#i tried to bounce off of my last painting and ironically the part i was proudest of was the part i hated most in the prior one | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alwaysonthemend · 9 months ago

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Author’s Note: Hello my friends. I’ve been having the worst writer's block of my life and I am so so sorry that it’s been so long. This fic has been in my drafts for forever so I decided to finish it up since my brain is all out of new ideas. That being said, I’ve always planned on this being a two-part story so I thought I would leave you all with part 1 for now while I try to get my shit together lol. As always, I hope you enjoy. And if you see any typos… no you didn’t. Also don’t worry I promise that part 2 will have hella smut ;)

Content Warnings: Angst / talk of sex (non graphic - happened in the past) / sadness / feelings of not being good enough / low self esteem / unrequited love (for now) / miscommunication

Word Count: 8k

My Taglist: Here

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

Maybe it's just the excitement of the last show. Maybe it’s nerves or just the tension and energy oozing from everyone as they all prepared for showtime. Maybe it's the fear. Maybe it's the joy of celebration, or maybe it’s the dread of things going wrong. And maybe, if you’re really honest with yourself, it’s the goodbye that stands menacingly on the horizon – like a sentry waiting to capture your heart in his iron first. Maybe it’s none of those things, or maybe it’s a combination of all of them. But it’s worse tonight – that need that you have for him. The one that seems like it’s become a constant storm cloud that hovers oppressively over your heart, no matter how hard you try to push it down. It’s still there – lingering and festering like a wound. You push the feeling away for what feels like the thousandth time. Tonight isn’t the night.

Show nights are hectic, especially a night as important as this one; Dreams in Gold is drawing towards its inevitable ending, and everyone wants these last few shows to finish on a high note – preferably with as few hiccups as possible. There’s only a handful more after tonight – with just a small break for the boys in between, before the last leg kicks off. And your job is simple: make sure the boys look good while doing what they do best.

Josh’s makeup is usually first, as he prefers to be ready to go a lot earlier than the rest of the band. A fact which, as he’s stated numerous times, is due in part to his nerves and anxiety before he takes the stage. His jumpsuits may be his armor, but his makeup is his war paint – equally as important (if not moreso) than his beautiful outfits. He’s jittery as he sits in his chair, leg bouncing and fingers drumming endlessly on his knee.

“Josh,” you mutter as you swipe some gold glitter across his eyelids, ��you’ve got to stop moving.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles, voice soft as he tries to rest it for the night. “Just nervous.”

“I know.” You tell him, giving his knee an affectionate squeeze. “But you all are going to do great. You always do.” You pull out a tube of mascara and delicately swipe it through his lashes to complete his look. “What is it you always say? ‘Fuck fear’?”

Josh gives you an airy chuckle and a lopsided grin.

“Something like that.”

“Well, try and follow some of your own advice, Oh Wise One.”

He just rolls his eyes playful at you, but the tension eases from his shoulders a tiny bit. Small victories.

There’s comfortable silence for a while as you methodically glue a few rhinestones to his cheek bones.

“And when are you going to follow my advice?”

You quirk your brow at him quizzically, eyes staying focused on his rhinestones as you attempt to make them as symmetrical as possible.

“When are you going to say ‘fuck fear’?” He straightens his posture slightly as you pull away from him, brows pinching together. “The phrase seems…” he waves his hand vaguely towards you. “...particularly apt for your current situation.”

You turn your back to him to place the rhinestone case on the counter. You know exactly what he’s getting at but you’re in no mood to discuss such matters with him. He caught onto you a long time ago – his remarkable ability to pick up on subtle nuances and feelings from everyone around him becoming the bane of your existence for the past few months.

“Sooner or later, you’ll have to admit the truth to him. Once you admit it to yourself, of course.”

“I’m not admitting anything to anyone, Joshua.” You still haven’t turned back to look at him, instead busying yourself with pulling out the items you need for Sam next. “I wish you would just let this go. It’s just a stupid. It’ll go away.”

You both know that you’re lying.

“I highly doubt that, love.” Josh says sweetly, rising from his chair to come and stand next to you. He places his hand on your shoulder and the coldness of his fingers seeps into your skin at the contact – yet the warmth of the gesture isn’t lost on you.

“I know you.” He pauses, grinning a bit. “And trust me when I say I know him… given the whole twin thing, and all that. This isn’t just a passing feeling.”

“Maybe for me it isn’t.” You say, a slight bit of resentment bleeding out in your tone as you pull open a makeup drawer with more force than necessary. “But he’s just so…” You trail off, looking for the right word.

“Aloof?” Josh supplies knowingly, hand dropping from your shoulder to rest at his side.

You nod once at him, eyes dropping to stare at the bottles of foundation that line the counter in front of you.

“That’s his own fear getting in the way. You know how he is: him and emotions don’t get along too well. They haven’t since we were kids. He prefers to lock them all up and throw away the key instead of allowing himself to be vulnerable.”

“He doesn’t owe me anything – especially not vulnerability. We got drunk and fucked each other in a bar bathroom… hardly romantic or vulnerable to begin with.” You bite your lip, the unwanted and all-encompassing hurt from that night rearing its ugly head yet again. “And we both agreed that it was a mistake, and then we moved on. There isn’t anything else to it.”

“Sunflower,” Josh says, the nickname falling from his lips in almost a whisper, “you and I – and him for that matter, know that neither of you have moved on.”

You don’t say anything. You don’t know what there is to say. You want to believe him, you really do. You want to allow that shriveled up little seedling of hope in your chest to bloom. But you know better. You learned better.

“You don’t believe me.” It’s not a question. He knows you don’t.

“I wish I could. But he won’t give me anything to go on. One minute he’s there next to me and he’s flirting and being so sweet… and the next it’s like he’s a million miles away – barely even looking at me.” You sigh, and the weight of it all seems to press down on your shoulders as you slump forward, allowing yourself a moment of weakness with the kind man who stands in front of you. “I just wish he would talk to me. Why won’t he just talk to me?”

You hate the tears that burn behind your eyes and you hate the ache that opens up like a chasm in your chest. You wish you could hate him, too. Lord knows you’ve tried.

“Jake isn’t the best at words. But he’ll try. For you, I know he will.” He offers you a kind smile that soothes your aching heart a little bit. “Go to him. I promise he’ll talk if you’d just give him the opportunity to. He’s too afraid to approach you first.”

You glance at your watch.

“It’s getting close. I still need to do Sammy and Danny.”

Josh hears the unspoken dismissal and he inclines his head to you.

“Of course. I’ll leave you alone now. You know I’m only pestering you because I love you and want you to be happy.”

“I love you too, Josh.” You giggle. “Why couldn’t I have just fallen for you instead of your brother? You’re so much easier to talk to.” You lament, giving him a self-deprecating smile.

Josh’s eyes glitter with amusement and he grins at you, the apples of his cheeks growing pink with laughter.

“Oh I wish, sweet Sunflower.” He bows his head, allowing the curls on his forehead to fall slightly. “But alas, my heart belongs to another, anyway. A losing battle it would have been.” He pitches his tone upwards, summoning his most theatrical voice. “My heart burns with undying love for someone else.” He says, raising his arms with an obnoxiously over-the-top flourish.“My soul has been intertwined with another. The call of the universe summoned us tog-”

“Okay, yeah I’m sure.” You interrupt him, shaking your head in laughter at his dramatics. “Give your undying love a kiss for me, would you? In case I leave before you all?”

“Trying to steal him from me?” Josh asks, placing a hand dramatically over his heart, eyes widening in mock surprise for a moment before smiling at you warmly.“Of course I will. But you better not leave before saying goodbye. And that’s an order.”

You give him a salute.

“Yes sir, your majesty.”

And with that, he’s gone – curly head disappearing out the corridor and leaving you with a head swimming with too many thoughts to process.

Your relationship with Jake has been special from the start. From the first moment that you’d met him, you’d been drawn to him – like a moth to a flame. He made you feel alive and excited and terrified all at once. Trading flirtations with him became second nature – you poking fun at his pension for dressing in all black (pointedly referring to him as emo despite how much he denies it), and he always made sure to laugh whenever your naturally clumsy nature caused you to trip or drop something. But there’s never any malice in your little exchanges – your words instead dripping with thinly veiled joy (and perhaps a bit of nerves) as the two of you interact with each other.

Even your nickname comes from Jake. That first day that you had met him, you’d been wearing a dress with sunflowers on it. He’d complemented it – telling you the flowers brought out the color of your eyes. And so maybe you’d worn a pair of sunflower earrings the next time you saw him (though you’d never admit to him that you did it on purpose), and Jake had been quick to point them out before jokingly referring to you as Sunflower. And the name had stuck – a fact which you were infinitely glad of.

Your flirting with Jake continued to escalate as the two of you got to know each other better and it didn’t take long for your crush on him to develop into something more. Jake had carved a space for himself within your heart and no one else could fill it like he could. And before long, those flirty conversations between the two of you snowballed into a drunken, passionate-filled night in a bar bathroom – fueled on by lowered inhibitions and post-show adrenaline. It was fast and hard, but you’d enjoyed yourself thoroughly and hope had unfurled itself in your chest like a flower in the sun. Though it quickly withered and died once the afterglow had died off and Jake had told you plainly that it was an alcohol-fueled mistake.

He’d said sorry, and he looked like he really was. And you’d assured him that there were no hard feelings and that yes, it had in fact been a mistake. Though it was a mistake for different reasons than what he had thought. For him – at least you assumed, the mistake lies in that he allowed himself to become carried away, drunk and tense from a show. For you, though, the mistake is that you fell for him… and in the fact that you now knew what it was like to have him – only for him to be promptly ripped away from you again. Which only made his absence all the worse.

And although you’d both promised to act like it never happened, things changed. He grew distant. Never cold, but the familiarity and ease that had once existed between the two of you had been shattered beyond repair. No more flirty conversations or silly exchanges between the two of you. Instead, awkwardness has taken up residence. Every now and then, that old joviality would slip back into your interactions with him but he quickly catches himself and reels it back in. It’s confusing and hurtful, and you often lose sleep over his constant swinging back and forth. Regret lays heavy in your mind when you think back to that night at the bar, wishing that you’d put a stop to things before it got so far.

You’re snapped from your melodramatic thoughts by Sam boisterously crashing into the room, a goofy smile plastered over his face.

“I’m ready to be bedazzled!” He exclaimed, planting his lanky form into the chair and you couldn’t help the smile that overtook you, and the sadness of the moment prior is shoved from your mind as you fall into easy conversation with him.

Danny follows soon after Sam, and in the bustle of getting everything ready, you almost forget about everything. Though the thoughts still remain, brewing in the back of your mind like a thunderstorm just waiting to be unleashed.

The show is spectacular, as is to be expected from your boys. As nervous as they might be beforehand, they never fail to deliver a jaw-dropping performance. You’d watched from the sides, soaking up the energy of the last show and doing your best to not think about the months that you were about to spend without getting to see them at all. Though you all live in Nashville, there’s no reason for you to see any of them outside of work. And even though they’re technically your bosses, they have all quickly wormed their way into your heart, earning themselves the title of ‘friend’ above all else.

The night is turning out to be magical and you’re struck with a sudden surge of courage as you stand there watching them perform– or more specifically, watching him perform.

He’s truly in his element up there on stage, shredding on his guitar like there’s no tomorrow. You always enjoy getting to see this side of Jake, given how reserved he tends to be in his normal day-to-day life. In the time that you’ve known him, you’ve discovered that Jake is stoic and reserved around those he doesn’t know – content to sit in the corner and watch; but when he’s around people that he knows and trusts, his humor and kindness shine brighter than anyone else’s you’d ever met. You’d seen before how the fans often referred to Josh and Jake as the sun and moon, affectionately pointing out their subtle differences in personality despite being twins. But you had learned that Jake is by no means any less affectionate and joyful as Josh is, he’s just content to be a little quieter about it – making those times that he is loud all the more special.

Once the show was over, the boys and some of the other crew were planning on going out to celebrate – apparently having booked a private room at a restaurant downtown in which everyone could make a little merry before officially saying goodbye. You hadn’t wanted to go, but Josh and Danny had given you their best puppy dog eyes, and you’d begrudgingly agreed to accompany them.

Which is how you find yourself sitting at a table in the corner, brooding over your earlier conversation with Josh. With the tour being on break for now, you won’t be seeing any of them until it starts up again. And although you’re confident that Josh, Sam, and Danny will probably stay in contact with you here and there, (and maybe ask to get lunch every now and again) you know for a fact that the same can’t be said for Jake. If the past few months were anything to go by, you know that it’s going to be radio silence as soon as tonight is over. You watch him out of the corner of your eye as he goes around the room, making conversation with seemingly everyone but you. It hurts, and maybe it’s the liquor that’s coursing through your veins or the months of hurt finally spilling over, but you decide that enough is enough. You’re tired of living on what ifs and maybes. You hear Josh’s voice in your head, clear as a bell: Fuck fear.

With that thought in mind, you down the rest of your drink and stand up, determined to finally speak with Jake about what’s going on between the two of you. He’s across the room, talking with Danny’s drum kit tech. Jake looks effortlessly gorgeous, just as he always does.

As you begin your trek across the room the nerves and adrenaline kick in. You wipe your sweaty palms on your pants and roll your shoulders back.

He’s right there. All you have to do is ask him if you can speak with him for a moment. You know he’ll agree to – despite everything, Jake is still one of the kindest people you’ve ever met. He’d never intentionally upset you… or anyone for that matter.

Josh had told you that Jake feels the same. Josh knows Jake better than anyone… and you trust Josh. And you trust Jake not to intentionally hurt you. He’s just afraid – just like you are.

His back is to you. Easiest thing in the world to just… touch his arm to get his attention.

Just as you reach your hand out to touch his shoulder, a girl who you’ve never seen before slides up next to him, comfortably easing her arm around his waist. Jake throws his arm over her shoulders and draws her in close and you watch in detached horror as he turns his head to face her and presses a kiss to her cheek.

You draw back as if burned, spinning on your heel with the plan of getting the fuck out of here as fast as you can, hurt and embarrassment washing over you in waves – mingling with each other and making the perfect concoction for a panic attack.

Frantically, your eyes scan the crowd in search of Josh: your one comfort throughout all of this, but you don’t see him. God, where the fuck is he? Of all the times-

“Sunflower?”

It’s Jake’s voice, and you turn to see him, Danny’s tech, and the girl looking at you in concern.

“Are you alright?” Jake asks, dropping his arm from around the girl to turn around more fully.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” Your voice comes out breathless and a little frantic, doing a poor job of hiding your impending meltdown.

“Are you sure? You look a little-” Jake starts.

“I was actually just about to leave. Sorry.” You interrupt him, unwilling to spend a moment longer watching someone else have what you want so badly.

“Already?” Danny’s tech asks, and if you were in a better state of mind you’d probably feel guilty for not being able to remember his name. Instead, your mind is focused on the mounting panic rising in your chest, threatening to overtake you as you desperately try to keep your cool.

“I’m a little tired.” You supply vaguely, eyes scanning the crowd again in search of Josh. Still no sign of him.

“Well, I was hoping to introduce you to Lindsey.” Jake says, causing your eyes to cut back to him. He’s smiling, but you can’t decipher the odd look in his eyes.

“Hi.” She says, giving you a kind smile. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

She extends her hand for you to shake and your eyes briefly snap to Jake’s. He looks on edge, like he’s waiting for something. Your approval? You’re not sure.

You shake the girl’s hand.

“Hi. I’m Y/n.”

Lindsey smiles. She’s pretty. Very pretty. She’s not wearing a lot of makeup, just a little bit of mascara and some blush. Her clothes aren’t overly flashy and her eyes seem soft and kind. She’s exactly the type of girl you can imagine Jake going for and the thought makes you want to throw up. But instead, like the adult you are, you plaster a smile on your face to match hers.

“Jake’s told me a little bit about you. He says you’re a great makeup artist.” You know she’s saying that to be nice and to find some ground where you’re comfortable – obviously sensing that you’re on edge and trying to help in any way she can. But you just can’t do this. Not tonight. Not now.

“I’m alright, I guess.” You shrug, and you can feel how forced your smile is but you persist. “It’s really nice to meet you but I really need to get going. Jake?” You turn to him, doing your best to ignore the tears that are beginning to brim in your eyes. “Have you seen Josh? I told him I wouldn’t leave without telling him and his partner goodbye.”

He shakes his head no, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that can only be described as defensive and uncomfortable.

“Sorry, I haven’t. I’ll keep an eye out for him, though.”

“That’s alright. I’ll just shoot him a text later. Congrats on a successful night,” you say, nodding to the tech, Danny, and then to Jake before turning to Lindsey, “and it was really nice to meet you. I’m sorry I’ve gotta run.”

“That’s okay. I hope you have a good night.” She offers, eyes still watching you in concern. Somehow, her kindness makes this whole thing worse.

You turn away from the group and, as if in a dream, you make your way to the exit of the bar.

With no Josh in sight, you pull your phone from your pocket and call an Uber to take you back to the hotel where you’ll pack up your bags for the last time. This time tomorrow, you’ll be in your own bed away from all the madness. You wish the thought gave you more comfort.

//////

Three weeks pass agonizingly slowly. After being on tour for so long, the sudden change in tempo to your normally fast paced life leaves you floating through your days as if in a dream. Where once it seemed as though you barely had time to even sit down and think, now you have too much time to do exactly that. There’s only so many good shows that you missed and there’s only so many useless outings to be had before you find yourself going stir crazy. Distraction-less, your thoughts swirl hopelessly around Jake and your bitter, self-hating disappointment.

You think fondly about the first time you met. You think of your flirting and of the soft moments the two of you shared before it all went to hell. You even think of that damn bar bathroom; you think of the passion and the hope that had bloomed in you that night, and of the crushing disappointment and hurt that soon followed. And inevitably, your thoughts always seem to circle back to that last night, when you finally mustered up the courage to say something, only for the universe to seemingly throw it back in your face with a laugh and a middle finger. And the very worst part of it all had been Lindsey’s obvious kindness and concern towards you, despite having only just met. You hate that you can understand why he chose her.

Those thoughts feel particularly loud tonight as you stare down at an invitation to a group dinner from Josh. He, along with Sam and Danny, had texted you here and there – little things about what was going on in their lives since you last had seen them. But this was the first time that you had been asked to go out with them.

You’re torn. Torn between the desire to see all of your friends again and wanting to avoid having to see Jake (and even worse, Lindsey) if you didn’t absolutely have to. But, deciding to put your big girl pants on, you accepted, texting Josh a simple Sure :)

He responded almost immediately, eagerly letting you know how excited he was to see you.

And here you find yourself, nervously adjusting your top for the millionth time that night as you drive to the bar that Josh had told you about. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but to think about Jake as you had gotten dressed. You feel silly for still allowing yourself to be so hung up on him. You shake your head at yourself, almost in the hopes that the thoughts will slip from your mind at the action. Despite everything, you’re determined to have a good time tonight.

You’ve never been to this bar before, nestled away just a few blocks from Broadway on the East side of Nashville. It’s a nice place, but not so fancy that it comes across as too uptight or uncomfortable. Walking through the doors, you see that there’s a bar off to the right, with a few larger tables scattered across the floor to your left, and some pool tables and a dart board tucked away in the back. It seems laid back and comfortable – just the kind of place the boys like to frequent. Sam and Danny are already at a table, excitedly beckoning you over.

“Sunflower!” Danny calls, standing from his seat and opening his arms wide.

You jog over to him, grinning from ear to ear as you allow him to engulf you in a hug.

“I missed you.” He tells you sweetly, squeezing you a little tighter.

“I missed you too, Dan. Especially your hugs.”

“Quit hogging her!” Sam interrupts, gripping your wrists in his long fingers and pulling you from Danny and into himself.

Giggling, you hug him too.

“And I missed you.” You pull away from him, casting your eyes between the two of them. “I missed all of you guys. Speaking of… where’s tweedle dee and tweedle dum?”

The three of you sit, Danny pulling your chair out for you like the gentleman that he is.

“Josh is running late, as usual.” Sam supplies with an eye roll, “And I think Jake and Lindsey should be here soon. He said they were on their way a while ago.”

It feels like someone just dumped a bucket of ice water on you but you keep your expression smooth. Of course he would be bringing Lindsey tonight… Why wouldn’t he?

Unfortunately for you, they do arrive soon, and seeing Jake again feels like a punch in the gut. He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans coupled with a white button up, and his signature necklace glitters against his chest. He looks stunning, and Lindsey’s beauty only stands out more in the beautiful sundress that she has on.

“There you two are!” Sammy says loudly, and Jake inclines his head.

“Ladies,” he nods at you and Sam, “and Danny, good to see you.”

Sam scowls as Jake and Danny share a laugh.

“Y/n! It’s good to see you again.” Lindsey says with a smile, taking a seat in the chair directly to your right. You push back the annoyance, reminding yourself that it’s not her fault that Jake doesn’t feel the same towards you.

The table descends into easy conversation, though you find yourself having a difficult time keeping up. You smile and nod at what you hope is the correct times, but your thoughts are a thousand miles away. All you can think about is that night in that damn bar bathroom, and how good it had felt in the moment. You think about that night more often than you’d ever care to admit, but the memory is soured anyway by what followed. You can still see Jake’s face, passive and expressionless, as he shattered your heart in two.

