#i just want Em to carry me to a comfy bed and tell me I can sleep for a bit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

batlingsstuff · 4 years ago

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|| DREAM SMP HEADCANONS ||

✧─── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

hello! this is my first time doing headcanons, and i just want to clarify some things:

sadly, i won't be doing requests because i'm busy af with school and i dont want to dissapoint anyone, but you can drop some suggestions and i would think about it! it would be really nice :)

also i won't be writing romantic headcanons for minors or those who are uncomfortable with it, but i can do platonic headcanons for them! ^^

i won't be doing nsfw headcanons either, because i'm uncomfy with sexualizing real people and just writing nsfw in general :)

also, please tell me if someone is uncomfortable with fanfics and/or headcanons and i will erase that part as fast as possible, thanks for passing by! - batling

✦ means platonic

✦ characters : ranboo, tubbo, tommy, philza, techno and jschlatt

♥ means romantic

♥ characters: quackity, wilbur, nihachu, dream, george, sapnap, eret, karl, fundy and bbh

keywords:

(y/n) : your name

(n/n) : nickname

(p/p) : pizza place

✧─��─ ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.” – John Green

┌────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────┐

SLEEPOVERS

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GENDER NEUTRAL

└────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────┘

♥ Quackity

oh boy

i just have two words for this one: pure chaos

he will punch you with a pillow if you try to sleep

and you will be MAD at this

grabbing a pillow and hitting him RIGHT IN THE FACE with all your strenght

he'll probably fake cry about it, saying that you hurt him

after a while of pillow fighting, you guys got tired and plopped into the bed, snuggling into eachother and just enyoing the comfortable silence before drifting to sleep

♥ Wilbur

you two will probably blast hamilton and scream the lyrics till the neighbours wake up and you get angry knocks at your door

and you will laugh at that, lowering the speaker's volume and telling him to lower his voice aswell to avoid your neighbours calling the police

then you'll eat snacks and talk about anything that pops into your mind, laughing at the most silly jokes

he will sing sweet songs to you, making you fall asleep to his calming voice

summary: fluff

♥ Nihachu

you and her will bake pastries at a very late hour

she REALLY enjoys baking with you bc she thinks it's a great way to spend time with you

all this girl wants is to spend her time by your side, doing particularlly anything like streaming, baking, playing games and going outside for a walk and/or shopping

once you finished baking, she will kiss your cheek multiple times. that's her way to tell you that you did a great job :)

you'll spend the rest of the night cuddling, eating your pastries and watching some random movie, commenting about how bad it is and laughing

♥ Dream

bruh

this bitch will speedrun the sleepover

is it possible to speedrun a sleepover? maybe

you'll spend the rest of the night probably playing uncharted 3: drake's deception in his old ps3

after a while, you guys got bored from uncharted and went to his pc to play amnesia: the dark descent

there are 2 options:

you will be scared as fuck and will avoid looking at the screen when you think something bad will happen or when some body will come out from a drawer

or you will be totally chill with it, laughing hard when clay pisses his pants for real when he encounters the gatherer

you named the gatherer 'bob' :)

♥ George

he'll take you to the rooftop

and pushes you so you fall to your death

i mean

he gets blankets and pillows so you can stargaze together

he'll teach you the constelations while pointing them, excited about every single one of them

"look (y/n), that's the ursa major!"

he'll have hot chocolate prepared too, so you don't get cold while stargazing

you try your best to not fall asleep on the rooftop

but eventually fail

when he notices you're asleep, he stops talking about the constellations and carries you to your bedroom, giving you a goodnight kiss and leaving you in your bed so you can have a peaceful rest

♥ Sapnap

hey mamas

i don't know what sapnap will do in a sleepover so i will just improvise B)

you will watch anime together

not any kind of anime, like that romance-comedy bullcrap

no fuck that

you will watch the classy angsty anime like madoka magica

WATCH IT IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY

you will fucking cry because of literally anything that happens to the characters

"(y/n) why are you crying it's just a show"

'IT'S NOT ANY SHOW SAPNAP IT'S FUCKING MADOKA MAGICA OF COURSE I'M GOING TO CRY'

the last chapter made you fucking cry harder

AUTHOR HERE I WAS CRYING SO MUCH WHEN IT ENDED

yeah you will basically watch anime with him, cry about it and he will comfort you and bring you a glass of water so you don't have a terrible headache after it

I KNOW THIS HEADCANON SUCKED I'M SO SORRY

♥ Eret

KINGG <3

you two will plan a picnic in your yard

yes your yard

he'll bring a ton of snacks and you'll buy a few drinks

you two spend the rest of the picnic talking about your future and enjoying the snacks

then, he'll make you stand up and will teach you how to dance tango

and of course you will mess everything up

and you even stomped on his feet accidentally, making him wimper

but he brushed off the pain and laughed at your concerned face

after calming down his laughter, he gave you a passionate kiss and hugged you tightly

i love eret ok

♥ Karl Jacobs

this man.

this man is the definition of sweet

you'll spend the night cuddling and making cute pet names for eachother

he will definetely give you a great back massage if you're stressed

then he'll start writing love letters full of things he adore of you

and you'll do the same for him

after that, you will share your letters and just snuggle and smile at the sweet things you guys wrote for eachother

he will deffo shower you with kisses when he finishes reading your letter, telling you that you're the nicest person on earth

and that he loves you so so much

♥ Fundy

i'm a huge fundy simp ok

he will bring his piano to your house and you guys will compose a melody together

he will let you sit on his lap while you play the piano/keyboard with him

fundy will basically teach you how to play basic piano songs

you asked him if you guys could play megalovania together

he said no :(

but still you got to play nice songs together without messing up

and when you got the hang of it, he snuggled his face in your neck and kissed you there genly

and when you got tired, he started playing very calming songs and you fell asleep in his lap, snuggling into his chest

he gently carried to your room and will sleep beside you putting a fair distance so you can have a comfortable sleep!

♥ BadBoyHalo

bbh supremacy

he will get rat ready so you can snuggle with her too :)

you guys will mainly play with rat and talk about life in general

he will call you tons of cute pet names

ofc he will call you muffin it's bbh who we're talking about

he will talk about how bad he wants to spend the rest of his life with you

after a while, he will take you to his kitchen and start making muffins together

he will guide you on how to bake 'em though

you guys had a great time making muffins and cuddling with him and rat :)

══════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ══════

✦ Ranboo

tall mf gives the best piggy back rides

when he gets to your house there is a 100% chance he will bump his head on the door frame

and there is a 100% chance you will make fun of him because of that

"(y/n) please stop laughing my head hurts :("

you'll give him some ice to put on his head while you two play minecraft on your ps4

you will bring snacks too and ask him if his head is better

"yeah, thank you (n/n)"

he will pull you in a hug so you can be comfy together while you play good ol' minecraft

because ranboo surely doesn't play anything besides fucking minecraft

stfu that video of him playing spooky's jump scare mansion doesn't exist

✦ Tubbo

SWEET BE BOYY <3

he will gift you a bee plushie

expect a lot of (FRIENDLY) hugs from him

like fundy, you guys will play piano together

you guys are most likely to prank call some random numbers AND your friends

and you accidentally called some random pizza place

"hello! this is (p/p), may i take your order?"

you were nervous and didn't know what to say

UNTIL YOU CAME UP WITH A GREAT IDEA

"hello? are you there?"

'hi yes, i would like to order 7 extra large pepperoni pizzas to (tommy's adress).'

"oh- okay! uhm- they will arrive in a few hours. are you okay with that?"

'yes ma'am, thank you.'

when you ended the call, you couldn't help but burst out laughing, knowing that tommy will be so mad at you guys-

✦ Tommy

like quackity, PURE. CHAOS.

you guys will obviously stream your sleepover

doing a q&a stream :)

tubbo and wilbur will probably crash your stream and start spamming things like 'MEETUP??' and 'DIDN'T GET AN INVITE'

you guys laughed and added them to the call

"WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU GUYS INVITE ME?" wilbur shouted

'i'm sorry willlll'

you kept playing minecraft with wilbur, tubbo and quackity too since he crashed your stream like an hour later

after the stream, you got up and plopped on the mattress that was on the floor

"tired?"

'yeah'

"okay, good night big (initial)"

✦ Philza

POG

YEAHHH SLEEPOVER WITH THE MINECRAFT GOD

AND KRISTIN'S THERE TOO :)))

and oh god you ADORE kristin

i'm pretty sure she's a total sweetheart

it would be like having a sleepover with your parents

only that it's less boring

you guys will watch a movie together, you will be in one side of the couch eating snacks while phil and kristin are in the other cuddling

you'll eventually bug them about it

after the movie, you fell asleep early and philza noticed, talking to kristin about it too

and wrapped a blanket around you so that you get a good rest :)

✦ Technoblade

mr. blood god teaches you the arts of the CRAFT.

yeah i mean it's techno what else does he play besides minecraft

he will play bedwars w/ u, teaching you how to pvp

"bro you kinda suck tbh"

'stfu techno'

he will comment about how bad you are, but tries to help you get better anyways

and when you do a very poggers gamer move, he praises you

and when he praises you you're all :)))

after awhile, he gets tired from watching you play minecraft and suggest watching anime

fucking weeb

i mean

other thing you guys do together in a sleepover is playing and commenting about pokemon

if you don't like pokemon get tf out of here /J

i was joking please don't leave i respect your tastes

✦ Jschlatt

ooooh boy

get ready for a session of wii training

that's all you guys will do

play wii sports and some other shit like wii music

he will laugh his ass of if you fall while playing wii fit

but he will eventually help you bc outside his funny and shouty persona, he's a really chill guy and a really nice person!

seriously like have you ever seen a theweeklyslap video?

well expect hearing amazing pep talks from him

bc this man is a legend and knows his way to words and is very good at comforting people :)

sometimes you'll rant to him about anything that's happening in your life, and he will listen to you and give you really helpful advice

and you appreciate him so much for that

✧─── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

TYSM FOR READING GUYS, i appreciate it if you made it this far :)

i hope you guys really enjoyed these headcanons, it's my first time doing them and aa i'm a bit nervous about posting this but i'll be fine ig

also i'm sorry if there's a grammatical error, english is not my native language and i'm still learning it :) have a nice day/night, drink water and don't fuck up your sleeping schedule!!

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stardustedsins · 3 years ago

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Fireflies

Hol Horse/reader (gender neutral reader), 500 words

Summary: You enjoy a quiet summer night at home with Hol Horse

Read on ao3 here or under the cut

You’re sitting out on the porch by yourself. It’s a warm summer night, and the fireflies are out. You left the porch light off, so you can watch them blink as they fly around. The distant noise of cars on the highway is nearly covered up by the night chorus of crickets and frogs.

A ray of light cuts across the darkness briefly as the door opens and closes again behind you. Soft footsteps approach you, and you feel a warm body settle in behind you. Hol Horse stretches his legs out on either side of you and slings his arms around your shoulders.

“Hey.” He murmurs.

“Hey.” You say it back, leaning back into him and tilting your head up to look at him. He’s all dressed down, just a t-shirt and a pair of loose comfy shorts. His hair is pulled back in a sloppy ponytail.

“Nice night.” He murmurs.

“Yeah.” You agree. “Nicer now that you’re here.”

“Aw, aren't you sweet.”

He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, and you both sit and watch the fireflies for a while. One comes to rest on a potted plant on the porch, antennae twitching as it crawls around a leaf for a moment before taking off again.

Eventually Hol breaks the silence.

“I used to sit out and watch the fireflies like this at my granddad’s house when I was a kid, y’know.” His voice is wistful, and you’re sure if you were to look up, you’d find him staring out into the middle distance, lost in thought.

“Tell me about it?” You ask, knowing he’ll keep talking if you let him.

“He had fruit trees, peaches and plums, and I used to climb all over ‘em and steal the fruit. I’d sit on the porch like this and eat ‘em while the fireflies were just coming out. I got juice everywhere, of course, but I was a messy kid.” You snort, knowing he hasn’t really changed much. He nudges you in mock offense, knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Hey, at least I do laundry now.” You both settle back down. “Anyway, nights like this are my favorite. Warm enough to sit out like this, but not as hot as the day.”

“And the fireflies are out, of course.” You add. “It’s nice to have something pretty to look at.”

“What, I’m not enough for you?” Hol teases, and you pretend to be thinking about it.

“Oh, I don’t know, I think I could do better.” You look up at him so he can see your grin.

“You’re killin’ me, sweetheart.” He deadpans, and you snicker.

“C’mon, it’s not that funny.” He says, but he’s smiling while you laugh. You relax back into his arms with a yawn. The fireflies are still out, but it’s gotten late.

“Looks like it’s time we get to bed, darlin’. Hold still.” He rises to a squat, positions his arms around you, and stands up with a grunt of exertion. “There. Knew I could do it.”

“Thank you, Hol.” You murmur next to his ear as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Hey, I’ll carry you around any time you want.” He says, and you close your eyes and let him take you to bed.

#jjba x reader #jojos bizzare adventure x reader #hol horse x reader #stardust crusaders #hol horse #my writing #gender neutral reader #sfw #summer vibes

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dokifluffs · 4 years ago

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Can You Hold Me | Miya Atsumu

Pairing: Atsumu X Reader (gender neutral)

Genre: angst to fluffy comforttt, a little of frenemies to lovers? I tried, college

Author’s Note: Y/N was literally how I felt recently and I wanted this, and I still want this so badlyyy

Warnings: anxiety!

The wind blew through the street, making all the branches whip violently through the air as dark clouds rolled through the sky, the rumbling sound of thunder creeping closer and closer

But the rain was already here. It poured down, washing through the streets, leaving nothing dry

What seemed like streams of rain water washed past your feet in the curb as the flooding water flowed down the storm drain as cold pellets of water splashed your face with every step closer

The rain washed over the house, dimming the interior in contrast to the normal sunlight, brightening every room in the house

Atsumu lounged about the old, worn down leather couch of the living room, the only light coming artificially from his phone as it illuminated his face as he scrolled through social media and emails

The sound of the rain coming down on the house as well as the lollipop he moved around his mouth filled his ears, almost making him unable to hear the subtlest knock on the front door

He paused his scrolling for a moment, holding the lollipop still in his cheek as he sat up, the leathery furniture whining beneath his movements

And then he heard it again - the light knocking of the door

He clicked off his phone and tucked the device into his great sweatpants pockets as he peeked out the peephole, opening the door in confusion as he saw you

“What’re ya doin’ here?” He opened the door wider, eyes wide as he looked at you standing in the rain. “Get in here,” he practically pulled you in, curiosity growing more and more as to why you were here in the first place

You stepped into the house, out of the cold rain as he shut the door behind you with a firm bang, the lock clicking in place

“‘Samu ain’t home,” he looked down your body, seeing how wet you were, small puddles of rain water dripping off your coat that did basically did nothing to keep you dry as he saw

“Are ya crazy or something?” He prodded at you, his usual sarcastic and teasing tone in his voice as he leaned on the wall, his muscular arms folded over his chest as he wore a white, oversized, sleeveless tank top, the sides cut low that purposefully showed off his toned abdomen

But as quick as his teasing and joking side appeared, it disappeared seeing as you didn’t make your usual witty comeback within seconds

He didn’t miss the way you trembled, seeing you stand so awkwardly and so out of place as if this was your first time here when it wasn’t, how you practically gasped for air as you breathed unsteadily

“I-I’m sorry for coming s-so unexpectedly,” your voice sounded so fragile as you kept your eyes down, unable to look up

Your heart hammered rapidly in your chest, a slight wheeze to your breathing

Your thoughts raced so fast in your head, it felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff- so close to falling into the sea of numbness

“Don’t worry ‘bout it…” Atsumu’s voice was different than his usual, semi-mocking tone with you but you couldn’t even tell as the room began to spun just the slightest, your head going fuzzy

Your relationship with Atsumu wasn’t the best or favorable compared to Osamu

Personally, the two of you didn’t even know if you could call each other “friends” since it had been tease after tease after tease ever since the two of you met

If anything, that was what allowed you and Osamu to get so close in the first place: the jokes about Atsumu

“Hey, what’s with you?” He stepped closer as the heel of his slippers dragged over the wooden floor

Without touching you, he leaned down, trying to meet your eyes

He felt his body freeze for a second seeing as they were filled with water yet he couldn’t tell if they were from the rain or if they were your tears but he assumed the latter

“I di- I didn’t want to be home al-alone…” you fiddled with your fingers as you mustered up the courage to lift your head, but your eyes still avoided him. “C-can I stay here, please?”

