up at the hospital, he’d donned a suit, a slightly baggy blazer worked incredibly well as a shield to your curiosity. That had clearly changed, as he shed the overcoat when talking to the class, having just a white button up adorn his torso. You took notice of the rolled up sleeves, clearing your throat quietly to snap yourself back into focus. You had the intention of snuffing out this little thing of yours but were a living contradiction at this point, setting on the goal of avoidance while barely ignoring the sight of the veins on his arms. You pondered the thought of sleeping with some man at a bar just to get this out of your system, but remembered how little projecting attraction onto someone else helps a situation. In other words, you were probably fucked.

– 

The first mission you worked with the team had you flying to a tiny Georgia town to investigate a string of bodies being found in ransacked homes. It seemed to be a simple motive, robbery turned to murder, but the team was called down to help once the kill count hit five. You had been expecting a long commercial flight, figuring you’d need to invest in a good neck pillow and some aspirin. Nobody had bothered to inform you the Bureau utilized private air travel, or that you’d be flying in one with people you’d known for two weeks. You’re sure you looked a little out of place, looking around the plane without being obvious you were doing it and adjusting to the sight of couches on planes. The others, having had this privilege for years now, took their respective seats. You had been nervous about that, unfortunately. The unsure feeling of where to sit reminding you painfully of high school cafeterias and inferior reputations. The only open seat happened to be right next to the man you’d been ducking away from the past two weeks. Lovely. He took a moment to look at you when you sat. You were prepared to talk to him, but for now you busied yourself with rummaging through your bag looking for nothing and pretending not to see him in your peripherals.

“Do you get sick on planes?” He seemed to have a deeper motive when he asked, like you saying yes would solve a puzzle in his head.

“Not really.” You’d only been on a plane a handful of times. “Turbulence can make me nervous, but I think that’s fairly normal.” You thought momentarily that perhaps he would blame your obvious anxiety on that instead of his proximity to you. He was a profiler, you’re sure he picked up on tells for nerves you weren’t even aware you had, but maybe he’d write it off. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem…” He trailed off for a moment, looking over your face to try and categorize your expression. “I don’t know, lost?” He smiled, light and easy, and you realized he was trying to reach out to you. The comfortability in the gesture made your head spin. It was like a shot of morphine, enveloping your body in a dull elation - an escape. You wanted that comfortability, wanted him to feel weightless around you. There had been a certain tension between the two of you since you started. He was warmer than the rest, but also more awkward. Your first real interaction had been an outburst, and it left you hesitant to talk to him. 

You chuckled at his remark. “No I -” You shook your head as you spoke, as if shaking off his accusation. “Nobody told me about the jet. You’d think exclusive aircraft would be in the job predecessor.”

He nodded in agreement, holding a slight upturn on his lips. “Yes, you would.” He glances away to check the time, looking back to you quickly like you were his homebase. “Strauss has a habit of getting ahead of herself. Plus, we’re all pretty used to it by now. I have to remind her sometimes that normal provisions don’t have a TI.”

“I’m sure.” It was clear she’d worked with the unit for a while. “Even if they did, though, they’d never find another Garcia.” You thought of the woman, bright and sparkly and incredibly good at her job. “You guys are lucky to have her.”

He stared at you, losing a hint of the lightheartedness and letting a wave of genuinity intertwine with it. “You have her too, Y/n.” His eyes were like a trap, rich pools of honey just begging to tug you down in. “You’re a member of this team. Don’t think your newness makes you inferior to anyone else on it. We’re lucky to have you too.”

Fuck, you were whipped. “I really appreciate that, sir.”

He smiled, shaking his head and waving you off. “Don’t with the sir, please. It’s bad enough when Garcia does it. You can call me Aaron.” Not even the other team members called him that, a thought that seemed to strike you both simultaneously. “Or Hotch, whatever you prefer.”

You just looked at him, letting a smile rouse your lips and trying your hardest not to let the effect he had on you reach your face. “Ok.”

–

The first case had been good training wheels, simply tending to a vic who needed stitches and getting a feel for the life of a field agent. You’d been adjusting nicely to it, quickly getting used to working random hospitals and waiting to be needed on an active crime scene. The others had warmed up to you tremendously after getting back, opening their circle for one more, and you couldn’t be more grateful. A team like this was something you’d wanted for a while, growing more and more unsatisfied with the callous ER workspace by the day. Ironically, there was much more life in jobs dealing with murder. He had also been warming up to you. The two of you hit the status of work-place friends nearly instantly. The endearing encounter on the plane simmered inside you for a while. The memory of it prompting you to keep talking to him, always searching for a fix of the painkiller you’d felt that day. 

You weren’t a profiler, but you were unfathomably infatuated, leading you to never miss his tone getting softer with you, or any one of his touches that lingered for just a second too long. It just barely bypassed the line of friendship, but you never lost sight of that linear barrier, so it was incredibly prevalent to you when he breached it. You scoffed at the idea of any reciprocity, brushing off every remark made by a coworker or the one horrific time you heard JJ refer to the two of you as ‘mom and dad.’ This wasn’t a plausible thing. This was a stupid workplace crush that was more of a hindrance than anything. The growing closeness between you and him would have it’s effects properly restrained to the confines of your head, only permitted to express themselves once you were away from the man. It was an odd dynamic, but Aaron wasn’t an obvious guy, so trying to define the edges of you two would only draw attention to the fact you had been looking at all. No thank you.

“Shit.” The team was sitting around the table going over their files. You were mainly there for support, as you were never a part of the lead up to the catch, the chase. You heard Hotch mumble the exclamation under his breath and looked over to see the trouble. He was looking down at his phone, jaw resting between his thumb and pointer finger. You got up and moved to sit next to him, the motion virtually ignored by everyone else as they continued searching for connections.

“Everything ok?” You mumbled to him, trying not to disturb your friends who were nearly nose-deep in their files. 

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Jack’s sitter canceled. I wanted to stay here to go over the latest crime scene but I guess I’ll have to raincheck.” The killings of your latest unsub had been increasing. You knew the collective stress that was starting to boil within the team. Him going home would only slow them down, a horrible addition to a killer that was speeding up. 

You volunteered your night away before you even got a chance to think about it. 

“I can watch him.” 

Surprise was apparent in the raise of his eyebrows. “I appreciate it, but I couldn’t ask that of you.

You’re fairly certain you would do anything he asked of you, but the nobility of the man in this case almost made you roll your eyes. “No, please. I offered and I would love to. I’m not helping anyone just sitting here, and you leaving would slow them down. You know what to look for here, I don’t. I don’t want another girl going missing just cause your sitter flaked. I can do it.”

He seemed mildly speechless. “I -” He paused, trying to find the wording he wanted. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll send you the address, if you’re sure.” He looked at you with more adoration than you’d ever had directed at you, so intense your eyes instinctively ducked down. “Thank you, Y/n.” He was so touched by the action it made you slightly sad to think about. Had no one ever helped him? Maybe you were raised weird, this seemed hardly beyond common decency to you. 

“What are friends for?” He exhaled a slight laugh in gratuitous agreement, but you saw the glimmer of his eyes dull slightly. The notion surely reflected in your own eyes as the words burned your tongue. Friends.

–

Jack was a delight. A well mannered, clearly well raised kid. Parts of his dad shined so vibrantly in him that you’re sure you’d be able to pick him out of a crowd based on mannerisms alone. Hotch had called Jack’s daycare, verifying your identity and giving you the ok to go pick him up. He seemed quiet on the way home, but rushed to give you a tour of the house, and excitedly led you to his line up of toy trains once you’d entered the place. There was a shift between you and Hotch that happened when you gave the offer. A shift that was now only just settling in you. This was his house. His space, his stuff, his place of security. He’d invited you into it, gave you permission to enter it, to exist within it, and it was strangely intoxicating. He was intoxicating, and you realized quickly how much you ached for the permanence of it. You’d made Jack dinner, played for a bit, went out for ice cream per his pleading, and wished him a peaceful goodnight when his bedtime rolled around. He’d dubbed you his ‘best babysitter ever’ and you knew as soon as the words hit your ears that you’d be watching him again. You’re sure situations like today popped up frequently for Hotch, you could be a valuable asset to him when you had free time. He would be saving money too. No need to pay a sitter when you were being paid by the Bureau every second you were there. Aaron had gotten home a few minutes past one, utterly exhausted and uncharacteristically apologetic. He was sorry for being gone so long, making you stay so late, everything and anything the man could apologize for was pouring out of his mouth. He’d welcomed you to stay, but his hair was messy from messing with it all night, and he’d ditched the suit jacket for a gray long sleeve. You’d wanted to take the opportunity, wanted to bask in the safety of him for as long as he’d allow it, but those restrained thoughts were clawing the walls of your skull with a vigor unlike anything you’d felt before. It would be abhorrent to dream about the man while in the confines of his home. You couldn’t do that - you wouldn’t. You brushed off any apology he could conjure and let him escort you out the door. His hand was on your lower back, and his voice was low from the siphoning nature of the day. 

“Thank you, again.” He looked at you. “You’re a lifesaver.” You’d expected to hear some humor in his voice. The start of banter between friends, a casual appreciation for a job well done, but there wasn’t any. He sounded rough, slightly beat down, his eyes filled with a sincerity all aimed at you. A blend of pure adoration and a deeper level of dedication. Was this a commitment? What kind?

Heat bubbled in your stomach as you made eye contact. “Please.” You shook your head slightly. “Jack’s an angel. You’re clearly as good at this as you are profiling.” You nodded in the vague direction of Jack’s bedroom as you referenced the kid. “It was my pleasure. I’d love to do it again, if you’ll let me.” 

He sighed out a small laugh and broke your gaze for a moment, looking back to you as he spoke. “I’d like that.”

–

You’d seen Jack a multitude of times after that. Aaron was never particularly fond of asking you, claiming that he appreciated the gesture but it was mainly Jack’s begging that made him cave. That, and your persistence. You liked Jack a lot, and more selfishly, you liked being around Aaron’s stuff. It was a little creepy, yes, but you felt better acquainted with him after being around his things. An energetic type of understanding, the type that deepened a connection without words. He was needed late tonight, and as much as you hated denying an offer to see Jack, you had priorities at the hospital. The previous sitter wasn’t able to watch him, so she gave a personal recommendation, and Jack got stuck with a stranger. You thought about him while working, probing and patching people half-focused with the desire to be elsewhere. You’d felt mildly guilty about it, but it’s not like it altered your work, so you figured it was harmless. 

You wondered slightly if you manifested the event you were watching play out. You watched in pure disbelief as a sobbing Jack was being carried into the ER by a flustered blonde woman. There was blood staining the right sleeve of his shirt, pouring out of his skin in a surplus and completely soaking through the material. A jagged piece of glass was standing at attention in his wrist, having sliced through the fabric like butter. He was marked ‘urgent,’ who knows if the shard had hit an artery or where the glass had come from. 

Most other doctors were busy, either operating or tending to patients. You’d walked to the front desk, remaining as calm as your racing heart would let you, and told the secretary to assign the case to you. “I know this one. Let me take him.” She just nodded, marking your name down as the primary doctor and allowing you to take him back. 

Walking up to the blonde woman, you assumed this had been the new babysitter. She was a wreck, trying to explain what happened through her own hysteria while simultaneously having her words drowned out by the crying child. “It’s ok, ma’am.” You’d reassured her, obviously she hadn’t intended the injury. “Let me take him, I’m a friend of his father.” You saw the calmness dilate her eyes, making itself apparent in the relaxation of her tense shoulders. You removed the bleeding boy from her arms, holding him against you and cooing at him the way you would a baby. You took him to a stretcher a few feet away and laid him down, ensuring his wounded arm stayed flat in an attempt to slow the blood. He was on the brink of passing out, his body not having nearly enough energy for the sobbing on top of losing vital fluid. “Jack.” You addressed him directly, two more doctors aiding your transfer to an examination room. “I need you to stay with me, buddy. Just a little longer, I promise. You’re gonna be just fine.” You pushed with one hand, caressing his non-injured arm to emphasize your affection. “Just a little longer.” You looked at him in between looking forward to keep the stretcher straight, seeing that same adoration from his father’s eyes mirrored in his. You felt protective, realizing you cared for the Hotchners much more than you let yourself believe. Little kid with bruises, you skimmed through your origins in your mind in an attempt to center your focus. Just a little kid with bruises.

Two hours later, Jack was stitched up and sleeping soundly. You knew his sitter had called Hotch, probably as soon as something happened, and were not surprised to find him idle in a waiting room chair. He was leaned forward, head in his hands and knee bouncing violently. He heard footsteps getting closer, a feeling within him recognizing them as yours, and he looked up. His eyes were teary, tired. The look of a concerned father.

“How is he?” You’d never witnessed this type of worry in him, heard the amount of desperation in his voice.

You smiled lightly as a predecessor to Jack’s wellbeing. “He’s fine. Glass missed his arteries. We had him patched up in around an hour and a half. Gave him a lollipop and a light sedative to get him to rest. He should be all set to go in the morning.” 

He sighed, and the amount of stress that audibly left his body made you feel a little lighter from where you stood. “Thank God.”

“Hey man, give us a little credit.” You joked, relieved when you heard the slight laugh come from his downturned head. Pity laugh, probably, but it was a cherished sound nonetheless. 

“You have full credit, Y/n.” He shook his head, raising it to look at you. “Quite the hero.”

You almost physically recoiled from the term, rushing to correct him while maintaining the lighthearted nature. “Definitely not.” You rejected the praise. “Just doing my job. I’m glad I could help him.”

He leaned back in his chair, relaxing for a second before he planned to stand up. “Noble.” He chuckled. “But you helped my son. That’s about as heroic as it gets to me, doc.”