And of course, you think of the last show, when you’d allowed Josh to convince you that Jake felt the same. God, you’ll never forget seeing him lean over to kiss Lindsey’s cheek, her arm wrapped around his waist just like yours had been that night at the bar. You wish, suddenly, that you’d ordered alcohol instead of water.

“Right, Sunflower?”

The question snaps you from your racing thoughts and you look up to see everyone at the table looking at you. Your cheeks flush as you wrack your brains to try and recall what they’d been talking about but you come up empty. You open your mouth to spew some bullshit excuse when you hear the door to the restaurant bust open obnoxiously.

“The party has arrived!” Josh bellows, drawing the attention of just about everyone in the building, and – thankfully, the attention of everyone at your table. You slink down further in your seat, suddenly feeling like you’ve run a marathon.

Josh and his partner take a seat to your left, and their presence instantly soothes you in a way you can hardly explain.

“What the hell are you two always doing that makes you so late to everything?” Sam asks him, taking a sip of his drink and quirking his brow.

“You don’t want to know, brother mine.” Josh says with a lewd grin, causing the entire table to erupt in groans of disgust. You laugh softly and Josh’s partner gives you a wink.

Conversations pick up again amongst everyone, though you mostly only speak to Josh’s partner, the two of you scooting backwards in your chairs to speak around Josh – who’s leaning forward as he tells an animated story about something or other, hands flapping about wildly.

“Does he ever run out of things to say?” You stage whisper at his partner, who guffaws loudly and assures you that no, Josh does not, in fact, ever run out of things to say.

“You should see him when we go to the store!” He tells you, eyes twinkling with affection, “He talks to just about everyone in the fucking Publix. I have to drag him out – for my sake and for theirs.”

“What does he even talk to them about?” You ask through a laugh.

“I don’t know. He talks a lot but says very little, most of the time.”

At that, Josh leans back into his chair and turns his head back and forth between the two of you, eyes narrowed and a mocking frown on his face.

“Are you two talking about me?”

“Never!” You tell him seriously, giving your best poker face.

“Absolutely not. I love you just the way you are, babe.” His partner assures him, and you know that he’s not kidding in the slightest. They’re annoyingly perfect for each other.

Josh looks on in suspicion as you and his partner lock eyes, both fighting to hold back your laughter and Josh raises an eyebrow at the two of you. You just shrug your shoulders and smile, while his partner smiles into his drink – the both of you completely unable to meet Josh’s eyes for fear of breaking out into giggles.

“Sure. Whatever, Very convincing.” Josh mutters, shaking his head and fighting a smile of his own. “Anyways, tell us what you’ve been up to, Sunflower.”

You feel warmth overtake your cheeks as everyone’s eyes turn to you and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole as Jake’s gaze finally lands on you as well. For the life of you, you can’t get a read on him – a fact that hurts you beyond measure.

“Oh, not much, to be completely honest.” You tell them, shrugging your shoulders. “Not much to do around here when I’m not dealing with you guys’ craziness.”

“Nothing?” Danny asks in disbelief, “No family or friends you’ve been hanging out with?”

“You guys are the only friends I have here in Nash.” You glance down at your lap. “Just been me, myself, and I.”

Josh, in typical Josh fashion, changes the subject upon noticing your discomfort – and you promptly excuse yourself to the ladies’ room. Rising from your seat, you scamper quickly away from the table.

You splash cold water on your face and smooth down a few fly-away hairs. Gazing in the mirror, you smile at yourself. Even you can see that it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

You jump as the door to the bathroom opens, eyes widening as you see Lindsey entering. You fight back a frown. She’s the last person you want to see.

“Hey.” She says simply, coming to stand beside you in front of the mirror,

“Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You tell her, and wince at the harshness of your tone. “Thank you for asking though.” You add, softer this time.

“You and I both know that’s not true.” She says kindly, giving you a soft smile in the mirror. “I know we don’t really know each other, but… I’m here, if there’s something you want to talk about. I’m good at listening.”

You sigh, heart warming just a little at her obvious kindness and sincerity. You don’t know whether it’s better or worse that she’s a good person – it would be easier to dislike her if she wasn’t. But it’s also easier to accept Jake choosing her over you knowing that she’s a genuine person. Deciding to go out on a limb, you choose your next words carefully – keeping them truthful, but vague.

“Just guy trouble. It’s stupid, really. I don’t know why I’m letting it affect me like this.”

“A breakup?”

“Not necessarily…” You scratch the back of your neck, nerves beginning to show themselves again. “We, um- we slept together. Once. And I really liked him. But he said it was a mistake and we haven’t really spoken since.”

“Did you,” she speaks slowly – delicately, even. “Did you know him well? Before?”

“Yeah. He was always so sweet. Flirty, but not obnoxiously so. I really thought something was there. Something… real.”

“Mmm.” She hummed, looking in the mirror to smooth her own hair down. “And you haven’t spoken to him since?”

“Not in a way that matters. Not about what happened.”

“Maybe you should try.” She says, tilting her head at you. “You never know unless you try.”

You duck your head, fighting the tears that begin to burn behind your eyes.

“He’s with someone else now. And they seem to be happy. I don’t want to cause trouble where it’s not necessary. I just need to…” you trail off for a moment, staring at your reflection hopelessly. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“You love him, then?”

Her question makes you freeze for a moment. Do you love him? You hadn’t really wanted to put a direct name to how you feel about Jake. But standing here, crying over him to the girl he chose over you, you figure you’ve hit rock bottom already anyway.

“Yeah, I do.” Your admission comes out quiet – broken in such a way that you almost don’t even recognize it.

“I’m sorry.” She says, her gaze dropping down onto the counter, staring at the little puddles of water. “I wish I could say something to help, but I know there’s nothing to say. It just fucking sucks, feeling like that.”

You nod, sniffling a little and wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

“And you know what the worst part of it all is?”

She just shakes her head, allowing you to continue.

“The girl he’s with now… I get it. I totally get why he chose her.” You let out a watery laugh and you see Lindsey’s eyes fill with her own tears as she watches you fall apart. “I would have chosen her, too.”

You blink and suddenly you’re being hugged. You’re stunned for just a moment before you hesitantly wrap your arms around her loosely.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” She says, pulling away from you and placing her hands on your shoulders, willing you to meet her gaze. “You’ll find the one. I know you will.”

“Thank you.” You sniffle again and laugh quietly, “God, this is so embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” She says kindly, dropping her hands and smiling. “Sometimes you just need another girl to listen. I love the guys – and they’re more sensitive and understanding than most, but they don’t get stuff like this like we do.”

You nod at her, taking a deep breath to gather yourself.

“Ready to go back out?”

“Yeah.” You say, and you follow behind her as the two of you make your way back out to the table.

The rest of the night passes by in a blur. After your return from the bathroom, you don’t allow your thoughts to prevent you from enjoying time with your friends. They really are all you have and you’ve missed them terribly. You catch eyes with Lindsey every now and again, and she always gives you an encouraging smile as she watches you engage, and little sparks of affection and thankfulness for her warm your chest. It really isn’t her fault.

After you’ve all eaten, and the alcohol begins to take more affect, Sam suddenly rises from his seat and slams his palms against the table (effectively causing all the plates to rattle obnoxiously)

“Daniel!” He says, pointing a finger at poor Danny who looks back at him with wide eyes. “I challenge you to a game of pool right this instant. I’m tired of sitting.”

Danny rolls his eyes playfully and stands, rubbing his palms on his jeans.

“Don’t start something you know you can’t win.” Danny tells him with a grin.

“40 bucks says I beat you.”

The rest of you watch on in amusement as the two bicker all the way over to the pool tables.

“Jake?” Josh asks, turning to his twin, “Wanna play?”

“Fuck ya.” Jake responds, also rising from his place. “Ready to beat your ass.”

“In your dreams, Jakey.”

“Don’t call me that.” Jake says petulantly, brushing past Josh with a deliberate nudge against his shoulder.

You, Josh’s partner, and Lindsey follow the boys over to the tables, laughing at their antics. Everyone is sporting a buzz now and you’re well on your way to getting your own little buzz. You figure you deserve it.

You watch on in amusement as the boys allow themselves to let loose – you love watching them like this. They’re like little kids, giggling and messing with each other as they play pool.

“I haven’t seen them all together like this.” Lindsey tells you from her seat next to you. “They’re like…”

“Children?” You supply, giggling softly. “They’re always like this. Even during a tour.”

The both of you laugh loudly as Josh sinks a ball, exclaiming loudly in triumph before Jake interrupts his celebration to let him know that he hit one of Jake’s into the pocket and not his own. Josh lets out a particularly petulant “Fuck!” and Jake tosses his head back and laughs.

You watch him, completely unable to pull your eyes away from him. He looks… transcendent like that, joy and laughter making his eyes crinkle at the corners in the way that always makes your heart melt. A pang shoots through your chest as memories of when he used to laugh with you like that enter your thoughts unbidden. You shake your head at yourself, tearing your gaze away from him to look at Lindsey – only to find her already looking at you.

You can’t quite read her expression – but there’s puzzlement in her eyes. You look away, unwilling to answer (or even acknowledge) her silent question.

Before long, the boys are far too drunk to be allowed out in public any longer, and Josh’s partner begins making the rounds to let them know that it’s time to go. He’s met with grumblings of disappointment but the boys don’t protest as you all begin to make your way outside.

“Well, Sunflower,” Danny says, smiling widely with flushed cheeks as he looks at you, “I guess we won’t see you again until tour starts again.” He extends his strong arms, waiting to give you a goodbye hug. You fall into him, letting your eyes fall closed as he squeezes you.

“You give the best hugs, Danny.”

“So you keep telling me.” He grins, pulling away as Josh’s partner ducks in to hug you as well.

“Me next!” Sam exclaims loudly, yanking you from his grip to pull you into his lanky arms.

“Bye, Sammy.” You giggle. “Till next time.”

You pull away to see Josh waiting patiently for his turn.

“See you soon, Sunflower.” He says, pulling you flush against him. Just as you go to pull away, he pulls you in tighter and leans in close.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, just loud enough for you to hear. You blink away the tears that want to fall at his words.

Lastly, Jake stands, hands awkwardly in his pockets as he waits. You’re not sure what to do until he opens his arms for you. Hesitantly, you wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in his scent as it envelopes you.

He leans in close – so close that his lips are almost touching your ear.

“See you later, Sunflower.”

“Bye, Jake.” You say quietly.

He squeezes you tighter, letting the embrace last for just a moment too long.

Pulling away, you catch Lindsey’s eyes, and for the first time tonight, she doesn’t return the smile that you give her.

You trudge your way back to your car, suddenly wishing that you hadn’t gone tonight. And even more, you wish – desperately, that you didn’t have to see him again at all.

Climbing into your car, you allow yourself to put on your sad song playlist and wallow in your misery the entire way home, before collapsing heavily into your bed – the call of sleep pulling you under.

///////

Jake K 1:02 AM

I think we should talk

The text is the very last thing you want to wake up to – especially with the pounding in your head and the feeling of nausea that threatens to overtake you. You hadn’t had much to drink the night before but you have a feeling that it’s not the alcohol making you feel this way. You stare at it for a long while, thoughts racing through your fuzzy brain as you try and figure out how to respond.

You knew you shouldn’t have been honest with Lindsey – no matter how kind she is. Of course she would have caught on after seeing your inability to fix your face when you watch Jake and of course she would tell him what had happened in the bathroom.

And now he’s probably upset with you. Maybe he’s angry that you’ve kept your feelings from him and fucked him in a bar bathroom like it didn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s going to fire you. Maybe Lindsey wants him to fire you. Your mind races with every worst possible scenario as you shakily type out your response.

You 10:17 AM

Is everything okay?

The speed with which he answers tells you everything that you need to know.

Jake K 10:19 AM

Can you call?

You 10:19 AM

Yes. Whenever you get a chance.

Not a second later, his name lights up across your screen with an incoming call. Heart pounding, you can only stare at it. You haven’t had time to think. To plan out how you’re supposed to just act like everything is okay. With a heavy sigh, you accept that it’s too late for that and you swipe to accept the call.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Y/n.”

Your actual name… hardly a good sign but you will the nerves and fear from your voice the best you can.

“Is everything okay?”

A heavy, pregnant pause. Then finally,

“Lindsey and I talked last night. She um. She knows. About- About us.”

You close your eyes tight, heart hammering.

“Fuck.” The word escapes you with a sigh, tears already beginning to burn in the back of your throat. “I swear I didn’t tell her, Jake. I swear it. I just-”

“I know.” He interrupts. “She explained. I um.”

You can hear him swallow and you can picture what he must look like on the other end – eyebrows pinched, maybe playing with the chain of his necklace like he does when he’s nervous or stressed. You shake your head as if it’ll clear the image from your mind.

“Jake, I’m sorry.”

He sighs – heavy and defeated.

“Don’t apologize. I- I’m sorry that I hurt you like that. I didn’t- I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t.”

Silence again, both of you just listening to the others breathing.

“I think it might be best if- if maybe you all find someone else for makeup.”

“No.” He starts, the word louder than any of the others that he’s spoken before. “You can't just walk away. You can't leave. ”

“But I think it would be best if I did.”

This time, you can practically hear him trying to come up with something to say in the silence. But you know there isn’t really much else to say.

“You’re our friend.” He finally says, voice just barely above a whisper.

That makes you pause as you think of the others – of Josh and his soft, reassuring smiles. Of his partner and the inside jokes the two of you share. Of Sammy and his ridiculous jokes and of Danny’s hugs. You think of all the other tech people – the ones who had taken you in and treated you like family from the very start. All the people that you’re willingly walking away from... and most of them will never even know why.

It kills you. The ache in your chest is a real, breathing thing as the reality of it all sets in.

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/n, don’t-”

You end the call.

End of Part I

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

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#dee's writing #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka angst #jake kiszka

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hockeyforthefirsttime · 3 years ago

Text

The Art of Not Falling in Love- Roope Hintz

AN: This is a piece that is very self indulgent BUT it has a plot despite being like 80% smut. I am thinking of making more parts if people like this

Word count: 5k

TW: like its smut.. so like what do you expect. (Wrap it before you tap it) spanking light dom!Roope female reader

You could never quite understand how you got into this situation. You’d sworn to never fall in love ever. The pain of watching the gruesome divorce of your parents, the way your friends seemed to find “the one” left and right, only to be heartbroken, was simply too much. So you decided to simply don’t fall in love ever.

And you’d kept that promise to yourself, ever since 15. Sure a few crushes came up now and then, but you never acted on them, and you made sure no one knew about the feeling. The only person in your life that knew about this promise to yourself was your best friend Jamie.

The first person you’d met in Dallas when you’d first moved there. You had been a freshman in college and he had been, ironically so, the first person to hit on you in Dallas, and you hadn’t even officially gotten there yet. It happened on the plane ride. He was seated beside you and you couldn’t for the life of you remember the pick up line he used. You just know it was bad, cause you remember laughing at it and the way he tried to manage his long limbs into the airplane seat. It had gone uphill from there on, and you were glad he didn’t get offended by you laughing at him.

Now, however, you were sitting in the stands of the American Airlines Center, watching him and his team scramble across the ice in a turnover, passing the puck up the ice. Roope Hintz picks it up and flicks it into the goal, just over the left shoulder of the Blackhawks goalie, making the Stars take the lead with three minutes left in the third period. The stands erupt in wild cheers and the team celebrates on ice. You jump with the rest of the crowd, and clap enthusiastically. Knowing that it’s gonna be an insufferable team to meet afterwards. After all, athletes tend to be after winning a game like this.

The buzzer goes off and the Dallas Stars have officially ended their losing streak. The crowd is going wild, jumping up and down, making the stands shake just a little. Thats when you decide to sneak out of the stands and find your way to the outside of the locker room, where Jamie had promised he would meet you.

You have been around a few times, and sure enough you find your way. Jamie had made sure to let the security staff know that you would be around after the game. There is a soccer ball laying around so you pick it up and start bouncing it on your jeans clad thigh, then dropping it down onto your foot and up again, alway in control. You lose yourself to the ball, concentrating on keeping it in the air, so much so that you don’t notice the door slamming open until the boom of it makes you drop the ball.

“Jesus fuck.”

You whisper as you look up to find the source of the noise. What you find shouldn’t surprise you, but seeing a shirtless Roope Hintz standing there with a frown on his face, makes heat rush up your neck regardless.

“Who are you?”

He looks suspiciously at you, taking in the skinny jeans and the absence of a jersey. As well as the forgotten soccer ball.

“Sorry, just here for Oleksiak.”

You try to shrug it off, looking for the ball again. His eyes squint suspiciously at you, but his head tilts backwards as he calls for Jamie. He comes bounding out of the locker room, shirtless, but fresh out of the shower. He’s in the middle of zipping up his game day slacks, and the smile already on his lips gets wider.

“You could have waited with the others you know?”

Jamie says cheekily to you. The heat to your face returns, but not in full force. You look at his tall stature and the smaller man beside him. And for some reason, the blonde star of the night is the one to make you look away. You shoot daggers at Jamie instead.

“You know, you could have told me where they were, so I didn’t have to stand here like some other crazed fan.”

Roope slowly turns around and walks away, closing the door with one last curious look directed at you.

“Oh come on, we all know you’re crazy for me.”

Finally you can feel yourself relax a little, with a sigh you take a step closer to him.

“Yeah, crazy for you to leave me alone.”

He wraps you up in his arms and lifts you up in the air, laughing as you gasp at the surprise of being lifted up.

“Congrats by the way, you played well today.”

You say to him, as he lets you back down on the ground again.

“Thank you Sparks.”

“Now go get dressed completely, I suppose you want to celebrate tonight?”

His signature, tooth lacking smile is on full display as he slings an arm around your shoulders. Jamie looks at you with a mischievous look.

“We really want to celebrate this, and besides, we really need to get you laid.”

You wrench your way out of his grip and scowl at him, pushing him in the direction of the door to the locker room.

“Get dressed you idiot.”

You say with a flat voice, trying to remain serious, and failing when you see Jamie wink at you last minute. You immediately go back to juggling the soccer ball, as the door slams shut.

A couple of girls are walking towards you, and you suspect they’re here looking for their boyfriends or husbands. That’s until you see the flustered cheeks and whispers of “I can’t believe we made it all the way here.” and the agreements that follow.

Their eyes land on you and your soccer ball, and their expressions instantly sour. You try to shrug it off, but when the whispering starts again, you look up from the ball. You start getting suspicious when one of the three girls flicks her long, perfectly curled, brunette hair over her shoulder and opens her immaculately painted lips to say something.

“You shouldn’t be here you know.”

The confidence in her voice almost has you fooled for someone who belongs there. Almost. You’ve never seen her close to any of them ever, even if you had managed to stay out of the public eye yourself. Something about this trio didn’t feel right. You stop juggling the ball and drop it to your foot, catching it without bounce and then placing your foot on top of it.

“Why not?”

You ask out of curiosity of what the answer would be.

“Well, it’s reserved for the wags, you know, so you don’t belong here.”

You tilt your head and raise a brow, questioningly.

“Isn’t that what the owner's box is for? you know with reserved seats, food and really comfortable sitting options?”

A blush seems to rise through her make- up and you restrain yourself a little, you really don’t want to make her an enemy. Just in case.

“Yeah.. I just need to see my man before we head home.”

She stutters out, looking at her two friends who nod encouragingly at her.

“Okay, just remind me who it is again?”

You play dumb, knowing that the media is about to get out of the room in a minute.

“Jamie ofcourse.”

And her voice is so confident as she says it, you let a smile show before chuckling. They really thought they could fool anyone with that. Just in that moment, the door opens and cameras and notepads or tape recorders start filing out of the door.

You walk over to the door, holding it open for the stream of reporters and crew. Then you duck a head in and yell for Jamie.

“Oleksiak, your girlfriend is here…”

It isn’t intentional all the way, but it comes out in a sing- song voice.

The entirety of the team turns to face you. Briefly you meet the eyes of Roope, who’s still shirtless. Just as Jamie passes you by with a confused look, you tap his now clothed arm to make him bend down just a little.

“Ehh, so someone somehow got past security, apparently you’re her boyfriend.”

You say to him, loud enough for the closest teammates to hear.

“Jesus Christ, not again.”

Jamie mutters. Stephen Johns is closest and has his phone in seconds calling someone. You let a glance out the door and see the girls huddled together, suddenly looking unsure. Jamie takes a look over your shoulder and sighs.

“Guess I should distract them until security gets here, just stay here.”

You roll your eyes, but stay put. Then suddenly you realise where you are, feeling like an intruder.

“Sorry guys, didn’t mean to intrude, just thought you should know about the girls outside.”

You say, trying to not look too closely at anyone. You can feel the heat rising up your neck.

“‘S alright, not everyday we get to know a girl from Jamie's side.”

Tyler Seguin says from his seat by his gear.

“Oh I know, he has a hard time finding decent ones.”

You say it absentmindedly, but the entire team seems to crack up at that. You feel a little bad, but you also know it as true and it's already said, so you can’t take it back.

“Seems like he did alright with you.”

Roope says as he pulls his button up over his arms and starts pushing the buttons through the holes.

“Ahh, a common mistake. Not a girlfriend and not sleeping with him either.”