Atsumu looked down to you, confused as to what he should even say considering he had never seen you like this before - heck, he didn’t even think Osamu even saw you like this

You were usually so quick with responses, able to take jabs at one another

But that part of you was nowhere to be seen in Atsumu’s eyes

“Sure, come with me.” He led you down the hall, pushing a door open to reveal a bedroom, somewhat messy but similar to your own bedroom at home

You stood awkwardly at the door, not wanting to step, opting to look around the unfamiliar bedroom until Atsumu was back in front of you

“Here, you’re soaked.” He handed you a pair of black sweatpants and a darkish red long sleeve, stepping out of the room and back toward the living room

“Are these yours?” Your voice was still quiet when you turned, your body trembling from the cold at this point

“They ain’t ‘Samu’s. He locks his door now since I ‘borrow’ too many things without givin’ ‘em back, as he says,” he plopped back down nonchalantly on the couch where all you could see were his slippers as he played with them on his feet

You took the clothes and went into the bathroom down the hall beside Osamu’s bedroom, his door closed as Atsumu had said

“Yo ��samu, your friend is here, come get them,” Atsumu sent the text to his twin only for no response

You set the clothes down on the corner of the counter as you stood on the towel, not wanting to get anything else wet

Your undergarment(s) was/were for the most part dry surprisingly

The clothes were big and baggy on you but they were comfy

You took a good look at yourself in the mirror, the guilt you thought you escaped from your house was suddenly back in your head, clear as day

It felt like there was a pit inside of you that you couldn’t get away from or fill was beginning to dwell inside, its stay long overdue now

Your breathing began to quicken as you stood, your eyes slowly casting downward as pins and needles pricked in your hands and feet, tingling them

The feeling of doing something wrong, being here- it all felt wrong and it all felt like your fault

You knees began to grow shaky as you gripped onto the porcelain counter for balance, only to feel that the counter wasn’t cool to the normal touch

Your hands began to shake as your legs grew weaker and weaker until you sunk to the ground as the intensity of the pins and needles grew more and more with every passing second

“What’s takin’ so long?” Atsumu mumbled to himself as he realized how long he had been on his phone, the message to his brother sent almost ten minutes ago by now which was around the time you went to change

He glanced by his open bedroom, of course not seeing you

“You okay?” He knocked on the bathroom door, hearing the subtle rain outside as well as your jagged breathing and muffled whimpers

“Y/N?” He jiggled the doorknob, finding it unlocked. “I’m comin’ in,” he announced, strangely seeing no one when the door opened

That is until he looked down

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he pushed the door open, pushing your wet clothes on the floor to the wall between the door as he knelt down beside you, tears falling from your face as you struggled to breathe

“My hands are stuck, I can’t move my hands,” you cried, your panic continuously growing for the loss of control over your hands

“Hey, shh, don’t cry, you’re gonna be alright. Let’s move ya first, alright?” He enclosed his hands over your wrist as he tried to help you up

It felt like Atsumu was on edge seeing you like this: so broken and vulnerable, a side he never imagined he would ever see from someone who, as “annoying” as he found you, lingered in his mind longer and longer after every interaction he had with you

“I can’t move my legs,” you felt so helpless and useless, your thoughts incoherent as they only raced faster, your heart hammering fast in your chest

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-“ you folded over yourself, struggling to breathe, wanting this empty pit feeling to be gone, for the holes inside of you to disappear

“Hey, shhh, it’s alright, it ain’t your fault,” he rubbed a small circle over your back, leaning down close to the floor to get on your level. “I’m gonna carry ya, okay?”

He knelt closer to your body as he brought his arms under your body, slowly lifting you into his embrace, leaving the cold tiled floor of the bathroom and straight into his bedroom

He lowered you down onto his bed, the springs creaking under both your combined weights as he sat you in between with his legs

“M-My hands,” you felt so helpless, so vulnerable

All the control you thought you had over yourself was slipping right out of your fingertips as you trembled violently in Atsumu’s arms on his bed

“Shh, I know.. Let’s ground ya, alright?” His words came out slower and gentler, almost sounding exactly like Osamu yet there was still something different about it that you could hear, that you could feel

He watched you carefully with his hands lingering beneath your legs and around your lower back from when he carried you

It felt like you were drowning, like the space around you was closing in, that every bit of your body was screaming at you that you were wrong

“Okay,” he proceeded as you nodded your head once, as your hands trembled violently. “Y/N, take deep breaths,” his voice was low as he spoke calmly. “Breathe in…” he waited until you did the same to the best of your abilities. “Breathe out…” he let out his own breath, again, observing you as you did the same

“Again. In… and out..” He repeated this with you until your breathing improved, slowly getting stronger and stronger

“Tell me three things ya feel right now, Y/N,” he pulled you closer as he enclosed one of his hands over your own, feeling how cold they were to his touch

“I- I can f-feel.. Your war-warmth..” You gasped for air lightly, your breathing still not at its peak but at least the suffocating feeling was dissipating

“Good, what else?”

“The bed… a-and the clothes…”

“Okay, now tell me three things ya hear.”

He sat and spoke, holding you so patiently in his embrace, he couldn’t think or focus on anything or anyone else but you

“Your voice… and- and the rain-“ just as you peeked around him outside to the window, a booming crack of thunder sounded, making you jump as you moved your head back, averting your eyes from the window

“I got ya, you’re okay.” He rubbed his hand in slow, steady circles on your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer

“You can hear my voice and the rain. What’s one more thing you can hear?”

You still felt so uneasy but you slowly began to regain the slightest feeling in your hands as pins and needles tickled your hand

“Your heart…” you breathed out

“Good. You’re doin’ alright,” he looped his arm around your back, taking one of your hand in his own as he began to massage them. “Continue breathin’” he spoke as he did this

Your breathing hitched every now and then as you leaned against his chest, the warm sensation coming back to your hands after soft massages

The sound of rain as the thunder distanced itself filled the silence as the two of you sat in the dimmed room, your occasional sniffles and gasps breaking the silence

“What got ya so anxious?” He asked as he set your hand back down your lap, standing from the bed, grabbing tissues, handing the box to you

You plucked a few, doing your best tot surpress the guilt that began to cumulate once again

“School,” you sighed, tucking your knees closer to your body as you sat on his bed on the plush covers

“Is the L/N Y/N finally falling behind? Or no-“ he dramatically gasped, prodding at you with his usual antics to try to see that smile of yours. “Failing?”

“No,” you sniffled, but your voice was harder than before. It was sort of working

“I’m just- I’m over working myself and I haven’t seen anyone else in days,” your voice cracked

“Why don’t ya take breaks?”

“Cause I don’t let myself. Every time I do, I just feel guilty, and even now, just being here, I feel so guilty, like I’m doing the wrong thing, I’m not being productive enough”

Panic began to settle in as you sat there, all the stress from these few weeks of school, one heavy week after the other and there was no one at home to help you through it

Not even your parents as they were gone to work by the time you woke up, only seeing them around dinner before you went back to your room, continuing more work

Atsumu sat backwards in his desk chair, listening intently before he stood from his seat, plopping himself on the edge of his bed instinctively

Wanting to be closer to you

You kept your red eyes down as the areas around your eyes swelled

But looking closer, he could see the bags under your eyes

You fiddled with your shaky fingers, playing with the edge of the sleeves of his shirt you wore, wishing for more time

Time to relax, to do your work, to eat, enjoy life

But ever since school started up again, it felt like a clear punch to the gut and a black hole developed in your chest, eating away at the things that made you feel okay and stable

You couldn’t enjoy yourself anymore

“Can you hold me, please?” You pinched at the side of the thin fabric tank top he wore, your eyes and demeanor so childlike in his eyes, there was something about the way you were right now, it made him want to protect you

It took him a bit as he processed your words, the way you looked, how broken you were, realizing how fast his heart was beating for you now

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Sure”

The springs inside the mattress creaked once again as he laid down closer to the edge so you had as much room as possible beside him between his body and the wall

The mattress sunk around his body comfortably as you pressed your sleeve covered hands over your eyes, drying your tears, stifling your sniffles

He laid an arm down, his fingertips brushing the cool wall for your head as he watched you lay down slowly as if you were a delicate flower, laying close beside him, nuzzling against the warmth he emanated

The two of you laid awkwardly together

You couldn’t even relax into his body knowing how awkward it really was

“What’s got ya so worked up over?” He asked, breaking the silence as he stared up at the ceiling, waiting for you to fully relax since he could barely feel your body against his, aside from your head

“School…” you pushed out with a sigh

“Seriously?” He asked out of pure curiosity

This took atsumu aback since you were one of those people he knew for being on top of their work, someone in school where others held this image where they could ask you for help with anything

And to now see you so broken over something others were so sure you would thrive

“Are you fallin’ behind or somethin’?” He reached the arm you laid on, rubbing your shoulder as he laid still beside you, his other arm draped over his abdomen

“No, it’s not that, I’m just-“ you stopped to take in a breath, gathering your words. “I’m working myself too hard and I feel so.. lonely,” your voice grew softer as your voice cut out at the end but he heard you clearly

“I’ve been shutting myself in my room for too long and it feels like I can’t enjoy anything without feeling guilty…”

Your tears were hot as they cascaded over the bridge of your nose, past your other eye and into the fabric of Atsumu’s tank top

“Guilty about what? Of course you’re gonna be burned out if you constantly work. Why don’t ya take breaks?”

“That’s the thing,” you sat up, looking down at him, your voice sounded so dejected as it softly bounced around the room

“Whenever I do, I feel like I’m wasting time,” your voice cracked as you sniffled

The words hurt so much as they came out

Even sitting here in the presence of Atsumu, someone who was always like a pleasant thorn in your side, felt wrong

But you needed this so much - to be with someone, to hear their breathing, their voice, even the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen was enough

“I miss people, ‘Tsumu,” you sighed as hot tears cascaded down your dry face, dripping off your chin to his shirt you wore

You didn’t even care, let alone realize that you had called him ‘Tsumu like his brother had

“I want to feel okay again,” you broke as you pressed your palms to your eyes, the pins and needle feeling slowly prickling in the palm of your hands again

You felt the wave after wave of guilt and pathetic-ness crash through your body

It was only school, only about a month in and here you were

You had never felt so broken before, it felt so-

Two arms wrapped around your body, squeezing you close

The rain tapped on the glass as you nuzzled into his embrace not wanting this warmth to disappear, this scent, the sound of this heart beat

You wanted the person who was always at your side, never missing a beat to say something to you

“I hate this feeling, it feels so wrong inside of me,” you turned your face into his chest, holding onto this feeling of someone beside you

“You’re not alone,” his voice low and quiet, rumbling through his chest as he spoke, his hand secure on your upper arm, another stroking down your back before his fingers found its place at the base of your head

“There’re gonna be some heavy weeks and some light weeks, you got me?” He rest his chin on top of your head as he fell back into the mattress, still holding you

You practically laid on top of him as he tangled his leg with yours

“Breaks are good for ya,” he looked down to you, your red, teary eyes as you laid with your cheek pressed to his chest, your hand covered by his sleeve over your mouth and nose as you took deep, steady breaths again

“And if I find out that you’re not takin’ breaks, I’m gonna drag you out your room,” he brought his hand to your cheek, rubbing your tears away so your face was no longer wet

“You’re gonna be alright, I’m gonna make sure of it…” he paused until he realized his words, his true emotions for you beginning to slip out

“Cause I can’t poke fun at a crybaby,” he playfully scoffed

You repeated his words in your head, nodding along slowly as atsumu spoke words of encouragement, asking you about your week, talking through your next assignments

All to calm you back down

As the time passed, your worries slowly decreased in size but the hole was still there

Just smaller

he made sure to repeat hid words, his strokes and grazes on your body never stopping so you didn’t have to feel alone anymore

cause you weren’t

The room grew dimmer and dimmer as it got later and later

With the sound of jingling keys, the front door opened

Osamu tossed his keys to the couch, setting his backpack leaning against the side of it as he slipped out of his shoes, noticing yours was still there

Yet the house was silent

The only thing that could really be heard was the white static of the rain as it came to a steady shower ever since this afternoon

He pulled out his phone, the screen illuminating his face as he sat in the arm, looking back to his messages

“Tsk, I literally gave you one job, ‘ Tsum,” Osamu grumbled to himself noticing how there was no rice being made in the cooker as Osamu had messaged atsumu a few hours ago

The message was delivered, yet unread

With a huff, he pushed himself off of the arm of the couch, walking down the dark hall, approaching the slightly ajar bedroom door of his twin brother

Osamu nudged the door open with his foot but before he could nag his brother, he stood paused at the open door

The light for the streetlamp shined in, illuminating your bodies on the bed as Atsumu slept with one arm draped around your abdomen, legs tangled beneath the sheets that covered the lower halves of your body, using his other arm as his pillow so you could sleep on his pillow

You slept facing his chest, your hand holding onto his shirt

“‘Bout time,” Osamu smirked to himself as he shut the door silently

He had been wondering how long it would take for the two of you to finally get together and now he had his answer

All of high school and just a few months into college

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else!

Tags (let me know if you wanna be tagged for all my haikyuu posts): @yams046 @mazey-chan @sunboikyo00 @kara-grayson04 @fortheloveofbakugo @tsumtsumsemi @1-800-wholesome@yamagucci @realityisoftendisapointing @plantisnotplant @pink-panda-pancakes @differentballooncollection @osamusamusamu@therainroguefanfiction @euphorihan@turquoiselace @macaronnv @oxmaddy @mrkoala4prsdnt @curiouslilbeast @plantisnotplant@therestless101 @abcdaichi @oyasenpai @kaaidalupita @lovinnoya @wisepandaslimeland @killuaking @bbymilkbread @tsumtsumland @suunikimchi @woah-there-cowboy-or-cowgirl @amandahh626 @nabisonyeo94 @wntrmn @dai-tsukki-desu @peteunderoos @ohyoumakemelive @aka-a-shii @shinhiromi @wompwomphq @lollypop-lam @isentsworld @blue-melody @u-wakatoshii @moondriplets @lovinnoya @yuueisteria @humanitysbiggestsimp @cjphoenix135 @inarizaki-captain @closetfurrytsukishima @chibichab @kageyama-i-want-tobiors

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #miya atsumu #atsumu #atsumu imagines #atsumu x reader #atsumu headanons #atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu imagines #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu headcanons #miya atsumu scenarios #dokifluffs

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emilyshotchniss · 4 years ago

Text

What, Are You Like In Love With Me Or Something?

Summary: After crushing on each other for years, you and Emily finally pull your shit together:)

Pairing : Emily Prentiss x Fem Reader

Warnings: Minimal swearing

Word Count : 1675

4:27am. Are you fucking kidding me.

You reluctantly rolled out of bed and dragged yourself to the bathroom, turning the shower on. You love your job, but getting called in at four in the morning was a fucking pain in the ass. After standing under the hot water for a considerable length of time, you got out and chose your outfit. Once you were ready, you repacked your go bag, and dropped your cat Willow off at your neighbours apartment, before heading to the office.

When you arrived, it was 5:02am, and you were pretty sure that in your current mood, if you didn't get some coffee soon, you were going to go full on unsub on someone. That mood was suddenly lifted as soon as you entered the bullpen - you ducked out of view and watched as your best friend Emily walked silently through the nearly empty office, and placed a mug of coffee on your desk. She gently sat it on your favourite coaster, then tiptoed back over to her desk, grabbing a small bag and sitting it next to the mug on your desk. She adjusted everything until it was the way she wanted it, and smiled to herself before sitting back at her desk. You also smiled to yourself, before walking in fully, pretending you didn't just spend three minutes hidden behind a wall watching her.

"Morning, Em!" You smiled.

"Oh hey!" She replied, clearly trying to act chill as if she hadn't just spent five minutes fixing you breakfast.

"What's this?" You asked, opening the small bag she left you.

"Oh, uh, I, I picked you up a croissant from the Starbucks downtown on my way in," She said, smiling sheepishly.

Your heart nearly burst, and you felt an overwhelming rush of butterflies in your stomach. The gesture was lovely, but wasn't helping you get over the huge crush you'd been harbouring for a while now. You pushed your feelings into a tiny little box in the back of your mind, because there was no way she felt the same - she was just being a good friend.

"Thank you," You smiled, before taking a bite of the croissant. "For this, and the coffee. Lunch is on me,"

She smiled back, but you couldn't help but notice how her eyes lingered a little longer than they were supposed to. Your "moment" was interrupted by Morgan and Garcia barging through the doors, shortly followed by JJ, Rossi and Reid, prompting Hotch to call you all into the conference room. You took a quick sip of your coffee and one last mouthful of your croissant, before following the team upstairs.

***************************************

It was around 1:49pm when you walked back into the local PD, carrying two bags. You opened each door with your foot, and made your way to the conference room, finding Emily sitting alone with a file. The rest of the team were still away getting lunch.

"Hey, aren't you getting hungry?" You asked her.

"Uh, I'm fine, I'm nearly done with this-" She stopped rambling when she saw the bags of food. "You shouldn't have,"

"I told you, lunch was on me today. That coffee and croissant saved me from murdering someone this morning. I owe you," You said, earning a laugh from Emily. You felt a blush creep up your neck and across your cheeks, and you could've sworn you saw Emily's cheeks turn a faint pink - but it was probably nothing.

"What did you get?" She asked, as you continued to unpack.

"An italian BMT for the lady," You said, handing her her sandwich. "And a roast chicken sub for myself."

"Ugh, you're amazing," She said between mouthfuls.

You felt that same rush of heat in your cheeks again, and immediately got up to put the empty bags in the trash in a desperate attempt to hide your face.

"Seriously... thank you. I really needed this today..." She said, trailing off into a whisper almost. Her face had changed, and you could sense something was bothering her.

"Em, you okay?" You asked, concern lacing your tone.

"Oh, uh, yeah, yeah I'm good..." She lied.

"Don't lie to me. What's going on?" You said, matching your tone with hers.

"This doesn't leave this room-" She warned, your nerves making an appearance.

"This case- it, it's getting to me more than I care to admit..." She began shakily.

"In what way?" You asked.

"Regina- she said something to me, and it's kinda sticking with me," Emily said, taking a deep breath. You've known her long enough to know that that's her tell.