Blood rushed to your ears at your professional title being used so affectionately. “Go check on your kid, Hotch.” You waved back towards the direction of Jack, knowing that even though he was asleep, he’d want to see him anyway. You also hoped the slight distraction would draw his attention away from your increasingly flustered state. “You’ll have plenty of time to praise me.” You weren’t entirely sure you’d wanted the sentence to exit your mouth, but it was too late to bite your tongue.

He raised his eyebrows so slightly that you scolded yourself for having noticed. Such a minuscule action that seemed to move mountains within your brain. “Oh?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes at your own remark. “I’m walking away. You know what I meant.”

“Mhm.” He smiled, nodding his head dramatically and rising from his seat. “Just name a time and place, doc. I’ll do good on that promise.”

You went momentarily braindead, hoping your eyes weren’t giving away the less than work appropriate feeling pumping through your veins. You stared baffled at him for what was definitely a millisecond too long before giving a half-shocked, half-flattered laugh and gesturing him away. “Say that when you’re not obviously sleep deprived and delirious and maybe we can arrange it.” The last thing you heard was him, laughing the way you do when you’re very serious but desperately trying to pass it off as a joke. You knew it well, having done it almost every time you were around him since you started. Comfortable, witty retorts between  friends. “Have a good night, Aaron.” 

Aaron, he thought. He’d remember that.

– 

That had been the second shift between the two of you. Felt immediately by both parties and tossing you both into the deep end of whatever you’d been building with him. He’d been much more touchy, seemingly subconscious on his part but noticed by every part of your body, mind, and soul. You thought about what it could mean, then sunk even further into your incoherent mind when realizing just how subconscious the actions really were. He was just drawn to you. You had viscerally fought that conclusion as it came to you but it genuinely could not be anything else. He was touching you more because - whether on the surface or deeper down - he just wanted to, and that fact was wrecking you. You were so fucking into him that it hurt. Hurt to look at him or be in his home watching Jack or have his knee pressed against yours in the back of car during a team outing. It all hurt because he wasn’t yours. He seemed into you, too. Of course, you didn’t know to what extent. You worried maybe he hadn’t said anything yet because he simply didn’t like you enough, and that hurt more than any other factor. It was a foolish notion - one you would have abandoned instantly had you peeked inside his head - but alas, no such luck.

He’d been more relaxed, too. The two of you reaching a point in your relationship you hadn’t ever let yourself dream about. He was funny, achieving that lightness around you that you’d wanted from the start. He’d gotten riskier, amping up the dial on his remarks a bit. Starting with those like the hospital, ending with ones that made you have to take a breather in the room where they kept the coffee. It hadn’t gone unnoticed, per say, but the others were certainly ignorant to the true depth of the change. You simply couldn’t measure it by witnessing, you had to feel it. And fuck were you feeling it. 

A week or so after Jack’s ER visit, you’d asked after him. You didn’t know if the regret was immediate, but it flooded through you quickly. Aaron got nervous, shifty, like you’d touched a live wire of his and he now had to patch it up before it blew. You got concerned, asking if something happened with his stitches or if Jack was now showing some sort of trauma response to the event. Was that even plausible? You weren’t sure, PTSD wasn’t exactly your strong suit. However, he quickly stated that wasn’t the case, noting that Jack was actually in perfect health and had been relentless about wanting you over for dinner.

“He’s grateful.” Hotch was smiling with paternal reluctance, proud of his son for having such good morals but also uncomfortable with the possibility of rejection he was facing. “He wants to see you, say thank you for “saving his life.” He emphasized the last bit in a sarcastic tone, both of you knowing his life hadn’t been in danger but also knowing that fact wouldn’t deter the boy from considering you some type of guardian angel. “Would you be up for it?” If you hadn’t been so focused on snuffing out the heat rushing to your face, you would have seen that same heat reflected in a slight pink across his cheeks. 

“Definitely.” You smiled at the thought of the boy bugging his dad about getting you to the house. “When were you thinking?”

“Saturday night?” Both of you were scheduled to be off that day, and you found yourself begging whatever merciful being would listen to not have some lead to chase that day. “He’ll want the day to prepare.” He chuckled.

“Oh no.” You joked. Prepare? You couldn’t even begin to imagine what that meant. “Well, I am extremely curious to find out what an eight year old boy has to prepare for. How about seven? Would that be good?”

Aaron felt his palms start to sweat. He’d never actually been around his house when you’d been there, only seeing you on your way out. “That’s perfect.”

“Great.” You smiled, checking the time and realizing you needed to get going to the hospital. “I’m looking forward to it.” You nodded slightly as one last confirmation and headed out, suppressing a giddy smile while trying to force yourself into a headspace you could work in. 

In the meantime, Aaron watched you walk off from where he’d been perched on your desk, entirely oblivious to the man watching the scene.

“As I live and breathe.” Rossi had crept up on him, not spooking him but rather suspending him in a state of immeasurable embarrassment. “Aaron Hotcher has a crush.” The man held his shoulder, patting him there like a father witnessing his son get his first girlfriend. “She’s a good one. Quite the eye you got, Aaron.” Then he was gone, walking away with Aaron’s dignity clasped in his hands. Closing his eyes in pure mortification, Hotch simply thanked God that nobody else was around for that and walked away with the intention of fusing to his office chair to avoid ever looking at Rossi again. At least you’d said yes, he thought. He didn’t know how he’d cope with his friend watching him swing and miss.

–

The daylight seemed to be anticipating this more than you were, hours passing by like minutes until eventually the sun woke you up on Saturday morning. It was blazing through the cracks in your blinds, settling in slim lines across your floor, as light and gentle as snow. You’d been rehearsing your poker face in preparation for tonight. Writing safety manuals for any ungodly situation that could happen, everything from a fire to Aaron gaining the ability to read your mind and unearthing what you really thought about him. You were so happy that Jack held you in such high esteem, but your hands were shaking at the thought of sitting down with him and his father and acting like it wasn’t the dynamic you fucking dreamt about. You knew it was a good sign of compatibility if someone’s cat liked you - did their child liking you mean the same thing? You hoped Jack’s seemingly innate approval of you gave you at least a couple brownie points. Aaron had called you a hero. Swiftly ignoring the memory of what he’d said after he called you a hero, you pulled out your phone. You and him didn’t really speak outside of work and babysitting schedules, but you were pacing around your room and needed something to give you a semblance of structure, a reassurance - even if it was just for the time. You texted, asking if you were still on for tonight, then went to go make breakfast and inevitably pace some more. He’d gotten back to you about twenty minutes later, confirming the time and giving details of how excited Jack was about it. You smiled at that, praying tonight would be as smooth as humanly possible and you could walk away with an ounce of emotional control. You set an intention, this wouldn’t deepen your feelings for Aaron. Was it a pointless goal? Yes. Was it also highly unlikely to prove true? Yes. But the loose plan you worked around the resolution almost completely extinguished the anxiety that had been blazing for hours now. It would be fine, you thought. Completely and utterly fine. 

The same words were looping through your thoughts when you got to his front door. Casual - but still minorly more dressed up than he’d seen you. You’d put a little extra effort into your appearance, mainly to pass the time if you were honest, and you walked in with mild confidence fueling your steps. You did your best not to ogle him, he was in an attire that was already threatening to unravel the safety net of the goal you set. You were used to the suits hidden beneath blazers you cursed the existence of, maybe a snippet of his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves late at night. Now, though, he sported a simple black tee, more comfortable than you’d ever seen him. Domesticity was practically oozing from the entire situation. You felt the pieces slip into place as Jack ran up behind him, and you almost cried with how badly you wanted this feeling to be your normal. 

“Hey, buddy.” You laughed as he hugged you, reciprocating the act as well as you could from the multiple feet you had on his height. “How’s the arm?”

He raised up his wrist, now gauze free and proudly showed off the scar there. You played up the genuine admiration you felt for him. “That’s a pretty gnarly scar.” He nodded in response, probably feeling cool for the evidence he handled such an injury. “I don’t want to see you back in my operating room, you hear me? Scared the life out of us.” The scolding was playful, and he giggled at your words.

Aaron huffed in agreement, cocking his head to the side slightly. “You can say that again.” Jack looked between you two, smiling and seemingly thinking something neither of you could decipher. To break the moment of silence, Aaron patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you tell her what’s on the menu, buddy?”

He told you, and you hummed along to his words, commenting that it sounded delicious and actually meaning it. He ran away a second later - presumably back to whatever he’d been doing before you got there - and left you and Aaron alone. Venturing into the kitchen, you saw multiple pans and pots sitting neatly on the stove, table set and ready to be utilized. Everything was being kept warm, and you finally gained an appetite after having wrestled with nerves all day. 

“Do you want a drink?” He asked it while entering the kitchen, pausing to look at you. 

“Please.” You were desperate to calm yourself, eager to subdue the shaking of your hands. “Do you have any wine?” You weren’t the biggest fan, but you couldn’t think of a drink more fitting for the evening.

He nodded slightly. “Red or white?”

“White.”

He chuckled. “Thought so.” It was quiet, more to himself than you as he was already walking away from you when he said it. He’d thought about what kind of wine you liked, you thought. He’d thought about you. He pulled two wine glasses down from the cupboard, then walked over to the fridge. He reached above it, barely having to stretch, and pulled an uncorked bottle from the storage up there. You felt your legs tense looking at how tall he was, how sure he was of his actions. Jesus. It’s been five minutes and you were crumbling. You watched his hands as he uncorked the bottle, reading the label and realizing the brand.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Seems a little fancy for a dinner.”

He laughed under his breath as he finished pouring the glasses, walking back over to sit next to you on the island stools. “You’re a guest of honor.” He placed yours in front of you. “I thought it was fitting.” 

You searched, but couldn’t find the humor in his tone. You raised your eyebrows slightly. “Am I?” It was sarcastic, you needed to stop the heat in your stomach from spreading. “I didn’t know doing your job earned such a title.”

He was drinking as you spoke, finishing his sip before joking back. “You’re a doctor.” He said. “I thought you knew that better than anyone.”

You sucked air through your teeth as if wounded by his words. “Touche.” You took a sip of your drink, relishing the taste. Damn, he didn’t come to play. He laughed, and you set your glass back down. “Ok, I have to know.” He drew his attention to you. “What the hell did Jack need the day to prepare for?” The question had been on your mind since he asked you.

He took a drink, chuckling with a mouthful then swallowing so he could reply. “He actually helped cook most of this.” He nodded towards the stove full of different dishes. “That was what he needed the day for. Time for trial and error.”

You grinned at the thought of Jack and Aaron spending the day in aprons, making sure everything turned out perfect. “That is the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looked back towards Jack, coloring in the living room, close enough to see but far enough to miss your discussions. “He gets nervous around you.”

That surprised you. “Why on Earth would he be nervous around me?” You took your turn looking at the boy, an idea hitting you and making you feel sick. “Wait, I didn’t do something did I?”

He looked back at you, smiling. “No, no. Nothing like that. He gets nervous because he likes you. He knows who you are to me, too, so he wants to make a good impression.”

Your mind latched onto that sentence and played it like a broken record, bouncing between your ears over and over. “Oh?” Your lips were curling up at the corners, eyebrows furrowing as you got ready to hold him to that statement. “And who might I be to you, Aaron?”

Fuck. He’d let that slip past his lips without even thinking about it. So used to being in the confidential company of his son. Good thing he used to be a lawyer and could lie his ass off. “Most of his sitters aren’t also my coworkers.” He delivered it the smoothest way he could, smiling and drinking to hopefully exude a false comfortability that he certainly wasn’t feeling.

“Mhm.” You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look sarcastic but in truth downplaying the sting you felt. What if this had been one-sided all along? You hadn’t prepped a safety guide for that.

Luckily, Jack came sprinting into the kitchen a second later, pleading with his father to eat now. Clinging to his leg and declaring how hunger was killing him by the second, dramatically threatening to wither away before your very eyes. You both shared a look, agreeing silently to put the kid out of his misery. The instinctual nature of the act hit you like a bolt of lightning. Both of you so in tune it was comical. The dinner had been lovely, and you reminded yourself to encourage Jack to keep up his cooking hobby. Maybe you could foster a professional chef. You’d talked with them both, light and the happiest you’d felt in a while. There it was, you realized. That weightless feeling you wanted to give him. You felt it in yourself too, and you could only pray it was because he felt it first. When dinner concluded, you’d help clean up while Jack resumed his coloring. His bedtime was soon, and you didn’t want him to spend his last hour washing pans. He was nearly delirious by the time 9:00 graced the clock, tired from the preparation of the day and needing to get to sleep. He’d given you a hug goodnight, thanked you for coming like the gentleman he was, and that was the last you saw of him. The rest of your time there was spent on the couch with Aaron, you both held a second glass of wine, and you noticed it manifest in the blush on his face. He was gorgeous, and you were staring. You know your eyes went to his lips a couple times as he spoke, low and rougher as the time ushered more light out of the sky. You saw his eyes slip down a few times too, this sort of unspoken, agonizing rule of look don’t touch. He’d walked you to the door, thanked you for your attendance, and then you were leaving. Sitting in your car, warm on the inside from both his presence and the anger you felt at yourself for not just kissing him. You were so incredibly needy for this - for him, and that fact just sat with you, like a raincloud constantly in a state of downpour, never letting you forget the pure fucking craving you had for him.