His brows raise and a cheeky smile forms on his face. But he doesn’t say anything else. You feel off, of sorts. He doesn’t irk you like the girls did. And it was kind of scaring you. It’s the feeling you get when you start being intrigued, and you don ‘t need that now.

-------

You’re sitting at the bar, alone, not that you mind it, because the girl who finally got Jamie had been ogling him all night and talking too loud, and it was a relief when you saw them walk out the door. He had asked multiple times if it was okay for him to leave, so much so that you almost drove the uber back to her place yourself.

Staring down at the drink in your hand, you realised you were too sober and too far behind on studying (not really) to be sitting here, in a place you didn’t want to be. So you got up, turned around and immediately crashed into a hard chest. Looking up, you find a wild head of blonde curls and a heavenly cologne. Roope Hintz.

“Can I help you you mr. Star?”

You said ask as he leans closer, if that was even possible, without touching you. He at least has the decency to chuckle and look a little bashful as you address him that way.

“You sure you’re not even a little infatuated with Oleksiak?”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back onto the bar and cross your ankles.

“Why? Are you jealous?”

You give him a flirty smile, just for the hell of it. Roope steps forward so his feet are planted on either side of yours, not touching this time either, and leans an arm beside you, making him come impossibly close to you.

“What if I am?”

He asks, and his eyes are roaming all over your face, ignited with a desire you haven’t seen in far too long. It makes a heat pool in your stomach, and a little in your cheeks. Just purely out of the close proximity.

“Then you’re gonna be sorely disappointed.”

You try to sound casual, but Roope leans a little closer.

“And why is that?”

You can tell he is curious, and your judgement is compromised from the closeness of him. Maybe one night wouldn’t hurt, right?

“I’m a one time offer, an-”

Roope doesn’t even let you finish your sentence, before he has your hand in his. Just as you touch it feels like a wave of something indescribable washes over you. You’d never felt anything like it.

“I can do that. Come along now, we haven’t got all night.”

Roope drags you away from the bar and you scramble to keep up the first few steps. When you catch up, he laces his fingers through yours, and heads out the door. It’s cold out, and since you haven’t really been outside today, all you have is the sweater you came to the rink in. You hadn’t been dressed for a club at all, but he didn’t seem to mind. You wrap your arms around yourself, to try to preserve some of the heat from the inside. Roope has a keen eye and steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“One time offer, remember?”

“Oh yeah, that doesn’t mean I can’t be nice, or no?”

And as he pulls you closer to him, you can feel in your bones (and your lower back) that he isn’t nearly as nice as he’s pretending to be. And you catch yourself thinking that you can’t wait to see what this turns into.

“Just, doubting what you define as nice, that’s all.”

At that Roope, let out a little chuckle, before leaning down a little and placing small kisses on your exposed neck. He works his way up to your ear.

“I can be very nice, it all depends on you though.”

With a final kiss to your cheek, he steps away from your heated face, and looks at the uber that’s now in front of you, double checking that it’s the right one. How in the hell had you missed the car pulling up to the curb? Roope opened the door to the back seat and let you enter first. Then he entered shortly after you, told the lady driving the car his address and turned to face you.

“Didn’t think you were that shy, sweetheat.”

He gestured to the entire middle seat between the two of you. You just shake your head, with a coy smile on your lips.

“Just been a while.”

You say quietly, not wanting the driver to hear. Regardless, she looks at you, very discreetly, through the rearview mirror. You give her a reassuring smile trying to convey that you feel safe and that you’re okay. She gives you a wink in return.

“I’ll make it worth your time.”

Roope leads you into an elevator and punches one of the higher numbers, all the while his eyes are roaming you, mentally undressing you. Most definitely wondering what he would find underneath the sweater and jeans. You are absolutely feeling a little shy with the way he looks at you. However, at the same time you’re looking at him, wondering what he is going to do, if he will be soft or hard in demeanor, if he’s gonna be rough or boring, but somehow something in his eyes tells you, it’s gonna be anything but boring.

The elevator stops, and he steps closer, taking your hand in his, entwining your fingers and leading the way out of the elevator. Just two doors down he pulls some keys out of his back pocket and steadily unlocks the door, no fumbling. You take it as a good sign even if you already knew that he wasn’t even close to being drunk. The lock clicks in place and the door slides open, revealing a dark hallway. Roope steps in first and flicks on the light. It’s neat, considering what you had been expecting. The door shuts behind you, and you hear the lock clicking.

Toeing off your shoes you turn and find Roope already staring at you. His eyes are considerably darker. He drops the jacket he had been wearing to the floor and beckons you with a finger to follow him, all silent and a little domineering, half a smile on his lips. You see the light flicker on in the hallway as you follow him down to the left and then the first door on the right hand side it’s the only open door, but it’s not fully lit inside. Carefully you step inside, when nothing happens, you take one more step in and the room is suddenly full of tension.

The light here is turned on low, and Roope is standing in front of you taking slow steps towards you. Determined to stand your ground you remain unmoving, but your eyes roam him, and he seems to notice. With a smirk he takes a hand behind his neck and promptly yanks the shirt off of his upper body. You feel your jaw dropping just a little as you scan him over.

“Look at me in the eyes babe.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, but you remain in your spot steadily holding his gaze. He takes a step closer, and then another, until he’s standing mere inches from you. A devious smile is playing on his lips, when one of his hands lands on your waist. His thumb rubs circles on your hip, just underneath the emerald sweater of yours.

“Are you sure about this?”

He asks, taking his other hand up and caressing your cheek. You nod your head yes.

“I’m gonna need you to use your words for me.”

The hand that’s on your cheek is suddenly forcing your face upwards to meet his eyes.

“I’m sure about this.”

You whisper, again meeting his eyes. Just as the sentence leaves your mouth, he immediately goes to kiss you, but you pull back just slightly, just to tease, and maybe test him a little. He sees the mischievous glint in your eyes, and his smile widens.

“Oh you wanna play like that, huh?”

Roope’s hands slip from your body, before meeting again behind your thighs, lifting you up into his arms. You stare down into his darkened eyes, and lean into him. He lets you kiss him for a couple of seconds, before he deepens it. You let him, not really feeling like fighting him. His lips move from yours and down your neck, as he walks towards the bed, you can feel him leaving a few hickies before dropping you onto the bed.

“Off with the sweater, kaunis.”

You look up at him, while crossing your arms and gripping the bottom of the sweater, letting him take in all of you as the green top comes off. Underneath is a simple black bra and you can see his pupils dilate at the sight of you.

“That one I’m gonna take off myself.”

He leans over you, until you’ve laid down flat on the bed. He’s hovering over you, resting on his forearms, yet his hips have already settled between your legs. You can feel him there hard and heavy. His breath playing across your collarbones, makes you feel the anticipation building in your entire body.

He presses a quick kiss to your lips before he starts leaving open mouth kisses down the valley of your breasts, he shifts his weight so he is leaning more on one arm and slides the other underneath your back, and makes quick work of unfastening your bra. The tension leaves the straps and you let them fall off. Then with his teeth he bites the middle of the bra, lifting it off your body and chucking it away with his free hand.

“Upea.”

You don’t question his words, honestly feeling a little more turned on as he speaks to you in a language you don’t understand. With a wink he kisses each of your tits a few times, before moving further down.

“Still good?”

He asks, and you feel your heart ache a little at it, and immediately shove the feeling aside.

“Yes, so good.”

You say, all out of breath as his fingers pop open the button, and slowly pull down the zipper of your jeans. In a swift motion he has his fingers in what you assume is the belt loops and has pulled down your jeans along with the black underwear you had been wearing. Instinctively you try to close your legs, but two calloused hands on either of your knees stops that motion.

“I’ve got you.”

Roope says as he leans into your right thigh and starts leaving kisses again. Closer and closer to your core, and when he finally is there, he switches to the other tigh, repeating the process. Your hands, which have been clenching the sheets, finally go to his long hair, tugging a little. Roope lets out a little groan and you swear you can feel it in your entire body.

“Aww, look how wet you are, all for me?”

He asks in a husky voice.

“All for you, all for you.”

Roope seems to revel in the admittance rolling off your tongue, before he lets himself have a taste. At least that’s what you think is happening. You feel his hot breath fan over your core, and he is painfully close, you lift your hips just slightly to meet his mouth, just as he pulls away.

“My bed, my rules. Now, you’re gonna have to ask really nicely to cum, before I let you. Got it?”

You’re so lost in desperation for his mouth that you can only nod. You both hear and feel the sigh escaping him, before he lands a little smack on the inside of your thigh. It causes you to let out a strangled moan and clench around nothing.

“Didn’t I tell you? Words.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll ask to cum.”

And then he’s all over you. The pent up feeling you have in your body only seems to grow as he spends his time licking and lapping at your folds. With his arms around your thighs and eyes firmly set on yours, your body's working overtime trying to feel everything. You feel your grip on his hair tighten as his mouth finds you clit and a finger easily slides inside you.

“Fuuuck, feels so good.”

You draw out the vocals as he hums against you. Your breathing went uneven a long time ago, but now you’re struggling to control anything that comes out of your mouth. Especially as the second finger enters you and he makes a “come here” motion with his fingers, finally finding that one particular spot. It nearly sends you over the edge.

“Ah ah, ask first.”

Your brain feels like mush as he continues his assault on your pussy.

“Please may I cum?”

Roope hums against you, before leaning away a little.

“No, I want you to beg.”

He goes back in, feeling the way your body is wound so tightly you don’t know where to turn, not being able to think clearly.

“Please, I’ll be so good, just please please let me cum.”

Again Roope hums.

“Okay, only if you’re a good girl though.”

He says looking up at you, with that smirk of his, before he dives back in. You can feel the tension in your body tightening, and when his tongue does a particularly intense stroke over your clit you can’t hold it anymore. Your legs clamp around his head and you let out a drawn out moan of pleasure as he lets you ride out the high on his face.

When you can’t take it anymore, you gently guide his face away from your core. Roope has this cocky grin on his face and you can’t help but like it being directed at you. You pull him up towards you and kiss him deeply, not really caring if you can taste yourself on his lips. Finally he lets your hands wander over the planes of his upper body, feeling the muscles tense and flex as your fingers trace every ridge of his body. He seems to really like kissing you, but he does notice that your hands go lower and lift his hips up a little to make room so you can pop the button of his jeans. As soon as the zipper is down, your hand traces the waistband of his boxers.

“You gonna play with me like this all night, rakas?”

He asks with a playful tone of voice.

“Maybe.”

You tease, pulling on the waistband of the boxers, before releasing it, making it snap against his skin. He leans away from you completely, getting up so he’s on his knees, but otherwise full height. Your legs are caught between his, so you can only sit up as far. Not that you mind though, with the way he towers over you, giving you perfect access to the bulge that’s now in your direct line of vision. Without really meaning to your jaw goes slack. His pointer finger is under your chin, making you look up at him.

“Eyes up here, yeah?”

You nod innocently at him, making him groan at the sight of you.

“Good girl. Now let’s see if we can put that mouth of yours to good use.”

You blush at his words and the smirk on his lips. Regardless, you start peeling the boxers and jeans down his legs. Slowly. Since this is going to be a one time thing, you think, you’re gonna savour this moment. His skin is hot beneath your fingers, but not as hot as your cheeks the moment his cock springs free of it’s confinement. You’re definitely not complaining about any aspect of it.

Without a second thought you put your lips around the angry red tip, letting your tongue explore every inch of his dick. Roope seems to like what you’re doing, judging by the groaning and panting above you. One of his hands is in your hair, doing a makeshift ponytail as you continue to suck him off. Suddenly, he all but pulls you off his cock, which now seems even more red than it was before. With strings of saliva hanging from your mouth, connected to his dick. Roope lets out a groan that makes your inside tingle before he slides back off the bed.

“I’m going to ruin you so good, rakas.”

He kicks off his jeans and boxers before he is over you again. You look him in the eyes nodding, before spreading your legs, letting him settle between them. He cages you in with his arms, and for some reason, even with his dark gaze upon you, you feel safe. And when he grabs your arms, pinning them beside your head you let out a content sigh. Not only because you’re completely letting go, but because you can feel his cock brushing against your stomach. The anticipation is almost killing you.

Roope, kisses up and down your neck, whispering dirty somethings in your ear, because they aren’t nothing. They are all his fantasies, of what he has come up with that he wants to do with you. As well as to you. Most of all though, you think he just enjoys watching you squirm in need of him. When he lets go of your right hand, it traces your throat.

“Now, put my cock inside yourself.”

It’s a demand, and you follow through, out of desperation to feel him inside. You wrap your hand around his dick, carefully tugging at him, running your thumb over the tip, teasing. With a little smile on your lips. Roope is quick to kiss it away, delving into you, with a passion you’ve never felt before. “Inside, now. Or this teasing of yours is gonna have some serious consequences.”

He mumbles against your lips, so you do as told, guiding him to your entrance. You both let out content sighs as he finally sinks into you. He is going slow at first. Letting you adjust to having him inside you.

“Look so good for me like this.”

You can only nod as he starts moving his hips in slow, deep thrusts. He finds a pace and as soon as you start clenching around him, when he hits that part of you. His pace picks up. The hand that’s still holding onto yours, they are now intertwined in each other. His other hand is caressing your hip. You’re pretty much just a blubbering mess of his name and curses as he hits all the right parts.

With a final kiss to your lips, he leans up a bit, so his thighs are resting on his calves creating a steep angle, so you almost slip off him. Almost. He pulls you closer by the hips, making you yelp out, before your legs are planted on either side of him, giving yourself a little more leverage as he hits deep inside of you. The moan that escapes you is genuine, and you squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure. At that you feel a sharp sting on your thigh again.

“Eyes on me.”

In the fog of pleasure all you manage to get out is a weak. “Yes, sir.”

Opening your eyes, you see Roope straining a little as well. His cheeks are tinted and his breathing is really uneven. But his eyes are blown with pleasure, and as you guide his hand to your lower stomach where you can vaguely feel him moving in and out of you. It looks like a new fire has been ignited inside him.

His hand slips from yours as he lets it go to rub at your clit again. The pleasure almost becomes too much, and your eyes roll a little at the feeling.

“May I please cum, sir?”

You manage to moan out, barely remembering his demand from before.

“Hold it for like three seconds, I’m gonna count you down.”

So you look him in the eyes and let him blow out your back for a few more thrusts, and then he starts counting down.

“3”

His rhythm changes as he slows down and goes harder, deeper.

“2”

He moans as you clench around him.

“1, cum for me.”

And you do. It starts in your stomach, and like a warm tide it washes over your entire body. Roope fucks you through it, before he finally pulls out and with a loud groan he is jerking himself off, letting go in hot spurts all over your torso. He finishes and stares down at his personal masterpiece. With your rapidly raising stomach and chest covered in his cum, you can tell by the smirk on his lips. He’s satisfied.

“I’ll be right back.”

Roope says with a wink, and you just nod. Because even though you just had the best sex to date, you were trying to gather your thoughts. On how to get home. You don’t see where he goes, but you hear water running from a sink. When he’s back from the bathroom, you assume, he has a wet washcloth in hand and is wearing a fresh pair of boxers. Gently he wipes his cum from your chest and stomach, and a little in between your legs.

And you’re almost completely ruined by how gentle he is. But you have a promise to keep, and you’re not planning on betraying yourself. He leaves again to toss the cloth into the hamper. When he comes back, you have gathered your underwear and bra, and are standing on the floor on slightly shaky legs.

“You’re leaving?”

And that was really the first sign.

“Yeah, one time offer. Remember?”

You answer, looking for your jeans. Roope sweeps them off of the floor and hands them to you.

“Yeah, right.”

You get dressed in silence, and when your last sock is on. You straighten up.

“I’ll just find the way out myself.”

It’s meant to be casual, but Roope immediately refuses.

“No no, I’ll walk you out.”

And he does, following close behind you. You’ve just gotten your shoes on, when your phone pings. It’s a notification from uber that your ride is here. You’ve put your hand on the door knob and opened the door, when Roope, who was leaning against the wall, pulls you back and kisses you deeply.

“Next time you need an orgasm, give me a call.”

He says with a wink.

In the car back to your apartment, you can feel it. You’re not gonna get rid of Roope after what just went down in his bedroom. The worst part of it is that you’re not sure you want it to be a one time thing. Fuck.

#roope hintz #roope hintz smut #roope hintz imagine #roope hintz fic #dallas stars smut #dallas stars imagine #Dallas Stars Blurb #nhl #nhl smut #nhl fic

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wolferine · 3 years ago

Text

Unforgivable - Part 3

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...

Warnings: Violence, blood, language

Word count: 2413

Part 2

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @lilclownx @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife @user19422004 @zoldszemulany56

You sit alone on a park bench, wearing a heavy black backpack filled with Hammer’s latest invention. He’s here too, more than a mile away, watching you from the shadows. Your task is to do all the talking and distracting; Hammer wants to take the kill shot. You don’t really care, as long as Tony Stark dies for what he did to Natasha.

At midnight exactly, Tony walks up to you, wearing a hoodie, jeans, and his signature sunglasses. However, you know from experience that Jarvis is inside the sunglasses, providing him with information about you and his surroundings.

“It’s a little late to be wearing sunglasses, isn’t it, Stark?” you say, standing up. Hammer lined your backpack with lead so Jarvis can’t see into it, but you’re still nervous.

“You know I have astigmatism,” he says.

“I don’t really care,” you respond. “Take them off.”

He doesn’t need a second warning.

“So, what’s up with you, Y/N?” Tony pockets the sunglasses. “Where have you been lurking all this time?” He stops about ten feet in front of you.

“Just…working through some things,” you reply.

“For six months?” Tony scoffs. “We waited for you to come back.”

“You know I couldn’t do that.” Your jaw clenches. “But for you, Stark? I’d make an exception any day of the week.”

“What’s up with all the theatrics tonight, huh? Would’ve been a lot simpler to have this chat at the Tower,” Tony says.

“I’m not an Avenger anymore.”

“Says who?”

“Says me,” you snap, trying not to let your impatience show. You’re waiting for Hammer’s signal, but he seems to want to take his time. Your eyes drift to the glowing blue arc reactor in the center of Tony’s chest and you put your right hand in your pocket casually.

“Just spit it out, Y/N. Why am I here?”

“You’re here to die, Stark.”

“Well, have at it.” He opens his arms tauntingly and you tense, ready to tackle him to the ground and beat his head inside out.

“You killed Natasha,” you snarl, and his expression changes. But you don’t have time to process it, because suddenly, the watch on your wrist vibrates.

Hammer’s signal.

You take your hand out of your pocket, now holding onto a tiny sensor disk, which you throw at Tony’s chest. It latches onto his arc reactor and powers it down instantly, preventing him from activating his Iron Man suit.

Then you dive to the ground, because Hammer starts blasting away with his rifle.

Tony catches a few bullets in his chest and legs, unable to react to both threats at the same time. He falls onto his back, blood pooling around his body as he gasps for air. You activate Hammer’s suit, which tears out of your backpack, covering your torso and limbs in a thin layer of metal armor.

You climb to your feet, your helmet snapping over your head, and charge towards Tony. But something—or someone—completely blindsides you, sending you skidding in the direction of the carousel.

It looks like a variation of Iron Man, although the suit is smaller and more feminine. The colors are black and red, evoking a pang of familiarity in your chest. You stand again, an eight-inch blade shooting out of your right wrist, and you beckon the Iron Woman (?) to come at you.

She does, but when you swing your blade at her, she blocks it and punches you so hard in the chest you fly back into the carousel and knock a horse completely off its pole. You’re pretty sure you cracked a rib as your breathing sends a stabbing pain up your side. You hang onto a bench to get up, and suddenly the carousel comes to life, lights flashing and music crackling through the speakers.

You’re transported back to the day you were last here with Natasha, when you asked her to be your girlfriend.

Both of your horses are out of sync. When she goes up, you go down, and neither of you can stop laughing. You’re pretty sure you’re the oldest adults on the carousel without kids, but you don’t care.

The way her hair effortlessly blows in the wind and the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs lights up your heart, and you still can’t believe she chose you over everyone else in the world. You’ve never been so in love with another human being before, and you don’t think there will ever be another like her.

When the rides end, you take her hand and lead her to an empty patch of grass in the shade of a tree.

“Natasha, will you go out with me?” you ask, your voice trembling. She nods and brushes her fingers over your cheek. “I promise to keep you safe and love you every day for the rest of my life—”

“Calm down, it’s not a marriage proposal.” Natasha laughs as you sweep her off her feet. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Just preparing.” You kiss her and feel her smile against your lips. You’ve never been happier.

You’re so stuck in your head you don’t even notice the Iron Woman coming after you until she punches you in the face. You stagger back, stunned, as she punches you several more times. The face of your helmet snaps off and you feel your nose bleeding. You slash out with your blade wildly, forcing the Iron Woman to back off.

“Y/N,” the Iron Woman says, and you don’t even care how she knows your name, “You need to stop.”

“Get out of my way.” When you leap towards her, she lifts her foot and kicks you in the chest. You somersault backwards, head over heels, as she retreats. The rotating platform of the carousel does nothing to help your balance and the lights and noise distract your focus. You crouch behind a stationary horse, searching for her amongst the painted animals.

You break the blade off your wrist, poised to throw like a javelin. When the Iron Woman pops out from behind a black horse, you bring your arm back to throw the blade, but she fires from her gun before you can. The bullet bounces off a pole and buries itself in your left cheek.