"She said that I have no idea what it's like when the monster from your nightmares comes back for you - that mine is dead, yet she still has to live with hers... it's stupid I know-" You cut her off.

"It's not stupid Emily. You went through a massive trauma, nobody expects you to magically be okay now that he's dead. You're still processing everything - that takes time, and we're all here to support you through it - I'm here to support you through it..." You told her, making sure she heard exactly what you were saying.

She let go of that breath, feeling a little calmer. "I have no idea what I'd do if you weren't my best friend..." She laughed nervously. Friend. That stung way more than it should've - but you put these feelings away in that little box at the back of your mind, attempting to compartmentalise it all.

"Seriously - thank you," She told you, grabbing your hand briefly, before getting up to put her napkins and stuff in the trash. Just at that, the rest of the team piled back into the station, ready to tie up the loose ends of the case before flying back that evening. You shook your head, laughing at your stupidity for falling for your best friend, before joining the rest of the team.

***********************

Back at Quantico, the team dragged themselves into the office to finish reports and grab their stuff before heading home for the night. Before you knew it, you looked up from your desk to find that most of the team had left, you Emily and Hotch being the only three remaining. You checked your watch, and decided that the reports could be finished in the morning. Throwing on your coat, you turned to look at Emily, still working away.

"Hey Em, we can finish those tomorrow, come on," You told her. She looked up at you anxiously, before reluctantly closing the file and grabbing her things. You both walked in silence to the elevator, but you could feel her eyes burning into your skull as you waited. After the silence had become just a little too uncomfortable, you turned to meet her, as she quickly diverted her gaze.

"What..." You asked with a smile.

"No, nothing- its nothing." She replied.

"You were staring at me- what, are you like in love with me or something?" You joked, not thinking anything of it - then your stomach suddenly dropped as her face turned a deep red - it was clear you'd correctly guessed her thoughts.

"Em-" You said, barely above a whisper. "Is that true?"

"I- uh- I um..." She began, her face turning a deeper red with each stutter.

"Emily look at me-" You told her, grabbing her wrists. She met your gaze, her eyes glassy.

"I love you too... I always have," You trembled, a single tear rolling down her face now.

"You have?" She cried ever so softly, her vulnerability catching you by surprise.

"Always... I- I never knew it was mutual," You smiled.

"I- I was going to tell you, but-"

"But then everything went to shit," You said, finishing her sentence.

"Yeah," She chuckled, sniffing back tears.

The elevator doors slid open and you squeezed in, taking her hand in yours as they closed behind you.

"Have you been sleeping?" You asked, not turning to face her, already knowing the answer.

"No..." She replied, barely loud enough to her - she was ashamed of being traumatised. You squeezed her hand tighter, before turning to face her.

"Come stay at my place tonight- we'll watch a movie, have hot chocolate, and maybe then you might be able to rest." You offered.

"Okay.." She smiled. "Thank you."

"Not necessary." You told her, interlacing your fingers with hers.

******************

As soon as you got home, you kicked off your shoes and headed straight to your bedroom, grabbing clothes for both yourself and Emily. After you both got comfy, you made two rather large mugs of hot chocolate, finishing them quicker than either of you would care to admit.

"Hey it's late, you coming?" You asked Emily, nodding towards your bedroom.

"Sure," She smiled, letting you lead the way. You pulled back the covers, letting Em slide in first as you followed. Lying in the darkness, your arms wrapped around her body, pulling her closer to you. As she met your eyes, no words had to be spoken- you leaned in to give her a gentle kiss that said everything you wanted to say, her returning it with equal passion. She stroked your cheekbone with her thumb, before speaking up.

"I love you - I wish I'd told you sooner." She whispered.

"I do too - but we're here now - that's all that matters." You replied.

She hummed in response, before tucking her head into your shoulder. You drew tiny shapes on her back until you heard soft snores coming from underneath your ear. It was in that moment that you realised you'd never felt love like this before - a love that consumed you. You kissed her forehead before succumbing to the slumber along with her, wondering just how you got so lucky.

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fluff #criminal minds #bau team #wlw #fanfic

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winterscaptain · 5 years ago

Text

still a chance.

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

a/n: the yearning in this one…i’ve outdone myself. okay so this one has been rolling around in my head for a long time. you’ll all be able to tell, but i love photos as a vehicle for storytelling. we use a lot of pictures in this story, and i hope you can “see” them - they brought me a lot of joy when i visualized them, and i hope i was able to do them justice. i also decided beth moves to okinawa instead of hong kong bc the museums in okinawa can’t be beat. thanks to kira (@good-heavens-chris-evans) for encouraging me to post this tonight - you are a treasure and a gift. words: 4,181 warnings: language, longing.

AO3 | Masterlist | Requests Closed

+++

You kissed Jack’s temple and threw your backpack over your shoulder, leaning into the backseat. You carded through the honey-blond hair on the side of his head, reveling in the softness of it. “I love you, bud.”

He sniffled, and it took all you had to keep it together. “I love you, too.” You could hear the effort in his voice. He was trying to be strong for you, for his dad.

You kissed his forehead, lingering for a moment. You pulled back, your hands fluttering over his little shoulders, fussing for no reason. “You be good okay? You gotta be good for dad, alright?” You leaned in close. “He needs all the help he can get, and you’re his best teammate. You gonna take good care of him?”

He nodded.

“Atta boy.” You straightened, slipping your arm into the other strap of your backpack. You faced Hotch, who pulled your collar from under the straps and fussed with them for a moment. He was stalling.

“Aaron, I -”

He shook his head with a small smile. “I know. Call when you can. Your godson will miss you if you don’t.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’ll call you when I land.”

“Seattle is great. You’ll love it.” He sounded like he was convincing himself as much as you.

You threw yourself into his arms, and he wrapped around you as best he could with your backpack. “I love you, Aaron. Take care of yourself.” You pulled back and rested your hands on his shoulders. “Try to get me back home, while you’re at it.”

“I’ll do my best. Fly safe.”

And with that, you grabbed your duffle and walked into the terminal. You looked back once, finding two pairs of identical brown eyes watching you from open windows. You blew them a kiss, and they both raised a hand to catch it.

My boys.

+++

Emily warned you about Beth before you landed back in Virginia, but you were still nervous. Returning from a long assignment was never easy, especially when you knew coming back meant the real loss of something that never was.

You and Aaron had danced around each other for years, but never did anything about it, claiming team dynamic and stability for Jack after Haley’s death. Even then, neither one of you could deny how miserable it was to be apart. Your assignment to Seattle ended up lasting close to two years. You tried to keep in touch, but it was often too painful to be so out of reach. Your calls got farther and farther apart, but you tried to check in when you could.

Even then, you sent Jack semi-frequent gifts and care packages full of his favorite things. That boy was your favorite person in the whole world, and you his, second only to his father. It had broken your heart to leave him.

It would be a relief to see him again.

You stepped into Dave’s familiar foyer, toeing off your shoes. Everyone was in the backyard, relaxing after another homemade dinner. The whole team knew you were coming – except Beth and the Hotchners. Emily, JJ, and Dave spent an exorbitant amount of time and energy carrying off your surprise arrival.

When you stepped out into the backyard, three pairs of eyes flickered up at you before returning to their conversations. Emily, Penelope, and Derek hid the smiles that ghosted across their faces to avoid suspicion. Hotch and Jack had their backs to you, by design. Jack was watching one of Spencer’s magic tricks, Hotch was off a little ways with Emily, and Beth was at the bar with Dave.

Now was your chance. Approaching quickly and quietly, you put your hands over Jack's eyes and leaned in close to his ear. “Guess who, Jack Hotchner!”

He froze, and his little hands covered yours out of instinct.

Wordlessly, he whirled around and threw himself into your arms. You landed hard on the ground, suddenly in tears. Jack was crying into your shoulder, his hands scrabbling for purchase on your jacket. You held him as tight as you could, the wave of emotion overwhelming you. You mumbled nothings into Jack’s baby blue button down - how much you loved him, how much you’d missed him, how happy you were to see him. You were sure none of it made sense.

“Are you staying?” Jack asked.

It broke your heart. “Yeah, love. I’m staying. I’m here.”

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, weeping together. It reminded you of those videos where parents or siblings come home from war and their kids just lose it. You never expected to be on the other side of that, but here you were.

A hand on your shoulder jarred you from your haze. You looked up to find Aaron’s familiar brown eyes. You kissed the side of Jack’s head and stood. He stayed glued to your leg, and you picked him up, letting him hang off your hip as you straightened.

Aaron gathered you into his arms, and you wrapped your free arm around his shoulders.

“Good surprise?” You asked.

He only held you tighter.

You pulled back and swiped at the tears on your cheeks. “Whew. Alright.” You looked down at Jack, whose eyes were cleared of shock and tears, smiling up at you. “What did I miss?”

Aaron shot you a smile and gestured behind him. “Beth, this is Y/N. Y/N, Beth.”

You shook her hand with a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Beth. I’m glad these boys are in good hands.”

+++

Emily offered to drive you home. You were quiet, staring out the window much of the way. Your apartment was still mostly packed, but your bed was ready for you.

“Good to be home?” She asked.

You nodded.

“There’s still a chance, you know.”

Finally looking over at her, a sigh escaped you. “He loves her, Em.”

She snorted. “He loves you more.”

You shook your head.

+++

“Y/N seems so lovely,” Beth said, settling next to Aaron on the couch.

He hummed in assent, distracted in the extreme.

“Jack was so happy to see her. It really was thoughtful of Emily to put that together for you both.” She kept her voice light, but couldn’t help but search his face for something, anything. She’d heard he closed off sometimes, but she’d never seen it first hand.

He nodded, still silent. “It’s been a long time.”

Beth pushed down the pang of something achy in her chest and took a sip of her tea. “Ready for bed?”

Aaron nodded, and shot her a small smile. There was so much going on behind those brown eyes. He was quiet. Quiet and distracted.

Your absence was suddenly the loudest thing in the room.

And Beth knew it.

+++

Your room was so quiet. It had been quiet in Seattle, too. There, though, nobody you loved was close enough to touch. A fifteen minute drive would take you to your favorite house with your favorite view and your favorite boys. But they didn’t belong to you anymore.

Jack wasn’t yours.

Aaron wasn’t yours.

Beth had them now. Sweet, sweet Beth. She was so open and kind. The immediate liking you took to her was almost infuriating. You didn’t want to like her, and yet there was nothing to dislike about her.

You were gone. You came back. She was there.

Now what?

You rolled over and checked your phone, finding a text from JJ.

I’m so proud of you I’m so glad you’re home. If you need anything, I’m here.

Then, some minutes later.

If he doesn’t pull his head out of his ass you know who to call.

You smiled, and replied. Derek?

Fair point. Go to bed!!

+++

Your first case back felt like slipping into a comfy old pair of shoes. Building and delivering the profile was as easy as breathing, the feeling of your weapon in your hand as you cleared room after room, the tight fit of your vest across your chest – everything was something you missed. You yearned for the physical feeling of the BAU while you were chained to a desk in Seattle, and it was a relief to have it back.

You and Aaron were back in-step with each other right away. It was almost like you’d never left.

Almost.

When a few tears slipped down your cheeks as the jet cruised through the air, headed back to Quantico, Derek reached for your hand. The rush from the past week caught up with you all at once and wrapped around your throat.

“We missed you,” he said.

You smiled at him. “I missed you, too.”

He watched you for a moment, squinting a little. After a moment, he looked over at Hotch, who was frowning down at his phone. You brushed the tears off your face and squeezed Derek’s hand once - a reassurance.

He knew, just like you did. Just like Beth did.

+++

It was the next time you all were over at Dave’s that Beth finally asked.

“What’s the story there?”

JJ looked over at you as you reclined in one of the rocking chairs on Dave’s back porch, Jack in your lap. He was regaling you with another tale from school - one of the many you missed while you were away. Hotch sat nearby on the step, his elbows on his knees, listening to his son with upturned lips. Occasionally, you and Aaron shared a look over Jack’s head, knowing and steeped in time.

“Oh, Hotch and L/N?” JJ said, following Beth’s gaze.

Beth nodded, taking a thoughtful sip of her drink.

“They’re close,” JJ started, choosing her words carefully. “Y/N was close to the family - close to Haley and Aaron before Jack was born. She’s Jack’s godmother, along with Haley’s sister Jessica. When Haley died...” She shook her head. “He’d never been in worse shape, but she kept him upright. Nothing’s ever happened between them, not like that anyway, but nobody on this team has ever managed to come close to what those two have.”

Beth hummed thoughtfully. “How did Jack take the news of the Seattle assignment?”

JJ laughed a little, but it wasn’t really funny. “Not well. He was moody and irritable for months, like his dad. Both of them eventually got used to it - being on their own again.”

“It’s lovely to have such good friends, isn’t it?”

“Our team is a family. We take care of each other.”

+++

A rare day off found almost the entire team headed to the lake for the afternoon. You drove, with Derek riding shotgun beside you. Beth and Aaron sandwiched Jack and his car seat in the back. As always, you made sure Jack was visible in your rearview mirror as you drove.

JJ drove the other car, with Will, Henry, Dave, and Emily.

Derek ran the aux cord, of course - he had the best and most varied music taste of the whole bunch. You belted along to whatever he played, dancing in your seat and laughing the whole time.

God, it is good to be home.

“Are they always like this?” Beth asked quietly, over Jack’s head. She gestured to you and Derek, holding imaginary microphones to each other’s mouths and growing quickly out of pocket, much to Jack’s delight.

Aaron nodded, making play at a long-suffering kind of exhaustion, but he couldn’t hide the fondness in his gaze as he looked at you. You met his eyes in the rearview mirror and grinned before turning your attention back to the road.

“Y/N enables bad behavior,” he said, loud enough for you to hear, dropping back into his usual deadpan.

You swung your arm back and swatted at him.

+++

“What was she like?” Beth settled beside you, a glass of wine in her hand. It was movie night at the Hotchners, and you’d wandered down the hall to stretch your legs and grab some water.

You got caught up at the wall of framed photos, stuck on one particularly lovely one of Haley - grainy and candid. Aaron’s handwriting in the top corner informed you it was from January 1993, Bainbridge Island, WA.

You smiled. “Charming, funny.” You huffed a laugh. “Damn near the most impatient woman I’ve ever known. She jumped the gun on everything, for better or worse. She knew how to throw a hell of a dinner party and gave the best Christmas gifts. She was the best mom. Jack was her world.” You reached up, touching the frame lightly with the pads of your fingers. “I was mad at her, during the divorce. We never fought, but I was upset with her and she knew it.” You laughed down your nose. “It was the only time she was more patient than I deserved.”

Maybe you were revealing too much, but you continued.

“I sometimes wish I could take it back - my anger. I wish I wasn’t half as mad at her as I was when she died.” You shifted your gaze, settling on a photo of you and Haley in the hospital a few hours after Jack was born. Haley looked exhausted, but happy, her hand reaching up to Jack’s little face as you held him with a fond smile. To this day, you have no idea how Aaron managed to get that picture. You tapped the frame with your finger, your tone brightening. “That was a really good day.”

Just like before, Aaron’s handwriting in the corner gave away the date and occasion. October 7th, 2005. Haley and Y/N with Jack, 5 hours old.

“I can imagine,” Beth said with a light laugh. Her voice was pensive, thoughtful. “These boys are lucky to have you.”

The corner of your mouth tipped up, and you offered her your arm as you turned back toward the living room.

You liked her. You did. That’s what made it so damn hard.

+++

“Aaron, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Aaron turned around, pulled from his work with the dishes, to face Beth. “Yeah. What’s going on?”

Beth sat at her kitchen island, the pads of her fingers tapping restlessly on the marble counter. Her eyes were downcast, avoiding him. “I got a job offer in Okinawa.”

His eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

“I think I’m going to take it.” She looked up at him, her lower lip disappearing between her teeth. “What do you think?”

Aaron circled the island and sat beside her, reaching for her hand. She laced her fingers with his. He leaned forward, attentive. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”

She smiled with one side of her mouth. “I don’t think I will.” She looked down at their laced hands. “In the spirit of not regretting anything, I have something else to tell you.”

Aaron was quiet. Waiting. Listening.

“I think you should tell Y/N how you feel.”

He startled, sitting up straight. “What?”

Beth smiled a little wider, a gentle, soft thing. It made his heart ache and his head hurt. “She has your heart, Aaron. There’s nobody who knows you better. Nobody better for you.” She squeezed his hand. “You have a second chance. I think you should take it.”

“Beth, I -”

“Aaron. Please. I’m leaving anyway, and you and I both know we won’t be able to swing the distance.”

He sighed.

She’s right.

“I’m sorry.”

She smiled, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be. It’s hard to see the things in front of us, sometimes. Especially when they’ve been there for a long time.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up.

“Now’s your chance, Hotchner. Don’t screw it up.” She shoved playfully at his shoulder, drawing a wider smile from him.

The smile fell from his face as he looked around at the decidedly unpacked house. “When do you leave for Okinawa?”

She took a sip of her tea. “Next week. The movers are coming this weekend to pack up the house.”

He laughed to himself. She’d already made up her mind, but was sweet enough to make him feel included. He leaned over and kissed her, sweet and chaste. A goodbye. “I love you, Beth.”

She looked back up at him with a soft smile. “I love you, too.” Then, her face transformed, a mischievous smile on her face. “Need a ride?”