–

You think the start of your blackout was Morgan’s panicked voice over the speaker. You’d been stationed in your typical hut, equipped with medical gear and waiting on someone to need you. It was almost never your team in need of service, typically you were tending to an injured hostage or sometimes the unsub themselves, but never your friends. Your breath had been baited since you’d heard the gun go off. You knew the case was dealing with an aggressive attacker, you’d been expecting a fight, but nothing is ever more excruciating than waiting to hear who the shot was meant for. Derek crying out your name followed by a “get in here. Hotch is down, we need you in here.” had you ready to run the soles of your shoes down to dust just to make it in time. In time. God, in time for what? You’d ran past Emily and Rossi hauling out the unsub, anger evident in their treatment of him. How bad was it? How bad had he got him to have them acting like that?

The scene was bloody. Your brain switching off and forcing you into autopilot as you registered the pool of Hotch’s blood that Morgan was kneeling in. He was putting pressure on the wound, an attempt to stop the bleeding but it was flowing like a river. He wouldn’t make it to the hospital like this, you realized. He wouldn’t make it to the fucking hospital. You were holding his life in between your hands right now, the slightest tremor could sever that chord and you were feeling the pressure hard. Aaron was leaned against the wall, slumping down slightly which was only making the bleeding increase under the internal pressure. 

You looked at Morgan, putting on the bravest face you could muster and effectively seizing control of the situation. “Morgan.” You got his attention quickly. “On three I need you to lift him away from the wall. I need to check for an exit wound.” He just nodded, doing exactly as you’d told him when you reached three. You checked the area, finding an exit wound in nearly the same spot. It’d been a straight line. You sighed in relief. Thank fucking God. “Ok, Morgan, I need you to put pressure on the wound on his back. I’m going to stitch the front to give us the time we need for the hospital drive but I need you to hold it. You got me?” 

He nodded once. “I got it.” He moved his hand from the front to the back, Aaron wincing at the switch.

You took out the numbing cream from your pack, knowing it wouldn’t do much for a gushing bullet wound but hoping it would at least quell the sting of a needle. You took out the needle, threading it with hands frighteningly stagnant as the adrenaline gave you tunnel vision. You had to save him. “Aaron.” You looked at him as you prepped his skin for the procedure. “I’m gonna need to double stitch this, and it’s gonna hurt like hell. I need you to stay with me.” 

The man just nodded, exhaling in exhaustion. “Do it.”

You worked as quickly as possible, gaining hope as you listened to the ambulance approach. “There you go.” You said under your breath, at this point you couldn’t tell if you were reassuring him or yourself.  You looked to Morgan, who was still sealing the other injury. “Help me get him up. Keep your hand on there. These stitches are gonna give us twenty minutes tops. Hold his shoulders straight and walk quickly.” You counted again, both of you rising when you hit three, taking the man with you. The walk to the ambulance was the longest of your life. Aaron was clinging to his consciousness but you knew he was losing grip. Finally getting him to the stretcher and slamming the doors was a relief like nothing else. There was no time to debate anyone else going, you rushed him in and sat right down beside him, taking off almost immediately after. The bleeding had slowed, and your hand took the place of Morgan’s on his back. Since he was laying down, his full weight was on it, and you felt the circulation lessen more and more as it remained there. You couldn’t care less, you’d let the blood drain from your entire arm if it meant Aaron’s survival. He hadn’t passed out, which you thought was miraculous, simply walked the line of decently delirious. Groaning under his breath at every slight bump in the road. 

“Why am I always having to save you Hotchner men?” You knew now wasn’t the time to be humorous, but you would have done anything to deviate from the tears in your eyes, the ball in your throat. You finally understood why it was frowned upon to date coworkers - it should be illegal to care this much. 

“I don’t know, honey.” The pet name was the kicker, allowing a tear to break the dam and roll down your cheek as he chuckled. “You seem to be pretty damn good at it, though.” You laughed too, fighting the devastation you felt at the sight of him with the fact that he was clearly well enough to still be joking. “I should have kissed you when you came for dinner.”

Fuck. “Aaron, now is not the time.” You chuckled slightly as more tears fell. This is absurd.

“I know but-” He flinched as the ambulance hit another bump. Almost there. “I might as well say it now.” You wondered if there was genuinely something wrong with him. “You’ve been all I can think about since the moment-'' He paused to breathe slightly in exertion, you giving a disapproving look as his confession took it’s toll. “since the moment you started, you know that?”

“You are dying! Please, for the love of God, Aaron. Use this energy to prevent that from happening.” Your scolding was dramatic, but your actual concern shone brightly through your ruse of sarcasm. 

“Exactly.” He was being equally as sarcastic. How on Earth did he manage this with a rapidly declining life force. “Give a dying man a chance. How unfortunate would it be if the last thing I hear before I go out is the woman of my dreams rejecting me?”

“Jesus Christ.” You shook your head in pure amazement. This was by far the most goal oriented man you’d ever met. “I’ll let you take me out if you shut the hell up and save your energy.” He smiled, letting his head hit the reclined back of the stretcher. “After you get better.” You added, reminding him that his recovery took priority. “Deal?”

“Deal.” This was probably the most insufferable man you’d ever met. “Such a good motivator.”

Scratch that. Most insufferable man ever.

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Maybe support me on kofi?🥺👉👈

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

author's note: Hi sinners <33 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

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The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work. 

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had. 

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road. 

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate. 

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive. 

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion. 

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left. 

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look. 

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another. 

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything. 

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction. 

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John. 

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

[supermenz]

one

summary: One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do; two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one. Or: you're two years old when you lose your parents. Your brother, a kid himself, is unable to give you the love you deserve, and you end up at twenty being as burn out as only a Gotham University student can be. So, what do you do? Change scenery, of course.

pairing(s): clark kent x wayne!reader, bruce wayne x sister!reader, eventual platonic batfam x reader (no use of y/n)

warnings: genius kid trope, kinda doomed siblings, language, there are reference to what happens in "the batman" but there will be a merge of both comics and films, written with david!superman in mind cuz he's my pookie 😞, bruce is so pathetic i love him sm

word count: 2.2k

author's note: my first ever fanfic for the dc universe!! constructive criticism is welcomed as english is not my first language,

next | series masterlist

Gotham has left you feeling more claustrophobic in the last few months than it did all your life. 

Maybe it’s because you’re seeing your brother slip into his work — aka beating criminals in the night as a hobby — more and more, or maybe it’s just your brain playing tricks on you. It’s probably the latter. 

You’ve never been good with emotions — it comes with being a Wayne, and surely, having your parents die before you were three didn’t help your situation. Bruce spending most of your childhood abroad with barely any contact with you also probably didn’t help either. 

“But I’m here now,” he had said once, “Am I not?”

He is, but even if you love him with all your heart, sometimes you think that you’re more like colleagues rather than siblings. Your bond is strained, with him being so closed-off and spending most of his free time cosplaying as a bat, and you having just entered your twenties, trying to get your second degree in biology after an early graduation and an even earlier PhD in engineering. And since his first big case four years ago, neither of you has been the same. 

Your relationship has never been easy. The flood and the Riddler’s case basically forced you to trauma bond over what you both had experienced, as surely no therapist would’ve wanted to hear about all the horrors that you two experienced, even for all the money in the world. Besides, it’s not like Bruce could just enter a therapist’s office and tell them that he’s the fucking Batman. 

As of now, you tend to have your… ups and downs. Both prefer to just hide behind paperwork, projects, cases or research rather than just talk some things out. Because yes, Bruce’s your brother, but that doesn’t mean he’s easy to love. There are some days where he seems to be barely able to talk to you, others where you know he just wants to scream at you for whatever reason, others where… others where you think he might just crumble at your feet and start crying. 

You don’t have a lot in common. Maybe that’s why he manages to stay in Gotham even after all that’s happened — combined with the fact that he’s spent ten years or so abroad. Maybe you need that, too. 

“I’m thinking of moving out,” you tell him during one of your rare dinners together. You have already talked about your plan to Alfred, who has shown his support towards the idea and urged you to get out of Gotham as soon as you could, but you also wanted to tell Bruce — just to be honest with him. 

Yes, he left you to study abroad all those years ago without any kind of goodbye or anything, but you have no intention of leaving him behind like he did to you — you may be grown adults now, but that doesn’t mean that being left behind doesn’t exist anymore. You doubt Bruce would ever feel left behind by you, of all people, but still. “Found a faculty in Metropolis that will be able to transfer all my credits and studies and a nice flat downtown near the Wayne Enterprises’ site there. I think I need a breath of fresh air– I need to go somewhere where the sun actually shines and not everyone has hidden agendas.”

You’ve heard good things about Metropolis, and you think that the Martha Wayne Foundation could be expanded a bit more — somewhere far from Gotham, where surely there are other orphanages, other people in need that could use some help. “I could handle Wayne Enterprise’s gestion and settle our matters there while continuing my studies in a more… calm environment.” calm is a big word for a metropolitan city as big and populated as Metropolis, but every city is calm in contrast to Gotham.  

Your brother doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, wide-eyed, fork still raised to eat the potatoes Alfred cooked, his face blank. Is he having a heart attack? You didn’t think that you moving out would’ve been such horrendous news for him. Yes, even if you are not that close he’s still very protective, but he went to live abroad at ten. You’re twenty and you’re just… moving to Delaware. It’s not like you’re going to the fucking Himalaya mountains as he did. 

(Meanwhile, Bruce is spiraling. He wonders when the hell did his little sister grow up, how it can be that she isn’t the little girl he used to sway around anymore, and why would she ever want to move out. Is it because of him? Did something happen? 

Isn’t Metropolis in another state? Is he so tremendous that you have to move states in hopes to forget about him? Is he too overbearing? He thought he had always given you enough space to do your own thing–)

Instead of saying all of the things he’s thinking, he tries to muster up a smile, even if it comes out as a grimace. “Alright.” 

He nearly jumps out of his seat when you beam at him — is he really that obnoxious that you can’t wait to move out and have him out of your life? “Oh, I’m happy that you’re taking it well! I was afraid you’d freak out.” you get up from your seat and move over to hug him, and he chuckles nervously. “Why would I? You’re an adult, you can do what you want.” 

(What do you mean?!, his conscience screams in his head, She isn’t even twelve! Just yesterday she was talking about going to the homecoming dance with her friends–

But time has passed, and even if Bruce feels that it was particularly hard on him, he didn’t think it’d affect you too, somehow. It’s weird acknowledging something’s — someone’s — changes in the years in… so little. He had gotten so used to you being his little sister that he didn’t even think about you becoming a full on woman. He still remembers the pink bundle of blankets your parents had given him that day at the hospital, telling him to be careful with her, she’s your little sister.

When have you grown this much? Where did the time go? He swears it was just yesterday when you were admitted to Gotham University.) 

“But… a flat? Are you sure you’ll be comfortable there? It’s not exactly as big as a manor.” 

You avoid his gaze, scratching the back of your head. “Yeah, about that…”

He raises an eyebrow, “Let me guess, you bought the whole building?” 

You snap your fingers, “They don’t call you the greatest detective for nothing!” you sit back down, cutting the meat on your plate, “I plan on making the floors I won’t live in into a laboratory of sort– almost like the Batcave, y’know, so I can continue working on the models I designed undisturbed.”

When Bruce had started his crusade as Batman, you had just gotten your bachelor’s degree in engineering, and were working on your master’s degree. You had basically given him the head-start, creating the software of the Batcomputer (or of the computer, as he calls it), designed and adapted a sport’s car to the Batmobile (just call it the car, Bruce always insists) and basically modified and created every single one of the gadgets and systems he uses. 

You just hope he won’t let the Batcomputer get hacked as soon as you land in Metropolis — you spent weeks programming her and years perfecting her system. You spent so much time on her, she might as well be your firstborn by now. 

“I’ll always be a call away,” you murmur when your brother’s eyes get a little dazy, unfocused– like he’s in another world, always thinking about the worst that could happen. “You know that, right?”

Bruce blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, I– I know that.” 

(He isn't sure about that.) 

You pat his hand, mustering a smile. "Maybe you should take a break, too. Why don't you book a vacation in, let's say... the Bahamas? Just to get a bit tanned and remember what the sun actually looks like."

He shakes his head. "Can't. Batman doesn't go on vacation."

You raise an eyebrow, sighing in defeat. "Well, I'm sure the GCPD could handle Gotham for a few days, but do as you like."

Your arrival in Metropolis is, of course, followed by an unhinged swarm of journalists and press that surround you as soon as you land.

You can already see the headlines — THE PRINCESS OF GOTHAM NOW IN METROPOLIS or some other corny predictable shit like that — as they shove their cameras in your face, screaming and trying to grab you, as your bodyguards try to contain them. You're much calmer than they are, having already endured years and years of invasive journalists.

“Miss Wayne, would you care to tell us the reason for this abrupt change in scenery?”

“Has your move got anything to do with your relationship with your brother?”

“Miss Wayne, look here! A smile for the front page–”

“Miss Wayne, why Metropolis, of all places?”

“Miss Wayne, a word for the Daily Planet?”

The guy for the Daily Planet catches your attention– he seems far too nice and isn’t elbowing anyone; he must be either new at the job or is too nice for it. He’s got a mop of curly, black hair atop his head, thick glasses perched on his nose, baby blue eyes behind them. His posture is a little crooked — he’s getting squeezed by reporters on both of his sides — but, even as disheveled as he is, you notice a thing. 

Ohh, he’s pretty. Like, jaw-dropping pretty, the kind of pretty that makes you want to bite his cheek and never let go for the rest of your life. 

You stop in your tracks, lifting your sunglasses to your head, bodyguards panicking at the swarm of journalists that suddenly all point to one direction; you reach for the pocket of your jeans and take out a business card that you pat on the pretty reporter’s chest. “Another time, pretty boy,” you promise as he takes the card, his fingers brushing yours, the other journalists speechless around you. “I’m kinda busy right now.” 