The pain is like a branding iron as you scream and fall to your knees, the blade slipping out of your fingers. Blood pours out of your mouth, the taste of metal coating your tongue as you gingerly reach in to swipe the burning chunk of lead over your teeth. You finally spit the bullet out, but the pain persists.

The Iron Woman holsters her gun and approaches you, thinking you’re too distracted to notice. But you do, another blade flicking out of your left wrist and you ram it into her thigh as hard as you can. The blade crunches through the plates of her armor, but she elicits no reaction to being stabbed.

“Y/N,” the Iron Woman repeats.

“Just die already!” you scream, withdrawing the blade and trying to stab her again.

The Iron Woman’s helmet slides back and you freeze when you see her face.

It’s Natasha.

Immediately, your anger melts into confusion and happiness.

“H-How…How is this possible?” you stammer, more blood spilling from your lips. “T-They…They told me you died.”

“No.” Natasha shakes her head, kneeling to your level. “But you never came back for me.”

“Because I hurt you—” Hammer had said she was dead, and that Tony—no—you—had killed her.

“I forgive you, Y/N. For all of it.”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” You stumble back, tears and blood mixing on your face.

“Please come back to me, Y/N,” Natasha begs, as your head spins from the turn of events. “I still love you.”

Suddenly, it’s like all of Hammer’s training reverses. Tony was never the one responsible for harming Natasha—you were. And now Tony’s bleeding to death, which was again, your fault. You won’t let this rest on your conscience. You’ve done enough damage and now it’s time to redeem yourself, as little as you can.

“This is all Justin Hammer’s doing,” you say, letting Natasha pull you to your feet. “He’s had me kidnapped for the past six months. He thought I would be able to help him kill Tony, but he’s not going to be successful anymore. Because you weren’t part of the plan.”

Natasha smiles and you feel your heart melt. Whether or not she’ll take you back, you owe this to her.

“He’s about a mile out, west from here. He has no guards—arrogant bastard—it’s just him and his rifle. You go get him and I’ll get Tony,” you say. Natasha nods and flies off. For a moment, you’re filled with jealousy over her suit. How come Tony never made you one?

You make your way off the carousel and find Tony still on the ground. You check his pulse. It’s weak, but there.

“Tony, I’m so sorry,” you say, as a spray of bullet rips through the ground. You grab his arms and pull him to take cover under a bench.

“Y/N?” he mumbles.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”

“No…” Tony says, grabbing your hand. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I was a complete asshole to you that day—”

“No, I’m the one who tried to shoot you, for God’s sake—” You rip his shirt into ribbons to wad up against the wounds in his chest and legs. “You’re gonna be okay,” you promise. “It’s Justin Hammer who’s behind all of this.”

“I recognized his work from your suit,” Tony gasps. “It looks like shit.”

“You can tell him that yourself.” You find yourself smiling despite the circumstances. “He wanted my help to end his ultimate rival. He manipulated me into thinking that Natasha was dead and that you were the reason for it—” You pause. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“It was the least I could do for you.”

“I know she probably won’t want me anyway after all this, but it was good to see her again.”

“She only wants you. It was always you or no one.”

You throw yourself onto Tony when the bullets start again and you feel them bounce off your back and legs. Fortunately, when Hammer made your suit bulletproof, he probably didn’t think it would have to bulletproof against his bullets.

Suddenly, the gunshots stop and the silence is deafening.

When you finally look up, you see Natasha flying over, holding Hammer by the collar.

You don’t even mind when your face splits into a painful smile. “That’s my girl.”

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

Two weeks after Hammer is arrested, Natasha convinces you to come by the Avengers Tower. It’s a strange feeling as you walk in for the first time in over six months. When you left, you’d never thought you’d be back, but here you are. Your only belongings are a single duffel bag with some clothes stuffed inside.

You ride the elevator up to the Avengers’ quarters. You’re a little more wary of the SHIELD agents that pass you, wondering if anyone will double-cross you again, but you remain courteous. You punch in your code to see if it still works and it does, the doors opening.

“Look who’s finally come home.” Tony’s there to greet you and he hugs you tightly.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, still guilty you almost got him killed.

“Good, no thanks to you.”

“Sorry again.”

He waves you off.

“Where’s—” you start, but then you see her. She comes around the corner in a wheelchair. Your heart drops to your feet.

“Things have been a little different since you left,” she says. So that’s why she had no reaction when you had stabbed her at the carousel. She has no feeling left in her legs after your bullet pierced her spine.

“Natasha, I’m…I didn’t know. Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here.” You turn around, but she rolls into your legs and grabs your hand.

“Please stay,” she says. “Like I told you before, I’m not mad.”

“But you have every right to be.”

“Can we talk?”

You nod numbly and let her lead you back to where your shared bedroom with her was. Nothing inside has changed. In fact, your clothes are still hanging in the closet like you’d never left. You sit on your side of the bed.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N?” Natasha asks.

You shrug. “Call me an asshole for what I did. Tell me you’d never want me back.”

“Okay. You’re an asshole for shooting me and leaving me,” Natasha says without hesitation, and you flinch. But somehow, you find solace in hearing her say the words you’ve played over and over in your head for months. “And yeah, after the whole thing happened, I didn’t think I could ever take you back. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you and told myself if I ever saw you again, I wanted you to know that I forgive you.”

“But I don’t know if I could forgive myself,” you whisper.

“Well, I forgive you, and I think if I can do that, you can, too.” It hurts her to see how much you’ve changed in the past six months. Your face and body are thin from malnourishment and Hammer’s torture. Your eyes are dull and permanently swollen from basically crying every day for six months. Some of your fingers are crooked from not healing correctly and you have scars running up your arms.

She reaches out and touches the puckered mark on your cheek from the bullet. “Besides, we’re kind of even now.”

“Hardly.” You chuckle.

“We can start slow,” Natasha says, putting her hands on your shoulders. “Because I’m not sure what still works down there, anyway.”

You smile, and her heart warms at the sight.

“Can I lie with you?” she asks and you nod, scooping her up and carrying her to the bed. You put her down gently and lie next to her. She pulls you close until your foreheads touch and you close your eyes as you breathe in her familiar scent. “Why did you pick the carousel as the meeting place?” she asks.

“I…I don’t know,” you mumble. “For some weird reason, I thought I’d see you again, at least in my memory. But then I did in real life, too.”

“I’m so glad you came back,” Natasha hums, brushing her lips against yours.

“I’m so glad I did, too.”

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

AN: The end! :) Fun facts:

-Part 1 was inspired by the scene in X-Men: First Class where Magneto accidentally deflects a bullet into Charles’s spine (which resulted in Charles’s paralysis). -Part 2’s Iron Black Widow suit was inspired by a concept art photo I saw that was cut from Avengers: Endgame. Here’s the link to that post. -Part 3’s carousel scene was inspired by the season 1 finale of Netflix’s Punisher.

Join my taglist for future stories here! Thanks for reading, and until next time...

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader #black widow fanfiction #marvel imagine

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thero0ks · 4 years ago

Text

505 NSFW!

Do not read if you are under 18 NSFW!

SMUT AHEAD!

Jean catches the next flight home to surprise the reader. Smut ensues.

Jean took the next available flight home. Romantic notions were pushed to the back of his mind by the need pooling within him. Only being gone a week felt like an eternity. Long fingers ran through his ashy hair, as his leg bounced hearing various boarding announcements. Checking his watch for the fifteenth time since he sat down the minutes seemed to drag on. A notification dinged on his phone. Digging it out of his pocket his eyes flickered to the Snapchat notification.

One unopened snap from Angel <3

Jean tapped the red box opening the image. Muscles froze at the pornographic picture. The only thing covering her body was a pair of lace panties, and black thigh highs that accentuated her supple thighs. The screenshot Jean took was automatic. Swallowing, his eyes flickered around the boarding area. The thought to check his surroundings before opening the image never crossed his mind. Relaxing he noticed no one sat near him, and the image had remained for his eyes only. Taking another peak at the photo he had to suppress a groan. It’d been too long since he’d traced her skin in the dark, and felt her between the sheets. She had no idea he was coming home early. Taking pleasure in teasing him when he was hundreds of miles away. Jean couldn’t deny he enjoyed her naughty antics, and the prospect of finally punishing her for her little games was driving him wild.

Jean swiped open the chat. Thumbs working quickly to type out the message: you naughty girl.

Turning his phone on silent he gathered his things for boarding. Handing over his boarding pass the flight attendant raked over his figure with her gaze. Jean managed a half smile of acknowledgment heading down the boarding bridge as soon as she handed over his ticket. Leather felt cool against his back as he settled into his seat. Pulling out his phone to switch it to airplane mode he found a picture in response to his text. Her index finger was in her mouth, her other arm wrapped around her breasts giving a perfect view of her cleavage.

He almost missed the small text at the bottom of the picture that read: I miss you Jean boy :(

Another screenshot and he was turning his phone on airplane mode. The buckle of the airplane seat clanked as he latched it. Leaning his head back against the seat he closed his eyes. He was only a two hour flight away from her. Nine o’clock and he’d have his arms around her.

Another stranger sat next to him on another flight. Digging out his headphones and Nintendo Switch he tried to pull his thoughts away from what would transpire tonight. The images he’d received this evening allowed him to think of little else.

His skin was hot, and his tie felt constricting. Fingers loosened the knot, unbuttoning the top two buttons of the ironed button down. He couldn’t get that damn image out of his mind. Pausing his game he rubbed his temples. Dirty scenes playing in his mind.

Small hands slipping between her thighs, soft sighs escaping her painted lips. Fingers dancing over her pussy as her back arched into the pleasure.

Jean snapped out of his daydream adjusting quickly in his seat to hide the erection he’d just created for himself. Laying the Switch in his lap he unpaused the game, determined to make it the rest of the flight without another slip up.

The parking garage was empty as he walked to his car. Popping the trunk he threw his suitcase in the back. Taking more care to place his leather messenger bag in his passenger seat. Lights on the dash lit up as he put the key in the ignition.

The forty minute drive home seemed to blur by with the passing headlights. A soft light came from his apartment floor as he parked his car. Gathering his things he trudged up the concrete steps. Keys jingled as he unlocked the front door.

The apartment was quiet when he walked through the door. Taking care to set his bags down he locked the door behind him. Kicking his shoes off he found the bedroom door was cracked, red LED lights casting a glow on the carpet. A low hum could be heard from the bedroom, and Jean recognized the sound instantly. Electricity seemed to spark under his skin as he leaned against the doorway pleased with sight before him.

The filthy images his mind had conjured didn’t compare to this. The soft mewls that escaped her lips, one hand on her breast as the other teased her slick folds with a vibrator. Enraptured in the thralls of pleasure she hadn’t even noticed him there. Her back arched grinding closer to the toy. Jean bit his bottom lip observing her touch herself. A vivid image he would save for future trips when she casually mentioned she’d gotten off earlier during their facetime conversations. He knew exactly what that entailed now.

“Jean!” She gasped, a flustered look coming over her face.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Jean said, pushing himself off the doorway. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he placed his hand on her’s, guiding the vibrator back to her clit. Hips bucked at the sudden stimulation when the toy made contact with her pussy. Jean guiding her hand through swirling motions. Leaning over her he captured her lips in a deep kiss.

“I’m gonna make you feel good angel,” Jean promised. Switching the vibrator to a higher setting he felt her nails digging into his forearm. His name falling from her lips in a desperate plea. He heard something about cumming between sharp breaths.

“Oh baby, you’re going to cum as many times as I want.” Honey eyes watched an orgasm shake her body. Switching off the vibrator he set it aside. Stripping himself of his jacket, shirt, and tie he watched her settle down from her high. Climbing over her he enveloped her in another kiss. The kisses were slow and deep as he swirled his tongue around her’s. His thumb stroked her jaw as he buried his other hand in her hair, gripping at her roots. Soft hands trailed up his stomach and lower back. Eagerly exploring the expanse of his skin.

Breaking the kiss Jean’s eyes took in her curves. She looked divine underneath him, and he realized the pictures she sent were nothing compared to her under his gaze. Fidgeting underneath him a smirk pulled at his lips. He loved when she was needy, grinding against nothing but air. She looked fuckable, and he couldn’t resist slipping his middle finger into her soaked entrance. Rubbing tiny circles, just enough to get her excited.

“Jean,” she moaned tugging at the locks on the nape of his neck. Desperate for more. Needy moans made his dick twitch, and he was painfully hard looking at her so soft, and fuckable on their bed. All he wanted to do was sink into her, but he also wanted her to cum until she was a sobbing mess.

He slipped his index finger into her, the added finger making her feel full. Hooking his fingers he started rubbing her g-spot. The sharp inhale he solicited from her had him smirking. Hitting her sweet spot she felt the pressure building. Her juices coated his hand and dripped down his forearm. She was a beautiful mess as she gripped the sheets desperate for some purchase against the pleasure Jean was pulling from her.

Jean leaned over capturing her nipple in his mouth. With a sharp gasp she had her fingers buried in his hair. He knew her most sensitive parts, and loved hearing the breathy moans that escaped her lips. Swirling his tongue around her nipple, his hand played with her other breast. Toying with the sensitive bud feeling her grind against his fingers, and tugging at the roots of his hair. His name escaped her lips in a needy whine.

The way she flexed around his fingers knew she was on the edge, and he had half a mind to keep her there. Toying with her, until he deemed it fit for her to come undone.

Withdrawing his fingers he heard her whimper at being pulled away from the edge. “Jean,” she whined, dragging out the last consonant.

“I want to hear you beg baby,” he said, honey eyes locking with hers as he sucked on his fingers that were soaked in her juices.

“Jean please,” her voice came out in a huff, at his demands.

His fine brow rose at her tone. His dick twitching in his pants at the attitude she was starting to show him. “I know you can do better than that,” he said trailing off, dipping his fingers in her slick before retracting them.

Her body jerked at his touch, soliciting a wide grin from the ashy blond. He knew exactly how to leave her a begging mess, and the brattier she got the deeper she’d want him.

“Jean, please.” Impatience coated her tongue as her hand gripped his forearm.

Fingers slipped inside her, and Jean added a third this time. A small gasp escaped her lips, and her back arched into his touch. A soft squelching sound lingered in the air as he rubbed her g-spot soaking the cotton sheets beneath her.

“Is that for me baby?” Jean inquired, feeling her nails dig into his forearm. Nodding her eyes squeezed shut at the pleasure.

Jean gripped her chin, as (e/c) eyes flew up to gaze into his, “use your words angel.”

“Yes Jean,” she panted, as he released her settling between her legs. Propping herself up slightly, eager to see her thighs framing his face. Honey eyes locked on hers as he licked her clit. Hands tugged his hair as a moan escaped her lips. Jean continued fingering her as his mouth wrapped around her clit, playing with the bundle of nerves, and drinking up her essence.

By the way her back was arching, and hips grinding against him he knew she was close. Sweet whimpers escaped her lips. He felt her pulsing against his fingers as she came, her cum dripping down his chin as he tried to lick up everything she was giving him.

Tired muscles relaxed beneath him. Lazy fingers carded through his hair. Bliss was written on her face as he pulled away, wiping his chin with the back of his hand his honey eyes took in her exhausted frame. He watched her slip out of the bed settling between his thighs. (E/C) eyes batted up at him as she popped the button of his jeans open. Widening his hips in anticipation the sound of the zipper seemed to echo in his ears. Warm hands tugged at his jeans, and he lifted his hips to allow her to strip him of his jeans.

Running her hands up his thighs she pressed open mouth kisses across his stomach. Jean leaned back on his elbows to give her better access. Nipping at his hip bones, a smirk appeared on the corners of her mouth. Enjoying the way his body would shudder at the sensation.

“Fuck you’re a tease,” Jean hissed as she sucked a hickey on his lower stomach.

Tension released through his muscles when she finally discarded his boxer briefs and sucked on the head of his dick. Swirling her tongue around the tip the bitter taste of precum hit her tongue. Slowly she started to bob her head.

“You’re a cock tease,” he grunted, soliciting a hum from her that vibrated against his dick. Hands brushed her hair aside to watch her lips wrapped around his cock, pulling him deeper with each bob of her head. Abs flexed under her skilled tongue, and Jean’s mouth watered when her eyes gazed up at him while she lowered her mouth down on him. Cheeks hollowed as she continued to bob her head, eyes locked with his.

“I’m not going to last much longer,” he warned. Fine brows scrunching together, and she released him with audible pop. A smug grin on her face at how fast she’d brought him close to orgasm. Drawing her thumb across her lips Jean wrapped his arms around her pulling her down onto the mattress.

Her back pressed into his chest, as they laid on their sides. Jean’s fingers tracing her exaggerated curves in this position. A large palm gripped her thigh as he slowly slid into her. She couldn’t stifle the moan that escaped her lips, head dropping back against Jean’s shoulder. His cock filled her, and she felt him in every sweet spot. When he bottomed out her pressed a sloppy open mouth kiss to her lips, before he slowly started rocking his hips. Whimpers escaped her lips as he kept the pace.

“Fuck you’re tight for me baby,” Jean grunted into her cheek. His nose rubbing against her temple, occasionally pressing soft kisses to her skin.

The low hum of the vibrator surprised her when Jean pressed it against her clit. “You always feel so good when you’re gripping my cock,” his voice was breathy in her ear.

The coil inside her tightened, and soon she was cumming around his cock. Her grips on the sheets tightened as waves of pleasure shot through her body. A haze filled her brain still drunk on her orgasm as she pulled Jean into a deep kiss.

“Oh you’re not don’t cumming angel,” Jean cooed, switching the vibrator up to a higher speed. “I know you can give me one more.”

Flipping her onto her back he slid back into her pressing the vibrator to her clit. “Mmm...Jean, it’s too much,” she breathed, her body spasming at the stimulation of his dick and the vibrator.

“Baby, I thought you missed my cock.” Jean purred, his hips snapping into her. Setting a brutal pace, eyes mesmerized by the way her pussy sucked him in.

“I do,” her voice was desperate, on the edge of another orgasm. Jean retracted the vibrator, and he watched (e/c) eyes widened. “Jean please!” She cried desperately,

“I thought you were too tired to cum,” Jean reasoned, placing his hand on her lower stomach. Feeling him fill her with each snap of his hips. “You take me so good baby,” Jean’s voice trailed off, hypnotized by her naked body.

Nimble fingers snaked down her body to play with her clit. “Fuck, keep touching yourself.” Jean said, snapping his hips driving into her. Her pussy was soon pulsing around his dick as another orgasm washed through her.

Fucking her through her orgasm, he finally allowed himself to cum. He finally stilled, catching his breath, and he felt gentle fingers brush his hair out of his face. Pulling out he watched his cum leak out of her. Leaning down he gave her a gentle kiss.

“I’ll run a bath,” Jean said, disappearing to the bathroom. The sound of the faucet filling the tub was the only sound in the apartment. Jean pulled out a couple of candles, placing them around the tub, before adding some fragrant bath soap.

Jean carried her bridal style to the bathroom. The hot water felt good against her tired muscles. Leaning forward, she Gave Jean enough room to slip in behind her. Resting her back against his chest, she closed her eyes relaxing into his body.

“I’m happy you’re home,” she hummed, as Jean gently massaged her scalp. Pressing a light kiss to her temple he let a comfortable silence fall over them.

Jean tried to think of the best way to break the news as they sat in the tub. They didn’t get out until the water started to grow cold. Handing her a towel, he slipped on a pair of boxer briefs, and watched her apply lotion to her body.

“Y/N?” Jean spoke softly. He watched her (e/c) eyes flicker to him full of adoration. Rubbing the rest of the lotion onto her forearms she made her way over to him. Crawling into bed, she rested her head on his chest.

“What is it Jean?”

“I have to leave in a couple days,” he murmured. Running his hand down her soft skin. He knew how much she hated him being gone, but she did her best to stay supportive.

“Oh,” she breathed, surprised at his sudden revelation. Disappointment filled her at the realization that Jean would be leaving soon. “How long this time?”

“A week.” Jean said, a long sigh escaping his lips.

There was no point in lingering on the fact that Jean would be leaving in a few days. Y/N grabbed her phone sitting up, “well let’s order takeout.” She suggested, finding their favorite local Chinese restaurant. “We can eat, put on a movie, and cuddle.”

Jean smiled, pressing a kiss to her lips. “That sounds perfect,” he said, grabbing her laptop he put on Legally Blonde while she finished ordering takeout. Snuggling up to his side to settle in for the rest of the night.

#jean kirstein x you #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x you #jean kirschtien #jean kirschtein x reader #attack on titan fanfiction #jean kirstein

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gryffindors-weasley · 4 years ago

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Spare Room

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: On a lazy Sunday morning, you and Draco paint your spare room.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: mild angst, self doubt, fluff, kissing

You awoke to the clock chiming far too close to ear shot for your liking, laying in a position that was rather uncomfortable if you must admit it. Rather, you were more so in a tangled heap as you lay crammed in the tattered leather recliner with the very love of your life. That was more like it.

When you peek open an eye, you open them completely with a sigh at the sight before you. Sitting crooked and near broken on the very tip of Draco’s nose were the glasses he so rarely wore to read, said book on the brink of slipping and falling from his fingertips. You swiped it from his hand before it could clatter to the floor unceremoniously, tossing it on the couch not far from you. The lamp just behind you had yet to be turned off from its use the night before, it’s glowing light a bit too bright in the windows reflection as the clock rang a seventh and final time for the next hour.