+++

You were laid out flat on the couch watching a movie when there was a knock at your door. With a sigh, you rose and popped the lid on your gun safe with your fingerprint before you unlocked the door.

I really need a peep hole.

Aaron Hotchner was on the other side, sheepish, with his hands in his pockets. You looked behind him, Beth’s little Civic idling in front of your building. She waved at you before driving off into the night.

“Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”

You stepped back and locked your firearm away as he stepped past you into the house. When you turned to face him, he was studying the photographs on your bookshelf. Some were photos from your childhood, faded and well-loved. Others were more recent, and you knew he would see his face staring back at him in many of the frames. He paused at the shelf that held your favorites, always within your sight and reach.

One was a photo Dave took about two and a half years ago, before you left for Seattle. You all had your backs to the camera, with Aaron holding one of Jack’s hands and you the other. Your head was thrown back in laughter as you helped Jack leap high into the air between you.

Another was you and Haley, nearly a decade ago. You were cheek-to-cheek, her arms wrapped around you from behind, with both of your hands holding onto her forearm. Your smiles were wide, posed but genuine. A dry, crinkly rose petal from her funeral was tucked into the frame.

There was a collage of jet photos - Emily sleeping nearly-upside-down in one of the seats, Dave and Aaron pouring over a case file, Spencer, JJ, and Elle sleeping in a heap, Emily’s nail-bitten fingers resting on her copy of Slaughterhouse Five, JJ looking out the window during golden hour, the team crowded around the latest photos of Henry on JJ’s phone. They were all photos you’d taken on a whim and printed when the homesickness grew unwieldy. A few post-it notes you found while packing your stuff landed in there too.

Derek, Penelope, Aaron, and Spencer smiled out of the final photo. It was the FBI vs. ATF baseball game the year Jack was born. JJ had taken it, all of you in your FBI pinstripe jerseys, capturing the moment right after the game-winning pitch was thrown. Derek was the only one who played, but the rest of you rushed the field to claim victory nevertheless. Spencer held the baseball in the air, mid-shout, while you were up on Aaron’s back with a victorious fist raised. Penelope’s feet were off the ground as Derek spun her in a circle and Haley was visible on the other side of the fence, holding a blanket-wrapped Jack to her chest and cheering.

Those photos were the ones that came to the office with you when you moved to Seattle. More than one person asked if Jack was your son, and you always said no, but with a little smile that prompted more questions.

“Do you have copies of these?” Aaron asked, his fingers tracing the photo of you and Haley. He was careful not to disturb the delicate petal.

You stepped up beside him, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Yeah. I have framed copies, if you want them. They’re still packed.”

You stood in silence together for a little while, letting the nostalgia for the people and places and times past wash over you.

“So…” you started, “are you going to tell me why Beth dropped you like a lost puppy on my doorstep on a perfectly respectable Saturday night?”

He sighed.

Uh oh.

You took his arm and guided him to the couch, shoving wrappers out off the cushions (it was your day off, alright?) and plopping down in the corner.

Aaron licked his lips, and you couldn’t help but look down at them.

What I wouldn’t give…

“Beth is moving to Okinawa.”

Your brow crumpled, and you immediately reached out, grabbing onto his forearm. “Oh, Aaron I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s for the best. I told her I didn’t want her to have any regrets, and it’s an incredible opportunity.”

“Of course.” You shuffled closer to him, hoping your presence could be of some comfort.

He opened his mouth and closed it again, as if he was fighting with himself.

“Spit it out, Hotchner.”

That drew a short laugh from him, and he ran a hand through his hair. All the air left his lungs in one huff. “You know how much I love you, right?”

You nodded, watching carefully as he flipped his hands palm-up before you. You gingerly slipped your fingers over his hands, feeling the callouses from years of handling pens and firearms. He closed his fingers around yours, his hands warm and familiar.

“You know how much Jack loves you, right?”

You nodded. There was a point to this, you could feel it.

“Beth said something to me tonight, and it...took me by surprise.” He swallowed, staring down at your linked hands. “She said I should tell you how I feel.”

You squinted at him, more than a little confused. “Aaron, you tell me how you feel all the time. I know you’re not one to express your feelings with words, but you tell me how you feel every time you bring an extra cup of coffee for me, or save my favorite seat on the jet, or text me a picture of Jack.” You laugh through your nose. “You may not say it in so many words, but I know.”

You could tell he wanted to interrupt you, but you were proud of him when he didn’t. “Yes - yeah. That’s not what I meant.”

He was growing frustrated with himself, and you squeezed his hands. “Hey. It’s just me.”

“That’s the prevailing issue,” he said.

What?

“Aaron, you lost me.”

He steeled himself, taking a deep breath. He squeezed his eyes shut, and you knew if both of his hands weren’t occupied, one of them would have been pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m in love with you. I’m -” he opened his eyes and faltered, exhaling, “so in love with you.”

You let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. You tried to speak, but you were thwarted by your own closed throat. The incandescent joy lit you up from the inside. You were hot and cold all at once and you weren’t sure if you were breathing.

I’m so in love with you I’m so in love you with you I’m so -

Aaron stood abruptly, releasing your hands and grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair.

You swallowed, trying to get your bearings. “Aaron, wait. Stop.”

He turned, and you could see the raw hurt in his eyes.

Oh. Oh my God he thinks I’m upset.

Instead of ruining everything by opening your mouth again, you stood and strode toward him, grabbing his face and pulling him to you. Your lips crashed together, and you let out another completely-overwhelmed-wires-crossed noise. The tears fell down your face with abandon, but you ignored them, completely wrapped up in the feeling of his lips against yours.

You felt him freeze before he kissed you right back, his arms winding around your waist, holding you close. His hands ran up and down your back as you fought to get closer and closer to him.

He pulled back first, chasing his breath. He pressed his forehead to yours, and you dropped your hands to his collar, winding your fingers in his shirt.

“Aaron…”

He surprised you by letting out a bark of breathless laughter. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You pulled back, playfully lowering your brows. “How long?”

He looked up and made a great show of thinking. “Oh...I would say conservatively 2002, but that might just be when I noticed.”

Your head fell gently to the left. You studied his face for a moment - his straight nose, high cheekbones, the bags under his eyes that seemed to get deeper every day, the stern mouth…You knew his face better than yours. It was the face that haunted your dreams.

“What?” He asked.

You replied, simply, “I missed you.”

He kissed you, holding your face between his large hands like it was the most precious thing in the world. “I missed you.” He kissed each one of your cheeks. “I missed you.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I missed you.” The corner of your mouth. “I missed you.” Your lips. “I love you.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @fics-ilike @octothorpetopus @ange-must-die @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @dr-reid-ismyspiritanimal @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @saintd0lce @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @gublergirls @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @vintagecaptainspidey

#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #tali writes fanfiction

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keelywolfe · 4 years ago

Text

FIC: Gentle Sins ch.1 (BAON)

Summary: Stretch was pretty used to waking up alone. But the day after being kidnapped? Not so much.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Kidnapping

Notes: Time to deal with the aftermath of Just Swimmingly! Good luck, boys...

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch was pretty used to waking up alone.

Even on the weekends, Edge wasn’t one to lounge around in bed when there were things he could be doing. It always amazed Stretch a little that Edge could sit at a desk for hours every day; that endless energy of his was similar to Papyrus’s, only more contained, banked like the coals of a campfire and ready to burst into flame whenever it was needed. It tended to escape him through his hands, whether he was typing or kneading bread dough, or touching Stretch with care that bordered on reverence. Sure, his injured leg might’ve slowed Edge down a little on the jogging front but it sure wasn’t stopping him anywhere else, his hands were still perfectly fine and he was putting both of them to good use whenever he could.

Which did not include lounging around in bed.

So, yeah, waking up alone was pretty much the norm. What he hadn’t expected was for it would be the norm today. Today, of all days, after everything that happened last night, the drugging, the kidnapping, the Judge—

But he didn’t want to think about that right now, thanks, Stretch’s mind was all full up and that shit could wait. What he was focused on right now was waking up alone in the bed he shared with his husband with the sheets on the other side already cool to the touch.

Stretch pulled his hand back from Edge’s side and rolled over on his back, looking up at the ceiling through the dimness and trying not to feel the aching hurt settling inside him. The last he remembered the two of them had been sleeping on the sofa, so that meant at some point Edge carried him upstairs and left him here. Not really a surprise that Edge didn’t stay, but it sure was a disappointment. He’d been expecting…well. Something else, for sure.

The bedroom had room darkening curtains, a thoughtful addition Edge put into place before Stretch even moved in, ensuring that he got plenty of sleep without the sun poking its way in before he was ready for it. Even they could only do so much, a narrow beam of brightness was coming around the sides and yeah, he was being stupid right about now. It was probably the middle of the afternoon, what, was Edge supposed to lay here all day, watching like a creeper while waiting for him to wake up? Sure, some overprotective cuddling and maybe a good handful of unreasonable demands for him to stay safe at home would have been nice, but it wasn’t exactly fair of him to expect it, now was it. If he wanted schmoopy cuddles, he’d just have to go out and harvest his own.

Stretch kicked off the blankets long enough to spread out, joints popping luxuriously as he groaned, and then yanked them back up before the chill of the air conditioning could make him shiver. He reached for his phone only to belatedly remember it was missing in action. There weren’t any other electronics in the room with a clock in them, Edge liked the bedroom to be dark as a grave, and damn, that was a thought to have today.

Anyway, there wasn’t really a good way to tell the time without his phone. At a guess, it was at least past noon, probably a lot later considering they went to bed after sunrise.

Welp, if his day was beginning, he needed his morning coffee to function even in the afternoon.

He decided to get dressed instead of going down in only his bathrobe, burying himself in the familiar comfort of one of his extra-worn hoodies. It smelled like the laundry detergent Edge preferred, strong and fresh, different than the one Blue used. Stretch paused as he was pulling it on, tucked inside the body of it like a cotton womb as he breathed in the clean fabric scent. He was sweating a little by the time he pulled it down over his skull, absently wiping his forehead on his sleeve as he dug out a pair of pants and some comfy socks.

Normally he’d grab a pair of his own, he had scads of ‘em, socks with pictures of chickens or pizza, lace ruffles at the cuffs or rainbow ones that pulled all the way up over his bony knees. Whatever caught his fancy ended up in his overflowing sock drawer, he loved them, even if pairing them all at laundry time was a bitch. This time, he took a pair from Edge’s side of the closet, plain white crew socks, the same as he wore with his motorcycle boots and Stretch paused briefly, remembering the clothes he’d been wearing last night. They’d been Edge’s, too, and now they were trash. Or more likely, they were evidence, there was a zero percent chance that Red’s team hadn’t found them, at least one tracker had to have been hidden on them somewhere and wasn’t that suspicious, that those assholes thought to strip them away and send them into the dumpster.

Even if Red were willing to give them back, something that was probably right below never on the scale of probability, Stretch didn’t think he’d want to see them again. Fuckers ruined them, ruined everything they’d touched, and they deserved what was coming their way, deserved retribution and—

Stretch firmly shook that thought away before it could hit more than a simmer and went back into the bedroom. He went to the window and pushed the curtains back, turning the narrow beam of sunlight into a flood. It illuminated the contents of the bedroom, the bed filled with rumpled blankets, the dresser with his zombie hand ring holder, Edge’s little collection of cologne bottles and the fancy box where he kept his cuff links, bathing it all in a haloed light.

On one wall was a full-length mirror, one that Stretch rarely used. He used it now, standing in front of it to look at himself. Too tall, skinny bones hidden under an oversized orange sweatshirt with swirls of black covering it like smoke, and a pair of plain white socks still clenched in one hand. There were rusty stains of exhaustion under his sockets, the light of his magic in his joints dimmer, darker. He needed to eat, that was all. Some food and coffee would go a long way to getting him back on the right path.

He sat on the bed to pull on the socks and when he was done, he wiggled his toes, watching them waggle beneath the shield of plain white cotton. Then he headed on downstairs. Wearing something of Edge’s was nice enough but he was kind of looking forward to getting up close and personal with the man himself.

From the fragrant smell filling the living room, he had a pretty good guess where Edge disappeared to.

When he went into the kitchen, he could see the oven was on, something rich and yeasty baking away. Typical, Edge liked to make bread when he was stressed, kneading the dough with a fierceness usually reserved for…actually, Edge did everything with a sort of fierceness, didn’t he, and it was always worth watching.

That show was already over. Edge was at the sink washing dishes, a few damp patches showing on the front of his apron. His cane was leaning against the counter, too far away to be useful, but at least he was wearing his leg brace, a small favor but Stretch would take it.

Edge looked over his shoulder the second the door opened, no pretending not to hear it so Stretch could ‘sneak’ up on him, not today. “You’re finally up.”

His voice was always on the rough side and that gravely timbre always sent a tingly thrill up Stretch’s spine. Today it was rougher than normal, brambles and thorns hiding velvet underneath.

“mostly.” And he wasn’t going to complain about Edge being gone when he woke up, he wasn’t, nope, not even a little— “couldn’t sleep in even a little, babe? i stay tucked in a few hours late and you had to get down here to get your betty crocker on.”

It sounded more accusatory than he’d meant. A strange expression crossed Edge’s face, almost wounded, and that went a long way towards soothing his own lingering hurt. Stretch was already regretting opening his stupid mouth when Edge said, “Love, you’ve been sleeping more than a few hours. You slept around the clock, it’s Wednesday.”

Wednesday. It’d been ass o’clock in the morning on Tuesday when he’d gone to bed, no wonder he was so fucking hungry.

“oh, shit, really?” Stretch blurted, his stupid mouth wasn’t done having its way, “haven’t done that since i don’t even know. guess i can’t blame you for not hanging around in bed.”

“You can, but I hope I can be quickly forgiven.” Edge stripped off his apron, tossing it carelessly on the counter and ignoring as it fell instead to the floor as he stepped around the kitchen island to gather Stretch into his arms. Yeah, okay, Stretch was a dick for ass-of-u-and-me-ing that Edge ditched him to hit up the cookbooks, but he was still going to take advantage of every hug Edge wanted to give him. He buried his face into Edge’s clavicle, breathing in the smell of his soap, the spiciness of his magic, hyperaware that he probably stank of old sweat and too much sleep. Edge didn’t seem to mind; his arms were strong around him, and Stretch couldn’t hold back a small, contented little sound as the embrace he’d been craving since he first woke up finally became a reality.

Edge made a sound of his own, low and soothing, then asked, “How are you feeling?”

“i’m not sure,” Stretch admitted. Too much had happened and most of it not yet properly assimilated. Mostly what he felt was still tired, the sticky brain-fog surrounding him that came with simultaneously too much and not enough sleep.

Edge nodded, his pointy chin digging lightly into the top of Stretch’s skull. "That’s fair.” He hesitated, then added, softer, “Love, my brother wanted to see you as soon as you were awake."

That made his soul clench in his chest, his gnawing hunger fading. There was no putting it off, Stretch knew that, no room for negotiations when it came to giving out the details to Embassy Security. Wanted was a polite euphemism for needed and right now. He was lucky to have gotten off as long as he could, luckier still that Red would probably talk to him here rather than dragging him downtown, and still, there was a half-hearted urge to flee, to hide somewhere until they gave up and let him start working on forgetting that it ever happened.

Stretch shoved that urge down hard, until it was only a distant echo. If there was one thing therapy taught him, it was that eventually you’d have to face things if you wanted to get over it, and it was a hell of a lot better when it was on your own terms rather than having the ghouls tumble out of mental closets to haunt your dreams at night.

"yeah, okay,” Stretch said determinedly, “go ahead and call him."

Edge drew back enough to look at him, his deep crimson of his eye lights searching over Stretch’s face and that glance in the mirror earlier made Stretch pretty sure of what he was seeing. He wondered if Edge was contemplating a little fleeing of his own, maybe a gentler version of kidnapping where he hid Stretch away from the world until he was ready to let him loose again. Whatever it was he saw, it wasn’t enough for him to lean into spousal abduction. Edge only nodded a little, accepting, reaching up to cup Stretch’s face between his hands as he took a suspiciously tender kiss.

"Call him?" Edge said when he drew back, faintly amused. "I was simply warning you that he'll likely be here soon."

He'd barely finished the sentence before there was a staccato rap on the front door.

Okay, yeah, time to face the music, not literally and wasn’t that a shame because Red wasn’t a half-bad singer, a little armchair karaoke might make this more bearable. Stretch wriggled loose and was halfway to the door before Edge could limp his way out of the kitchen, yanking it open without looking through the peephole.

Red was standing on the other side of it, hulking on their front porch and only slightly livelier than a typical gargoyle. Him knocking at all was unusual, even wrong. Red tended to announce himself by bursting through the front door and even almost catching them a couple times in flagrante del-dick-to hadn’t slowed him down. There was certain unmistakable caution in the hunch of his shoulders this time, his hands tucked unthreateningly into his pockets as if Red was unsure of his welcome and all Stretch could feel was a weary sort of grief.

As if he didn’t know Red, long before all this, knew him way down deep to the bone. Nothing the Judge showed him in that brief glance was anything like a surprise.

The Judge. Yeah, he didn’t want to think about it, but he couldn’t run away from it, either, not anymore than the assholes last night could.