You don’t stay long enough to see him blush and hold the business card tight in his palm so that the other reporters don’t snatch it out of his grip — the bodyguards urge you forward, towards the SUV with obscured windows that is waiting for you right in front of the arrivals’ exit of the airport. One of them opens the door for you, and you don’t hesitate to get inside, the car speeding off as soon as everyone’s inside. 

“Never seen anything like this,” one of the men mutters.

You shrug, “I’ve had worse.” 

The ride to your building is short, mostly because it’s late in the evening and there aren’t many people still around. You leave a generous tip to both the bodyguards and the driver, thanking them but assuring them that you can walk alone the thirty steps that separate you from the entrance to what’ll be your home for the foreseeable future. They help you take out your trolley and duffle bag, which you swing over your shoulder right after taking the keys of the building out. 

You open the front door, carefully closing it behind you, taking the elevator right in front of it. You press the number thirty out of thirty-four, which turns green with a ding, and wait for the doors to open back up. And once they do, you’re not disappointed. 

The loft is arranged just like how you asked the movers to — it would’ve been hard not to, as you sent them the 3D interior design plan you had made, but still. You’ve been raised with the idea that if you want something done well, you have to do it yourself, so you’re pretty happy about how it turned out. 

Still, something’s missing. 

You check around the loft for any pieces of missing furniture or something like that, not finding anything. You even go back to the 3D model to make sure that everything got here safe and sound, only to find that yes, everything is in the colour you ordered and exactly in the place you asked for it to be. 

You sit on the U-shaped couch that sits right in front of the giant windows that let on the skyline of Metropolis, eyebrows knit in deep thought. The house is nice — for fuck’s sake, you bought a whole building just for you and your projects — but it’s weird not having anyone else around. There’s no Alfred to welcome you, no half-asleep Bruce roaming without an idea of where he is, no squeaking and creaking of the floor when you walk. 

You sigh. “Maybe I should get a cat.” 

[obsesssedblerd]

life after you and satoru adopt the first years 💜💜

fic of that here. i recommend reading that before these hcs 💕

contains: mentions of pregnancy / birth

yuuji still can't believe it. he now has a large room in you and satoru's large home, parents that adore him, and siblings that'll forever have his back. he cries about it sometimes. after everything he's been through, he finally has his happy ending.

megumi is the most relaxed he's ever been in his life. it felt so good resting, knowing that he was safe and that you and satoru wouldn't let anything happen to him. he sleeps so much. you and satoru saw it coming. he's been in survival mode ever since he was a kid. of course, he's going to want to rest. whenever you see him napping in the sunroom, you put a small blanket over him.

like yuuji, nobara also can't believe it. sometimes, you see her just watching everyone else in disbelief, unable to believe that she's now a part of the family. she's always smiling, though. her favorite part of the day is that last hour before bed, where she's next to you in one of the large bathrooms doing skincare together.

three months into the adoption (and four months into your pregnancy), you ask the three of them if they'd still like to be sorcerers. to your surprise, they said yes. when you ask why, yuuji points his thumb over at satoru and says, "gotta help dad out."

satoru definitely cried later because yuuji called him 'dad' for the first time.

though satoru accepted that, he preferred for the three of them to take far fewer missions so they could enjoy the rest of their childhood. to his relief, none of them disagreed with it.

however, the higher-ups of jujutsu society weren't too thrilled at the news of you and satoru adopting them because that meant that they would have fewer sorcerers.

what they did express great interest and delight in, was the fact that you were pregnant. they were already chatting about how powerful the baby would be and what great things they could achieve; not just with satoru's technique but also yours. hearing those old bastards talk about his child as if they were already a perfect weapon, like he was made to be, made his blood boil.

satoru shut it down swiftly and told them that the baby wouldn't have anything to do with sorcery, regardless of what technique they were born with. they deserved a happy, safe life far away from the horrific system that devoured children. he saved yuuji, nobara, and megumi from it before it could kill them. every day, he wished that he and suguru were saved from it.

when the higher-ups objected, satoru gave them a chilling warning—that he'll show no mercy to anyone who tries to threaten his family's safety and happiness, and that's final.

yuuji, megumi, and nobara keep up with their training, but they also spend a lot more time doing things that genuinely interest them.

you and satoru spoil them rotten. obviously. when it comes to fun family trips, you all always go overboard, but it didn't matter. all three of them never got to have fun experiences, plus, you can tell that satoru is making up for all of the things he missed as a child.

your old colleagues and students from jujutsu tech showed up to your baby shower, and it warmed your heart to see just how loved this baby was even though they weren't born yet.

you and satoru decide to wait to find out the gender until they're born. every evening after dinner, all five of you sit on the large couch in the living room, and the four of them take turns talking to your stomach.

they're always so excited when the baby kicks.

the final empty room in your massive home is stocked with everything that your newborn is going to need.

you're with megumi and nobara when your water breaks. you call satoru, who was shopping with yuuji, and tell them the news. "don't panic, but my water broke, and-" too late, they're both already screaming.

after so many hours of labor, you finally give birth to your beautiful baby girl. her hair is mostly like yours, but she also has a few white strands that she took from satoru.

she also inherited the bluest of eyes, and while satoru is extremely happy, he's also worried. because of the power he was born with, he was hunted. he never wanted that for his princess.

you can tell what he's thinking, and you stroke his cheek, telling him that it was going to be okay because your daughter had so many willing to protect her.

yuuji, megumi, and nobara—a little teary-eyed because their new baby sister was so freaking cute—assure satoru that he wouldn't be the only one with the role of protecting the family. they were sorcerers too, after all.

that brings the most gentle smile to satoru's face.

[machveil]

ChildhoodBestFriend!Johnny that was an absolute menace in his youth. sometimes he’s surprised you’re still friends because he got on your nerves so often. you’d both have an argument, childishly claim to not be friends anymore, only to be sitting on the playground looking at cool rocks two days later. you’d apologize to each other, laugh it off, and play again

CBF!Johnny that wasn’t much better in high school. it wasn’t as frequent as when you were children, but at most twice year you’d part for a month or two - Johnny saying something he shouldn’t have and sulking, you hanging out with your other friends to cool off. a month later you’d be back at each other’s houses after school as though nothing happened. Johnny’s temper wasn’t the best, he’d eventually come around and say sorry. in those moments he looked like a little kid again, eyes cast down at your shoes, ears a little red with embarrassment for how he acted

CBF!Johnny that immediately regrets pissing you off three days before he leaves for the military. he knows he was wrong, but damnit, he’s not leaving you for who knows how long on a bad note. so Johnny does what he always does, he comes to you with an apology. it’s funny looking back, Johnny’s always a little embarrassed from that night. a movie nerd at heart, he chucked a couple rocks at your window with the intention of getting your attention - just like the main love interest does in cheesy romance movies

CBF!Johnny that accidentally smashed your window - sending a rock straight through the screen. he remembers it so clearly. all the upstairs lights flicking on, hearing you scream and your guardian threatening ‘whoever was on the lawn’. Johnny nearly pissed himself, quickly yelling up that it was him and, “Ah shite— it’s me! It’s me, don’t— it’s Johnny!”. Johnny’s parents made him fix the window - he bought a new one and installed it before he left… but it gave him an excuse to talk to you face to face. he apologized for pissing you off and breaking your window the next day, that all too familiar look on his face, ears red and a dopey smile on his face when you hugged him, “Promise I won’t make ya mad again— ah, not if I can help it.”

[radioisntdead]

Good evening folks! Here's a drabble I wrote as a warm up, not my best work but it's short And it was written at three am, Enjoy!

The radio man's Wife

Alastor x female reader

Warnings:

Human Alastor, murder, Not much Alastor in here but he's here, victim blaming the dead people

You could ask anyone who had met her and they would tell you that The local radio host's wife was the sweetest person they had ever met, a real angel on earth, she'd help out her neighbors, delivering fresh baked goods to those in need, she'd help take care of the neighborhood kids while their parents got away for a night,

She was a saint, who was to know that she had married a monster? She was just another unwilling victim right?

After all,

She was just so kind!

but even those who appear kind could do the cruelest of things, sweet words secretly drenched in venom, dressed in soft unsuspecting colors, her eyes that held nothing but fondness for the person she married and distain for those who stood against him, for those who ran his name through the mud.

She'd gleefully turn a blind eye to the wicked acts he did, being nothing but a bystander, at most she threw a few sickly sweet words to the victims that left them feeling sick to the pits of their stomaches before they perished.

She'd clean up any remaining mess he left behind, making any leftover carnage into fertilizer for her beautiful garden, mopping up the blood stained floors, or digging up a deep grave in the nearby woods for him to drag a body or two into.

She willingly laid next to someone who had countless people's blood on his hands, she'd give nothing but a love-filled smile at him,

She'd dance with a repeat murderer while soft jazz played on the radio each night after dinner, after the dishes were done and dried He'd take her hand and they'd dance.

She'd give a small kiss on the cheek, telling him to stay safe and leave him to his business slaughtering folks.

After all they deserved it right? They weren't truly good folks, Her and her dear Alastor believed ? that wholeheartedly, and Honestly it's their own fault for being easy targets

Right?

No one would believe you if you told them beforehand that the charming radio host, Alastor was a cold blooded murderer who had claimed multiple lives,

After all he was so charming, always with that smile on his face that could make anyone swoon, although you could never exactly know what he was thinking, people adored his voice and his radioshow where he'd play the tunes of the time, and briefly speak about the recent disappearances of people, telling everyone to stay safe.

It's truly the charming ones you should look out for.

It was only revealed when someone hunting in the dead of night mistook her dearest Alastor for a deer, shooting him swiftly through the head, killing him almost instantly, leaving him to be bitten and torn by man's best friend.

The phonecall she got when it was discovered was heart wrenching,

Her beloved Radio host went from charming to his name being thrown around, treated like a monster, [Which he was, he killed people] his office was cleaned out swiftly after being searched for anything alluding to his crimes, the home they shared was searched and torn apart for evidence as she sobbed into the arms of a supportive, unsuspecting neighbor,

After everything went down she was either scorned or deemed a unfortunate lady who unknowingly married a murderous monster, she had parts of the community that took pity bring around casseroles and give her words of comfort.

It couldn't have been more then a year since Alastor had gone, a family member of one of his victims wanted revenge, however since the murderer was already six feet under, why not go for his widow?

In the dead of night carrying a gun he crept into the home she once shared with her beloved, he moved passed the picture frames on the walls, from events, Their wedding photos and pictures of family, all were hung up neatly.

He opened the door, a creaking noise rung out throughout the house,

He moved forward towards the bed where the widow laid, deep in a slumber she'd never wake up from,

The man lifted up the gun and shot her right in the heart, She didn't know what hit her.

Arising from the ground she brushed herself off, the sight of brimstone and the harsh smell of sulfur filled her nose,

She didn't know what killed her, maybe a heart attack? Perhaps she choked on something in her sleep? Well there was no use in wondering, what's done is done, and from the looks of it she definitely ended up in hell, wasn't surprising after all she did help out her husband in his crimes.

With a quick look at herself, she made a face at the animal ears that protruded from her head, along with the matching tail on her back, shaking her head she began walking around to explore the place.

She supposed it was time to go find her dearly departed darling now wasn't it?

Good evening folks! Thank you for reading!

I'm making my way through requests and a couple of them will hopefully be out within the week! Stay tuned!

[cobaltperun]

I haveth a request ☝️

could you write Cairo x g!p fem reader smut.

Maybe a childhood best friends type situation like Genius, but they stayed friends all throughout middle school and high school and they catch feelings for each other somewhere in between middle school and beginning of high school. They constantly sneak longing stares at each other and unknowingly make each other jealous until the tension is unbearable and one day when Cairo, Winnie, and reader are hanging out they started telling hookup stories but Cairo is still a virgin so she just sits there quietly listening and after Winnie goes home things happen.

No Chance

Cairo Sweet x Female (GP!) Reader (Request) (Smut, minors do not interact)

Masterlist

A/N: Feast! On the worst thing I have written thus far! I'm sorry Anon, this just didn't work for me. I wrote it, I kinda made what you asked for, but it didn't quite inspire me and I don't feel like leaving it for later would have made it flow any better.

Word count: 3.1k

You can’t love her like that. She’s your best friend.

Those were the words you kept saying to yourself for over four years now. Yet that love kept getting stronger as time passed. And every single time you thought that maybe, just maybe you could get over her you would just see her with someone, and it wouldn’t even have to be more than just sharing a laugh with some random guy, and you’d get reminded of how strong your feelings for her were.

Those feelings didn’t matter though. She was your best friend, and she didn’t love you back.

~X~

For how long was she going to torture herself like this? She loved you, she longed for you, yet her feelings always felt unrequited. True, Cairo has never been the most direct with her feelings toward you, fearing she would ruin the friendship that lasted since she was four years old. But there was no way you missed all of her longing glances. All the times she watched you so love-struck Winnie would tease her about it when it was just the two of them.

You were her protective best friend and you acted as one, though Winnie often referred to it as jealousy. Winnie didn’t know anything. You were like that even when the two of you were kids, protective and kind. It didn’t mean anything more, as she used to hope.

Not since you…

She couldn’t get angry, you just chose some other girl and that was it, and ever since then she lost hope of ever being with you. If it really didn’t mean anything to you to lose your virginity like that, why didn’t you just come to Cairo?

If it meant nothing to you, maybe in the end it would mean nothing to Cairo as well. As it was, she wasn’t even an option for you.

~X~

You and Winnie came over to hang out at Cairo’s place, since it was the most convenient location. Perks of her parents never being around, you guessed. Though you knew Cairo would gladly trade that perk for loving parents.