Despite the lack of space to allow such things, he engulfed you in his embrace nonetheless, his chest rising and falling against you. His fingers remain loosely entwined with yours as they had been all night you assumed, his breath puffing warmly just under your ear in a way that tickled if you thought too long on it. His hair was an absolute mess of platinum that stuck every which way it had pleased, dark lashes splayed across pale skin as his legs dangled over the arm of the chair. The flannel blanket once laying over you both had just about fallen on the floor completely by that point. You can’t imagine he’d slept for long, not with the way he’d been caught up in his own mind for quite some time. For that reason, you hated to do this, but you felt as though you might just remain permanently in that dreadful position if you don’t stretch.

You release his hand and do so, a soft hum of utter relief leaving your lips at the ever so blissful feeling pulling at the tension in your body. A hum that sure enough caused him to stir from his light sleep; that, paired with your obvious jostling. His grip on you tightened then, his newly book-less hand coming up to rest just under the sweater of his that hung from your shoulders in ruffled heaps of black yarn.

“Good morning,” he mumbles half-heartedly, the coldness of his hand seeping into your skin as it rests further up on your hip.

“Good morning,” you start, squirming at the undesirable shiver it gave you, a frown on your lips, “And just where do you think you’re putting your hands?”

“I don’t believe I know what you’re talking about, darling ,” he murmurs just behind your ear with closed eyes, though his hand splays and lays flat across your stomach now as his laugh tickles against your cheek, any traces of warmth quickly leaving you.

“Draco!”

When you try and wriggle from his grasp your attempts rapidly become futile as you fall back to his chest, trying desperately to stifle your giggles because he most certainly did not deserve the satisfaction. His sleepy smile was immediate as he looked at you, blue eyes tired but full of adoration nonetheless. It was then that you give in and laugh, shaking your head at him.

“What?” He asks, brows furrowed slightly.

“You know, for being twenty-four, you’d think you would remember to take your glasses off before you go to sleep on the very rare occasion you decide to actually wear them,” you say, plucking the brown tortoise colored frames from the tip of his nose. You toss them on the couch to join the book laying there. “How very irresponsible of you.”

He narrows his tired stare at you and your wit, a frown tugging on his lips. Lips you immediately kiss with a soft smile, his halfhearted frown disappearing instantly. A sleepy hum sounded against your parted lips, his hand settling on your cheek. When you pull away all too soon his lips press to the corner of your mouth, finding himself chasing after you for more.

He sighs in dramatic exasperation, tugging you closer and tangling his legs with yours in an effort to get you to stay, his eyes fluttering closed once more as he lays his head back against the chair. You bite the inside of your cheek, holding your laughter at his antics.

“Dray, we’ve got plans today,” you say, tracing your fingertips over his chest. His brows furrowed as he continued to try and sleep.

“Do remind me, darling, just what would they be?”

“We’re painting the spare room, remember?” You kindly inform him, sitting up a bit more in your haphazard position. “You promised you’d help.”

He peeks an eye open as he stills your hand from dancing across his chest any longer, enveloping it in his own as he drops his head to the crook of your neck. You knew what was coming.

“Can’t we just enchant some paint brushes? It’s quite easy really,” he suggests in a groan, his lips pressing tenderly and tiredly up the skin of your neck, the warmth of his breath ironically giving you shivers. “I’ve got much better plans of my own.”

“To what, go to bed?” You counter, laughing softly.

“Precisely,” he agrees, the single word pressing into your skin just below your ear. “With you, might I add.”

You find yourself melting into his embrace, into the kisses proving to be far more intoxicating than you had hoped they’d be. Kisses that moved warmly from your neck to your jaw, from your jaw to your cheek, and perhaps the most delicately to your lips. They were soft and languid, his thumb brushing over your flushed cheek. The feel of his lips paired with the warmth of his arms was nearly far too comfortable and spell binding for you to want to do anything other than what you had been doing. But the excitement of your plans quickly overshadowed that in that very moment.

You break from him with another peck, his lips kiss swollen and pink, dropping to a slight frown at the action. More so when you reluctantly make your leave from his arms. “This room isn’t going to paint itself.”

“Love, it most certainly can!”

You shake your head, leaning down to kiss him once more. “Get up, Dray.”

—

With a lot of complaining and yawning on Draco’s end, you’d finally gotten him to get up and help with the promise of kisses. That always works. He’d tried to enchant his paint roller on more than one occasion but you had insisted to do it by hand, it was far more meaningful that way.

Over the course of the hours you spent, the hardwood floors had since been covered in every piece of newspaper you could find in your home, scattered haphazardly and crinkled. After the first hour, you were convinced there was more paint on yourselves, on anything other than where it should be. Countless spells were used when it inevitably seeped through the paper beneath your feet and smeared over the floor. The record in the player Draco had pulled in the room had spun every song on it at least two times over, and a good thirty minutes had been lost when Draco had taken you by the hand for just one dance, as he put it. One turned to two, and two turned to three with the addition of a myriad of paint smudged kisses pressed on flushed skin and breathless laughter.

The room now smelled of fresh paint and the chilly spring breeze that had filtered in through the open window. Nearly the entirety of the four walls were painted a soft sage green, as well as the splotches smeared across Draco’s cheek in payback for the ones on yours.

You swept the paint across the last bare patch of the wall, turning to Draco with a beaming smile as you set the brush down in the tray.

“What do you think?” You ask with a triumphant yet defeated sigh, twirling in the near empty room with open arms.

You hadn’t twirled so much as twice before his hand grabbed a hold yours, tugging you close to him. He had yet to change from his pajamas, miscellaneous smudges of green mingling with the pale freckles smattering sparsely across his chest.

“I don’t think it’s quite green enough,” he says, brushing your hair behind your ear with a playful smirk. “Not the right shade.”

You roll your eyes and turn away from his touch, fighting to stifle your laughter and contain your smile. But the moment you looked at him again, at the softening smile gracing his lips and the hair falling down in his eyes, you knew you couldn’t possibly refrain. “You’re terrible sometimes, you know that?”

He dips down and presses his lips to yours, soft and tender as his laugh puffs against your skin.

“I do know that,” he starts, fingertips trailing down your arms before interlocking with your own. A softer smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as his blue gaze bounced around the room. “It’s perfect.”

It truly is. It may have just been a simple matter of painting four walls of a spare room a color that you’d been dreaming of since the day you’d moved in. It may have been a simple moment on a lazy Sunday morning. But it was perfect and something he never thought he’d be fortunate enough to have.

He knows he wasn’t the best person, he knows he wasn’t even remotely so as a child and the teenager he once was. He knows he’s not even the best person now either, not with the memories still taunting and weighing heavily on him. What he also knows is that he hadn’t followed in his father’s footsteps, nor had he done what was expected of the only Malfoy heir. There were no intentions of living in the Manor and throwing fancy soirées, no desire to live within a larger than necessary estate composed of the same gray walls and dust covered shelves, sparsely decorated with expensive furniture and paintings. As much as Narcissa wanted him to continue on the family inheritance, and as much as he loved her dearly—he did not want that for himself.

Now, he’s got a wonderfully sweet cottage tucked away in a neighborhood where no two homes are the same. He lives in a home where every room is painted a different color that didn’t necessarily match from one to the next, where every room feels cozier than the last. He lives in a home that feels lived in, that radiates a kind of warmth and love he could have only ever dreamed of his entire life. One that houses a culmination of each of the things that matter the most to the both of you.

He lives with the love of his life, someone who he felt he didn’t deserve the affections of but received them regardless. He lives a life of matching coffee mugs and 2 am slow dances to a melody unheard. With bookshelves lined with shared tastes in literature crammed together and the occasional picture frame with the two of you captured within it. In a home surrounded by untamed wildflowers and borderline unkempt lawns with deep maroon shutters by each little window. All of it encompassed by a matching wooden fence with an iron latch, the numbers of your address engraved in an old metal slab.

His parents might have frowned upon his choice in living arrangements in noticeable comparison to the luxury of their own, but he no longer cared about their opinion. It was merely that; an opinion.

“What are you thinking of?” You ask after a little while, your voice pulling him back to the current moment as you brushed the platinum strands away from his eyes.

His gaze shifts to you, smile soft and beaming as the breeze sweeping into the open window sifts through your hair. As the late afternoon sunshine glimmers across your skin. "Stay here with me. For the rest of our lives. Stay with me.”

He watched as your expression filled with a delighted confusion, one so adorably curious he wanted nothing more than to kiss you for the rest of the day. You laugh softly, smile bright and eyes sparkling as you took in the loving sincerity of his words spoken so freely, so meaningfully. What he hadn’t known, however, was the butterflies fluttering around relentlessly in your stomach and the racing of your heart. You had known of such things already, but to hear them spoken was something else entirely.

“Painting our spare room really has made you sentimental, hasn’t it?” You jest, your squeal ringing out when he lifts you in his arms and twirls you in retaliation.

Your hands settle on his shoulders as your laughter fills the room, his lips pressing to the column of your throat. He knew you’d say something along those lines, he absolutely knew it. He sets you down but keeps you just as close, his lips continuing to press upon your neck as you continue to giggle at his mercy. He moves to your cheek and bumps his nose against yours, foreheads resting on one another as your dwindling laughter mingles in the space.

“I mean it, darling,” he murmurs, pulling back to look at your expression fully. He looked at you carefully in the close proximity, hopeful of your answer as his heart beat wildly in his chest.

It was then that the corner of your mouth quirks up into a grin. You bring your arms up to rest on his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the very tip of his nose. “For the rest of our lives,” you repeat softly with a widening smile, just to hear how it sounds. “I quite like the idea of that.”

He huffs out a breathy laugh, kissing you again and again, his arms tightening around you as he engulfs you in his embrace so much so he nearly lifts you off your feet once more. But soon there was muffled laughter and a gasp, your gazes traveling to the floor as you’re met with adorably large blue eyes and ever so sweet purring. Ivory.

Her once clean paws were doused in paint after walking freely through the tray without a care for much else, tracking it across the newspaper set across the floor, perfectly tiny paws pressed upon your feet in little sage-colored prints as she walked on you both. You sigh as you bend down and scoop her up, a delighted meow escaping her at the attention she was aiming to receive. It was immediate that she nudged Draco’s nose rather roughly, the action aggressively affectionate as she stood her front paws on his chest. He scrunched his nose at your laughter of the footprints left behind on his skin.

“You’re terrible, you know that?” He says lightheartedly to the feline, using your earlier words as he scratched under her chin. She responded with another nudge, whiskers brushing over his lips.

He smiled fondly, one that was soft and true.

“I love you,” he murmured, his eyes shifting to you once you set her down, a gust of the spring breeze blowing his hair back in his eyes, a shimmering blonde in the sunlight. “I love you in every possible way.”

You smile, cheeks staining a soft pink as your arms wrap around his neck once more. “And I love you,” you whisper, leaning on your toes to kiss him, gentle and sweet. “In every possible way.”

Draco Malfoy lived a life entirely decided by himself for once, and he was destined to make better of it than it once was. He was perfectly content with the one he made for himself now; one with the love of his entire life and the precious little kitty he’s come to love. The three of you stood there, enjoying the simplicity of just merely basking in each other’s company.

He found himself excited to decorate yet another room with your things and his combined. It was more than just a spare room; it was a piece of your home, of a life your own.

—

Tags: @theweasleysredhair @anchoeritic @hahee154hq @amourtentiaa @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime @lunalovecroft

#draco malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco x you #draco fluff

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ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff · 4 years ago

Text

Valentines Day for Nerds (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Spencer’s favourite holiday is often taken up mostly by work, but this year his enjoyment doesn’t seem to be as disruptive in the BAU bullpen. The team soon realise why.

AN: It’s a bit late- who am I kidding? IT’S ALWAYS HALLOWEEN IN OUR HEARTS! This was a part of @imagining-in-the-margins fic swap, for the brilliant @agntprentiss <3

For my smut fic from the swap, check out A Little Indulgence (18+ only!)

Reader uses she/her pronouns!

Word count: 1.7k words

Gif credit to @imagining-in-the-margins <3

Your name: submit What is this?

The first breach of boredom was Penelope practically skipping into the bullpen, her arms cradling a bouquet of flowers as if it were an infant. The bold orange roses contrasted with the dyed black petals of its counterparts as they were planted upon Spencer’s desk.

“Delivery for Doctor Reid!” trilled Penelope, clapping her hands now that they were free of said delivery. Dropping his pen onto his unfinished paperwork, Spencer pivoted the base of the bouquet before he found a small black envelope.

It held a little card with two pumpkins, happy faces carved into them both. Inside were the following words:

Black is for new beginnings,

Orange is for enthusiasm,

Spooky times are afoot tonight,

Watch out for ectoplasm!

I spent ten minutes trying to think of a rhyme for that. Happy Halloween, Cara Mia!

Y/N xxx

Spencer beamed as he placed the bouquet at the edge of his desk, next to the fake severed hand that now held the card in its stiff fingers. He scratched his bristly cheek. Less than a day until he could shave this off. It’d be worth it though.

“Is it from Y/N?”

He looked up to see Penelope had lingered like a lost spirit, waiting to see if her trials of passing on the bouquet had been worthy enough for her to move onto the next world – her Batcave. She was poised with a hopeful expression.

“Yes,” Spencer said, watching Penelope lean up on her tiptoes as she tried to rein in her delight.

She clapped her hands, her purple painted nails clicking as they tapped together, “Are my two favourite ghost hunters up to much this Hallow’s Eve?”

“We’re going to see the Phantasmagoria re-enactment after we go trick-or-treating with Henry tonight.”

It was hard to ignore the absolute glee with which Spencer spoke. Even if one completely ignored the way his voice carried a light excitement, the way his eyes lit up and his broad smile almost fell off his face was enough to connote that he was very excited for tonight. It was also hard to ignore the mild bemusement on the faces of everyone who heard.

Glad to be back and bearing witness to his elated behaviour regardless, Emily cracked a smile, “Maybe she’ll cling to you when she gets scared.”

A heat crawled up Spencer’s neck and he tried to return to work now in hopes that his gift’s display would be cut off. He’d rather sit in the glow of receiving the flowers without mockery.

To the team’s credit, no one ribbed him for it.

The flowers were not the last gift though.

Soon Penelope reappeared, “Your Cupid has returned with another gift for you!”

As he tore at the paper and revealed an Edgar Allen Poe pin – the titular Raven he instantly attached it to his satchel strap – in pride of place, just like the bouquet.

Derek was the one to notice how Spencer’s sandwiches had been cut into little pumpkins. Some digging and Spencer revealed that he had gotten Y/N to order a cutter online. He held his lunch in one hand, his collection of classic Halloween short stories in the other, with a childish glee that no one wanted to squander.

When Spencer climbed the steps to drop off a file to Hotch around mid-afternoon, Rossi walking behind him noted the brand-new socks. A classic odd pairing, and obviously they were Halloween themed. This kid left no opportunity untaken when it came to celebrating Halloween – more than his own birthday.

But Rossi was not closed enough to get a good look at them, and no one else was as close. So, he recruited Emily and Derek to discover what the pattern was. It was Emily and Derek who upped the stakes by wanting to get a glimpse without arousing suspicion. Now that outright asking Spencer was not an option, the game began as they dropped several pens as an excuse to bend over and strain for a flash of those socks.

Derek eventually resorted to a pantomime attempt at tripping in front of Spencer’s desk and gave the jig up straight away by shouting to a stressed Emily (whilst also catching the attention of Hotch through his office’s blinds): “IT’S IT!”

A few language barriers hurdled later, and hindsight brought them both clarity. The red splodge on Spencer’s ankle was officially defined as a balloon.

“So tell us! What’s the other one?” Emily said, her voice strained with how much she was invested in this single sock.

Spencer hiked up his trouser leg to display the skeletal zombie sewn into the sock. “It’s Curtis Danko from When Good Ghouls Go Bad. Y/N had it commissioned for me!”

JJ was watching nearby, unaffected by the tensions of the sock bet. She knew the film because Y/N had wanted to show it to Henry the other week when she babysat him. But upon further inspection, the R.L. Stine film – while intended for kids – might be a little intimidating for Henry to watch without his profiler mother and godfather, police officer father, and favourite auntie there to protect him from the cursed statue.

No one else in the bullpen knew the film.

The team soon discovered that Spencer was not the only one to be on the receiving end of such gifts. Six o’clock rolled around and Y/N entered the bullpen. She was wearing a fuzzy black scarf, some sparkles shining within the wool. At the tail of it, a lucky black cat patch was sewn onto the end. It caught Rossi’s eye and he hid behind a folder as he smiled. The three times that Spencer had forgone a card game with him (in favour of knitting the scarf on the flights back from cases) had been riddled with playful teasing. It was good to see that it was worth it.

Especially when Spencer saw Y/N wearing it and his back snapped straight up. His chair flew backwards, spinning around with the effort that Spencer had launched himself from it, and he and Y/N embraced each other with casual affection.

“How was work today?”

“Not as boring as I thought. But, I have to say: I’m meant to call you Cara Mia.” Spencer’s eyes darted to the card Y/N had sent that morning.

Y/N caught onto his meaning, “Should I stop?”

“Never.”

She rubbed her nose against his and Spencer went pink again, giggling like a teenager. True, he was as smitten with Y/N as Gomez was with Morticia. Then he remembered he was in the workplace as Y/N went to greet the rest of the team, and Spencer’s pink became a scarlet.

“Aww, Pretty Boy,” Derek grinned at him from his desk chair, “You’re so cute!”

“It’s like Sergio!” Emily said, admiring the scarf with her thumb rubbing over the stitches around the cat patch.

“Make sure he’s safe tonight,” Y/N squeezed her hands for a second.

Then JJ appeared from her office, coat and bag over her arm, and she, Y/N, and Spencer wished the bullpen a Happy Halloween before they left.

They had three hours before the Phantasmagoria started. Plenty of time to get ready.

Henry was right behind the front door of his home. The second it opened, he bounced at Spencer’s feet, his tiny hand clutching onto two of his fingers to drag him inside. He was babbling away at such speed that Y/N could barely keep up. She gave Will a wave across the ironing board where he was diligently ironing Will’s cape.

“Well don’t you look handsome!” Y/N beamed at Henry while JJ combed his hair back, slick with gel. It was something he agreed to but only if Spencer was doing the same. Which he was, occupying the downstairs bathroom as he prepared his own costume.

The moment Spencer had finished shaving everything bar the moustache, he was plonked in front of the television. Henry smoothed out his cloak and put in his plastic fangs in to watch the rest of his new favourite Halloween film, The Little Vampire. He mumbled along with Rudolph’s lines and sat enraptured as he pointed out to Spencer the flying scenes. Luckily for him, Will and JJ were getting dressed as Frederick and Freda Sackville-Bagg upstairs to join in the Halloween spirit – last year’s Halloween date night disaster long forgotten.

Henry put in his plastic fangs and hissed at Y/N who emerged in her long sleek black dress. As she stepped across the room as elegantly as Morticia, Spence spied that she was wearing the black spiderweb tights he had bought her today.

“Hello, Gomez,” She smiled radiantly at Spencer, smoothing out his suit jacket as he stood before her. He presented her with a red rose that matched her lipstick to a tee.

As she breathed in the flower’s scent, he kissed her cheek, enjoying her giggle at the bristle of his ‘stache, “You’re stunning.”

“Thank you, and you’re handsome as ever.” She swung their linked hands between them in the opposite way she poised on her tiptoes. “Maybe we should have taken a tango class.”

And she laughed loudly at Spencer’s wincing at such a thought.

“It’s ok, Cara Mia. I’ll settle for a kiss instead.”

Oh, that was something he could do forever. He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles then the inside of each wrist.

Unfortunately, Henry interrupted the stream of kisses that were headed in Y/N’s way. “Ready to go!” He skipped his way between the happy couple.

It was hard to be mad at Henry, especially with how adorable he looked beside his parents and with his bright orange pumpkin bag ready to collect candy. He felt safe with his four favourite adults guarding him.

“Tonight,” Y/N whispered into his ear and he could hear the smirk in her words, “After the Phantasmagoria.”

Spencer beamed, his dimples delightfully framing that smile. One day maybe, they would have their own Wednesday, Pugsley, and Pubert to join them. And maybe then Derek would dress up as Uncle Fester.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds x reader #my writing #fic swap #r: female #wc: 1k+

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baronesscmd · 4 years ago

Text

@anubis-005 has graciously allowed me to continue writing her sinfully delightful Nene’s Inferno Au, so I bring you the next installment. I hope you enjoy, and thank you. And go check out all her artwork; its absolutely amazing and deserves all the love!

AH! DISCLAIMER! CONTAINS SCENES OF SEXUAL INNUENDO/REFERENCES/SITUATIONS!

He dropped himself to the ground, pulling her flush against him. One hand curled around her arm as the other caught her chin, bringing her gaze directly to the smoldering golden stare that was attempting to burn her alive.

Nene's face flushed as he leaned in, tongue flicking over the sharp fangs in his mouth as he tipped his head so the heat of his words brushed against her lips.

"You won't be needing those clothes."