It’d been years but apparently being a Judge was like riding a really fucked-up bike; you never really forgot no matter how much you tried. The heat of it in your soul, not like the volcanic burn of LV, no, this was an unfathomably icy fire that surged and flowed through to chill every limb, every bone, churning its way upward into your frostbitten skull to force its way out through your eye socket as it filled you…him. Filled him with unbearable knowledge that he’d never wanted and an overwhelming, endless power that he despised using.

For the briefest of seconds in that warehouse, he’d been ready to let it loose, to let the Judgment come boiling out like it had so many times before. Until Jeff stopped him. Reeled him back in with a single word.

Don’t.

(Jeff’s sins, such innocent little transgressions; stealing a piece of candy from a store as a child, lying to parents who would only use the truth against him. Filled with the soft green glow of a compassionate soul, filled with gentle kindness. No judgement.)

Then it was like trying to stuff all-mighty toothpaste back into an otherworldly tube and the flash-bang of seeing Red as he came up the stairs hadn’t helped.

(red didn’t kill that man, no, only persuaded him to do it himself, don’t gotta make it look like a suicide if it already is, saves time, evil fuck threatened red’s whole family, his entire life, and red talked to him quietly for hours, watched the tears and snot run down his face pitilessly as his own Judge recited a horrifying list of sins that did not start with that attack on the bus)

Stretch blinked that memory away and looked down into Red’s eye lights, a subtle shade deeper crimson than Edge’s, and remembered Red calling him brother.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him that Red was the one who kept Edge from losing his everfucking mind and tearing the town apart looking for him, the same way Papyrus must've kept Blue in check. Stretch wasn’t entirely stupid, was, in fact, a genius and he had the damn paperwork to prove it. He’d sent his one shot at a message to Red, trusting him to not only be the one to save them, but to get the dark side of the joke from the song he’d chosen to play.

He didn’t need anyone to tell him that Red had laughed.

Hell, in some ways he knew Red better than he knew himself, but since he did know himself pretty damn well, Stretch made a point of acting like it. He left the door open and went to plop down in the sofa, propped his bony feet in Edge’s socks up in the coffee table, and said, “couldn’t let us sleep for another hour, asshole?”

The fractional easing of tension in Red’s shoulders was blink-and-you’d-miss-it quick, so it was a good thing skeletons didn’t really need to blink. He sauntered into the house with his usual big dick energy and kicked the door shut, ignoring Edge’s outraged hiss as he said laconically, “we need to talk some, honey bun.”

Stretch only nodded. “figured. have a seat and i’ll give you the whole novel, from the start to the footnotes.” Edge was still standing close to the kitchen door, leaning on his cane heavier than normal and clearly torn between staying and giving them privacy if Stretch asked for it. Heh, as if. “hey, babe, knock knock.”

Edge let out a perfunctory sigh as he said, flatly obedient, “Who’s there?”

“water

“Water who?”

Stretch grinned and slid an arm along the sofa back in invitation. “water you waiting for, come over here and hold me.”

The struggle to hide exasperated humor was eclipsed by a fierce solemness and Edge was next to him on the sofa in an instant, settling Stretch into a gentle embrace. The hugs he’d been missing this morning were coming back tenfold and if Stretch closed his sockets, he could feel the trembling desperation in Edge’s touch, his grip so tight the bones under it ached, and how the hell had he kept from flinging himself at Stretch the second he came into the kitchen?

He’d been waiting for Stretch to come to him, Stretch realized, not wanting to overwhelm him or slather him in the sort of manic overprotectiveness he usually balked at. The swell of his love for his husband nearly choked him, filling his soul to bursting, and he snuggled in, basking in his warmth, his scent, the purity of his adoration.

The silence dragged on without even a disgusted groan or a cleared throat, and when Stretch slit open his sockets to have a look, he found Red watching them, an unreadable expression on his unusually somber face.

Stretch patted the sofa cushion on his other side, “hey, you, come here?”

Red actually took a step back, his sockets going wide, as if Stretch had offered him a nice, firm slap on the ass instead of a seat, except he might have accepted that, if only to be an asshole. For a second, Stretch wondered if he’d shortcut out, fleeing from the subtle threat of affection and maybe sending Sans back to take Stretch’s statement instead.

Better not to wait for him to try and Stretch reached deep down inside for a little coaxing, the same way he’d forced himself to reach out months ago to a tiny kitten hiding in the bushes at the bus stop despite the unreasonably terrified thundering pulse of his soul. “c’mon, you can record over here, i know you’re gonna.” There was another beat of fraught silence before Stretch added, quietly, “please?”

That blank face twisted, emotions running beneath it too quickly to parse as Red scrubbed a hand over his skull and muttered aloud, “ah, fuck, honey bun.”

His boots managed to thump loudly as he stomped over despite the carpeted floor and the rough, exasperated sound from Red as he flung himself on the sofa sounded a hell of a lot like winning. Stretch hauled him in against his other side, ignoring his snarls and flailing, tucking him in comfortably despite him stiffening like a corpse. Minutes ticked by as Red reluctantly relaxed, all the surprising weight of his small frame leaning into Stretch.

Edge said nothing, only shifted his hand minutely until his knuckles were pressed tight to Red’s upper arm.

Yeah, this was what Stretch wanted, no, needed. Caged in on both sides by the people he trusted to keep him safe, trusted with his very soul, and Stretch took a long slow breath, letting it out slowly as he braced himself to dive into his unpleasant, perfect memory of the night. “okay. i’m ready.”

Next to him, Red shifted and Stretch waited for the click of the recorder before he began, the words rising in him like the tide as he sank under the surface into memory.

“so, andy and i were supposed to be checking out bands for that big embassy party ass-gore is throwing—"

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #underfell sans #by any other name

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donutloverxo · 5 years ago

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Duuude u don’t miss with these Drabbles!! LOVE it!!! Hb one with drunk Steve gettin a lil frisky if ya know what I’m sayin

Aw thank you so much🥺🥺 I love writing them so keep em coming! Smut ahead!

You groaned carrying the weight of your almost 240 pounds man, who was all muscles and beauty and thick arms... his arm around your neck, you were bringing him over to bed. After Sam dropped him off at your door.

"Romeo couldn't stop talking about you." He had said.

You stumbled down with him when he couldn't keep up with you. Kneeling next to him you pinched the bridge of your nose. Usually you were the one that party's and drinks more than she can handle, how the roles were reversed. Were you this annoying to deal with as well?

"Stevie come on. Let's just go to bed." You whined as he laid on his back on the floor. "You can sleep in our comfy bed!"

"Mm this is much better doll" He drawled in that Brooklyn accent of his, shamelessly ogling the curve of your breasts. He trailed the tip of his finger along your shoulder and giggled as the flimsy strap of your cami fell down your shoulder, revealing the swell of your breast.

"Eyes up here" You said gravely. Though you weren't that annoyed anymore. It was almost cute to see him so needy.

"Hm" He hummed squeezing your breast and feeling their weight in his hand "They're mine. I can look at them all night long if I want" He groaned pulling your titt out of your cami. He traced his finger over your hard nub and revelled in the way you shuddered, goosebumps painting your skin.

You swatted his hand away and covered up your titt, to which he let out a sound of disapproval. "Really? I thought they were mine. Since you know they're attached to me!" You huffed slapping his pec.

"Nope" He said his eyes now staring at your lips "They're mine. Cause you're mine." And you really had to fight the smile creeping up on your face. "Just like I'm yours." He said giving you his signature lovestruck fools grin. "Can I kiss you?" He whined pushing his thumb past your lips. "I love your boobies. And kissing you." He thought out loud.

"Boobies?" You snickered. You would love to kiss him, but he had tried to do just that the second he got home. Honestly his breathe didn't smell the best. But you can't tell him that and break his heart. Not when he's already looking at you as if he's a kicked puppy. You bent down giving him a quick peck.

He whined as you pulled away. "I want more."

"If you get in bed, I'll give you one more. Come on." You bargained. Tucking him in and kissing him goodnight. He was extra clingy while cuddling you that night. But it you weren't complaining.

#berry answers #berrys drabbles #steve rogers x reader

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years ago

Note

for monster march, ghost + indruck + nsfw?

Here you go! I borrowed some ideas we’ve tossed around on the Discord

A sketchbook, new pens, a Hershey bar, and a bag of jumbo marshmallows. A small but lively fire. And a new, huge, fuzzy sleeping bag waiting for him in the tent.

Not a bad camping set up for a city-boy art goth (as Barclay likes to call him).

Indrid sticks another marshmallow on the fork, roasting it until it’s deep brown, the smell of burning sugar curling through the air and settling in his hair. He’s never liked Graham Crackers, so he jams a square of chocolate into the molten center of the marshmallow and shoves the entire thing into his mouth.

Kepler is small. Barclay hadn’t been kidding about that. He’d also been right that one of the two tattoo shops in town was willing to hire Indrid after looking through photos of his work and confirming he completed his apprenticeship.

He’s been living in the Eastwoods campground in the Monongahela National Forest while he apartment hunts, and the tattoos he’s done so far netted him enough cash to buy his luxurious new sleeping bag. He might be waiting on a place for some time, so he may as well camp in style.

Three “s’mores” later, the moon is up and the night is chilly enough that he wants his sweatshirt. Ducking into the tent, he can’t find it on his pillow, where he swears he left it this morning. Maybe he accidentally buried it getting dressed.

A splashhiss interrupts his rummaging. Scrambling from the tent, he discovers his fire is now a pile of soaked ashes and logs being angrily stirred by a thick piece of kindling.

“Excuse me, but what the fuck?”

A man in a ranger uniform appears, the stick falling through his hand as he gives Indrid a disapproving stare.

“Look here, I know you’re new here, maybe to campin entirely. But you can’t just leave a fire burnin when you go to bed.” He doesn’t sound mad, more like he’s a disappointed big brother scolding his sibling.

“I wasn’t-”

“And all this” he gestures to the food on the table, “has gotta go in the bear box. Black bears are real good foragers and we don’t want ‘em comin’ into camp and gettin to comfy around humans.”

“Of course, but-”

“You didn’t take any food into the tent, right? Wouldn’t want somethin to decide to join you ‘cause it smelled a snack.”

Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “I am aware of all of these rules, and plan to follow them. Once I actually go to bed instead of ducking into the tent for my sweater. But since my evening appears to be over…” he grabs the marshmallows, roasting fork, and chocolate, carries them to the bear box, and slams it closed.

When he whirls back around, the ghost is still there, chagrined.

“Uh, sorry. I kinda jumpy about people leavin fires alone.” In the lantern light, his smile is as charming as his drawl. His stocky, bearish shape and unassumingly handsome face command Indrid’s focus, which is why his revelation comes so quickly.

“You...there’s a statue of you at the visitor center. Which makes you, ah, damn it what was the name-”

“Duck. Duck Newton. They put my legal name on there, even though Juno tried to stop ‘em. But my name’s Duck.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Duck. I’m Indrid.”

“Nice to meet you too. Uh, sorry for ruinin your campfire, looks like you were havin a nice time.”

“It’s alright. I suppose I’m grateful there’s someone haunting the campsites to keep them in order.”

“You’re takin me bein’ a ghost surprisingly well.”

“I’ve always been interested in strange things, to the point that I earned the nickname ‘mothman’ in high school.”

“Huh” Duck watches him a moment, then shrugs, “well, guess I better be goin’. Have a nice night, mothman.”

With that, he’s gone.

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

“Hello again.” Indrid says as the campfire smoke curls around a human form, “Doing your rounds?”

“More or less. I like my job, and ain’t about to give it up just because I beefed it and turned into a ghost.” A creak as Duck joins him on the picnic bench. When he materializes, he floats slightly above the worn wood, watching Indrid draw.

“That’s incredible, it’s so realistic it’s like you pressed the leaves into the pages instead of colored them.”

“Thank you.” adds depth to the leaf, “you know, I looked at the statue again today. It hardly does you justice.”

From this close, he can see a blush spread up semi-opaque cheeks. Then he starts fading.

“Oh, ah, I’m sorry. I was aiming for a benign compliment, not to make you uncomfortable.”

“S’alright, just surprised me. Not many folks wanna flirt with a dead guy.”

“I’m more interested in what the ‘dead guy’ wants.” Indrid smiles, hoping to convey he would submit to spectral touches as readily as he’d keep talking.

Duck floats closer, “Kinda curious about your other drawin’s.”

Indrid turns the sketchbook back to the beginning, “they’re half portfolio and half travelogue. Here” he holds up a fade, detached piece of paper, covered by an Morpho Butterfly that looks ready to fly away, “this is the first tattoo I ever designed.”

“Damn. Guessin’ that means you did this one” he touches the Rosy Maple Moth on Indrid’s forearm (or tries to). It’s chilly, but not in the way Indrid feared. More like taking a cool shower on a sweltering day.

“I did. Here, it gave me an idea for my first series of flash tattoos…”

They go over the illustrations page by page. Slowly, Indrid weaves in questions to Duck who, instead of recoiling from discussion of his mortal life, tells him rambling stories about the woods and which places serve the best food in town.

The conversation doesn’t end until the fire goes out on it’s own, Duck standing automatically, grabbing a water bottle, swearing, and then disappearing so he can pick the bottle up.

“Do you think that’s part of why you’re still here? Some unfinished business having to do with the woods?”

“Nah.” The water bottle thunks back on the table as Duck reappears, “I tried to live a normal life, improve the world the way I knew how, make some kind of difference to this town. Then I had to go play the goddamn hero.”

“I would say saving two dozen people from a forest fire makes a considerable difference in the world.”

A sad huff of a laugh, “Yeah, guess you’re right. Just...I meant to do somethin’ with my life, not my death, even if it was a small somethin’, and the closest thing I got to unfinished business is a model ship.”

“I...what?”

“It was four-masted and everything! I had Leo order it in special and everything and then I never, I never got to-” He tilts his head up, sniffs once, “never mind. I better let you get to sleep.”

By the time Indrid calls “goodnight,” the ghost is gone.

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

“Please tell me you’re gettin a place soon so you stop eatin everythin outta a can?” Leo bags the last of groceries.

“No such luck. Ah well, there are worse things than canned soup and Pop-Tarts.”

“At least let Barclay feed you, half the point of havin a friend who can cook is to let ‘em do it for you. You need stamps or anything?”

“N-” A box behind the counter catches his eye. It’s at an odd angle, as if whoever put it there is hoping no one will see it. Indrid can just make out an illustration of a four-masted ship.

“Is that for sale?”

Leo looks where he’s pointing, and for a moment something in his gruff affability wavers. Then he nods, “Yeah, suppose it is.”

“Can you ring it up for me?” Indrid nearly bounces on his toes when Leo sets the box on the counter and confirms his hunch.

The older man sets a gentle hand on the cardboard, sliding it across to Indrid, “Don’t worry about that, kid. It’s yours.”

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

“Duck?” Indrid turns in a circle by the picnic table, “Duck, I have something for you!”

He saw the ranger briefly last night, but he didn’t hang around. Gingerly, he sets the box on the table, tearing off a piece of sketch paper to write a note in case the ghost stops by while he’s asleep.

“Holy fuck.” Duck floats across the table from him, “‘Drid, where did, how did--why?”

“Leo still had it. As for why I, ah, it seemed like you still wanted it. If you can douse a fire and over my camp stove, I figure you can build a model ship.”

Duck disappears and Indrid’s heart sinks; that must have been too much. Then he’s squished in an invisible, wonderful bear hug.

“Thanks, ‘Drid.”

From then on, Duck spends every night at his campsite, building the ship while Indrid draws, reads, or talks with him. The model lives in the safest corner of the tent during the day.

“I mean, I’m up durin the day too, but I scared a few folks on accident and I don’t want people avoid the forest because of me.”

Indrid also learns that Duck is stuck within a certain radius of where he died, and that his attempts to talk with Juno when she was in his part of the woods only lead to his friend thinking she was hallucinating and Duck feeling miserable for three solid days. Indrid offers to act as messenger and invite Duck’s friends (many of whom have, by chance and by proximity to Barclay, become his friends) to the campsite to see him. The ranger is quiet for some time after that offer.

“Not yet. Maybe someday, but not yet. I, it ain’t even been a year, ‘Drid. I think a lot of ‘em are still hurtin. And, and maybe this is selfish but...I ain’t ready to deal with them findin’ out I aint fully gone. It’d be so much all at once.”

Indrid doesn’t bring it up again. More than once, when Aubrey tells a story about Duck only for her eyes to sadden halfway through, or when he sees Juno looking at Duck’s statue a little too long, he struggles to keep his promise.

A cold front blows into town and, since he’s still in the tent, he pops into Kepler Thrift N Find in search of an extra sweatshirt. Tucked in between one reading “Ranchos” and one with a picture of Garfield is a soft, well-loved hoodie with “Monongahela National Forest” on the front. He buys it and wears it home, the fact it’s loose in the arms making it even easier to tuck in his hands when he gets cold.

He stops by the visitor center out of habit, checking out the new plush wild animals. There are also hints of Duck here and there; his name on displays, his face in group photos. As he contemplates a small, squishy black bear, he notices Juno looking at him more than usual.

“Hello again” he sets the bear on the counter.

“Howdy. This all?

“Yes, please. Are you alright? You look, ah, tired.”

“Yep. Or, uh, just noticed that sweatshirt. It was one that got made special for staff a few years ago.”

Indrid fidgets with the cat-bitten drawstring, “It was Duck’s, wasn’t it?”