It started out as a regular night, you and Cairo leaning against the headboard of her bed, while Winnie sat at the foot of it. Being this close to Cairo wasn’t anything new, but you couldn’t help but feel the tension, something unspoken between the two of you ever since you told her about the girl you slept with. Either way, the three of you were playing cards until Winnie decided to speak up.

“Oh, yeah, did you ever go out with that girl you fucked?” she asked while you were in the middle of drinking the juice.

And, naturally, you nearly choked on it, because who the fuck opens the conversation with that?!

“Easy, lover girl,” Cairo was patting your back a bit too harshly, but it was getting the job done, and nearly choking made you miss the passive aggression dripping from her tone.

“Thanks,” you wheezed, finally sure that you would survive. “I’m okay now,” you glared at Winnie who just shrugged, though she did have an apologetic smile on her face.

“So, the what’s-her-name girl,” she reminded you as Cairo leaned back on her bed, though she made some extra distance between the two of you.

You rolled your eyes. “It was a one-night stand, we had a fun time and I left her house after we were done, I didn’t even sleep over,” you shrugged, giving up the minimal information because you knew Winnie wouldn’t let it go now that she remembered it.

Winnie stared at you blankly. “That’s a boring story for your first time,” she complained.

“Better boring than bad,” you figured reminding Winnie of her own first experience, which, well, didn’t end that spectacularly.

“Still,” Winnie let the gravity do its’ job as she leaned to the side and fell onto the bed. “I thought you’d wait for someone you love,” she pointed out.

You looked away, not wanting to look at Cairo at the moment.

“Y/N?” Cairo noticed your silence, forcing you to turn back and grin.

“There’s no point. I don’t have a chance with her, so, you know, no point in waiting,” you’ve given up on Cairo ever returning your feelings, so it really didn’t matter who you lost your virginity to. Not the most mature approach, but you were only eighteen, it was difficult to expect a mature approach from someone your age.

You could see Winnie about to tease you, but you glanced at her, shaking your head lightly and it luckily sent the message across, stopping her from saying anything else.

Eventually, it was just you and Cairo, as Winnie had to go finish some art project and for once Cairo figured she wanted to watch a movie.

“So, it’s nothing to you, having sex?” she asked you out of blue as the slow opening scene began playing on the TV, and you looked at her, frankly, confused by the tone of her voice. She sounded jealous and if she truly was jealous, you wished she showed you that earlier.

“I guess,” you fell back so you were lying next to her instead of sitting, though you could still see her face, and just looked at the ceiling. It’s not that it was nothing to you, you just, as you said to her and Winnie before, didn’t think you had a chance with ‘the one you loved’ that one being Cairo. So, you went and lost your virginity, it was mutual understanding that it was a one-night stand, and that was it.

“So, you wouldn’t mind taking someone’s virginity?” she asked, leaning back but not quite lying down and trailed her fingers across your arm.

Blood rushed to your face at the look in her eyes. You had to be misunderstanding this somehow, right? Surely, she didn’t mean her virginity?! “Yours?” you squeaked, which only made you feel even more embarrassed.

Cairo nodded, blushing furiously. “I don’t really want to lose it to just anyone, and you’re,” she paused, looking down as her hand slipped from your arm and onto the bed. “My best friend,” she refused to look at you.

You swallowed hard, fuck, she was serious. You touched her chin and gently tilted it up. “Are you sure?” you asked her and she just nodded, her eyes finally meeting your own.

“Let me take you out on a date first, give you the whole experience,” you suggested. “Tomorrow after school, we grab a nice dinner, and then if you’re still sure this is what you want, we’ll do it,” you still expected her to tell you it was a prank, but she just nodded, and though it was awkward and both of you stole occasional glances at each other you managed to get through the movie.

~X~

You took Cairo out, as you promised. After school you showed up at her house with a bouquet of red roses, properly dressed up for the date and forcing yourself not to look at her too much, as she was dressed in a beautiful, kinda short, black dress with open back.

“You look amazing,” you said smiling slightly as you handed her the flowers.

“Thanks,” she brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and the two of you went out. You took her to the local restaurant, then to a bookstore, then for a brief walk before you finally went back to her place, and you could feel both of you being on the edge at the moment.

“If you change your mind we can stop at any time, it doesn’t matter if it’s now or if I’m hard, or if I’m even inside you. You say stop, we stop,” you assured her as she led you by your hand to her bedroom.

Cairo nodded and kissed your cheek. “You as well, I don’t want to pressure you into anything,” she told you as she sat down on her bed.

“Thanks,” you sat down to her right and leaned over, kissing her neck and her breath hitched. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm,” she closed her eyes and leaned back, exposing her neck to you. She moved her hands up and the tips of her fingers lightly massaged your cheek and jaw while her left hand slipped to the back of your head, her fingers running through your hair and massaging your scalp. “Oh,” she hummed when you found a more sensitive spot and sucked on it, surely leaving a hickey right there.

“Damn, you’re beautiful,” you whispered, your lips gliding over her skin until you reached her ear and gently nibbled on her earlobe. From the corner of your eyes, you saw Cairo squeezing her thighs, you saw her breasts rising and falling as her breathing became deeper.

You were going slow, making sure she felt every sensation as you slid your hand down her side, to her thigh, and you squeezed lightly before pushing her thighs apart and slipping a hand under her dress. You felt her tensing and relaxing as you caressed her bare stomach and sides, just playfully teasing her by occasionally pulling at the strap of her bra.

“Y/N,” she sighed, and you drank it all in, every small sigh, every tiny whimper or moan, every sound you made her make. You took it all in, not for a moment pausing when it came to kissing her neck.

“How are you feeling?” you asked her.

Did you really have to ask her? The only thing that would have made this even better would be if you kissed her on the lips, but it felt like you weren’t going to do that. Even without that she felt so damn good, your warm soft lips on her neck, your wet tongue, dragging over her sensitive neck, your hand under her dress, teasing her everywhere you could reach. She felt aroused, she felt the wetness soaking her panties and that was the only uncomfortable feeling she had. She needed to get them off, to feel your fingers down there instead. “It feels good, I need more though,” she gasped as you bit her neck. How long have you been paying attention to her neck? It was sensitive to begin with, but now it felt like every little touch was going straight to her puss. “Please, Y/N,” she moaned and leaned back, falling onto the bed and pulling you along with her.

“Are you getting wet, hm, Baby?” you rasped, and she gasped, her fingers digging into the back of your head as her left hand slipped down your throat, her nails undoubtedly leaving red stripes down your skin

“Yes! Please touch me,” she whimpered arching her back when you cupped her breast through her bra. You were building up her anticipation and she wondered why she ever waited to do this. Why did she never asked you to take her virginity before. “Can I kiss you?” she pleaded as she made you look her in the eyes.

“Cairo, that’s…” you paused, losing your momentum. As crazy as it might sound, you felt like kissing her would make this too real, that it would be one detail that makes all your feelings come out. That feeling her lips against yours would, more than anything, make you give into your feelings and ruin the friendship that was already hanging by the thread.

“Please,” she was breathing heavily, turned on, yet you saw something else in her eyes, something that couldn’t be true.

“I,” you tried to resist her, to not cross that line, but how many times did you imagine kissing her? You feared you’d regret either choice. In the end you nodded, and her lips pressed softly against yours, her hand gripping the fabric of your shirt as she pressed against you. And instead of fondling her breast you lowered your hand to her waist and hugged her.

Cairo moaned into the kiss, feeling like someone was setting off fireworks in her head. You let her kiss you, and she would be damned if she didn’t kiss you as many times as she would be allowed to tonight. If this was the one and only time the two of you would be intimate like this, she wanted all of it.

You separated from air, and you leaned your forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” your apology made her heart sink. “I love you. You’re the one I have no chance wi-“ she cut you off with another kiss, her tongue danced with your own and she made you switch positions to get on top of you. “Fuck, Cairo,” you hissed as she threw her dress off and lifted your shirt up.

“You,” she was feral, kissing your neck, grinding against you, her hands roaming your body as if she had to map out every bit of your skin in her mind. “Dumbass!”

You just blinked, eyes wide and mouth open as you watched her, unable to come up with a response.

“Don’t have a chance with me?! I’ve loved you for years you idiot!” she yelled, her voice cracking as she pulled back and just looked at you. “I love you,” she whispered, kissing you deeply and it all made sense now, her reactions, her glances, and you cursed yourself for being too blind to see that all along your feelings were reciprocated. “I love you,” she said again when she paused kissing you. “Now, let’s finish what we started,” she whispered, her lips ghosting over yours and you lost it a bit when she took her underwear off and helped you strip as well. You were already hard, but you wanted to prepare her more, to make her cum, or at least bring her close first.

“Yes, Ma’am,” you teased and slipped a finger between her folds, she was wet enough for your finger to just slip in.

“Fuck,” she whispered at the feeling of your finger pushing into her and she wondered how your cock would feel as she experimentally rocked her hips back and forth, causing her clit to rub against your palm.

“That’s it, Baby, ride it,” you gently pushed another finger inside her after you were sure she was wet and stretched enough, and it took a bit to adjust, but the pleasure more than made up for it. Cairo leaned down, pulling your head to her breasts and moaning. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, she gripped your shoulder, and the back of your head as you kissed her breasts and occasionally sucked her nipples. She felt good before, but now that she knew you loved her, now that you were no longer having sex as best friends, but as two people that loved one another, every touch felt more intense.

You held her hip with your free hand, your fingers occasionally slipping down to her ass as you guided her movement. “Wait,” she cried out. She was close, she was so close, but she wanted to have an orgasm with your cock inside her, and just like you promised you would you stopped completely, pulling your fingers out of her and completely halting everything you were doing. “I want your cock inside me,” she assured you before you could start worrying.

You nodded, flipping the two of you around once more. “It’ll be easier like this,” you told her as you brushed some of her bangs from her eyes and kissed her softly. You pulled a condom out of the pocket of your pants and opened it. “Just give me a moment,” you whispered in her ear, putting the condom on and just to make it as easy as it possibly could be, lubed it up.

Cairo moaned as you slowly pushed the head of your cock inside her while rubbing her clit. “I’ve got you, just relax,” you hugged her with your other arm and peppered her neck and shoulders with butterfly kisses as you pushed further inside.

“I know,” she hugged you back, pulled you closer to her and took several deep breaths as you pushed the last inch into her. “You got me,” she whispered, throwing her head back and taking a moment to adjust.

“Does it hurt?” you asked as you left kisses from her shoulder all the way to her lips.

“No, I just feel so full, just give me a moment,” she pulled you in for a kiss, her tongue slipping inside your mouth as she slowly pulled her hips back a bit and then pushed back against you. “Feels so good,” she moaned, encouraging you to slowly start moving as well.

She was tight, and her pussy was clenching around you so hard you knew you wouldn’t be able to last long, and you didn’t want to resort to thinking about anything else to stop yourself from cumming. Not when you were finally with Cairo. “I don’t think I’ll last long,” you told her as much.

“Me neither!” she cried out, her face twisting into an expression of pleasure as you gradually picked up the pace. “Just a bit more, Baby,” she encouraged you and you rubbed her clit harder, intent on making her cum first. Your efforts paid off as her back arched and she gasped, cumming with a near silent cry and pushing you over the edge as well.

You pulled out, shaky and out of breath, but satisfied as you kissed Cairo once more. “You have no idea how much I am going to kiss you from now on,” you chuckled, unable to get enough of her lips.

“Mhm, you better do some other things as well,” she pecked you on the lips, a bit too tired to do anything else.

You nodded, taking a deep breath and feeling your body relaxing as you helped Cairo calm down as well. “I’m going to go and get a bath ready for you,” you whispered, but just as you were about to pull away she reached up and grabbed your hand.

“For us,” she said with a smile on her face and you nodded.

“Right, for us,” you leaned down, kissing her softly once more before you headed to the bathroom to dispose of the condom and get a bath ready for you and Cairo.

[loveandleases]

gonna send in another "Make Chris suffer" ask, with regards to the pregnancy I sent about MC starting a family with an RO, and ask what Jade and Chris would think of this scenario? You said once that Chris desperately wanted a family, so I can only imagine that seeing MC have one with the ROs would be...well. You know. Would the flavor of that change with regards to the RO? (This might have been answered last year? Not sure. Sending it anyway because why not. If so, apologies!)

Jade doesn't want a family, but that doesn't mean she won't be jealous because MC is doing it first. Just the idea that MC is doing something before Jade, well it annoys her. Especially since she knows how badly her father had always wanted another child after MC. Three was the perfect number for him, so she could just imagine how happy he would be to be a grandfather (that's if MC would even allow it considering.)

Chris still desperately wants their own family. The flavor changes a little bit. Either way Chris isn't happy when they hear MC is going to have a family.

(The rest is below the cut.)

❤️ Cam - This one hurts the most, for obvious reasons. There's an undeniable competition between the two of them, there always has been, and there always will be.

Chris can't stand the thought of MC with Cam, the thought of MC raising a family with him. It sets their blood to boil. To Chris, it feels like a slap in the face. Because in their eyes, in their twisted view, they should be the ones doing that with MC. (Chris conveniently forgets they put themselves in this situation.) It makes Chris' skin crawl. Makes them think of all the times they saw the two of you interact and those little moments they always felt excluded from.

To think MC picked the weakest Clarke to be a father to their children, it's pathetic..laughable…infuriating. But most of all, it hurts. Enough to the point they feel like they could cry. Is it anger, longing, or regret? Only Chris knows.