“EXCUSE ME?!!”

Nene felt her pulse stutter and pick up double-time as the demon leaned closer, claws pricking at the soft curve of her cheeks as her whole body burned from his implications. She tried to push away, tried to get as much space between her and the demon before her; he wasn’t having it. The hand on her arm slid around her waist, pinning her tight against his chest as he smirked.

“Oh yes, my sweet little Angel; that uniform just has to go.”

She felt those claws curl into her sash and tug, and before she could even make a sound, before she could try and push herself away; he moved. His hand slid from her waist to cup her bottom and squeeze, and she shrieked as he hauled her up and over his shoulder.

He spun on his heel, whistling as he headed deeper into the maze as she tried to get loose. Nene beat her fists against his back and kicked her legs, trying to ignore the sharp curve of his shoulder as it pressed into her belly.

Harder to ignore was the hand hooked around her knees, and the thumb that was making tiny circles against her thigh. Worse than that though, was the hand still on her butt. She struggled harder, flushing as he patted the soft curve of her cheeks.

"PUT ME DOWN! AND DONT TOUCH ME!"

Nene let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a scream as the demon chucked, pinching her as he nipped at her hip through the fabric of her dress.

"My my, aren't you a feisty one! You'll be great fun. I can already tell. But you have to behave, my Angel, or your new Master will punish you.

"And while I can guarantee you will not enjoy it, I shall have a delightful time."

She continued to struggle against him until the band around her finger began to burn. She yelped and folded, her chin bouncing into his back as she curled her hands together.

It hurt, more than anything she had ever experienced. Like something was trying to claw at her soul, to tear her open and lay her bare. She watched through her tears as the demon's tail looped around her wrists, and as suddenly as the pain had come on, it vanished.

"Ah, fun little bit about that Bond, my Angel."

She stiffened in his grasp as he drew a claw down her thigh before his fingers crept back up to pinch her.

"You cannot disobey me."

Cold stole through Nene's limbs and she went still and silent. The demon laughed, the echo of it reverberating through her own chest in a hollow imitation of joy. The tail squeezed her wrists, and she swallowed back her tears.

Beneath them, the grassy maze gave way to cobblestones, and she planted her hands against the small of his back as he spun around.

"Welcome to your new home, Angel."

Nene lifted her head, biting back a gasp at the palace before her; she had not expected something so elegant of a design in Hell. It rose from a tangle of wild roses like a crouching beast, sweeping up into the skyline like nothing she had seen.

In Heaven, the buildings had been white, and gold and silver-toned. It had felt like walking through a dream, with open shutters and friendly hellos as she passed. This was quite the opposite.

This was a nightmare of brick, wood, bone, and glass. Shadows hung from the twisted black iron of the balconies like discarded clothes, the stained glass depicting demons in different throes of lust.

Ivy twisted it's way up the cracks of the black stones, twisting around marble statues carved in obscene positions. She averted her eyes as they passed a set of skeletons, entwined together, forever frozen in the moment of completion.

And the arch of the grand doorway, before the demon carrying her turned on his heel to march her under it, was carved in stark white bone with the twisted limbs and slack faces of those who had given in to the Sin of Lust.

The inside was as hauntingly beautiful as the exterior, with dark walls and black marble floors. Golden lamps spilled light in fleeting puddles, and Nene saw more than one alcove with the entwined forms of sated bodies.

He hauled her through the dining hall, whispers rising as the few demons who happened to be awake caught sight of them. Painted mouths disappeared behind razor-tipped nails as she knew they began to gossip, and more than one pair of hungry, hooded eyes raked over her form, leaving her feeling filthy.

Nene tried to remember the twists and turns he took so she could attempt an escape, but when they passed the same low table with a couple half-concealed beneath it again, she knew he had purposely misled her.

Each path was more confusing than the last, some with high, vaulted ceilings that the light could not illuminate, and others with low curving beams that pulled the shadows close enough to touch.

And the paintings! Nene could look nowhere and find a patch of wall that was not hung with obscenities. Even what she assumed were flowers, painted in soft brush strokes, resembled a part of her own anatomy that the demon's hand was much too close to.

He took them down a long hallway, the doors at the beginning doing little to conceal the moans and cries of the pleasure-seekers within. She flushed and tried to raise her hands to cover her ears to block out the sounds, but the tail held her fast.

They turned again, and this hallway was silent but for the echo of his footsteps. His hand stroked from the curve of her waist to the back of her knee before he kicked a door open.

Nene watched with increasing panic as the heavy wooden doors fell shut behind them, lock sliding into place as her heart sank. She was trapped, completely and utterly.

She had no time to admire the room, richly decorated in swathes of black and red satin as the demon fisted his hand in the back of her dress and dumped her onto a bed.

It took her a second, as she was consumed by tangled scarlet silk and plush pillows as dark as a raven's wing, that she was not in just any bedroom, tumbled onto a sinfully soft bed.

Nene was sprawled across the sheets in the bed that belonged to the Lord of Lust, locked in this den of depravity and debauchery.

She watched with horror as he set a knee to the bed and dragged her closer, pinning her beneath his lithe form as she tried to get away, even though she knew it was useless. His mouth nipped at her throat, tongue sliding up her skin before he sucked a bruise into the tender flesh as he groaned.

"You taste like innocence and divinity. And I am going to enjoy corrupting you."

He shoved her knees apart and settled against her, and before he could side his hand from her waist to her breast or between her legs, Nene threw her arms against his chest with a cry.

She wasn't sure who was more surprised as he was tossed back, his black eyes lightening to amber as they both watched the pale gold band form around his tail. She scrambled from beneath him, not getting far before he hooked his hand around her chubby ankle.

He didn’t draw her back to him, which she found odd, but he seemed more preoccupied with the sharp flicks he made to try and fling the ring off. The swing of it was rather hypnotic, and Nene gasped as his claws bit into her skin as he yanked her down the bed.

She drew her knees up as he loomed over her, and she watched as his eyes flickered rapidly over her face, as if there was something hidden in her own gaze that would explain what had happened. His mouth split into a wicked smile and he hauled her up, locking one arm around her as she thrashed in his hold as he snapped his fingers.

Seconds later, three scantily clad demonesses hurried through the door, all wearing the same outfit of a black and white maids uniform, and dipped into deep curtsies. Nene paled as he shoved her forward; the tallest demoness, who had ripped the front of her blouse so that her very generous bust could be seen through the heart shape, caught her by the arm before she could hit the floor.

“Dress our little Angel in her new uniform; she’ll be joining you in your duties starting today.”

Nene whipped her head around as another of the demoness’ hurried away, the ruffles of her dress barely touching the top of her thighs. He couldn’t really mean to put her in something so revealing, but the sly smile as their eyes met showed that he absolutely did.

She shrieked as the demons pulled at her uniform, trying to bat their hands away to no avail. The taller one unsnapped the buttons on her collar as the other pulled her sash free, and she could do nothing as the third came back with her arms full of fabric.

They stripped her quickly and efficiently, though their touch lingered on her skin like a burn. She clung to her thin shift as they tried to pull it off, even as they knocked her off balance to remove her sandals. They couldn’t take her shift, she’d be naked; no one had ever seen her naked. The demoness caught her hands in a bruising grip and bunched the fabric in her free hand.

“Let her keep it.”

They all froze, turning to the Demon Lord reclining on his bed. His grin was as filthy as it was seductive, and Nene tried to draw her hands down to cover herself as his eyes raked over her, his tail flicking lazily against his thigh. She may as well have been completely bare before him with the way his gaze smoldered.

“Yes, M’Lord.”

She didn’t struggle as they pulled the fabric over her head and harshly tugged her braids free of the collar, didn’t comment as they shoved her into the neat black shoes, muffled a gasp as they tied the bow of her apron with enough force to nearly drive the air from her lungs.

The demons hurried out as he snapped his fingers, one poking back in briefly to drop a mop, broom, and bucket inside the door with a cruel grin before it closed behind her. Nene kept her eyes shut as he crossed the room and curled his hands around her hips.

There was nothing she could do as he twisted her from side to side and then turned her, trailing his claws across her belly as he pressed his face into her hair. She could feel the curve of his smile against the shell of her ear before he pulled away.

“You might as well look, my little Angel. You’ll be seeing yourself in it for the foreseeable future. Unless you’d like to clean in the nude.”

Nene snapped her eyes open as heat flooded her cheeks, and was surprised to find herself in a uniform that, while still inappropriate, covered much more than she was expecting. The puffed black sleeves left her arms bare, and the dark ruffles of her skirt at least came to her knees. It was actually cute, with the frilled overskirt and pink and white heart over her chest.

“By the grace of providence we had one in your size.”

She glared at him as he chuckled as he floated behind her, magicing the bucket, mop, and broom into her hands. Providence, as if; more like limitless lechery, she thought as he adjusted her headband. She truly was stuck here, this wasn’t just an elaborate nightmare.

Nene jumped with a scream as his hand smacked her bottom, cleaning supplies flying as he caught her up in his arms. That damned tail wound around her leg as if it had a mind of its own as he pinned her hands to his chest so he could twirl the ring around her finger.

“And, my little Angel; a few more things.”

He bent her nearly backward as he slid his knee between her own, the tension in her spine the only thing keeping her from sprawling back over the bed. The ring on her finger seemed to burn with the same intensity as the one tapping against her thigh.

“You will be my personal attendant; you will wake me, bring me meals if I do not dine in the hall. When I do dine in the hall, you shall serve me. Ah ah, I’m not finished,” his finger pressed against her lips to silence her protests, “You will help me bathe, and dress, and cater to any of my whims.”

His hand slid down her back to cup her bottom and bring her hips flush to his. The hard lines of his body settled against the soft curves of her own with a familiarity that made her flush.

“And I shall allow you to keep your innocence; for now.”

The press of him to the intimate place between her thighs made her whimper and tremble, and he only smirked.

“Also, you shall address me as “My Lord” or “Master” when you speak to me; is that clear, my Angel?”

Nene dipped her head and mumbled as he shifted against her, his tail tightening around her thigh like a demonic garter.

“I didn’t hear you, Angel.”

She lifted her head, meeting those blazing eyes with her own as she curled her nails into his chest and watched him wince.

“Yes, Master.”

He dipped his head, mouth a breath from hers as he pressed their bodies closer together. Heat flooded her at every point they met, and she let her eyes flicker down to his lips worriedly.

“Good girl.”

And then he was gone.

Nene sank onto the edge of the bed as he swept his hand out and the cleaning supplies disappeared with the spilled water. He pulled open the door of his room and gestured into the hall.

“Come along, unless you wish for me to take you now.”

She shot up from the bed and hurried to the entrance, shuttering as he laid his hand on the small of her back to guide her.

“You have much to see before you help me tonight, and I don’t tolerate tardiness.”

Nene felt despair sink into her soul as he led her back down those twisting halls. There were more demons now, peeking from doorways and corners as they headed to the servants quarters. Eyes followed her every step, and the whispers hung in the air like a death sentence.

The Lord of Lust had an Angel for a plaything, and wouldn’t he have fun with her?

Her master’s hand slid lower as his tail lashed against her with every step, and she bit back her tears. This was her own fault, she had gotten herself into this mess. And she would have to be the one to get herself out. There would be no Divine Intervention to save her; the Angels did not listen to the cries that rose from Hell.

If Nene wanted to escape, she’d have to do it herself.

And @anubis-005 Thank you SOOO much for this again! It is, as always, an honor and pleasure to work with you!!! <3 :3

#Nene's Inferno Au #anubis-005 #jshk #tbhk #hananene

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scripts4dreamers · 4 years ago

Text

I literally JUST sat down, pt. 1

Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

AN: Nuh uh, nope. Not this again. You did not sign up for this. Characters: Spencer Reid, Penelope Garcia, Derek Morgan, Aaron Hotchner, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi. Pairings: Spencer Reid x reader Spoilers: None Warnings: Mentions of crime and violence, alcohol, eventual NSFW content

Prompt: After watching 7x07 “This episode is so scary man... Imagine just doing your job which is pretty morbid at times but oh well and then suddenly you have to go to this place where there's a lot of tornadoes and you're like well at least I'm inside and safe and then your boss is like "we gotta go right to these tornado places lol" and then you think "well that's scary but at least we have this handy dandy live map showing us exactly in real time where the tornadoes are so we'll be fine and then the internet is like "haha nope have fun dying in a tornado"

- @pirateismywayofspeaking who is a literal genius.

This will be a multichapter piece! So lemme know if you want to be tagged in subsequent chapters.

—————————-

Usually, when terrible things happen, people say the same few things: “I never thought it would happen to me! You never think something like this will happen to you until it does!”. You’d never really been that type of person. You were naturally cautious, and an ex FBI agent, you saw danger pretty much everywhere. You’d seen some of the worst things human beings could ever do to one another and, if you’d learned anything at all, it was that bad things happened everywhere and to pretty much everyone. There was nowhere that you could definitively say was safe from violent crime, but this was just ridiculous.

You looked around the ruined bookshop you’d poured the last year of your life into with a kind of detached sadness. Even before you opened the door, you could see the carnage. The shelves were upended, tables flipped, every vase in the building was smashed...except one. You sighed, stepping into the store, your eyes scanning the wreck with a practiced efficiency. No broken windows, the door was still locked when you’d arrived and your security cameras were blacked out, there were no signs of forced entry. If anything that made you more uneasy and, not for the first time since you’d left the bureau, you missed the weight of your gun against your hip. You crinkled your nose against the smell, the copper-iron of fresh blood that you were all too familiar with as you crept through your store.

“Son of a-fuck!” You swore loudly, cursing your luck as you took in the scene.

There was a body laid out in the middle of the Fiction aisle: face covered with a burlap sack, wrists and ankles bound with rope and blood seeping into the carpets you’d just had cleaned. Your training kicked in and you noticed, without meaning to, that the rest of the aisle was untouched. The shelves were upright, books in order, even the vase of white roses you’d put there the night before were all completely the way you’d left them. It was like he’d just completely bypassed the entire section.

Huh.

You looked up at the sky, “Really? Right now? You throw this at me, now? Unbelievable.”

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of your chest, along with a nervousness that you were telling yourself was irritation as you pulled out your phone. It had been a long while since you’d done this, but you still knew the number by heart.

“This is agent Jareau with the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“JJ, it’s me,” you said, “you’re not gonna believe this.”

——————————

You sat in the ruins of your store until the cops arrived, wondering who exactly you had murdered in a past life to end up with this kind of luck. You gave your statement without much incident, directing CSU to the body and alerting the detective to the abnormalities you’d spotted.

JJ had promised to get the team on the case as quickly as she could, and you knew JJ tended to get exactly what she wanted in that regard, you just didn’t know how you felt about that. It had been over a year since you’d left the BAU, since you’d done one case too many and just got fed all the way up. It really wasn’t any deeper than that. One day you’d come home and found that you couldn’t sleep. It had all just become too much, so you packed up your stuff, tendered your resignation, and started over.

It had been hard at first, but now you owned a fairly successful bookstore with a little coffee shop where you sold good coffee, and homemade biscuits. And it was nice. You felt good, kinda. You definitely slept better at night. Your life was finally starting to feel normal and now this? A dead body just happens to appear in the center of your bookstore in just weird enough a way to warrant a call to the BAU? No, you’d seen too much to consider this a coincidence. Whether you liked it or not, you were about to get thrown back into your old life head first, the life you’d worked so hard to get some distance from. So why weren’t you more...upset?

“Y/L/N?” A familiar voice called.

“In here,” you answered, your voice raspy from disuse. You cleared your throat and pushed yourself up onto your feet, “I’m in here.” You tried again.

The figures who stepped in were painfully familiar and you couldn’t help the tired smile that slid onto your face, your eyes going directly to the blonde woman walking at the very front.

“Y/N!” She greeted, her voice dripping with relief as she pulled you into a hug, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, JJ,” you assured her as you broke apart, the rest of your old team filing in behind her.

She eyed you like she wasn’t sure, pressing her lips into a thin line as she looked around the trashed store. Derek Morgan swooped in behind her, giving you a second hug.

“Long time, Y/L/N,” he smiled.

You sighed, “Wish it was under better circumstances, Morgs, but I’m glad you guys are here.”

“Y/L/N,” Aaron Hotchner greeted, giving you a firm handshake.

“Thanks for coming, Hotch, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.” You admitted.

“No, you made the right call. The BAU has officially taken on the case. Reid, Prentiss and Rossi are coordinating with the local PD from our headquarters, the rest of us are here to help,” he said, pausing and meeting your eye, silently asking the question you’d been waiting all morning for.

“No sign of forced entry,” you started, “the front door was still locked from the outside when I arrived.” You walked him through the crime scene, glass crunching beneath your feet as you went, “It looks like someone sprayed black paint over the security cameras I had installed, everything’s been smashed but there’s no cash missing from the register. In fact, they barely touched the front desk at all.” You explained, “And this,” you gestured at the Fiction aisle, “is where I found the body.”

Morgan stepped forward and, just like that, the team moved like a well oiled machine.

“White male, looks like he’s between the ages of 19 and 27.” Morgan started.

“His wrists and ankles are bound, but it doesn’t look like he struggled against his restraints at all,” you cut in, without meaning to, crouching down beside the body, “it could mean he was tied up postmortem.”

“We’ll have to wait on the M.E’s report to know for sure,” Hotch agreed, “Y/L/N, can I talk to you?” You nodded and let him pull you aside. He glanced over your shoulder and lowered his voice, “I know you’re out and we can do this investigation without you-“

“But?” You probed.

The corners of Hotch’s mouth twitched, like he wanted to smile, “But, I would also welcome your help if you’re willing to give it. The team is still a man down and, something about this scene has me thinking-“

“That whoever did this isn’t finished,” you agreed, sighing as you ran your fingers through your hair.

Everything was so messed up in your head. You just wanted to go back to bed and start this day all over again. Hotch looked at you and you recognized his brand of quiet concern. It was familiar and comforting, and it helped you process your thoughts.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” you frowned, “yeah. Yeah, sure, I’ll come back.” Hotch smiled and you wagged a finger at him, “But just for this one case! After that I’m straight back to my boring normal person life, alright?”

“Of course,” he agreed, something almost mocking in his tone.

“I’m serious, Hotch, just one more case.”

“I’m agreeing with you!” He insisted, already walking back to the rest of the group.

But he wasn’t and, much to your chagrin, you felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as you turned back to the scene of the crime.

“Hotch, Y/L/N,” Morgan called, holding something in his gloved hand, “you’re gonna want to see this.”

“Here we go again,” you sighed.

————————-

Walking back into the BAU had felt like stepping back in time. After you’d gotten everything you could from the crime scene there was nothing to do but brainstorm, but walking through those doors again...well, let’s say you hadn’t been prepared for how it would feel being back. For the most part, everyone had been glad to see you, especially Garcia, but you could tell that there were still some resentments bubbling under the surface. It made sense, the BAU survived by relying on one another, by acting like a family, and you’d left that family.

Still, there was a rhythm to this kind of work, a flow that was almost painfully easy to fall back into. You’d worked together for years after all, bouncing ideas off of one another like it was nothing and that kind of bond didn’t just go away.

“Admit it,” Derek teased, bumping your shoulder with his as you studied the evidence board, “you missed this.”

“I most certainly did not.”

“Oh you so did,” Spencer agreed, leaning against the table next to you and giving you a fond smile, “I’m sorry about the bookstore though, it was the only store in town with a proper selection of classics in their original languages.”

You shrugged, “I’ll get it up and running again soon enough, just as soon as we catch whoever did this.”

“Speaking of our UnSub, what do you think the relevance of him leaving the body in the fiction section is?” Spencer asked.

“Maybe he’s trying to say that this is some kind of fairytale?” Prentiss suggested, “Like he’s trying to draw us into his story?”

“Maybe, but this has gotta be more personal than that, right?” Morgan said, “I mean, this isn’t some body in an alley, it was dumped in an FBI agent’s coffee shop.”

“Ex agent,” you corrected.

“Sure thing, Princess,” Morgan teased.

“Why does everyone keep talking like that?” You asked.

“Because you leaving is ridiculous. You love this job,” He replied simply, “you’ve always loved this job.”

You opened your mouth to respond but, before you could, you heard the clacking of heels against the marble floor.

“Um, guys?” Garcia said, coming into the bullpen with a stormy look on her face, “we just got word from the officer who went to Y/N’s apartment.”

“And?” You asked nervously.

“They found something,”

“Another body?” Prentiss asked.

“No, weirder, a letter and what looks like a smiley face drawn on the wall in blood.” She said, pressing a button to display the new crime scene photos on the big screen.

Your heart froze in your chest.

There it was; a crude smiley face drawn right above your headboard and a crisp white envelope resting against your pillow. He’d made your bed too, some small part of your mind noted. How polite. Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest as you were hit with a mixture of panic and disgust.

“Of course,” you sighed, “of course there is. Why wouldn’t there be? It’s been that kind of day.”

“Do we know what the letter says?” Morgan asked.

Garcia nodded, “And it’s a doozy. The letter contains a poem written with letters cut out from magazines and newspapers. It reads:

Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part.

Nay, I have done, you get no more of me;

And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart,

That thus so cleanly I myself can free.

Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,

And when we meet at any time again,

Be it not seen in either of our brows

That we one jot of former love retain …”

You could feel your friends staring and you tried to keep your face as neutral as possible. Your skin felt like it was on fire, and you could hear the blood pounding in your ears as you thought of a murderer setting foot in your space; him touching your bed, running his hands over the photos on your nightstand, defiling your possessions with his presence. You’d never felt so vulnerable and exposed, and bile rose up in your stomach like your body was physically rejecting the whole thing. Distantly you heard Prentiss and Morgan discussing theories, and you felt one pair of warm brown eyes staring into the side of your head.

Suddenly, you didn’t feel like joking around anymore.

“Sorry,” you muttered, standing up and striding out of the room without looking back, “I need some air.”

You were so angry by the time you made it out into the courtyard that you’d balled your hands into fists and your breath was coming out in short little bursts. Hot tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and your chest felt painfully tight.

“Y/N?” You heard Spencer ask.

You sniffed, wiping your face quickly, “Reid, hi. Sorry, I just-“ you let out a slow breath, “I needed a break.”

He nodded like he understood, tucking his hands into his pockets as he stepped towards you. You wanted to tell him to go away, to head back inside and leave you the hell alone, but the words wouldn’t come.

It had always been like this with Spencer. No matter how hard you tried to be tough and brave and put together, he saw right through you and broke down your defenses. At one point, he’d been the closest thing to family you’d ever had, in fact you thought you might…..

Well, it didn’t matter now. Over the last year things had changed, you’d grown apart. It happened, but the fondness was still there, and the trust, and those damn eyes.

“I get it, Y/N, I can't even imagine what this whole thing must be like for you,” he said, “having your home be violated like that….and the store?” He shook his head, “I know how hard you worked setting that place up.”

Your bottom lip trembled and, for the first time that day, you let yourself feel afraid as tears slipped down your cheeks.

You shook your head, “You know, when I saw the glass all over the floor, and all the books….I just felt tired, like bone tired. I wasn’t scared of that, but now?” You paused, glancing up at Spencer, as a tear slid down your cheek, “He was in my home, Spencer. He made my bed before he left, he wrote me a letter.”

Spencer worked his jaw and hesitantly reached out, touching your shoulder gently.

“We’ll catch him, Y/N/N, we always do.” He promised.

“And until then?” You asked, “Do I just pretend it never happened? Go home and act like it’s all okay?”

“No,” another voice cut in from behind you, “you rely on us. We’ll take care of you,” Morgan explained.

“Yeah,” Garcia agreed, her big blue eyes clinging to yours, “We’ve talked about it already. You’ll take turns staying with each of us a few nights a week and then, on the weekends, we’ll all stay with Rossi to go over the case. And we’ll spend every free moment tracking this son of a bitch down for you.”

Emily nodded and, for the first time since you had opened your store that morning, you felt your chest swell with something a little like hope. You knew the BAU was special, you knew that the bonds you’d formed over the years were damn near unbreakable, but this? This was too much. Seeing your friends rally around you when you needed them most just reminded you how much you loved them, and how much they still loved you. Even now. Spencer gave your shoulder a squeeze and you smiled back at him.

“I really missed you guys,” you said with a watery laugh.

Penelope crooned and threw her arms around your neck, pulling you into a familiarly bone-crushing hug.

“We missed you too, Sugar Plum,” she promised.

“Really?”

“Hell yeah!” Morgan smiled, joining Penelope’s hug.

“You know we did,” Emily agreed, ruffling your hair and pulling herself in close.

Your eyes found Spencer where he was standing just outside of the group hug, both hands in his pockets and a sad smile on his face. You pressed your lips together and, in response, he nodded.

“We missed you,” he said softly and then, as the hug broke up and you allude your way back inside, even softer, “we still do.”

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

Taglist: @ourfavoritesergeantbarnes

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cherripeach · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 11

Little Match Maker

Summary: Your life motto is “I have the power of god and anime on my side, don’t mess with me,” and you stand by that with your life. No human, magician, or random creature could ever stop your firm belief in it.

However, getting transported to this world that seemed to turn your already bad luck worse was not what you wanted to be in your life story, but you made the most of it. Making friends, enemies, and disasters, you were in your prime in this world, and so you decided to help as many people as you could flourish, at least what you believed to be.

Chapter 1:6-8 when there's too much drama at school- all you gotta do is walk awwwaawy

Warnings: Curse words, violence

Words: 4.5k

Relationships: developing but future twstxreader

Ace dragged Grim to your seats that you picked out by the scruff of his fur on his neck and tossed the struggling cat onto your lap for you to deal with in which you could only hold him like a teddy bear.

“Don’t wanna, don’t wanna! I don’t wanna go back to boring classes!” Grim groaned while wiggling in your hold.

You squeezed the cat tighter, “Can’t help it if you are already here, huh?”

“Damn it! You’re being kinda harsh today,” Grim moaned as he tugged on your jacket by your wrists.

The teacher coughed to get the attention of you three, and he surprisingly had that attention through the rest of class, forgetting about Grim’s nap and Ace’s doodling.

Once the lunch bell had rung, the two idiots who were not at all interested in the previous lecture sprung up and leaped to begin the trek to the cafeteria. Deuce tried to not show as much enthusiasm by joining your side in your walk, but his long footsteps and quick strides told you otherwise.

The cafeteria was as polished and refined as it was before your group broke the magic chandelier last night which surprised you more than it should have because you are in a completely different dimension where most things impossible in your previous dimension are possible here like a talking cat who is too arrogant for his own good. All of this just means in your brain that you should be used to it, but you also remembered how the Headmaster mentioned how ‘magic was not all powerful.’ All of this just confused you.

Grim threw himself ahead of your group and into the cafeteria lines, “Yeah! It’s finally lunch time!!!” Grim’s eyes lit up while he was wandering around the cafeteria and studying what he knew best, food, “I see a lotta delicious stuff already.”

Your eyes found the menu above each food station and found the prices, and even if you did not understand currency in this world, it still seemed too rich for you. A sigh slipped through your lips, “As if we’ll be able to afford half of the food here anyway.”

Grim proclaimed while bouncing up and down, “A fluffy omelet! Grilled chicken and a bacon & egg tart!!”

“You’re too loud!” Ace had his ears covered while lecturing the cat, “You’re pretty energetic even at lunch time, huh!”

Grim ran back to your location and tugged on your cloak while pointing at all the food, “I wanna have some grilled chicken! Come on, there’s only one more left! Oh, and omelets, too! And bread and jam! Go get them all!” The cat ended up in a line and got a piece of grilled chicken before reporting back to your group where you decided to head for a table.

The cat, full of excitement, sprinted off in front of you only to knock into a male with a red armband and pen in his coat pocket, causing the male to stumble and Grim to fall on his butt and yelp.

“Hey, you bastard!” The male with the white hair (which you still question is real even though your friend is a literal talking cat) sneered at Grim, so you tried to calmly approach the group to see what the problem was, “My pasta’s soft-boiled egg is on the floor ‘cause you bumped into me!”

You muttered out, “You're shitting with me,” as you slowly gained on the group to join the conversation.

“Oh, man,” A male located to the right of the white haired boy wined, “The soft-boiled egg’s the best part of carbonara.” His laugh dropped when he spoke, “How’re you gonna pay for that, huh, punk!?” The male snickered at Grim.

Dude with the white hair left his plate of food on an empty table before he made a give-here motion with his hand, “Guess I’ll just have to make do with you giving me that grilled chicken you’ve got there.”

Grim wrapped his paws around the plate, “Wha–!? I don’t wanna! This chicken is mine!” He backed away from the two, only to bump into your legs.

The second male rolled his eyes and put his plate next to the first male’s plate to start approaching you and Grim, “Huh? That's not how a freshie should talk to his senior?” You pushed Grim behind your legs before the second male had made it to you, only for the male to begin yelling at the both of you, “YOU B-” Your leg shot straight to his crotch, paralyzing him while he gripped the area.

The first male threw his hands into fists near his chest and grabbed his magic pen from his pocket, “You’re asking for it, your bitch. I’ll-”

You did the same thing to the first male and kicked him in the dick.

“Sorry, not sorry. But personally, I will never respect a senior who shows no respect for me. No one deserves respect or authority. They earn it. And, in my eyes you deserve nothing from me. I am positive that you are both aware of who we are and what we have caused on our first day, and you decided to target us because we seemed ‘weak’ in your eyes. And you know what, I’m fine with being called weak. You know why?” Your side of the cafeteria was silent all listening in to your voice, “No one actually knows your strength.”

You walked up to the first boy who started this fight who was still holding his crotch while he grumbled out, “You're just a pussy.”

You chuckled, “That’s very ironic because you are in fact the actual definition of a pussy which is short for pusillanimous, meaning a scaredy cat. Your small mind wouldn’t know that, would it?”

The boy with the white hair spat at your shoes.

You nodded your head, “Get all your anger out, baby. I’ve been dying to talk to one of the prefects here, and you just happen to belong to the Hearts dorm.” You paused for a second and placed your pointer finger on your chin, “I wonder what he’ll do when I tell him how you threatened the only non-magic user of the school with magic. And I’m pretty sure using it outside of class will result in a large punishment.”

You turned away from the boys to greet the wide eyes and open mouths of your friend group.

The second male groaned, “We’ll get you. I promise.”

You rolled your eyes and did not even turn to look at the boys, “Well, my promise still stands. I’m never above tatling.” You waved to the boys while your group began to find a table, “Have a great day!”

You could feel the eyes following you to your table.

Ace moaned once you joined the group, “I missed breakfast and I’m about to pass out. Thank Seven nothing happened!”

Deuce sighed, “That was quite the predicament. To think that there would be such brutes in a prestigious magic school…”

You found the perfect table and walked to it, “Anything is possible.”

“Can you not stand up for Grim next time?” Ace frowned at you, “As much as I hate to say it, they could have started using magic. You can’t go charging in thinking you are the hero when everyone else has something you don’t here.”

You stuck out your tongue in defiance and ignored his words.

Once seated at the table, the four of you dug into your food.

Grim bit into the omelette and moaned, “The omelette is so fluffy, and the cheese is so melty~!” He shoved another bite into his mouth, “ By the by, I saw you guys’ dorm a while ago, but what do the other dorms look like?”

You swallowed your food before adding, “Yeah, dudes, your dorm was sick and suitable to live in. Wonder what the other ones are like.”

A tray was placed down next to you, “You’ve seen the statues of the Great Seven by Main Street, right? This school has seven dorms based off of them.”

You stared at the male for a quick second, finding him familiar but not having the ability to remember where he was from, “Ah wait, who are you?”

Ace waved his fork around groaning, “You’re the dude from this morning!”

Grim stood up on the bench and accused the male, “He’s the guy who tricked us into painting roses red!”

“That’s why he’s familiar…” You mumbled to yourself.

The male took a seat next to you and whistled before taking a bite of his food and announcing that he “Didn’t trick you, you know? It’s not like I wanted to do that either. I only did it ‘cause it’s the Dorm’s rules.”

“You looked so happy about it though,” Deuce uttered out while chewing on his food.

The senior waved his hand around to try and comfort his junior, “There, there, Deucey. The rules don’t matter outside the dorms so, Cate here is just your very gentle senior.” He placed his hand on top of his heart and pushed his shoulders back, and you could even see the slightest bit of sunlight coming from behind his head.

Deuce flushed red and shook his head back and forth, “Ple.. please stop calling me that, senpai!”

Another tray was sat down next to Ace, and a rather attractive man appeared with the tray. Green hair and glasses and a clover on his cheek, this male was both sort of odd for an ordinary person but compared to the rest of the people here seemed that he could blend in well.

The new male chortled at the situation, “That’s how Cater expresses his affection, you know?” and shrugged his shoulders.

Everyone’s brain at the table besides Cater’s buffered.

So Ace, with an eyebrow raised and a spoon with some food on it also raised, asked the dying question, “Wait…” Ace tilted his head, “Who are you?”

The male sat down and rubbed the back of his neck, “Oops, my bad. . My name’s Trey, Trey Clover. I’m a Heartslabyul 3rd year alongside Cater.” He stated, pointing toward the other male.

The four of your group nodded slowly before the male turned to you, “ And you...you’re from the Ramshackle… um.” He paused and coughed a bit before continuing, “The new student who’s currently residing in the unused dorm, correct?”

“You can call it Ramshackle or whatever. Believe me it has several health code violations and is just not somewhere I would choose to live.” You sighed out, “But when one doesn’t have a choice it is best to make do with what they have.”

Ace just frowned at you, “Wow... smooth words.” He rolled his eyes after.

Trey ignored your side conversation and just awkwardly chucked, “I heard all about it from Cater. Sorry for the trouble our doommates caused you yesterday.”

Ace broke out into an offended look at the male and shifted closer to Deuce, “He’s just casually sitting next to me..”

Cater grinned at the three, “Come on! We’re in the same school, so we should get along! Give me your number!”

You inquired to Cater about what he just said, “Wait, wait, wait. You have phones here! And so now the only thing that could keep me sane and connected to the real world that I would normally have is here, but I can’t have it because it’s too expensive? Damn I need a raise.”

“Oh?” Cater bounced in his seat, “Oh, so you do have a number? Are you the type to not upload many pictures? Tell me your username!” Cater whipped out his phone and held it up waiting for you to start. When you didn’t, his face slowly moved closer to yours until you had to start backing away.

Trey sighed, “Cater, the newbie’s backing away. Keep it to a minimum.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Cater put his phone away and waved his hands around.

You scooted back to your spot muttering, “It’s okay.”

“So, you guys were askin’ about the dorms? That’s nice! A fresh convo!” Carter hoped back into a new conversation.

Ace looked up from his food, “ I wanna know about our Dorm first and foremost. What the heck is that Rule Number something of something of the Queen of Hearts?”

You could only imagine what Ace was feeling for only being in the dorm for one day and already being kicked out for rules that he knew nothing of, “Yeah, it seems kinda of counterproductive, those rules.”

Trey explained to your group, “I’m sure you’re all familiar with the legendary Queen of Hearts, right? In order to establish absolute law and order, she made severe rules in order to oppress the eccentric citizens of Wonderland.”

Cater added, “And out of respect for the Queen of Hearts, our Heartslabyul Dorm wears red and black in order to represent the dress she wore. And it’s part of our traditions to adhere to the Queen of Hearts’ rules.” He shoved more of his food into his mouth and grabbed his phone out of his pocket to check it.

Grim exclaimed, “Sounds rough!”

“Adhering to the rules is the present Prefect’s whims.” Cater checked his phone again, “The previous one was kinda chill about it.”

Nodding, Trey agreed, “Compared to the other Prefects, Riddle is just a little bit more serious. That’s why he’s trying so hard to keep the traditions.”

“Ugh… How annoying..” Ace hissed out.

Grim tapped his paw to his chin, “Hey, what kinda places are the other dorms?”

“Again, I’m still curious.” Thinking about the style of the first dorm, you could only imagine how planned out the other dorms are.

Your kindhearted green haired upperclassman started to tell you the details of the dorms, “Just like Cater said a while ago, this school has seven dorms dedicated to the Great Seven.”

Your mind flashed to the seven statues at the front of the school you had to take care of on the first day of classes, “Those statues in the front?”

Trey nodded, “Yep, those are the Great Seven. I’m surprised you didn’t know.”

“Eh, I guess I just forgot,” You did not want any odd attention to be on you, so you tried and continued the conversation, “But they are all related to a specific dorm?”

“Yes. First, we have our dorm that’s grounded on following the Queen of Hearts’ Laws with our entire being: Heartslabyul Dorm.”

The Queen of Hearts were not laws that you wanted to follow, but you were still very curious about why people would commit themselves to it.

“Savanaclaw that’s grounded on the fortitude of the King of Beasts.”

Scar if you could remember correctly. And another dorm that you couldn’t understand why they would follow that leader, but whatever.

“After that, we have Octavinelle that was founded on the Sea Witch’s benevolence.”

Benevolence is not what you would call it; there had to be a mistake in the story.

“And then we have Scarabia that was formed from the careful planning of the Sorcerer of the Desert.”

A pedophile, of all people?? Jafar should not be considered anything near a great person.

“Pomefiore, the house grounded on the magnanimous efforts of the Beautiful Queen”

Okay, but like she kinda cute; while we don’t condone actions… Of course, her name being ‘Beautiful’ trips you up, but all of this is an issue for later.

“Then there’s Ignihyde whose foundations lie on the perseverance of the King of the Underworld.”

Going off the Disney movie, yes, he was the villain. But going off of Greek Mythology. Never. Never.

“Lastly, we have Diasomnia that was founded on the gracefulness of the Queen of Thorns.”

She kinda cursed a child, but we all have our petty days.

“There wouldn’t happen to be a book in the library about them. Would there? I would like to refresh my memories on them.” As much reading as you did in the past, you knew this had to happen. Your only chance to figure out anything in this world was in that library.

“Of course,” Your new upperclassman was the kindest, “I can show you if you would like.”

Grim brings you two back to the other conversation with his announcement, “All of their names are friggin’ long! I can’t remember all of that!”

Giggling into his hand, Cater winked at Grim, “That’s completely okay. You’ll remember them even if you don’t want to.”

Trey continued, “Just like you’ve witnessed during the ceremony, the Mirror of Darkness decides

what Dorm you’ll belong to after looking into your soul. I guess you could say that the dorms really reflect the student’s character.”

“That’s true.” Cater agreed, “I totally get it!”

Deuce could not agree, “Character?”

You snapped your fingers, “Like personality and maybe like talents?”

Trey guided your group’s attention to the wolf boy you met in PE, “For example… Look over there.”

“That’s the guy who wasn’t dying after the torture session in PE,” You pointed out.

“Judging by appearance, he looks like he’s from Savanaclaw.” Trey concluded.

Cater now had his phone in his hand and was scrolling through something before looking up to join the conversation, “Totes! They look like a dorm that’s got a lot of athletes and guys that’re good at scuffles! They’re pretty brawny? Or I guess you could say, they’re all pretty buff? Either way, Savanaclaw’s colors are yellow and black.”

Grim signaled to a male with a beauty mark on his chin and silver-blue hair and glasses, “Oh~ Then what about that one with the gray and uh… Light purple on their sleeves?”

(Seemed like a little pretty boy was your only thought about the glasses male)

Trey replied, “He’s from Octavinelle. The two sitting on the table beside him with the dark-red and gold colors are from Scarabia.” The table he was talking about held one person who you are positive you have seen before and another taller boy who just gave you a bad vibe.

“It’s been said that both are dorms full of smart people,” Cater added, “When it comes to written tests, nothing can beat those two. Ah, but Scarabia’s Prefect’s only so-so when it comes to studying.”

Ace huffed, “Alright, I sense a red flag here.”

You bet, “Yeah, as if. If anything I wouldn’t think that test scores are the only factor of a prefect.”

“You adapt pretty quickly, huh, Ace. You not so much,” The male sighed at you.

“That was rude.” You huffed and ate more of your food, and then, mumbling, “It’s not like I know shit about this world.”

Trey rolled his eyes to look up and puffed out, “Going back to the topic, those bright and sparkling ones over there are from Pomefiore. Their colors are purple and red.”

Grim bursted out, “Wha–!! There’s a really cute girl over there!”

You smacked the back of Grim’s head and scolded him, “Hey, don’t assume anything about them.”

“Eh!?” Deuce questioned, “Even though this is an all-boys’ school!?”

“Idiot.” Ace mocked, “As if they’d let a girl pass the sorting ceremony of an all-boys’ school.”

While Grim and Deuce were freaking out, you turned to Trey and Cater and asked, “I’m assuming gender expression is all over? What are your pronouns?”

Cater seemed delighted to be asked and replied with a simple, “That is true. Oh, he/him is fine, but I’d rather you’d call my cell.” With a wink at the end.

Trey responded, “Same as him, besides the last part. Though I don’t think many people here ask that even if the expressions are all over the spectrum.”

“Just wanted to make this a safe place,” You didn’t really know much about this world. Like maybe it was more acceptable here? Or it could be the opposite…

Cater nudged Ace and those two began a talk about a portrait in the school. It seemed to be some of the only girl contact some of these boys got.

After Ace gagged in his throat, Cater waved his hands and turned back to the group, “It doesn’t matter, does it? Well, in any case, Pomefiore’s full of pretty faces who take their beauty routines very seriously. Their Prefect’s a pretty famous influencer who’s got over 5 million followers.” Cater boasted while holding up five fingers.

Trey shook his head, “ Don’t judge them based on face value alone. Pomefiore’s got a lot of students who excel at alchemy and charms.”

“If I knew what that was a little more than I know now I feel like I would be more impressed.” You guessed, but with your luck anything could happen. It did remind you of the Evil Queen though.

Cater chuckled into his hand and threw up a thumbs-up, “That’s right!” He, then, directed everyone’s attention to look at the cafeteria, but he could never direct everyone’s attention to a specific person, “Then, there’s Ignihyde, and they wear blue and black, but… I don’t see them around anywhere.” All of the group’s attention was given back to Cater since there was not a single student, “The students from that dorm are all sorta private, so I don’t have friends there either. I guess you could call them the complete opposite of Heartslabyul.”

Grim slumped and dragged his food into his mouth, “You mean, they’re pretty gloomy?”

Trey scolded, “Hey, now! Don’t be rude. Though, it’s true that they all seem pretty behaved and quiet. They’ve got a lot of members who have great magical energy and they’re pretty techy, too.”