“Uh huh. He put that patch on the sleeve. Guess it startled me to see it on someone else.”

“I understand.”

“Knew him since we were kids. Hell, he’s my daughter’s godfather. Still don’t feel right, bein’ here without him.”

Indrid pushes the bear towards her and she pets it.

“What was he like?”

In the empty visitor center, Juno tells him. In her stories are echos of every conversation he’s ever had with anyone who knew Duck. When it’s time to close up, she asks if she can hug him, and thanks him for listening to her.

“Guess you weren’t kiddin about wanting to sleep with a bear” Duck teases as Indrid sets his new purchase inside the tent. Indrid whaps at him, arm going through his torso. The ranger floats nearby as Indrid heats up ravioli and opens a can of Mountain Dew. Indrid tells him about the conversation with Juno.

“Huh, guess that is my old one. Glad someone is gettin some use outta it. And it looks good on you.”

Indrid sets down his bowl, “We talked a lot, Duck. And it made me think about what you said to me one of the night after we met. You said you wanted a chance to make the world, the town, a little better. Everyone I’ve talked to, and I mean every one, has a story about you. How you helped them, how Kepler is worse off with you gone. You did so much, even with your time cut short. I, I wanted you to know that.”

The ghost looks away, “I wasn’t done tryin to help.”

“You still aren’t. You do what you can to keep the forest and the visitors safe. And you, you’ve made my life immeasurably better Duck. Seeing you is the best part of my day and I think I’m falling--ah, that is, you’re not done making a difference.”

Duck hasn’t moved since Indrid started talking about his feelings. When Indrid tries to meet his eyes, he disappears. Hurried, he reaches out to offer a reassuring touch and gets only air.

“Duck?”

Nothing, even after he calls his name three more times.

He slumps onto the bench, “well, fuck me I guess.”

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

This is a terrible idea. But it’s his last, and therefore his best.

Indrid even asked Barclay’s boyfriend, Joseph, if anything in his impressive library of the paranormal advised the reader on dealing with upset ghosts. A few did, always from the perspective of trying to get the specter to go away. They said nothing about what to do if your upset ghost was missing, leaving an ache in your heart you didn’t know you were capable of feeling.

Instead, after a week of silence, Indrid changes tactics: if he can’t coax Duck back, maybe he can annoy him into appearing.

Tonight, he finishes dinner and cleans his dishes, puts the bulk of the food in the bear box, and then tears open a bag of chips, scattering them across the table. He eats one, then leaves the open bag laying amongst the potato shards.

Next, he dumps his remaining water on the fire, which takes it down to embers but does not extinguish it. When none of that gets a reaction, he decides to narrate.

“Hmm, that should be fine, it’s not that dry and I don’t think sparks can go over the edge.”

“Should I leave these juice pouches out? Yes, I think I should, in case I get thirsty at night. Maybe I’ll take one into the tent, just to be safe.”

He already feels silly and like no one is listening, and so he escalates.

“I know I shouldn’t leave food out for the wildlife, but since there’s no handsome, ghostly ranger here to punish me for my transgressions, I am just going to leave some nuts out for the raccoons. I like raccoons. They deserve nice things. Hell, how about I just leave them a whole buffet since no one is stopping me!”

All he gets in reply are the few bugs awake this early in the spring and the crack of brush as a small mammal runs away from the weird bipedal thing yelling at his camp fire. He doesn’t leave out food for the raccoons; he climbs into his tent in a huff. What a bad idea, to think this of all things would bring Duck back to him. He’s being childish and bratty and selfish; Duck doesn’t deserve that, no more than he owes Indrid his company.

He changes into his pajamas pants and sleep shirt, intending to go back out to make the site safe and tidy. Except.

Except something just opened the bear box. The chip bag crinkles and the fire hisses out a minute later. He should be running outside to apologize, but his mind has simultaneously registered the full darkness of the night , the possibility that Duck is not the only paranormal thing in these woods, and the fact the nearest other campers are on the other side of the campground, meaning he is very, very alone.

The zipper on the tent moves, the flap falling open so his lantern shines on nothing but April air.

“Duck? Please say that’s you.”

A low chuckle, “It’s me, ‘Drid.” The fly zips shut, “mighty peeved about that trick you pulled.”

“I’m, I’m sorry. I missed you, but that was a bad way to communicate that.” He can’t see him, and the lantern only picks up the odd shift of sleeping bag or tent floor, so Indrid’s eyes’ dart about trying to pinpoint him.

“Oh, you communicated plenty, sugar. Like what you want a certain, uh, ghostly ranger to do to you.”

“Oh god” he winces, “please, forget I said that, it’s humiliating.”

“Not all that surprisin, truth be told. I mean, you and I flirted now and then. And you told me enough about yourself for me to suspect that you’re a kinky little weirdo who’s dyin to get fucked by a ghost.”

“I, I feel I should point out that I only want to fuck one ghost. You. I want to fuck you and that means fucking a ghoOOOst.” He gasps as cold lips press into his neck.

“I can make that happen, darlin, all you gotta do is say it. You were a pain in the neck earlier, so now I expect you to be real polite and use your words.” Duck’s voice has never been like this before, rough and possessive yet still, under all of it, the same warmth draws Indrid in like a flame.

“I want you, Duck.”

A bite to his ear, strong arms wrapping around his waist from behind him, “Want me to do what?”

“Fuck me” this is like every wet dream he had as a teenager, the supernatural being coming for a fellow outsider.

That gets him a tender kiss on the cheek, “That’s better. Though, if I’m rememberin correctly, word you used was punish.”

Indrid yelps as Duck turns and shoves him to lay across his lap, kicks his legs out in surprise when his waistband slides down to his upper thighs.

“Yesss” he wiggles his ass as Duck palms it, “yes, Duck, pleaseAHgod” the first strike stings, and Duck doesn’t let him recover before delivering five more, three to each side. His cock perks up at the pain. Stranger still, because Duck is invisible, all Indrid has to do is tilt his head to watch it harden and twitch with each slap.

Twenty strikes later Duck pauses, hand rubbing soothing, cool circles on the burning skin, “Learned your lesson?”

“Mmhmm.” Indrid presses an awkward kiss to Duck’s knee.

“Glad to hear it.” Duck hauls him up onto his knees, slides a hand under his shirt and up his chest, “I’m rarin’ to feel more of you--holy fuck”

“AH!” Indrid arches as Duck toys with his left nipple piercing, his other hand quickly finding the right.

“God, fuck, you’re fuckin hot, if I were alive I woulda taken you home first time I saw you.” Messy kisses cover his neck as Duck tugs the piercings.

“Gaahnnyes, that’s, that’s very flattering.”

“Ain’t flattery, sugar, it’s the truth. Never could turn down some skinny punk with piercin’s and messy hair, not when I was a teen burnout hidin in the woods and sure as hell not now.” He moves Indrid onto his back, rucking up his shirt as his legs twist in his half-down pants. The ranger cups his face, and Indrid is positive he’s meeting his eyes, “tell me what you want sugar, tell me so I can treat you right.”

“Marks, I want marks anywhere you’ll give them.”

A growl from above him, then lips smashing into his, drinking him in before continuing down his throat, biting and sucking hard enough that he cries out every time. Duck pauses, teasing his nipples with his tongue as he rakes his nails up his sides. He sits up and for a horrible moment Indrid loses him. Then with glee he watches five red marks drag down his chest. He moans, rolling his hips and discovering just how closer Duck’s clothed cock is to his own. The contact only feeds the rangers eagerness, and Indrid is tosses and turns as he sucks, bites, and scratches, laying claim to the illustrated expanse of his body.

“More, please, god that all feels so good.”

“Don’t worry darlin, still got plenty of you to mark up, but we’re gonna do somethin else while I do.” He eases Indrid onto his stomach, slaps his ass fondly, “don’t go nowhere.”

Indrid’s duffel bag unzips, clothes and pens moved aside until a bottle of lube hovers in the air. The tube compresses and drips coat the rough outline of fingers. When the two digits press into him he sighs, eyes closing as he melts under Ducks watchful eyes.

“That’s it ‘Drid, relax for me. Got well over a year of horny to work out, so this cute ass needs to be ready to take it.”

Indrid pushes his hips back in reply, taking as far as the fingers will go and whimpering excitedly when he presses in the tip of the third. Duck works that one more carefully, kissing Indrid’s face and shoulders as he whispers about how good he is, how much he’s wanted this.

“I want it too so for, for goodness sake please fuck me soon or I’ll leave my entire cooler out for the bears.”

“Only one bear in this campsite tonight darlin.” Duck laves his tongue down the base of his spine, bites down hard on his ass. Indrid’s still moaning from the pain when his cock pushes in.

“Fuuuckme that’s good. Shoulda snuck into your tent sooner, sugar, made you a fuckin cocksleeve you feel so fuckin good.”

“Ohgod” is all Indrid, voice muffled by the sleeping bag he’s biting, manages before Duck adjusts them so Indrid is on his knees. The ranger isn’t gentle, pounds into him like he’s nothing but a warm hole and chuckles whenever Indrid moans.

“H-handprints, Duck, want hand prints GAHyesyesyes” he struggles to move in time with the ghost as the air fills with ear-splitting slaps. He’s so close, the pain and the sensation of phantom fingers claiming his body making his body beg for release. When he slides a hand down to jerk himself off, the arm twists up and stays trapped against his back.

“You wanna cum, you know what to do.”

He blinks away the ecstatic tears, words raw in his throat, “Please let me cum, Duck. I want to, need to cum while you fuck me pleaseplease-” he cuts off into whine as the ghost works his cock hard, all the while jamming into him hard enough that the smooth fabric of the sleeping bag burns his knees. When he cums it’s with a weak cry of Duck’s name, which is swallowed up by hungry lips as Duck kisses him over and over, repeating Indrid’s name like an incantation as he pumps his hips and cums, pulling out as he does so it splatters on the reddened patches of his ass.

A final kiss to the top of his head, and then there’s no contact between them and the zipper is moving.

“Oh no you don’t” Indrid scrambles, sweaty and exhausted, between the tent fly and the invisible man somewhere in front of him, “for goodness sake, Duck, I thought you liked me enough to at least let me fall asleep before you ran.”

The ranger finally appears, hair a mess and cheeks noticeably pink, “‘Drid, all that was amazing, but it’s all I can give you. I, I can’t...you said you were fallin for me and I can’t give you that.”

Indrid cocks his head, “Why not?”

“Because I’m a fuckin ghost, ‘Drid! You deserve to be with a livin’ fella, you deserve someone who can be a real part of your life.”

He crosses his arms, “Duck, you are a real part of my life. Honestly, what part of all the nights we spent together, all the ways we take care of each other, all of this” he points at the rumpled sleeping bag, “suggests otherwise?”

The ghost doesn’t speak, simply hugs himself (or tries to).

“If this is too much, if I’m offering something you do not want, then please tell me. But if this is you thinking that some paranormal quirks keep you from being a worthy partner for me, kindly think again.”

Duck disappears and Indrid is gearing up to try and tackle a supernatural entity when a familiar face buries itself in the crook of his neck. The ghost clings to him, and Indrid clings right back.

“You really wanna give it a go?”

“More than anything.”

Duck lifts his head so their cheeks rest together, “Then fuck it. Let’s see what happens.”

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

Indrid finishes hooking up his lightly used Winnebago, AKA his solution to the lack of available apartments. He’s in a different section of Eastwoods, but he’s happy with his new spot. He opens one of his few boxes, gently lifts the completed model ship into a place of honor, and waits, humming happily, for an unseen hand to knock on his door.

#indruck #monster march #indrid cold/duck newton #reader request #ghost au

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howdoyousleep3 · 5 years ago

Note

Do you think bucky or steve would ever safeword out of a scene? Like, I know daddy!steve likes to talk things out, but bucky usually gets stuck in his own head, so maybe he thinks he should really be punished for something he’s done or whatever, steve wouldn’t want that because he’s concerned that bucky’s too upset and he tries to make him think straight but like, bucky wouldn’t have that and begs steve to just hurt him so he uses his safeword ‘cause he would never hurt his baby

Bucky hears Steve say the word but it takes him the minute after the word is uttered to understand exactly what is happening. It comes to him slowly, that realization, first in the question of why Steve had stopped hitting him and then in other minute signs: Steve’s labored breathing, the way he didn’t make a move to touch Bucky, the word itself echoing all around the room and the house and the block and Bucky’s brain.

Red.

Had Steve ever said that word in such a scenario? Ever? Bucky doesn’t think he had. Then again, Bucky had never asked Steve for a punishment.

“Steve?”

Steve responds but doesn’t make any sort of move towards Bucky. He isn’t far away, just a few steps back, but he sure as hell feels like he’s on the other side of the world.

“Bucky?” He realizes through his muddled mindset that Steve doesn’t sound like himself, doesn’t sound like anything Bucky has ever heard before. He forces his heavy eyelids to stay open as he speaks.

“Did you...red?” Bucky asks, somewhere deep in his brain recalling that Steve has always taught Bucky he is to recognize a safe word when it is spoken, openly acknowledge it. This should count as recognition he thinks, and when Steve’s hand runs hot up his back to squeeze his neck, he knows it’s good enough for Steve as well.

Bucky should be well aware that that Steve won’t have this conversation when Bucky is bent over the bed, naked, and drooling, but he’s still a little startled when he is dragged up the bed in full with gentle hands and rolled onto his side. Bucky lets himself be manhandled, a little too far gone to get himself into this position quickly and efficiently, and when Steve settles in front of Bucky on his own side, he can see that this use of a safe word is a serious one.

Not that it wouldn’t be in the first place, but they’ve never safeworded before. Bucky has given a few hesitant yellows but never a red. The realization makes Bucky sniffle.

“I love you,” is the first thing Steve says and that’s everything Bucky needed to hear, makes him sniffle a little more heavily. He leans into the kisses Steve gives him, the hand on the side of his face, revels in them in this unforeseen moment. Bucky whispers back his love, brings his free hand up to squeeze at Steve’s hip, rests it there. He ignores the way his ass throbs. Steve’s hand doesn’t leave the side of his face.

“Bucky, do you know why I stopped and used a safe word?” Steve asks and Bucky immediately shakes his head because he doesn’t know but he’s also afraid that if he opens his mouth all that will come out are garbled noises.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to giving you any kind of punishment when you were feeling so emotional. We could have used another form, maybe ropes, but I shouldn’t have said yes to hitting you when it didn’t feel right and I’m sorry. You’ve never asked for something like this and I wanted to give it to you, to provide, but I should have reevaluated.”

Bucky just nods his head, rubs his fingers around Steve’s side. Bucky does understand what Steve is saying; this was different and uneasy from the start. This punishment was not rooted in the same feelings and same communication as others have been. Bucky had thought it was the nature of the origins of such punishment, but he now realizes that they had no communicated clearly and that Bucky may have been in the wrong for requesting such a thing.

“Bucky I’m going to tell you how I feel about this and I know you; this isn’t going to make you feel good about yourself. I need you to know that I love you more than anything. Do you understand?” Bucky nods his head. He knows Steve loves him, always feels it deep down in his bones, and he does what he can to brace for Steve’s words.

“Bucky, I said ‘red’ because I feel like you left me and not in a sweet way. I couldn’t get you to say anything back to me. Did you realize you weren’t responding to me or counting out loud?” Bucky feels his eyebrows wrinkle together. He doesn’t remember Steve asking him questions, doesn’t remember even counting in the first place. He shakes his head but then chooses to say, “I hadn’t realized,” because he knows Steve appreciates words.

“Usually when you float you still manage to talk to me, you still count. The only thing you could say was ‘harder’ and Bucky, you’ve never asked for me to hit you harder. That isn’t you.”

Steve is right—that isn’t Bucky. He isn’t someone who would asked to be smacked harder, especially in a situation where it was considered a punishment and one he had asked for.

“You were cryin’. You notice that?” Steve asks, swiping his thumb along Bucky’s cheekbone and just like everything else, Bucky hadn’t realized that either. “You tend to let out sweet little tears for me when you go sweet on me and I love ‘em, Buck. But this was different. These sounded like you were chokin’ on them, like you were in pain. You’ve rarely sounded like you were genuinely in pain before, Bucky and that alongside you asking me to hit you harder…I can’t do that, sugar. I couldn’t keep going.”

Bucky is more than aware that he is crying now. If his wet cheeks were previously stained from tears he was unaware of he is much more aware of these ones now. His chest shakes on his next breath and when his throat closes up and all he can let out is a sob, Steve lets out his own pained noise.

“Oh, babylove it’s okay, we’re okay. I love you, Bucky. It’s all okay.” Steve’s words are hushed and urgent, pressed into the kisses he gives him all over his face as he pulls him even closer, foreheads touching. Bucky clutches at whatever piece of Steve he can get at: his elbow, his neck, his lips.

“Steve, Steve I…I’m so sorry, I didn’t…didn’t even think—”

“No, baby it’s okay, we’re still learning. This is new. I shouldn’t have agreed, shouldn’t have said I would do this. I’m supposed to protect you always and love you always and…and I’m the one that ended up hurting you. I’m the one I didn’t protect you from.”

And then forehead presses aren’t close enough anymore and one person isn’t more desperate than the other. They’re scrambling somewhat, arms and legs wrapping and hooking around the other’s, pinched off noises as Bucky cries openly and tucks his face into Steve’s neck. Being closer feels much better even though it isn’t a drastic difference from their position seconds previously and Steve’s lips are in his hair.