💙 G - Doesn't hurt as much as it does with Cam, but it still rubs them the wrong way. In Chris' mind, they stole MC from G, for themselves. They were the better choice. So, why G? If you cared so much about them, why weren't you with them then or why didn't you stay with them? (Chris of course excuses themself of the blame from that situation.) They could see G being a better parent than Cam, so there's that. G at least has a real job, a real degree. So in that regard, they'd be a good parent.

💚 Kara - Chris won't be happy about it, not at first. But, if they could learn to be happy about anyone having a family with MC, it would be Kara. Because in their way, they do love their sister, and want her to be happy. There would be moments of envy, that Kara gets to see that side of MC, and have those experiences they longed for. Some part of Chris hopes that one day MC would even let them be apart of the kid's life…if even just for a moment. To see that side of MC, and learn to see why they chose Kara.

💛 M - So..I mean this might be a spoiler. But Chris is very much a fan of M's. I'm talking about having multiple signed copies of M's books, different collections. Chris is a simp for author M. So, imagine their surprise when they find out that the author they love and adore is having a family with their ex. It's...mind blowing. Because, who saw that coming? Chris isn't sure who to be more envious of, M for being with MC - I mean starting a family. Or you, for being with the one author they actually enjoy. They would be more confused than anything, but they could get behind this duo.

💜 Isaac - So Chris and Isaac have a history since Kara is best friends with I. This means Chris knows more than players do about Isaac and what they've been through. They were never a fan, but when is Chris ever a fan of people that isn't themself? They always thought Kara could do better than Isaac, and that sentiment stands for MC. They don't think Isaac could be a good parent or role model in general. Just cut your loses while you still can.

🖤 Ardent - Why? In their eyes Ardent isn't worse than Cam…but really? The landlord? Granted most of Chris' ire comes from the fact that Ardent won't let them near you. At. All. Not around his partner, not around his child. Chris isn't a fan of that, especially since Chris is so used to getting what they want. The last thing they want is MC having a family with someone else…with Ardent. In Chris' eyes, Ardent is a meathead. They don't see how caring Ardent can be around his niece, or how much he softens around MC. How much he is willing to do for other people.big bad softie right here. Which is fine, because as long as MC is happy, that's all Ardent cares about. And Cupid of course.

[hibiscuslovecandles]

✿MY LOVE✿| BSD

Genre:Fluff,parenting,crack,GN!READER Warnings:Children,babies,not proofread,may be ooc,Let me know if there's any warning I missed! Featuring:Chuuya Nakahara, Edgar Allan Poe, Gin Akutagawa, Doppo Kunikida Note:My next headcanon post after this might come out pretty damn late, I've been a neet for 3 years and I'm being forced to get a job and get a drivers permit so it'll take awhile

🍷When you mentioned wanting to have kids while the two of you were watching a movie together cuddled up on the couch together while drinking wine nearly made him choke on his wine. You two had a good hour long conversation on the topic of kids.

🍷After waiting some time for Chuuya to be mentally prepared for the responsibilities that come with being a parent, he brought up the topic again. That's how you ended up becoming parents.

🍷When they were still a baby it was common to see Chuuya sitting on the playmat with them humoring the infants nonsense and making sure they didn't swallow anything that could kill them.

🍷Whenever the baby would cry in the middle of the night Chuuya always would insist that you stay in bed while he goes to check. 20 minutes would pass and you'd see Chuuya in the rocking chair of the nursery, baby in his arms, fast asleep.

🍷Will take so much pride if the baby says their first words in his presence. It doesn't need to be dada or anything any word and he has the most stupid smile you've ever seen on his face.

🍷Makes sure you and the baby are safe at all costs, the apartment is COMPLETELY baby proof, Chuuya is even mildly offended if you say he's doing too much.

🍷You don't know that Chuuya has a entire folder on his phone dedicated to you and the baby, you don't that these photos were even taken since they were all taken when you preoccupied with the baby like when you're giving them a bath or you building a sand castle with them at the beach, of course he has photos of the two most important people in his life.

🍷Chuuya was sadly….out on business when they took their first steps, when you two video called that night per routine you told him and Chuuya felt like shit for not being there for it….then there was the baby hitting the screen of your phone not quite understanding why Chuuya is inside a rectangle.

🍷When Chuuya returned the first thing he needed was to see his baby and when you placed the baby on the ground and he saw his baby waddle towards him, he wanted to cry, but he didn't it just holding his baby once they reached him.

🍷You are required to send him photos whenever you and the baby are doing something and he can't be there. Send him that photo of the baby on the swing set, send him the photo of the baby flipping through those baby books, send it!!!

🍷He has photos of all three of you together in his wallet. There's nothing he loves more.

🍷Was originally strongly against diaper duty but now takes it upon himself to do it.

🍷Reads all the ingredients used on the back of the baby food and makes sure nothing in the baby bottles you guys buy has any remotely harmful chemicals. He can't lose this one thing.

🍷And a baby grows into a child.

🍷Whenever he's scolding your child for doing something bad and he gets too frustrated he'll have you take the reigns since he wants to avoid taking his anger out on his child.

🍷Chuuya might not be around often due to his uh…position at work but once his kid starts developing interests he keeps those intact. His child into animals? Taking them to the zoo next week. His kid into sports? Signing them up for baseball as soon as possible.

🍷Whenever Chuuya feels like he missed out on something due to work he'll lay next to you in bed and ask you if he's a bad dad while just looking at the ceiling.

🍷Chuuya is the dad that his kid has no memory of ever seeing him cry when they get older. Mostly because he only really cries by himself and occasionally in your arms in bed.

🍷Has scared off multiple people he thinks were getting too close to his kid.

🍷You have a photo of a completely unbothered Chuuya sitting on the couch reading as your kid is practically climbing him with their blanket as a make shift cape.

🍷Chuuya is always there for whenever you need some you time and just need a break and is completely understanding. He'll take you out for a nice relaxing night out as a close friend of yours watches over your kid granted Chuuya was very hesitant to leave your kid. Not a single hair on their head will be hurt without someone dying.

🍷Whenever your kid comes home from school having a bad day they know they can tell Chuuya as he will hold them close and rub their back and whisper reassuring words as he listens.

🍷When the two of you got called by the school only you could go and pick up your kid since Chuuya was busy doing stuff. Your child got into a fight on the playground is what you told Chuuya when you got home and seeing him washing his hands of…stuff in the kitchen sink, Chuuya was proud of his kid, not for fighting that's bad, but for winning said fight.

🍷 “Did they win?”

🍷 “Not the point Chuuya.”

🍷 “I know but-”

🍷Will sit down and talk to them as to why fighting is wrong and why they shouldn't do it unless absolutely necessary his job doesn't count.

🍷Always tries his best to get your kid the best gift on their birthday. It's like a competition for you two just without any stakes.

🍷Chuuya puts your kid into private school for their entire life, only wanting the very best for your kid.

🍷You could be busy sitting with your kid helping them with their math homework at the dining table and you'll suddenly feel a pair of lips on your cheek. Chuuya returning from a uh…business trip earlier than expected and surprising the both of you!

🍷Chuuya will take a mental photo whenever he sees you and your child sleeping because your child was scared of the thunderstorm outside and wanted to sleep with you two. Seeing the way your child is curled up into your chest and you snoring away is a sight he'll cherish. He loves you two so much.

🦝When you mentioned kids to Poe you had to catch him when he fainted…..it took him quite awhile to warm up to the idea of kids mostly because he's worries if he'll be a good father, he was on board with kids after alot of time but you didn't mind, kids are alot of work and fragile so of course he's hesitant.

🦝The way it was brought up was when he cooking dinner and you were just getting home from work, he had been building up the courage all day so when he heard that front door open he yelled from the kitchen that he was ready for kids…you hadn't even taken off your shoes yet, when you entered the kitchen and asked him to repeat himself because what the fuck was that he was so embarrassed from how he mentioned the topic back up that he refused to even look at you.

🦝Poe had to be taught by you on how to hold a baby and when he looked down into his arms and he saw the warm, squishy, soft, mini human in the fluffy blanket he let out tears of joy, you couldn't really tell though since how hysterically he was crying.

🦝Despite him originally being WAY more opposed to having kids than you were he knows way more about babies than you, having read only the finest books on babies and honestly might mansplain at you about your baby.

🦝Should you leave your baby with a racoon?probably not but when you and Poe both are trying to figure out what's wrong with the bathroom sink there's Karl in the doorway giving your baby a bottle. You're so glad you got a picture of that.

🦝The first time Ranpo came face to face with your baby was when he was going to leech off you two again by crashing at your guy's place and when Poe opened the door he immediately noticed the baby crying in your arms trying to calm them down. Ranpo pushed past Poe just to poke. Poke at your baby and they stopped???

🦝Poe goes to those mommy support groups and it's honestly surreal to see him at the park with all his mom friends talking about their pediatricians.

🦝Whenever Poe makes a mistake like being too loud infront of the baby it keeps him up at night and him muttering about how your baby is going to cut him off as soon as possible and you have to put a stop to this thinking.

🦝Has a photo album dedicated to your baby's growth.

🦝Despite them being a baby and not being able to understand what's being said to them yet Poe reads them bed time stories.

🦝You were playing in the snow with your baby while Poe was inside working on his novel when they said their first words and you rushed inside, baby in arms, to get them repeat their words to Poe and when they do Poe snatched them from your arms and showered their face in so many kisses.

🦝The two of you turned your back from the baby for two seconds while adding a new wall decoration to the nursery when you guys hear Karl make a ear piercing squeal and when you two whipped around the last thing you two expected to see was your baby standing on Karl's tail- wait what. The moment was quickly over when your baby fell back on their bum and cried from how loud Karl was. The two of you were so happy for their first steps less happy about all the yelling but this'll be a fond memory in the future.

🦝Babyhood to childhood.

🦝Hes kind of a push over, if his child begs enough he will buy them whatever they want its usually up to you or Karl to slap some sense into him Karl in a more literal sense to make sure they don't grow up spoiled.

🦝Ranpo ends up being the uncle to sneak candy or a dollar to your kid whenever he sees them to which you scold him and your child. Considering how often Ranpo freeloads off you and Poe he might as well be another child.

🦝Poe is still in contact with the moms from his mom-baby classes and takes your child to play dates with the other moms children.

🦝On his desk are photos of your child on their birthday and a photo of you and him on your wedding day.

🦝Ranpo and Karl are a surprisingly good babysitting duo whenever you and Poe just want a night to yourselves because believe it or not having to make sure a fun sized human with the survival skills of a cabbage doesn't die can be stressful though you and Poe never find out all the hijinks that happen on those nights cause Ranpo bribes your kid to not say anything about the three of them getting lost in a city one hour from your home.

🦝He reads as many books and observes how you handle things whenever it comes to having to disciplining your child so that he can feel like a actually good parent, he looks up to you so much you don't even know.

🦝He still showers your child's face with kisses even if they do start getting embarrassed by it.

🦝He has taken it upon himself to homeschool your child, changing his schedule for his child, being very hands on like taking your kid outside for science lessons :)

🦝One time when Poe was busy writing he walked out his office to see you covered in scratches, you got them when you tried to get Karl to match clothes with your kid. Poe tended to your scratches.

🦝The horror that appeared on both your faces when you two noticed your child was in the bathroom for a weird amount of time so you guys went to check and they were cutting their own hair. Rest of their childhood from then on they had short hair.

🦝Multiple bags filled with clothes that your kid has grown out of that Poe refuses to get rid. Just reminds him of how tiny they used to be.

🦝Poe got into the habit of eating baby food when your kid was still a baby and only recently has stopped.

🦝Immediately hugged your child when they fell off their bike for the first time while learning.

🦝Poe likes answering questions about basic things that your child asks like why is the fridge light only on when you open it? Why can't he play right now? He just finds these questions about simple things that any adult understands amusing.

🦝Poe's heart gets all mushy whenever he sees you tucking your child in. He has it all.

🔪When you mentioned children to Gin while the two of you were making dinner together she froze in place, tears began to poke out of her eyes and it wasn't because of the onions she was cutting, she needed space and time to think it over and so you stepped back.

🔪You were suprised when months after you initially asked the question she gave a answer to your question while the two of you were on a ice skating date. You completely forgot about it so when she told you she thinks ready you were really confused. You aren't confused anymore now that you two are parents.

🔪You'll come home to a eerily silent house and just witness Gin sitting on the living room floor just watching your baby.

🔪Gin triple checks to make sure the car seat is secure before driving.

🔪Ryuunosuke has affections for your baby, after all their family and will protect them with his life, but has he ever supported the weight of the baby in his own two arms? Absolutely not. The closest he's got to holding them was using rashomon to take them when you forcibly handed the baby to him while you scrambled to turn the stove off after you realized you left it on and even them he put the baby on the ground next to him immediately.

🔪She is aware that the nature of her job might prevent her from spending time with you two so she always tries to keep things as snappy and clean as possible so she can make it home in time for dinner.

🔪Whenever you tired after taking care of the baby she'll gladly run you a nice bath and wash your back for you.

🔪You two have a entire manual prepared just in case you guys have to leave your baby with Ryuunosuke.

🔪Gin is very hesitant to give the baby any sugar but does feed them sugar every once in awhile for good behavior due to you convincing her.

🔪She gushes over your baby's first words, you were coming back from hanging out with friends and see her gently pinching your baby's cheeks and you don't even get to ask what's up when the baby repeats the word again.

🔪Prides herself in being the best mother ever.

🔪The baby was sleeping in bed with the two of you once and cried seeing Gin sleep with her eyes open. Fun memory years later, Not fun in the moment.

🔪You have a photo of her sleeping on the couch with the baby sleeping in the position as her under her arm, she'll never know you have this photo.

🔪A baby eventually turns into a child.

🔪Gin is the one who styles the kid’s hair.

🔪Has a photo of your kid on the first day of school as her lockscreen.

🔪Your kid is in public school, Gin just wants your kid to have a normal average average childhood.

🔪Takes everything her kid says very seriously, the kid could be talking about the most recent episode of their favorite show and she'll be listening intently.

🔪Please give her a head massage at the end of the day she deserves it considering her job and the kid.

🔪Whenever your kid does something bad Gin calmly sits down and explains why what the did was bad and why they shouldn't do it again ignore her job details .

🔪Your child's playdates just make Gin happy to see her child enjoy something she never did.

🔪If she gets home earlier than expected she'll help your kid with their homework.

🔪Your child has most definitely said “Eewwwww!” seeing you two slow dance together

🔪No one knows about you or your kid's existence. She stays private about it and wants to keep you two safe.

📒He was the one to mention kids to you when the two of you were getting ready for bed, he's financially and mentally ready to have a child are you? He handled the conversation with you with much care and if you ever got overwhelmed during the conversation he'd help calm you down.

📒Kunikida made sure to spend days talking about this subject with you since having a child is a life altering event. And now the life altering event is here.

📒He does those little baby leg exercises every morning before work so that your baby has enough leg strength for when they start walking.

📒Kunikida is not embarrassed to wear a baby carrier.

📒You were caught having one of the babies snacks and Kunikida snatched it away saying it was for the baby not you!

📒Doesn't mention you or the baby unless someone asks and when they do he talk about the two of you with so much pride.

📒When the day with the baby was particularly exhausting Kunikida will cup your face and tell you that you're doing a amazing job and only shower you with praise about how he admires your strength.

📒Kunikida and you were at the park having a picnic as a date together when you got a call from the family member that was baby sitting for the two of you that your baby took their first steps. Kunikida wanted to immediately get up and go see for himself but he didn't, this day was about you two celebrating your anniversary. When you guys went to pick up the baby though Kunikida cried on his knees when he saw the baby stumble on over to you two.

📒You were sitting on the bathroom sink recording Kunikida giving your baby a bath when they decided to say their first words, a shock to the both of you since they were months late to say their first words so the two of you just froze. Then you realized you got it on video and told Kunikida… he just smiled and gave your baby a kiss on the forehead and kept bathing them. This video is cherished.

📒You have all the gifts that Kunikida’s co-workers gave you guys on a shelf, some of them missed the assignment but it's the thought that counts though the crotchet stuffed cat by his co worker ‘Junichiro’ has to your favorite out the bunch.

📒You'll wake up in the middle of the night and realize Kunikida isn't there. Everytime you'll walk into the nursery and see him with the baby having fell asleep in the rocking chair.

📒Kunikida knows that his job requires him to do something life threatening things so he records his voice, talking about anything and everything talking about his schedule, how much he loves you and the baby, his time at work, just incase he doesn't end up coming home.

📒Luckily he made it to your babies childhood he still has voice messages just incase.

📒Instead of tying his kids shoes for them he decided to turn it into a lesson and teach then how to tie their own shoes.

📒Playdates are always held at your home because the other parents no for a fact that their kids are safe.

📒When your kid scraped their knee when they tripped over the pavement Kunikida was the first person on the scene.

📒You have a framed photo of your kid messily braiding Kunikida’s hair.

📒Might embarrass the kid but he doesn't care, his kid is required to bundle up as much as possible during winter.

📒Raising kid can be exhausting, he gets it, so. While your kid is being watched over at a family members house he takes the two of you to a nice planetarium date.

📒Your kid will activately be saying “Gross!” While you cover them in kisses.

📒Kunikida will take off his glasses for 000.1 seconds he'll look back and your kid took them.

📒Your kid cleans their own room and washes their own dishes.

📒…Good chance your kid had to help Ranpo get on the train before.

📒From the way you and your kid walk into the grocery store with blacked out sunglasses they probably thought you two were about to raid the place when in reality your kid just wanted to feel cool while getting their favorite snack.

📒Your kid always feels loved because every night before they close their eyes they see you and Kunikida telling them goodnight before the lights are out.

📒You feel loved. Kunikida doesn't fall asleep until he knows you two are asleep, just a safety thing.

Smoking and drinking beer with If I Die Young by The Band Perry while posting this lol

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Desperate Love {Blurb}

Sirius Black x Reader / Remus Lupin x Reader / Wolfstar

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Summary: the moment you and Sirius found you were no good for each other. (This is a I'll Look After You / We'll Heal Together blurb to expand their relationship, not meant as a standalone but could be read that way)

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, Alcoholism, mentions of emotional infidelity, children, cussing, Sirius is mean and drunk, Right person wrong time

Wc-2855

A/N: There will be another post of the actual series soon!

Taglist- @otterlockholmes @stylesann @adhxmoony

You and Sirius stayed that whole night. Cleaning up around the place, taking care of Harry, and keeping the volume low.  Remus came over and you and him worked to distract Harry and Sirius took a nap. That really only consisted of him staring at the muggle tv and flicking through channels. When the actual parents returned you and Sirius went home.

You went home and had one of the most vicious fights you had ever had.

When you and Sirius finally returned to your cottage, it was still early morning. The familiar smell of Sirius’s black candles, his cologne, the subtle left over smell of burning oak from the fireplace and your perfume filled the small space. It smelt like home. 

You had grown so familiar, so comfortable, with the man behind you. Taking off your thick coat and hanging it for you, smiling softly as you turned to do the same. Everything you two had become was pure domestic bliss, a relationship modeled off your desires and not outside influence. Your relationship was so unapologetically you. 

Sometimes that was the worst part.

You swayed your way into the kitchen, getting ready to prepare you and your fiance something to eat. You could feel his eyes on you, but he stayed quiet. Usually when he got like this he liked to stay mellow, but conversation never hurt. There was something you had been meaning to ask him, something you should have brought up years ago.

“You know, being around Harry, it makes you think.” You hummed and took down two mugs, starting to fiddle with the muggle coffee maker Lily gifted you.

“Think of what?” Sirius mumbled as he sat at the table and continued to stare at you. You glanced at him and slowly smiled, turning to face him fully. 

“Lily and James. They were living. Truly living.” You gave a breathy sigh of fondness. “I admire it. Starting a family at a time like this.”

You used to wear rose tinted glasses. So in love with the idea of love, that your independent choices of who you loved made all the difference. You weren't marrying Sirius because your parents wanted you to, you were marrying him because you chose to. It was a hazy kind of bliss with the Black heir.

“Don't you think it's a bit.. foolish?” Sirius mumbled into his palm as he pulled down a book from the top of the counter and pretended to flick through the pages. You paused and slowly furrowed your brow, turning to face him. Watching as his jaw clenched and his hollowed cheeks dented. 

“Foolish? Sirius, you were just telling them how happy you were about it.” You challenged and set the coffee cup down, Sirius never hesitated to say what he meant. You strained your lips, walking towards him curiously. Sirius had been ecstatic at the wedding, he had told the two the very words of praise you were speaking now. Sirius wouldn't lie so casually... You tried to catch his eye but he avoided you, he knew how well you could read him. One look in his eyes and he knew you'd see every thought, no magic required.

“Sirius, what's on your mind?” You pried and he shook his head.

“I don't want kids.” He interjected instantly. Pressing his thumb to his cheek. You felt like you had just been slapped in the face.

Now, your relationship with Sirius Black was fragile. Not that you both didn't understand what it truly was. You've loved him for three years, and he's sworn his devotion to you several times over those few years. You were both love sick and dangerous together, one of the many reasons you weren't allowed on missions together. It was like you both had something to prove.

How it all started, however? Sirius would call himself a rebound. Self deprecation was his best way to respond to the idea you had in fifth year, after Remus broke your heart. Your relationship was innocent to start, but Sirius would always toe the line. To the point James would tease you both to just go through with the wedding.

“Why don't we?” You remarked, your head lifting from Sirius shoulder and leaned forward on the couch.

“What?” Sirius muttered, looking like a deer in headlights.

“At least get engaged. If we do, we would both get access to our gringotts accounts. It was our parents only stipulation.” You continued and Sirius gave a small scoff.

“Even if I did marry you, dearest, my parents would never let me see a knut.” He chuckled, voice cracking a bit. Especially when you sent him that devilish grin.

“That's just it. It's up to the bank, not her.” You mused and Sirius slowly smirked. “You are insane.” He laughed and you bit your tongue, trying to hide a smirk.

“But as always, brilliant.” He purred and leaned down to kiss your palm, making your laugh.

It wasn't surprising the only person in the friend group who seemed against it was Remus. Even Lily supported the outlandish plan. Get engaged, collect your accounts, and call it off.

You never followed through with that last part.

“You.. don't want kids?” You repeated, a bit baffled. You had never once mentioned wanting to have a family with Sirius, but he had always made it painfully clear that was what he wanted. At least, that's what you thought.

He made absolutely sure the cabin could hold a family, two rooms, public space, a field to run in. He told you about the ideas he had, sending a child with his last name to a muggle school for his first few years would spite his mother in the best of ways. How having you as a wife was the best curse he was ever gifted by the hag. Not fiancé, wife.

It never once crossed your mind he didn't want this too.

“I don't want kids.” He muttered and you gave a deep sigh through your nose. 

“That's.. that's a discussion for later.” You whispered and looked away from him. He scoffed, and you closed your eyes, sighing. When he got like this, you knew he was looking for a reaction. A reaction you refused to give.

“I don't want kids. There will be no discussion about it.” He grumbled and stood up.

You rubbed your temple and tried to focus your once loving and excitable energy on the more serious topic. The conversation he seemed so desperate to have.

He watched you try and calm yourself before he began to stand and grabbed his coffee cup and the expensive bottle of scotch on the shelf you had since you first moved in. James’s house warming gift.

You watched him start to open it and winced a bit. “Sirius, please, not now of all times.” You whispered and he scoffed.

“Seems appropriate. I just watched you play house with my best mate for hours, might as well.” His words were bitter and to the point, cutting through the rose tints you adorned and let you see the house more clearly. Thick layer of dust clinging to the lights you never clean, the hazy warmth of the yellow glow seemed much more like a medical white, and Sirius Black looked like the boy you hoped stayed at Hogwarts. Bitter and childish. Sharp and unapologetic.

He reminded you of what this was.

Once you processed what he said, you gawked at him. Eyes wide before your expression turned to slight anger as he continued to open the bottle and poured himself a decent amount of liquor, shooting it back. You watched as his hair fell down his jaw and seemed to frame the pale bobbing throat.

Sirius had just broken this habit, closing in on himself at the slightest push back. As if the demand of affections and attention from someone he didn't think he deserved was too much for him, and seeing Remus, someone Sirius seemed to believe was perfect for you, look at you like you could ail all his illnesses, mend every wound physically for emotion. Wounds Sirius himself marked you both with, it was pushing him closer and closer to an end you couldn't bare to see him meet.

“Sirius, you can't possibly be genuine.” You spoke carefully and Sirius gave a bitter laugh over the tail end of your words. Your expression turned sour, trying to hold back as your body shook and your shoulders square. You were fantastic with confrontation. Not when no party was truly in the wrong. There was no enemy in these matches of wit and skillful pin pricks to your hearts, aiming to scar more often than not.

“Do you think I'm daft, {L/N}?” 

It was always the same conversation, the same points that broke skin on contact and contracted around your throat. Like the snake he was born to be, a boa to your neck and a cottonmouth striking you deaf. He wasn't the lion he claimed to be on nights like this.

He was a coward, hiding behind the drinks he threw back. Tomorrow, he would act as if nothing had happened. Showering you with adoration and love he swore he could take from you without a blink of an eye the night before.

“Don't-” You were too, a coward, that was. The snake you were born to be, the snake you became, coiling in itself and begging for him to loosen his grasp and return to your game of pretend. 

“You don't think I see how he looks at you?” He slammed the mug on the counter. “He isn't over you. He saw you with Harry and I swear I could have offered him a cure for his furry problem and he wouldn't have looked away!” His voice boomed and you shook your head, turning to walk away. It pained you beyond belief to be reminded of how cruel he could be. How much of a Black he truly would become when rage met his weaknesses. He hated weakness, love was weakness. Some days, that was all you needed to know he loved you. His cruelty. 

Sirius let out another string of profanities.

“I'm not doing this. No. We just got some fantastic news, Sirius. We just met our godson. You will not spoil it with your nonsense!” You shouted back and he took another shot. Drowning himself into the numbing elixir, taking away none of his pain and replacing his relational thought with reactive passion. You seemed to pick them that way, Severus, Sirius, Remus… Behaviors begging for reaction. Begging for you to care.

“You want a child so bad? Go and have Lupin’s. I'm sure he's more than happy to provide that service. Right after he's done howling at the moon and feeding on-.” Sirius declared to the roof, hands outstretched. You did your best to level yourself out, but slander to your shared friends was not something you could ignore.

“Sirius Black! You bite your tongue!” You shouted back and he scoffed, making you roll your jaw and close your eyes. Trying to steady your breathing. You hated to be angry. “... Sirius, it's been a long night. We haven't slept yet, you're drinking,” You gestured to him pouring yet another shot. Sighing heavily. “I want to sleep. I just- let's not talk about this.”

“Just like you. You're just so ready to drop it. Why's that? Hm? You don't want to slip up? Admit you want him too?” He taunted like a child. You shook your head and tried to calm yourself further. Reminding yourself every strike he took at you wasn't for you. It's a manifestation of his own feelings of guilt and stress, his awful and over used love language.

“Sirius, you're being cruel and vindictive-”

“Merlin, woman! Will you talk to me like a person! Forget the self help books! Tell me what you really feel!”