“We know now, we know that isn’t something we can do. I’m sure there are other ways we can find that help you when you’re feeling like you need a punishment, but this wasn’t healthy for us. I don’t feel good about what just transpired, Bucky—I’m sorry.”

“No, no I’m sorry, Steve. I shouldn’t have pushed you into this. I’m so sorry.” His lips slip and slide against the column of Steve’s neck and Bucky wishes he could get even closer to Steve, could press up against him even tighter. The older man kisses the top of his head, his temple, before reaching down and tilting Bucky’s chin up.

Bucky feels at home looking into Steve’s eyes.

“It’s all okay, Buck. We’re safe and we’re talking and we’ll learn how to approach this differently next time it comes up, yeah?” and Bucky’s nodding his head as soon as Steve mentions that they’re safe. When Steve kisses him, gentle and sweet, Bucky feels more than a little sensitive, feels a little raw. Steve can tell though, can always tell, and as his hand runs down Bucky’s back he whispers,” Y’wanna take a shower? Get comfy in bed?” Bucky hums.

“Yeah, I…I’d like that. I d-don’t want…Steve, I’m feeling really vulnerable right now and—”

“I gotchu, sugar. I’ve always gotchu. Thank you for telling me. Won’t leave your side for a second, come on. You want me to carry you?”

Bucky does.

#askK

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f0rever15elf · 4 years ago

Text

Cozy

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x f!reader Rating: G Word Count: 1,749 Warnings: I say bitch like...twice? A little bit of angst about life being hard. Super Soft!Jack, no beta

Summary: Late night, come home. Work sucks, I know. He left you roses by the stairs. Surprises let you know he cares.

A/N: Yes, I never left my emo phase, thank you for noticing. No, I don’t regret blatantly ripping off Blink-182 for the summary. It fits. I wrote this piece for my dear friend @whiskeyslasso <3 I hope this makes your morning a little bit sweeter, dear.

Masterlist | Ao3

Some days, life is hard. Some days, the weight of existence can be so heavy it’s unbearable. Some days, all you want to do is lay down and bawl your eyes out, disappearing into the shadows. And those days...those are the days that Jack Daniels would bring down the heavens for you, if only you should ask.

Work had been, to put it simply, an absolute bitch. Nothing had gone as it should have, and somehow it was all your fault. Or so your boss had said, anyways. Not that you paid her too much heed, but the constant berating eventually takes its toll. By the end of the day, you want nothing more than to just go home and sit under your shower until the water ran cold, letting it take all your stress and issues down the drain. But the minute you walked in the front door, your intentions to wallow in the shower were thwarted.

The lights in the already cozy house were low, lower than you remembered them being able to get. It took you a minute to realize that it was candles causing the warm and comforting glow. All candles. Little tea lights up to those big, expensive, three woodwick candles that you fawned over every time you went to the store. The house smelt amazing, like fresh baked cookies and spiced chai, your absolute favorite on cold winter days, and you could hear the crackle of the fireplace in the living room. The house is warm and comforting, quickly chasing away the cold from your bones.

“Jack?” you call from the hallway, taking off your shoes as you make your way inside. You find him in the kitchen, a Texas sized smile on his face with his ‘kiss the cook’ apron tied around him and covered in flour.

“There you are, Sugar. I’ve been getting ready for you to come home.” He takes off the flour covered apron, making his way around to you to pull you into his arms, holding you securely to his chest. The strong heartbeat under your ear chips away a little at the misery that seems to be clouding your entire being at the moment, but you’re still too tired to wrap your arms back around him. You take a deep breath, breathing in the smell of that rich cologne he always wore around you, like worn leather and spiced maple. You had fallen in love with it when he brought you with him to try new scents and now it was the only thing he would wear around you. He’d never tell you, but one of his favorite things is when your hugs linger just a little longer than normal so you can enjoy how he smells in it.

“Today was..so bad, Jack,” you whisper into his chest as his fingers thread through your hair in the most soothing of manners as he holds you a little tighter.

“I could tell from your text, Darlin’. It’s why I’ve taken the liberty of preparin’ the most comforting of evenin’s for you.” He pulls back just a bit, lifting your chin to smile down at you before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “Fresh cookies and your favorite chai. Went and got a few of those Woodwicks you’ve been raving about too, and there’s plenty of cozy blankets on the sofa. Figured we’d snuggle on in for the evenin’ and watch your favorite movies. How does that sound?” His thumb rubs lightly along your chin as he still holds your face up to him and for the first time that day, you feel yourself smiling. It’s small, but it’s there, and Jack returns it with one so bright, you can’t help the warmth that runs through you, slowly bringing your hands up to rest on his waist.

“Thank you, love. So much.” Your voice is soft, afraid that if you talk too loudly it might break. He continues to smile, leaning in to kiss you gently once more. You could melt into the feeling of his lips on yours. Kissing him just felt so...good, so right.

“Now, I just pulled your PJs from the dryer so they should still be nice ‘n’ warm. Go get cleaned up and cozy, and I’ll meet you in the living room, alright?” You nod and he lets go of your face, cupping your cheek gently as you nod. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before you turn to head upstairs, giving your butt a gentle pat as you so so, causing your cheeks to flush with heat. Your heart melts further when you make it up to the bedroom and see it all laid out. The plushest blankets Jack owned were turned down on the bed, and he had strung those faerie lights you had been begging him to get for weeks now all across the room. There was a vase of more roses than you could count on your side of the bed, and a neatly wrapped candy bar with a gorgeous little bow rested on your pillow. He’d pulled out your softest PJ pants, the ones covered in the cute little animals in scarves, and had grabbed one of his larger shirts to pair with it. He knew how much you loved wearing his clothes. You were at the point where you could honestly start crying, it was all so perfect after such a shit day it bordered on overwhelming. God, Jack Daniels was perfect, and you felt like the luckiest woman in existence.

Stripping out of your work clothes, you quickly change into the still-warm PJs before washing your face, trying to imagine the hot water washing away everything about today. You take a moment to look in the mirror and sigh. She looks so tired. Tossing the towel down, you make your way back downstairs to see Jack setting the mugs and tray of cookies on the coffee table. He glances up to you and smiles that charming smile of his before taking a seat on the couch, holding his arms out for you.

“C’mere, Beautiful,” he drawls and you all but run to him, climbing on to the couch and collapsing into his strong embrace. His arms hold you to him, safe and secure, and you relax into the feeling of home. Nothing could touch you here, not with Jack holding you like this. His hand runs up and down your back soothingly, rubbing away the stresses of the day as he clicks on the TV. “Which movie first, Darlin’?” He speaks softly, gently, and you can feel the rumble of it in his chest. It paired deliciously with the low crackle of the fire, a perfect match.

“That one,” you reply just as softly, pointing to your absolute favorite feel-good movie and he chuckles, selecting it before setting the remote down and grabbing you a cookie. You take it happily, letting the warmth from the pastry travel up your fingers. You can feel Jack’s eyes on you as you take a bite, letting out a quiet mewl of pleasure a the warm, buttery, chocolaty taste.

“Made ‘em from scratch, just like my mama use to make ‘em for me.” He places a sweet kiss to the top of your head as you eat, all the while making happy sounds. When you finish, you grin up at him, a twinkle returning to your eyes.

“That was the best cookie I have ever had, Jack. Your mama would be so proud.” His cheeks tinge pink at the praise and he chuckles again, the vibrations in his chest pleasant against you.

“Well now, looks like you got a bit of chocolate on your lip there. Here, let me get that for you.” He tilts your head up, leaning in to kiss you, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip to collect the little bit of chocolate that was there before pulling away. “You know, I’d reckon it tastes even better on your lips than it does in the cookies.” He winks at you before settling back into the couch, and you giggle like a high school girl, hiding your face against his broad chest.

The whole evening, Jack never leaves your side, keeping you cuddled up to him as much as he can. As the exhaustion of the day meets up with the comfort and peace the love of your life brings you, you begin to find it hard to keep your eyes open and focused on the TV. Jack’s steady breathing and heart beat paired with the down right obscene amount of blankets the two of you had nested yourselves in was the perfect place to slowly doze off, the misery of the day completely forgotten. You’re awoken for just a moment at the feeling of being carried, looking up in confusion as you try to reorient yourself.

“Easy there, Darlin’,” Jack whispers to you, careful to not break the stillness of the night with words too loud. “We’re goin’ to bed now is all.” He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head once again as you make it to the top of the stairs. You know Jack is strong, this wasn’t the first time he’s carried you, but it still made your heart flutter the way it did the very first time he picked you up. Carefully, he lays you in bed, helping you get comfy before pulling the blankets up around you, kissing your lips then your forehead like you are the most precious thing in this world. And to him, you absolutely are. A strong, gentle, gun-calloused hand brushes the hair from you face and cups for cheek for a moment and your eyes stubbornly refusing to open in your state of sleepiness. You hear him faintly, like in a dream, as he changes as well, sliding into bed with you, pulling you to his chest. He would keep you safe tonight, keep the bad dreams away. You melt into his hold, your body finally completely relaxing against him as he molds his body to yours.