“You want to know how I truly feel?” You snapped back and he seemed to respond more the more angry you got.

“Yes! Merlin, finally! Give me a fucking crumb of life in your words. Like you bloody mean it!” He ranted and you began to pace, mirroring his erratic movements through the kitchen, as he waited impatiently. Your snake ready to strike as he continued to hiss and brandish his fangs at you.

“I think you think I'm a fool.” You shouted at him and he seemed absolutely giddy at the reaction. “I think you are hurting me because you're in pain and won't admit it!”

“That so?” He gave a laugh and it made you flinch. “I'm in pain? Is that what that book you love to read diagnoses me with? Oh, Doctor, what are my woes?” He prodded and you snatched the drink away from him as he tried to pour himself more. You capped it and sealed it away in the cabinet of other half drank bottles from arguments and parties over the years. “I think you're the fool? You're the fool who doesn't know what's going on in my head?”

“Yes! I think you think I'm a fool. Sirius, you want me to give up on you.” You demanded with a chilling calm. Sirius didn't seem pleased with this. 

“Either that or you think I'd just ignore the painful fact that you've been in love with Remus since Hogwarts!” You snapped back and his jaw went slack. You stared daggers at him and he suddenly tightened his expression, your snake clinging to his neck and injecting years worth of your bane. He wasn't so excited anymore.

“What are you talking about?”

“The glitter incident? The jealous looks? The constant badgering? The dance? You clung to him like he was the last man on this earth.” You rattled on, speaking over Sirius whenever he opened his mouth. “I believe you love me, Sirius. I really do. But you need to analyze what exactly is making you so jealous about me and Remus. Is it that he's in love with me? Or is it that it's not you?”

Sirius slowly set his mug down and you sighed. Taking a few more breaths before you spoke slowly. “No one calls their friend ‘My Moony,’ Sirius. No one does. No one convinces his friends to keep a mandrake leaf in their mouth for a month to help them through a full moon. One friend who can't bloody shut up!” 

You stopped your pacing and stared daggers into his eyes. He was speechless, paralysis from your venom taking over as he stammered to collect himself.

“I don't.. I..” Sirius’s voice was low, as if he was grappling with the news himself. You stared at him in shock. How had he not realized?

“I thought loving you would be enough.” You spoke carefully, steady, and Sirius shook his head. Flushed from the buzz in his mind. “I do love you, you know that? I think it's unfair. You love us both, but I'm wrong for wanting Remus in my life?”

You stepped closer and got a good look at his eyes, finally able to see the turmoil and desperation behind it. Then you found it. So much regret you yourself almost fell into it. “.. I'm over him, Sirius.” You whispered softly. “I have been waiting for you to be too. Merlin, you,” your breath caught in your throat. “You haven't even asked about a wedding date.”

Sirius opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Truly regretting drinking. Slowly, he shook his head and rubbed the bottom of his palms against his eyes. “... it seems you've given me too much credit.” He muttered.

Your throat tightened and you slowly closed your eyes. “I love you, Sirius.”

“And him.”

“You.” You repeated. “And I think you need to get your priorities in order. I truly do. I thought love would turn you into a man I deserve, like this would be the answer but,” You gestured to the alcohol. “It hadn't been. You made a choice at Hogwarts, and I think we both know you regret it.”

Sirius began to swirl his half empty coffee mug and stared down at the brown drink. He wet his lips and gave a strained laugh. “I think we both do.” He whispered and you closed your eyes. 

“Figure it out, Sirius.” You whispered and pulled off the ring from your finger, setting it on the counter. You don't look at Sirius, but you could hear his sound of defeat. Instantly the regret rushed over him.

“{Y/N}-”

“When you are ready for me. I will be proud to wear it. Until then, figure out what you want.”

You waited months for Sirius to come back to you, tell you everything he's learned and lost, that he didn't want to lose you. He never did.

There was fault in both sides. You didn't ask him to forget about Remus, you wouldn't be so hypocritical. You wanted him to choose you. He never did, it was a reminder that it was simply a plan. A plan you should have cut off years ago.

[dyeher]

FIVE WAYS TO END A FIRST DATE| shouto, suna, draken, megumi, eren.

warnings| sexy time, fluff, unedited (obviously).

author's note| for @ikkakvs ❤️

Let's be real. When your nineteen-year-old son says he needs to talk to you during breakfast the last thing you expect him to say around the table with his three year old sister not even a foot away is-

"I want to fuck her on the first date..."

His father absolutely spits his morning coffee across the kitchen counter. You're frozen, a forkful of your breakfast halfway to your lips. He continues to eat like he didn't just say what he said. You make eye contact with your husband who is on the verge of hacking up a lung as your son gently wipes baby food from his little sister's face.

You drop your fork into your plate and attempt to muster your most serious mom face. Not the kind you use when he's fucked up but the one where you are on the fence about whether or not he needs to have sense shaken into him.

He doesn't even have the wherewithal to look chagrined. Instead, he musters a small, smug smile...something identical to his father's (still dying by the way). You narrow your eyes, he shrugs.

"Dad always says when you know you know...and trust me. I know. Besides didn't you-" he glances at his sister who is happily making a mess of her breakfast and then whispers (like it makes a difference, the child is three she has no idea what is going on)"-you know...have sex on the first-"

"Okay!" His father interrupts. And bless his soon-to-be-dead ass because you did not volunteer this information to your son so it must have been your husband. The one you did fuck after the first date.

"What?" Your son shrugs. "Dad tells me everything."

You glare at the dad in question, only to receive an identical shrug.

"Baby," you start carefully. "What if she doesn't want to fuck after the first date?"

He gives you a quizzical look. "That's fine, we have like forever together. We can fuck after date one hundred for all I care."

"Oh, thank God," you share a relieved glance with your husband. At least you haven't completely failed at raising him.

"But- I guess...I mean the vibes are there, you know? We're totally gonna f-"

"Small ears, kid," your husband covers your daughter's ears and eyes him meaningfully.

You let out a breath and start eating your breakfast. If parenting has taught you anything is that every conversation with our teenager can become a lesson.

"There are other ways to end the first date, baby. A kiss on the cheek. Asking for a second date. Making sure she knows you enjoyed spending time with her-"

"Is that how your first dates ended? With cheek kisses and reassurance?"

You don't like the way he's staring knowingly at you. And your husband's snort disguised as a cough doesn't go unnoticed.

"Well-"

You can feel your husband's eyes on you as you open your mouth. You have to sift through your exes quickly but the most memorable end to your first dates were from-

SUNA RINTARO

Car sex.

Suna Rintaro fucked you in the backseat of his car and the memory is fresh in your mind as though it happened yesterday and not almost twenty years ago.

The leather seats were sticky and slippery with your mixed cum. The squeaking as your body slid up the seat with each of his hurried thrusts. The scent of his cologne as he shoved his face into your neck. The way your body bowed against his. The harsh sound of your breaths. His whispered 'fuck' when he slid in for the first time.

His promises. And of course...his unplanned I love you.

And no, this is definitely not something you do not want to suggest to your son.

2. SHOUTO TODOROKI

He bought you flowers.

Of course, it was more of a 'oh my goodness, look shouto a flower shop' 'do you want to get flowers?' kind of situation where he bought you every flower you looked at for too long (because you deserved it, his words not yours) plus a bouquet of fresh roses and sunflowers.

And...and then he fucked you in his king-sized bed on those flower petals. Used the stem of a rose with the thorns still attached for a bit of fun. Laid you on your side facing his mirror so you could see as his cock disappeared into your body. Spoke filthy, disgusting things into your ear.

You shudder at the reminder.

No. That's also not appropriate...

3. KEN RYUGUUJI

You drove his bike.

Actually one of the scariest experiences of your existence. But also one of the most exhilarating. The purr of the bike's engine between your thighs, the grip Ken had on you. The deep rumble of his voice in your ear gently coaching you. Guiding and praising you.

Okay, to be fair the adrenaline is to blame for the sex that occurred after that. It was wild, and God if you both didn't make promises that to this day have you ducking your head in embarrassment whenever you see him.

The reality is, that this particular first date ended in two creampies, a promise to be the best mother to his children, and a marriage proposal.

You glance at your son quickly only to find him already staring at you. Your husband is smirking in the background.

4. MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

First of all.

It was a picnic. How fucking cute is that?

And to be fair, he was adorably nervous and you thought kissing him would ease the tension but one thing led to another and...

He fucked you beneath the stars to the symphony of crickets. Once he got inside you became an entirely different person. The way he propped the soles of your feet on his shoulders and fucked you until you were weeping into the soft blankets, your nails digging into his skin.

Unprepared for the way Megumi became a sex god you'd squirted all over his chest, much to your mortification. And he had the audacity to drag his fingers through the mess and suck it off his fingers.

The man was a whore.

You're almost dismayed when you realize the last first date you had was-

5. EREN YEAGER

A child.

That's right.

Eren Yeager fucked you after the first date and left you with a mini version of himself growing inside you. Granted he married you before you gave birth and you've been living happily ever after since but still.

You glare at your husband as he reaches across the table to take your plate. Your son sits back in his chair, his arms folded across his chest.

"Wear a condom," you grunt.

Your son cackles as he stands from the table. He bends to scoop his sister out of her high chair. "Don't be silly-" he coos to her, "-wrap your willy."

As he disappears around the corner your husband chuckles.

"How was your trip down memory lane?"

He steps in close to you as you stand and prop yourself against the dining table.

"I hate you, deeply," you groan. Eren laughs as he bends to brush his lips against yours.

"Sure baby, anything you say," he smiles against your mouth. "Anyway, I've been thinking..."

You frown, pulling back to look up at him. "About what?"

"Sharing."

Your breath leaves you in a rush. "Sharing what?"

His eyes darken to a shade of green you've never seen.

"You."

[thelostconsultant]

A well kept secret

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Bonnington!reader

summary: Lewis wants to move to the next level in your relationship, but he didn't consider an issue–your father having no idea you've been dating for years.

warnings: age gap, but otherwise it's angst/fluff.

“I have an idea. A long-overdue one, actually,” Lewis began as he rolled closer to you in the engineering truck, his eyes searching the room to see if Bono was nearby.

But your father was nowhere to be seen, and to be honest, the room was surprisingly empty at this time of the day, so he didn't hesitate to reach out and take your hand in his. Normally he would stick to casually patting your shoulder or giving you a high five, maybe pulling you into a quick, friendly hug if he felt daring, but being so alone was extremely rare when you attended a race weekend.

Your sweet smile that told him to go on made his brain temporarily short-circuit, but once he pulled himself together, he cleared his throat and began to lay out the plan. “Move in with me. I know I spend a lot of time away, but I want to share my home with you.”

The two of you had been dating for over two years now, keeping your relationship under the radar to protect yourselves from your father's inevitable fury. Because Lewis was certain he would be mad at him despite their over a decade long working relationship, and it would poison their teamwork that brought them so many amazing race wins and titles.

Not like he could blame him, it was easy to tell what the two of you had could be seen as something very controversial. He had met you when you were just a kid, and now, all those years later, there he was with the taste of your lips and feeling of your skin locked in his head. He loved you, he was sure of that, but sometimes he wondered if he should have told you to forget about him and focus on guys your age.

You wouldn't even have to go that far from the paddock. Everyone at Mercedes knew Max had been trying to get your attention for months now, and his most recent attempt the day before resulted in photos of him lurking around their motorhome spread like wildfire, making people believe he was there to sign a contract with the team for 2025.

But he kept his doubts to himself. You seemed so happy when you were together that he simply didn't have the heart to have this conversation with you. Why should he make you sad? He didn't want you to be sad. If being together made you happy, he would stay as long as you were letting him.

Now a part of him expected you to bring up that telling your father about the two of you was also long-overdue, but you didn't say it in the end. It was in your eyes, he knew that's what you were thinking about, but something stopped you from saying it out loud. What you did say was a lot more pragmatic, an aspect of his plan he had failed to consider.

“You live in Monaco. What if my parents wanted to visit me? What would I say?”

Lewis drew in a deep breath, his eyes moving away from your face for a little while so he could focus on the conversation. You were right. You lived in London, your parents obviously knew that, and sometimes they jumped in to visit you. There had been that one time when he was at your place and they showed up to surprise you since they were nearby. Those were the longest three hours of his life so far, hours that he spent locked into your bedroom.

“Look, I know you hate to hear this, but we can't do this without telling them about us,” you told him eventually after you cupped his cheek with your hand.

Gulping, he covered your hand with his and thought about your words. There was no other way to do it, you had to be honest with them for the first time in years. “Let's wait until the end of this season. Your dad's not coming to Ferrari with me, so him hating me wouldn't affect our work in the future,” he suggested.

“He wouldn't hate you forever. Sure, he would be a little mad at us for not telling him sooner, but–”

He couldn't help but laugh at your adorable naivety. “Baby, it's more complicated than that. Two years. We've been together for two years. I've been lying to his face the whole time, even joking around with him when he seriously considered taking pity on Max and giving him your number so he could call you.”

You laughed at the last part, but your smile faded when he gave you a serious look.

“And here's the biggest issue. The age difference, it's… I watched you grow up. If it wasn't my life, my first thought would be that you were groomed by that guy you're dating now,” he explained calmly, but deep inside he was a nervous mess.

“Lewis, I can see that you're overthinking it. Don't. You did nothing wrong,” you assured him in a soft voice before leaning closer to place a kiss on his lips in an attempt to avert his thoughts. “We will wait as long as you want.”

He let out a sigh with a small smile on his face. “I love you, never forget that. No matter what happens when we tell him, just know that I love you,” he told you seriously before kissing you again, not giving you the chance to respond.