The last thing you remember before slipping into a peaceful slumber is his voice murmuring to you, “My strong little sunflower, I love you so much. I’m so proud of you.” You let out a content sigh as you finally drift to sleep in the arms of the man who held your heart completely. Things simply couldn’t be more perfect.

~~~~~

Taglist: Permanent: @ahopelessromanticwritersworld, @tangledlove27, @paintballkid711, @lose-eels, @adamdrivercouldchokeme

#agent whiskey #jack daniels #jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels x you #kingsman and the golden circle #pedro pascal

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emy-loves-you · 4 years ago

Text

Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays Chapter 21

Picnics and Confessions

Chapter 20 | Masterlist

There’s a brief mention of sex, but other than that there shouldn’t be anything else. I hope you enjoy this final chapter of the original series, and I’ll be back soon with the sequel!

“She smiled and she said

on days like this

it seems like it never rains” Remus sang, getting out of the car. He skipped around to the passenger seat, opening the door and holding his arm out.

“But without the rain, we’d starve.” Janus duetted, grabbing Remus’ arm as he got out. They walked up the driveway, softly singing one of Remus’ favorite songs. Before Janus could even knock, the front door swung open to reveal Virgil. He was a wreck; there were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair looked like a rat’s nest. His eyes were wide and panicked as he led them inside.

“You’re late!” Virgil hissed out, slamming the door shut behind them. The house was a mess. The kitchen sink was overflowing with dirty pots and pans that they knew weren’t there yesterday. The coffee maker was on (a rare sight these days) and there were several towels lying about, presumably cleaning coffee spills if the dark brown liquid was any indication. There was a large picnic basket in the living room, along with a large pile of makeup products.

“Your date doesn’t start until 3, right?” Remus asked, raising an eyebrow at the messes. It was very un-Virgil-like to be messy. While Remus was used to cleaning up from a young age (*cough* shitty parenting *cough*), it was Virgil who actually wanted a clean house (sure, Janus did too, but he had no cooking or cleaning experience before he met Virgil). Virgil must be really stressed out if he didn’t subconsciously clean up after himself.

“Yeah, but I’ve got an errand to run beforehand.” Virgil replied, leading them to his room. There were clothes strewn about everywhere, but his bed was neatly made. His clock read 10:22 AM. Janus scowled at the clock. How long had Virgil been up?

“You seem to be taking this quite seriously.” Janus commented, moving some of the clothes so he could sit on the edge of the bed. “Almost as if this was-”

Remus gasped, bouncing on the tips of his toes. “A DATE! Is this a date?”

Virgil sighed, grabbing a fistful of his own hair. “I don’t know! Maybe?” He started pacing around the room. “What if they don’t see this as a date and I show up in something too formal? What if they DO see this as a date and I show up in something too casual? God, what if this is a date and I blow it? What if they see me and get angry that I lied to them and they hate me and-”

“Virgil, breathe.” Janus said, gesturing over to Remus. Remus walked over to Virgil and grabbed him by the shoulders, which forced him to stop pacing. Virgil stood there for a second, his eyes wide and unfocused. “Breathe in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. You’re doing so well, Virgil.” Janus instructed, praising Virgil when he started following the breathing exercise. It took several minutes for Virgil to calm down.

“Thanks, guys.” Virgil finally said, flopping down on the bed next to Janus. “I’m gonna screw this up.”

“No, you won’t.” Janus said, carding his fingers through Virgil’s hair. He immediately leaned into the touch. Remus bounced his way over to the closet.

“And even if you do, they won’t judge you for it.” Remus said cheerfully, sorting through Virgil’s clothes. “Roro’s dating Craft and Morales, right?”

“Logan Croft and Patton Morale.” Virgil corrected him, still relaxed in Janus’ hold.

“Whatever,” Remus replied, still sifting through Virgil’s clothes. “I may have left before the three of them got together, but I remember them being friends. Other than Ro and Lo’s ‘spats’ I’ve never seen the three of them be mean on purpose.”

“What about your fight with Ro outside the bathroom? And his argument with me when I met him?” Virgil asked, closing his eyes.

“I started that argument with Ro. And he thought that you groped him, so he’s not really at fault.” Remus sighed. “Look, I’m not gonna promise you that nothin’ll go wrong. But, I know those three, from both my high school years and your interactions with them. Worst case scenario, they ask you to stop flirting with ‘em and you remain friends. Best case scenario,” Remus turned around, holding the perfect outfit for Virgil. “You get yourself three hunkin’ pieces of man meat.”

Virgil blushed, getting up and grabbing the outfit. It was a black v-neck t-shirt and black skinny jeans, both skin-tight. Virgil grabbed those along with his jacket that Patton made him for Christmas, and went to the bathroom to change.

Remus turned to look at Janus. “Bet you he ends up sleeping with them tonight.”

Janus tilted his head. “How much?”

Remus grinned, holding out his hand. “If you win, I’ll never complain about that stupid rug again. If I win, the rug goes.”

Janus thought for a moment before smiling, taking Remus’ hand. “Deal.” He pulled Remus in so that he was straddling Janus, their lips meeting in a heated kiss.

“Ew, gross. You’re in my room guys.” The two gays turned to see Virgil standing in the doorway. Remus whistled. Virgil sighed, gesturing to the living room. “C’mon, I need help with my hair and makeup.”

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Virgil stepped into the confectionery, smiling at the pleasant chime that the door made. It was weird; even though Virgil had bought almost every item here at least once, he’s never actually entered the store until now. He heard someone up at the counter and walked over. He was pleasantly surprised to recognize the person’s voice.

“Hello, welcome to the Chocolate Plaza, how may I- HOLY SHMOKES YOU’RE ANXIETY!” Joan yelled, obviously recognizing Virgil’s persona. Virgil smirked. Maybe telling Joan can help Virgil prepare himself for telling his crushes.

“Hey Joan, I’ve got three boxes under the name ‘Storm.’” Virgil said, leaning onto the counter. His smirk widened when Joan recognized his voice.

“Virgil? You’re Anxiety?” At Virgil’s nod, their face lit up. “I was wondering why you never wanted to pick up your chocolate! So, what’s the occasion, Mr. Rockstar?”

Virgil laughed, pulling out his wallet. “I’m finally telling my crushes that I’m Anxiety. Y’know, the people I’ve been shipping these chocolates to.”

Joan went to grab the boxes of chocolate, yelling out behind them. “So you’ve spent hundreds of dollars worth of chocolate on them and they’ve never seen your face before?”

“Not as Virgil.” He yelled back, a blush of embarrassment forming on his face.

Joan laughed. “You’ve fallen for them hard, haven’t you?” They laughed when Virgil blushed harder. “Well, I hope you don’t need these apology chocolates, but here they are anyways.” Virgil’s blush didn’t fade as he paid for the chocolates and left.

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Virgil sighed as he made his way to Waverly Park. It was 2:30 now, and the park was about 15 minutes away. He’d still be early, but not as early as he wanted to be. Just as he adjusted the basket in his hands he felt something his nose. He stopped to wipe his nose when something else hit his cheek. It took Virgil a moment to figure out what it was: water.

It was raining.

Virgil groaned, but he kept walking. Hopefully, it would only sprinkle and go away soon. The weather forecast didn’t say anything about rain. Why did it have to rain now?

Unfortunately, the rain did not cease. Within minutes, the rain started to pour, and soon Virgil was soaked to the bone. He shivered as he weighed his options. It would be at least 10 minutes before Remus or Janus could pick him up, and even if he got to the park, there would be nowhere to shelter them from the rain. Virgil felt tears start to form in his eyes. He’d planned everything down to the letter, but like always it somehow managed to go horribly wrong. He looked up at the street name, ready to text it to Janus, when he recognized it. He turned around, squinting through the rain before he saw what he was looking for.

Patton, Logan, and Roman’s house. Without really thinking of the consequences, Virgil ran.

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Patton sighed, hanging up his coat. He and his boyfriends had just gotten ready for their date (was it a date? He hoped it was) with Virgil when it started to rain. He grabbed his phone, ready to cancel his plans. Maybe they could go out tomorrow? Patton wasn’t sure if he could wait that long.

Knock Knock Knock

“Coming!” Patton called out, hurrying to the door. Who in their right mind would be walking around in this storm? When he opened the door he was surprised by what he saw.

“Hey, Pat.” Virgil whimpered out, tremors shaking his entire frame. His oversized jacket (the one Patton made for him!) hung off of him, dripping slightly. His hair was pressed against his forehead, and his makeup had smeared down his face. He looked like he was about to fall over- and he was still carrying that basket, the poor thing!

“Aw, sweety,” Patton murmured, taking his basket and jacket. He led Virgil to the sofa, wrapping him up in the nearest blanket (Logan’s space-themed comforter that he’d left there last night). “I’m gonna head upstairs real quickly, okay kiddo?” At Virgil’s nod, he made his way upstairs. He passed by Roman and Logan, who were changing into more comfortable clothes. “Lo, please go turn up the thermostat. And Ro, can you go grab some of your comfy clothes? Virgil’s closest to your size.” When they just paused and looked at him, he explained himself. “Virgil’s downstairs. He was probably on his way to the park. The poor fella, he’s soaked to the bone. He might have hypothermia.”

“Well, that won’t do at all!” Roman said, turning to grab some clothes. “We mustn’t let our future love freeze to death!”

“Future love IF he says yes,” Logan remarked, heading downstairs to change the thermometer. Patton smiled, heading to their room to grab spare blankets.

Logan saw Virgil downstairs and smiled. “It’s nice to see you again, though I wish it could be under…better circumstances.” Virgil nodded, and Logan noticed that he was still crying. As soon as he turned the temperature up, Logan moved to sit next to Virgil. He wrapped his arm around Virgil, happy to see that he wasn’t shivering as much.

Roman and Patton headed down soon after, carrying spare clothes and blankets. “We have arrived!” Roman called out, making Patton giggle. “And we’ve brought gifts!” Virgil started crying harder. Roman noticed and moved to kneel in front of him. Patton sat on Virgil’s other side. “What’s wrong?” Roman asked, catching himself before he called Virgil ‘storm cloud.’

Virgil struggled to talk through his tears. “T-today w-was supposed t-to be p-perfect.” He stammered out. “I w-wanted to have a p-picnic, and I’d t-tell you that I was A-Anxiety, and I’d g-give you chocolates- and-” He gasped, nearly choking on his own tears.

Roman grabbed Virgil’s hands, gently messaging them. “Breathe, Storm Cloud, it’s okay. Today is perfect. You’re here, we’ve still got the picnic and chocolates, and just seeing you makes me so happy-” Before Roman could continue, someone kissed him quiet. Roman was used to this; it was something they all tended to do when one of them rambled for too long. Something was different, however. It took a moment for Roman to figure out what it was.

Virgil was kissing him.

Before Roman could process that, Virgil suddenly pulled away. “I’m sorry.” Virgil said quickly, looking down. He moved to pull away some more. Well, that wouldn’t do at all.

Roman surged upwards, lips meeting Virgil’s. He tried to convey all of his emotions into this kiss. All of his love, insecurity, adoration, and desperation. It felt like an inferno was igniting within him. He sighed as they separated a second time, this time for air. Roman looked Virgil in the eye. “Don’t you dare feel sorry.” Roman panted out. “You mean the world to me.”

Virgil sat there, completely still. Whether it was because of the kiss or because of what Roman said, Virgil couldn’t tell. “But I lied to you for almost a year! I didn’t tell you that I was Anxiety! I don’t deserve you guys!” He felt a hand grab his jaw and he let it turn his head. He was now looking Patton dead in the eye.

Patton glared at him. “Virgil Storm, don’t you dare start talking bad about yourself!” He said sternly. His gaze softened slightly. “Besides,” He pressed a kiss to Virgil’s nose, forehead, cheeks, and finally his lips. “We already realized that you were Anxiety, Virgil.”

Virgil’s eyes widened with every kiss, and he started gaping once Patton finished talking. “Really?” He felt another hand on his cheek, and he let it guide him. He was now facing Logan, who had a very tender expression on his face.

“While Patton has known since Valentine’s Day, Roman and I discovered it the day of the concert. However, this does not change our opinion of you.” He reached to cup Virgil’s cheekbone. “Virgil, you are funny, clever, talented, and an all-around amazing individual. We are all in love with you, and would like to in a relationship with you. Will you do us the honor of joining our relationship?” Logan asked, stars in his eyes.

Virgil nodded, pressing his lips to Logans. “Yes, yes, yes” He said between kisses. He smiled, tears forming in his eyes as he kissed Logan. He could barely get his head around that. He just kissed Roman and Patton, and now he’s kissing Logan! It was a dream come true and he couldn’t stop crying.

Logan suddenly pulled back, wiping away Virgil’s tears. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes. Then we can eat and watch a movie. Does that sound satisfactory?”

Virgil nodded, his smile never fading. “I love you guys, so much.”

Logan smiled back. “And we love you.”

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst

#useless gays #sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders

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fangirlingincamouflage · 5 years ago

Text

Blind Hope: Chapter 7

Title: Blind Hope Author: Rosie Dayze Word Count: 1,232 Pairing: Nick Jakoby x Reader Chapter Rating: PG-13 Themes: Angst, Plot, affectionate frustration Disclaimer I do not own Nick Jakoby, he is the intellectual property of Netflix Originals, I make no money from this fanfiction. Dedication: @14readwritedraw96 and @thezucchini (For being so wonderfully enthusiastic) TW/CW Descriptions of pain, long term hospital stay

Previous chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7 <~ You are Here

You are standing in the middle of the pasta isle at the grocery store when your cell phone goes off. It's that distinctive ping of an unknown number texting you. You sigh, roll your eyes, and wonder what is the easiest possible thing that you can make for dinner that night. In the past six days your workload has tripled. June and Em are on a much needed vacation and Nick is still unconscious at the hospital.

You know that because you called right before you left to go grocery shopping. You also called first thing this morning, and last night, and the morning before, and the night before that. You have called the hospital at least twice a day for the past thirty-seven days. You got the exact same information.

“Officer Jakoby is still in an induced coma, and he is not ready to be seen by friends or family.”

It was maddening.

Your phone goes off again and you set a jar of premade sauce back on the shelf. Your stomach isn't feeling red sauce. It isn't feeling pasta. Or oranges. Or any one of a thousand other things you were totally down for eating. You hadn't been hungry since the night part of LA went up in magical flames. Since Nick had been hospitalized.

With a sigh you eased into the snack isle. Is a bag of chips an acceptable replacement for dinner? Probably not, but you've had take out for the past two weeks and absolutely none of it has filled the steady, continuing ache in your heart.

Your phone goes off again.

“What?” you snarl loud enough to make the old lady with a basket full of frozen dinners blink with bewilderment. “Sorry. Not you.”

You pull your phone out and waive it at her. She doesn't look convinced, and doubles her speed to get into the next isle.

With a few swipes you bring up your new messages.

“This is Jessica, the Head Nurse at the Intensive Care Unit at the UCLA Medical Center.” The first message reads.

Your heard pounds so hard in your chest that your vision goes a little hazy. You grip your phone tightly enough to make the screen rainbow with protest.

“Nick Jakoby has achieved a state of continuing consciousness. One of my nurses made the mistake of telling him that you had stopped by.”

That hazy feeling turns to ash. You had wanted to see him yourself, to let him know what had gone on, and why you hadn't talked to him in six, not seven, months. He must be angry, furious.

The third message is brief, and comes across as a little mad. “In order to keep him in bed, I promised him you would come see him tonight. Do not make me a liar.”

You desert your cart, and take the shortest possible trip to the hospital that you have ever taken. Which is impressive, considering all the times you driven up there in the past month, just in case something had happened between your morning and evening check-ins.

You don't stop at the front desk, you know where you are going. The elevator doors close as you turn the corner, and the wait for the next ones seems like an eternity. The moment the doors whoosh open, you surge inside hitting the buttons for the ICU floor. You don't even wait. You ht the close-door button and watch your reflection stare back at you as the lift starts to rise.

What are you going to say? Should you have gotten balloons? Flowers? A stuffed animal? Would he even be allowed those things? Did he want them from you? Did he want to see you to make up or to have a final talk? In the twenty-eight seconds that it takes to get to your floor, your mind plays out you greatest hopes and worst fears in a strange, overlapping loop that leaves you feeling a little lightheaded.

Though maybe that has something to do with the fact that you haven't eaten well in a month.

Your clothes don't fit right, you think as you tug at the fabric. You should have gone home to change. You were wearing your comfy clothes to go shopping. The fabric weird. Then you realize its not the fabric, its your own skin. You are so nervous that your skin feels like an electric current is running through it. With a huff you roll your shoulders, trying to settle your nerves. It doesn't help.

The doors slide open and as fast as you got into the elevator, you hesitate to get out. This could go wrong. What if his mother is there? His partner? What about Johnassen, the jerk who broke his phone so long ago?

It doesn't matter you tell yourself as you take that first step off the elevator. All that matters is he's awake. You'll be able to see him with your own eyes.

A stern looking woman with stark gray curls looks up from a desk as you approach. She tilts her head and inspects you.

“For Jakoby?” she asks like she already knows the answer. “Follow me.”

Your heart is in your ears as you follow in the steps of her worn out shoes. She swipes her badge, taking you through a set of secure double doors. The sounds of the hospital change. The ICU is bereft of human noises, but it isn't quiet. You can hear televisions on a half a dozen channels turned down low, doing what they could to preoccupy patients who were in layers of pain. The sound of breathing machines hiss and whirl. A man in green scrubs wheels supplies down the hall. There's no happy, warm chatter. Just a strange sense of desolation and pain.

You do not like it here, and you can't imagine Nick here. Nick, with his warm laugh and kindness. Nick who kisses you like the universe exists in your lips. You want to scoop him up and take him away.

The nurse stops outside of a door at the end of the hall.

“They are quarantined behind a see through partition,” she tells you in the kind of no-nonsense voice that must come from years in her work. “Do not attempt to breech this partition.”

She holds out a long medical gown. Confused, you shoved your arms into the sleeves. She spins you, and starts to tie it up, and then she puts another one on your back, spinning you again so she can tie it in the front. She hands you a cap, and a mask, and you put them both on as she helps your feet into medical grade booties.

“How dangerous is it?” You ask as she holds up a pair of gloves to slip on your hands.

“Unknown,” she tucks the end of the gloves over the wristband of the double set of gowns. “But you saw the news, you know where they were. Better safe than sorry.”

She types a number into the key pad. “You get ten minutes. No more, no less. I'm not being mean, but we need to minimize any chance of exposure.”

You nod your understanding. Ten minutes isn't much time, but you'll make the most of it.

“There are armed men in there,” she finally says. “Don't do anything to make them think you are a threat.”

It's the last bit of advice she gives you before the pad turns green and the door is opened.

The room is long, white, and empty save for what looks like a box made out of hanging plastic. Only a few of the lights are on, casting half the room in evening darkness. There are several beds, but only one of them is occupied. The long, lean body of a black male is visible beneath the harsh lighting. Three other people stand guard, dressed from head to toe, AR-15 clutched in their hands. The door closes behind you.

For a moment you stand there, frozen and unsure. A little, ugly thought makes you wonder if this is some weird trick. Then you hear your name.

Your eyes are drown to the shape of a man sitting in a chair. You hadn't noticed him at first because the dark lines of his body blend a little too easily with the pseudo darkness on that side of the room. But now that you've seen him, you can't pull your gaze away.

Nick. You'd know the shape of him anywhere. The broad, strong line of his shoulders stands guardian against the pitch black behind him. There's a blanket across his legs, and an IV in his arm.

“It's you,” he says softly, disbelieving.

“Nick.” You take one step, and then another, and before you know it your legs are carrying you across the room. You almost forget the plastic. When you foot hits it, you're startled. The guards watch you with cold glares. “Sorry.”

And once you start saying it, you can't stop. Over and over again you apologize. You don't realize you are crying until you taste the hot salt of your own tears. You are sorry you didn't call him. You are sorry you left. You are sorry you didn't answer him back. You are sorry for everything you ever did in the last six months because none of those things was going to him. You sink to your knees at the edge of the partition, the tears making it impossible to speak.

He says your name again, so soft you wonder if you dreamed it. You look up, and he's shaking his head.

“Please, don't cry.”

Slowly, unsteadily, he gets up. He doesn't look at you as he pulls the chair from one side of the plastic sheet box to the other. Right in front of you, he plops the chair down, and then lowers himself into it. His staccato motions belie how hurt he must still be.

The pair of you are silent as you look one another over. You see the bruises beneath his woad blue spots; purple and yellow and, in some places, black. You see the stitches in his arm, the thick swelling of his hands. The skin around his cheeks is slack with the lack of food he's gotten in the past month. But his eyes, those gorgeous eyes that are yellow and red and orange all at once, they are filled with pain that has nothing to do with being thrown half a football field by a magical explosion.

“You're here,” he says, his voice soft. “I thought-” He stop short, shrugging, and then wincing.

“I know,” you tell him. While you aren't sure of the exact words he must have thought, you know that it couldn't have been good.

“Why?” he asks.

You open your mouth to tell him, but the words wont come. You remember Elizabeth, his mother, and the way she had looked at you. You could tell him everything, but what good would that do? He might get angry at his mother, it might cause some kind of rift between them and how many people did Nick really have who cared that much for his safety? Not nearly enough, you think as you take in injuries you hadn't noticed before.

Instead you shrug. You can't bring yourself to lie, but you can't bring yourself to tell him the truth either, no matter how much it's burned inside of you. You turn the words that she said over in your mind, pulling an answer from them without revealing their source.

“You got hurt because you were with me.” Your voice cracks as you say it.

His eyes close and his shoulders sag. His body leans forward. You think he's about to slide out of the chair. The pair of you kneel on the floor, staring at one another. Emotions that you don't think have ever been named whirl through you. You want to touch him, you want to hold him, you want to vanish together into the night.

“No,” he said shaking his head. “No. You were just the excuse. When they saw me-” he cuts off, coughs, and shakes. “They'd already decided what they were going to do.”

He looks away. You can tell that there's more to say, that he's struggling. Rather than push you give him a moment. He deserves that at the very least.

“It wont happen again,” he says.

“Why not?”

He opens his palm, I can't see anything there, but he must because he's staring down at it like it's something special.

“I can't talk about a lot that happened that night,” he says. “I want to, I want to tell you everything but...I can't.”

You shake your head. “I just need to know you are safe.”

“I think I am. I mean-I gotta tell you, it was not a normal night. I was...I was blooded.”

Your eyes go wide. You can't help but stare at his lips. He smirks.

“It'll take a while for the tusks to grow. But I don't need to file them anymore.”

You sit back on your heels. “Are you okay with that?”

He shrugs. “I guess that depends.”

“On what?” you ask.

He takes a deep breath and looks at you. It's a long look, a scared and hopeful one. It's like he's weighing a thousand dreams as he watches you and all you can do is wait.

“I thought I was getting over you,” he finally says. “It'd been months. Long months. Really, really long months. My mom even set me up on a couple dates with some unblooded girls from other states.”

Your stomach twists.

“Yeah?” you say, hoping that he's not about to tell you that he has moved on and this whole thing was about him saying goodbye.

“They were nice, but they...they didn't understand me. They didn't like what I do. They didn't like my jokes and they all thought Alaska is stupid.” The two of you laugh and it feels so good. He shifts his position until the two of you are nearly the same height. “I wasn't falling for someone else but I was pretending really hard like I was getting over you.”

You nod, you know what he means. You'd been going through all the motions, acting like you were moving forward when all you were doing was playing the role and hoping.

“I was going to come see you,” he said. “As soon as my shift was over that night. I was going to go right to your apartment. Everyone said I shouldn't because I'd just get hurt, but I thought that it would be worth it. I just..”

Slowly he reached into the blanket still twisted around his legs. His thick, injured fingers shook with pain as he pushed the fabric around.

“Where-hold on-it's here, I swear.”

Your heart, which has already gone through far too much, pounds all over again. Your mouth goes dry.

“Nick...”

“I almost died you know,” he says as he lifts a corner, continues to look. There's a little wetness on his brow, and you wonder if it's fear, nerves, or pain that's put it there. “And not just once. I almost died like four times.”

One of the guards cleared their throats.

“I know,” Nick said, holding up his free hand. “I know. I can't tell her anything. But you only have to look at me to see that it happened.” He went still, and bowed his head. “I did die.”

It's not even a whisper, there's no sound. It's a breath of words that you are sure the guards couldn't hear. You pounding heart turns to ice in your chest.

“What?”

But he doesn't say it again. Instead he looks up at you and his eyes are bright with a hundred emotions. “And all I could think about, was you.”

He holds out his hand. Nested there is a black velvet box. Carefully, he opens it, revealing a ring. It's made of two metals, platinum and rose gold, twisted around one another to form a very simple braid, and right there at the center is a stone in the exact same shade of blue as his spots.

“All I thought about every day has been you,” he is saying when your ears start to work again. “And I don't want to ever have to worry again.”

You swallow twice before you can speak. “Are you proposing?”

You aren't sure if he's blushing, but his ears twitch. “Only if you're saying yes.”

“You have to ask,” you say. “You have to...ask.”

“Is it a spell? A human thing?” he says.

You shrug, because it kind of is, but mostly you just need to time to stop your thoughts from making such a commotion in your head. There are a hundred ways this could go wrong, a thousand even, but even so-

He says your name and you find that he's shifted yet again, down on one knee in front of you. “Will you marry me?”

#nick jakoby fanfiction #nick jakoby x reader #nick jakoby #proposal #cute #sweet fanfiction

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