It made you think about all the technology in this world and how different it was definitely going to be in this world.

Deuce inquired, “Then there’s… Diasomething Dorm, correct?”

You nodded, “Dia-what-ya-call-it.”

“Stop acting like you got it right.” Ace puffed out his chest, “It’s Diasomnia, got it?”

Deuce sputtered, “I just bit my tongue.”

Cater pointed, “Diasomnia is… Oh, there.” There was a table full of odd balls from what you can tell, “The guys who are sitting by the cafeteria’s exclusive tables.Their colors are light-green and black. They’re kinda—How do I put it? Super popular?They’ve got an aura that makes it hard for us commoners to approach them. Their Prefect is super difficult to grasp.”

“Difficult to grasp,” You titled your head, “What the fuck does that mean?”

Ace shoved your shoulder, “Shut up and look. They’ve got a kid with them.” He pointed toward a young looking male with black and pink hair. He really reminded you of a pretty boy from anime.

“I bet you ten bucks he’s one of the oldest ones here. And besides I really don't think we should be judging by appearances at this place of all places.” You pointed to Grim who had so much food shoved in his mouth he looked like a chipmunk, “we lit have a cat.”

Trey sighed, “Grade-skipping is allowed here, so that’s possible. But, he’s not a child, he’s a 3rd year like us. His name is” Trey was cut off by another voice.

A much deeper voice appeared behind you, “Lilia is my name. Lilia Vanrouge” And the child who was definitely not a child to you appeared upside down in the air. You knew that you should be surprised, but at this point in time you didn’t have the effort.

Grim shot up from his seat, “Th..uh.this guy teleported here!”

You stared up at the male with wide eyes, but then, shook your head, “You are surprisingly not the oddest person I have seen today, but I have to applaud you for some of the nicest hair. And it is real cool how you can just float upside down. Like a bat... Or something.”

Lilia bowed while still hanging out upside down, “I thank thou for such a genuine compliment. Pray tell, are thou interested in mine dorm members?” He raised his hand to cover his mouth when he chuckled, “Fufufu, it is true that I might resemble a sprightly and endearing young boy. However, just like that man in glasses has said, I am a child no longer.”

“How the fuck did he say “fufuf” out loud?” You gasped out, “Also pay up Ace.” You made ‘give me-give me’ motions with your hand.

“Sprightly,” Trey smiled widely.

Lilia quizzed, “Prithee, why not approach us instead of simply watching from afar? Are we not comrades from the same school? We from Diasomnia will welcome you anytime.” While still upside down, he threw his arms out into his full wing span.

You were scared of this dude, but at the same time not, “Perfect, totally next time, dude.” You threw a wink and a thumbs-up.

Deuce covered his mouth and whispered something to Ace.

Lilia chortled, “Fufu. Pardon me from appearing from above while you dined. I will be taking my leave now.” The male waved his hand and disappeared.

Ace muttered something back to deuce.

Trey stammered, “W-well… That’s how it is.” Trey closed his eyes and smiled before opening them back up, “Diasomnia’s got a lot of very special students.Their dorm has a lot of members that are pretty gifted. Their Prefect, Malleus Draconia, is said to be one of the five greatest sorcerers of our world.”

“TBH,” Cater was scrolling through his phone, “Malleus is sorta like, the awesomest of the awesome.” He turned off his phone and tossed his hair back, “Well, our Prefect’s pretty dangerous, too.”

You paused, eyes squinted and mouth agape, thinking, ‘How would you even measure that?’

Ace snorted, “You’re telling me! He puts a collar on someone just for eating his tart? He’s the worst, no doubt!” He pointed his spoonful of food at Cater for emphasis on his words.

You noticed that a male was behind Ace when was in the middle of his statement. He had bright red hair with two cow-licks on his head and gray eyes. What you found adorable, however, was how his tie was tied like a bow and had a little crown on the side of it. The male was crossing his arms with a wide grin on his face.

His mouth began moving and a smooth voice came out, “Hm? I’m the worst?” The grin grew.

Cater froze while slowly shifting his eyes to look at Ace and not the new person. Deuce and Trey just froze in shock for this new person to join the conversation. You paused and realized that this was probably the prefect.

You softly sang out, “You're screwed.”

Ace was not perceiving anything at this moment and only continued, “Yeah. Only a tyrant will keep up with those kinda rules. Gimme a break.” He puffed out and drank the rest of his drink in one swish back.

“Ace...,” Deuce whined, “look behind us!”

Ace shouted, “GEH! Prefect?!” and jumped in his seat.

You could only hope Ace would survive for the rest of the day.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #grim twst

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verfound · 4 years ago

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WIPWed: Festering Folder Edition: Legally Blonde AU

@mintaka14 asked about the Legally Blonde AU, which the Disco witnessed the birth of and was briefly mentioned in the notes for "Move Like Jagged". So. Yeah. This is the latest crack AU I've been working on. 😂

See, for my last project for those unit classes I had to take for work, I was talking about different reasons conflict can pop up in your kitchen and how to deal with them. And one of the ways to deal with conflict is by staying positive - you can't control what other people do/what happens, but you can control how you react to it. And that got "Positive" from the Legally Blonde musical in my head, which got me thinking who would be who in a LB AU, and...it all just ran away from me so hard. We have a Plunny Adoption channel in the Disco, and I dropped it there because I did not want another WIP, and the next thing I knew I was 1700 words into the Bend & Snap scene and no one else had adopted the plunny come on guys. 😂

So. Yeah. This is happening. I'm maybe a third of the way through the outline with about three scenes fully written out. 😂

The setup: Marinette is an aspiring fashion designer in her senior year at UCLA. Her life is all set up: she's going to graduate and marry her perfect boyfriend Adrien Agreste, who's on his way to becoming a lawyer and future president of the United States. Everything's perfect until he suddenly dumps her, claiming he needs someone more serious. He moves back out East to start at Harvard in the fall, where he's now dating childhood friend and fellow Snobby Harvard Girl Kagami Tsurugi. Marinette realizes that if she's gonna get her man back, she's got to be someone serious, too - someone lawerly! Someone who wears black when nobody's dead! So Marinette follows him out to Harvard, where she's...let's face it. The laughing stock of the school. But with a little determination (and the help of her super sweet TA Luka Couffaine, who's convinced she's not as Dumb as the others paint her) she's going to show everyone she belongs there - and win her Adrien back in the process!

So Marinette's Elle, Adrien is Warner, Kagami is Vivian, and Luka is Emmett. I'm putting Gabriel as Callahan, with the idea that part of the pressure on Adrien is that his father is this super successful lawyer & professor at Harvard who's expecting him to follow in his footsteps. (Also there's a line in the finale of the musical that says "Warner quit / Says he makes more modeling anyhow!", so while he's at UCLA I have Adrien modeling on the side and he totally goes back to it. 😂) Mylène is Paulette and Ivan is Kyle (the UPS guy). Rose and Alya are Marinette's Delta Nu sisters/best friends, and Juleka is still Luka's sister; Rose and Alya come out and the end to cheer Marinette on at the final trial, where Rose and Juleka meet.

Jagged is Brooke. He's being accused of murdering Bob Roth, his former label owner. He's innocent, but he refuses to give Gabriel his alibi (he was...getting...botox). He was Marinette's neighbor back in LA, and she designed his favorite leather jacket - so he freaks when Marinette walks in with his Estranged Son as part of his legal team. Luka and Jagged have a...tenuous relationship. Jagged is Luka's father, and Luka used to love music/want to be a rocker. He toured with Jagged for a year or two when he was younger as his opening act, but it really disillusioned Luka to the Music Scene. So he ended up pursuing law (thinking he could get into the legal side of things, and Anarka's always in and out of jail anyway so she'll need a good lawyer?), and finds out he's good at it & really enjoys it? It wasn't the career he thought he'd have, but he's happy.

I'm still kicking stuff around & writing the outline, but that's the bare-bones. 😂 And as much as I love the LB movie, the musical is one of my favorites. There's...guh ok I'm not gonna start gushing on how perfect the musical is bc we'll be here all day. 😂 But it is absolutely perfect, and this AU is going to be a blend of the movie and the musical.

Case in point: the song "Take It Like A Man", where Elle repays Emmett by giving him a makeover. It's the scene where Emmett realizes he's fallen in love with Elle and absolutely adorable ("God, I love shopping for guys - watching them change right before my eyes!" "...stop watching me change.").

As for a scene y'all haven't seen yet...I think you've seen a handful of sentences from this one? It's all new for Tumblr, but I think I shared a few sentences on the Disco. 😂

“Hey, Luka, what are you doing tonight?”

Luka looked up, his eyebrows lifting at the smile Marinette was giving him. Her chin was propped in her hand, her eyes looking over him like…well, a little like she was undressing him, if he was honest, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that.

“Er…prepping for tomorrow?” he hazarded. “Big day in court? Opening statements? Have to make sure we’re ready so my dad doesn’t swing.”

She rolled her eyes, and then she rolled her chair over to his. He jumped when she laid her hands over his.

“You’re ready,” she said. She squeezed his hand, and he swallowed thickly as she continued to look at him like that. Why did his throat suddenly feel so dry? “Can we go somewhere? I…I want to do something. To thank you. For…everything, really. Please?”

“You don’t need to thank me, Marinette,” he said, wondering what exactly she had in mind. Maybe dinner? He was getting kind of hungry, and he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t mind spending more time with her away from the law books…

“I do, though, Luka,” she said earnestly, squeezing his hand again. “You…you’re the only one who’s believed in me this entire time. You’ve done so much to help me, and…I just wanted to do something for you, too.” She took his hand and held it to her chest, pouting her lips and batting her eyes at him, and when had the heat kicked in? It was almost May – it shouldn’t be so hot in the old, draft library! “Please?”

“I…um…ok?” he finally squawked out. He cleared his throat when she hit him full-force with her mega-watt smile, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt as she squeezed his hand tighter. She gave an excited little squeal-giggle-bounce that had him smiling fondly. “What…what did you have in mind?”

“Well,” she said, releasing his hand and turning towards the table. She began gathering the files they’d scattered over the surface, tidying up. “You know I used to want to be a designer – you’ve heard Jagged go off about that coat.”

“His little frock star,” Luka snickered, and she gave him an exasperated little smile.

“If I had the time, I’d love to design you something,” she said, tapping the folders against the table to straighten them, She turned to him, hands on her hips. “But given we need you ready by tomorrow, that’s not possible. So, Luka Couffaine, I am going to give you…a makeover.”

That…was definitely not what he’d been expecting.

“Er…thanks?” he asked, because by the little hitch in his voice he was definitely asking, because he was definitely confused. A…makeover? But…why? Her expression fell a little, and he coughed as he reached up to loosen his tie. “I mean…it’s just…I didn’t think I needed one?”

And I was kind of hoping you’d suggest dinner?

“Luka,” she sighed, still exasperated. She grabbed his hands and hauled him to his feet before dragging him over to the fireplace. She gestured to the mirror sitting above the mantle, where he could clearly see his…ok, yeah, he looked a little disheveled, but they’d been in the library all day! He was expected to look rumpled! “Look at yourself.”

“I am,” he said, trying not to sound offended. She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, trying (unsuccessfully) to even out the wrinkles in his shirt. He tried to ignore the shiver that wanted to race up his spine at her touch. Focus, Couffaine, he thought. She sighed, turning him towards her, eyeing his clothes rather critically.

“Luka, you know I adore you,” she said, and he tried to ignore the way that made his stomach flutter, “but look at you. This is a high-profile, celebrity case. It’s going to be televised, and you’re going to show up looking like your only suit came from a Goodwill?”

“Hey,” he protested, weakly. He could feel the heat rising on his cheeks again. He looked at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. “I have two suits, thank you very much, and only one came from Goodwill.”

He glanced up at her to find she had lifted one of those perfectly sculpted brows at him, and he grinned sheepishly before adding: “…the other came from Salvation Army.”

“Luka!” she laughed, squeezing his arms, and his grin warmed into a smile. He liked making her laugh like that. He… “That’s my point, you dork!”

Her laughter petered off, and she started fiddling with his tie. He glanced down at his outfit and tried to see her point, but he honestly thought he looked fine? Rumpled, sure, but that wasn’t anything a good tumble in the dryer or some ironing couldn’t fix. The gray slacks weren’t bad, and the white dress shirt with the thin, dark blue check matched his dark blue tie. Sure, his shoes were a little scuffed, but no one was going to be looking at his shoes. Marinette sighed again, and he looked back up at her.

“Luka, do you remember what I told you I did? Back at UCLA?” she asked. He nodded.

“You had a 4.0 in fashion merchandising,” he said, making her smile. “You wanted to design clothes.”

“So let’s just say this is something I’m actually good at,” she teased, and he frowned as he reached up to lay a hand over one of hers. He squeezed, making her look up at him.

“Hey…you’re good at this, Marinette,” he said. Her smile said she didn’t believe him, so he squeezed her hand tighter. “I mean it, Marinette. I may have helped you study, but all of this was you. You got Agreste’s internship all on your own. You went from the bottom to top of your class on your own. You put the work in, Marinette. You’re so incredibly smart, and you’ve got this…this…gift. You see things others don’t. You aregood at this.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Marinette to throw herself at him in a bone-crushing hug. He stood there for a moment, dazed, but before he could move or think or respond she was already pulling away and wiping at misty eyes. She smiled up at him, and he wondered if it would be ok if he hugged her again. He kind of felt cheated out of the last one.

“Thank you, Luka,” she said, shaking her head to clear it. “Ugh, ok, but seriously! This is what I was originally good at – so let me shine, ok? Look. You’re good at this, too. You’re such a talented lawyer, and if Agreste gives you half the chance you’re going to blow them away in court – but no one’s going to be thinking about how brilliant you are if you show up looking like a bum. Luka, it’s…it’s me showing up to a costume party dressed like a bunny!”

He blinked at her, remembering all too well that night he’d bumped into her at the bookstore and she was dressed in nothing more than a one piece, bunny ears, and tail.

“The look is half the fight,” she said, taking his hands in her own. “Don’t give them a reason to judge you just because your shoes are old. Please? Let me buy you a suit. Let me do this for you, Luka.”

He still didn’t get it – not really, if he was perfectly honest – but when she looked at him like that…

“…ok,” he said, and the smile and second hug she gave him made it all worth it.

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geraskier-hell · 4 years ago

Text

Warmth

Small one shot set in this universe, but that can be read as a stand alone as well, written for @geraskiersmutprompts‘s prompt warmth.

Special thank you to @lankygeralt for going over this fic and being super kind and supportive of my writing <33

Jaskier tries to revive the last embers of the fire in their room with a fire iron, but the red sparkles that light up aren't enough to start the flame again.

"We're going to freeze to death tonight," he mutters with a final glance to their only source of warmth.

"I've slept in worse temperatures," Geralt replies. He has already slumped on the bed, lying on his stomach while he hugs the pillow.

"We've been sleeping outside all week, now that we finally had some coin, I was hoping to sleep with a cosy fire to warm me up. Why did the owner of the inn have to finish all his wood tonight of all nights? I hope my fingers won't freeze off."

Jaskier admits defeat and moves away from the fireplace, hiding under the covers with his clothes still on.

"Stop exaggerating, your fingers won't freeze off," Geralt mumbles with his eyes closed.

"Wanna see?" Jaskier scoffs. He moves near Geralt and slides his hands under the witcher's shirt. Geralt hisses, whipping his head around to glare at him. "What did I tell you?" Jaskier grins with too much satisfaction.

Geralt clicks his tongue and turns his head again. "Stay on your side of the bed."

"Nope," Jaskier replies and hugs Geralt from behind, caging him between his arms and legs.

"Jaskier," Geralt growls in a voice that is a mixture of annoyance and threatening.

"How about you think of a way to keep me warm?" Jaskier's words are playful, but behind them there is a subtle hint of arousal that Geralt picks up immediately.

"You could have said it from the start."

After so many months spent travelling together during the day and fucking at night, there is no hesitation in Geralt's touch when he turns around and presses Jaskier on the mattress. Jaskier smirks against his lips before wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck and bringing him down for a kiss. That contact alone is enough to start a fire in his chest, warming him up from the inside, all the way up to his cheeks that turn crimson in a matter of seconds.

Geralt nibbles his bottom lip, teasingly pulling it before rolling his tongue inside. His body pressed on Jaskier's is comforting and familiar, no matter how many times Jaskier feels it on himself, he keeps wanting more, keeps craving for the intimate touches they share at night. He has always been secretly yearning for it, even before coming clean about his real feelings, and now he can't get enough of it.

He forces Geralt to put more of his weight on him, hugging his middle while their tongues move together. Geralt grunts but complies, settling on him so that he's covering Jaskier's entire body with his own. Every inch of him is pressed on Jaskier, even his groin, slowly hardening as they kiss.

Jaskier hums in satisfaction and bucks his hips upwards to get some friction. Geralt smirks against his lips, fully aware of Jaskier's desire, but for the moment he simply moves his lips down his neck, kissing and softy biting the skin.

"Fuck," Jaskier moans when Geralt nibbles on his collar bones.

"In due time," Geralt replies with another kiss.

Jaskier groans and closes his eyes as Geralt lifts the hem of his shirt. He hisses when the cold air hits his skin, but melts under Geralt's touch when his lover starts pressing his mouth on his stomach. His lips are warm and soft, hungry for him and possessive, leaving marks all over his chest. Jaskier can only squirm and moan under that insatiable mouth, biting and licking, setting Jaskier's body even more ablaze.

With his lip caught between his teeth, Jaskier lets Geralt cover his chest in wet kisses until he moves away to retrieve the vial of oil in the bag at the feet of the bed. When he turns to look at him, a whine leaves Jaskier's throat. Geralt's eyes are black and full of desire, his pants tenting, and his lips red from all the kisses he has left on the bard.

"Hurry up," Jaskier finds himself begging.

Geralt just smirks and settles between Jaskier's legs again. He pushes Jaskier's trousers down, and the bard's cock bounces free, hard and ready for release.

"Always so eager," Geralt mumbles, tracing the length with his finger.

"Always for you," Jaskier purrs, biting back a hiss.

Geralt's features morphe in satisfaction and want, capturing Jaskier's lips before coating his fingers with the oil. Jaskier bites his index finger while Geralt works him open, whining and pushing down on him, always more restless.

By now, the previous cold has completely melted away, replaced by a lustful fire that is consuming him from the inside. His face feels hot, and every part of his skin that Geralt is touching is a little bonfire that burns in the dark of the night.

"Geralt," Jaskier whines again, cock leaking on his stomach.

Geralt thrusts his fingers inside again, drawing a moan out of Jaskier and then moves up to lick Jaskier's ear.

"Are you still cold?" he whispers in a voice that makes Jaskier's cock twitch.

"Yes, this isn’t enough," Jaskier pants, already struggling to keep his eyes open.

Geralt hums, pleased by the answer and removes his fingers from Jaskier's ass. He pulls his pants down just enough to free his cock that he coats in oil. Jaskier watches him with a watery mouth, hole twitching at the expected pleasure.

He doesn't have to wait for more than a few seconds as Geralt lines himself up and pushes inside. He is careful and slow, but his body is trembling for the effort of taking his time. Jaskier's hole stretches wider as it welcomes him, clenching around him almost unconsciously.

"Fuck," Geralt mutters, scrunching up his eyebrows.

He looks so far gone too, eyes burning with the same fire consuming Jaskier, a deep wanton running through both.

"Just move," Jaskier begs, and he doesn't have to ask twice.

Geralt stops only for a few seconds when he bottoms out, panting hard before starting to slowly fuck Jaskier.

His thrusts are precise, meant to satisfy them both. He knows exactly where to hit to make Jaskier cry out his name, and it doesn’t take long for the bard to do so. He moans every time Geralt hits his prostate, pleasure rising inside him. He closes his eyes as he follows Geralt's movements, hips uncontrollably meeting Geralt's. He is an absolute mess already, lips parted and cock oozing precum. He slides his hands in Geralt's hair, tugging at it and getting a low growl as reward.

He smirks and does it again, and this time the result is even better. Geralt thrusts harder into him, pounding on his prostate so strongly that he feels himself already on the edge.

"Geralt, don't stop, please," he begs, his mind struggling to remember what words are.

Geralt immediately complies, panting hard on top of him. Jaskier opens his eyes only to be rendered speechless by the sight. He whines when he sees Geralt's blown wide pupils, a feral light in them that makes him feel wanted in the most honest of ways.

He pulls Geralt down for a kiss, tongues sloppily meeting and saliva drooling down his chin. Geralt rams into him again, and so close to the edge, Jaskier wraps a hand around his cock and starts stroking himself.

"Geralt," he cries out again when their mouths part, and as his lover hits his prostate again, he comes with a high-pitched moan, cum spilling on him and Geralt.

His hole tightens and Geralt grunts, fucking him through his orgasm before thrusting hard inside him one last time and painting his insides with his hot cum, cock pulsating as his release washes over him.

Afterwards, Jaskier basks in the warmth covering him. He rubs Geralt's back and nuzzles his hair, loving the way the witcher snuggles closer.

"Much better," he mumbles.

"I agree," Geralt replies, burying his soft cock deeper inside Jaskier.

The bard whines, a shiver coursing through his body. "Aren't you going to move?"

"Gotta keep myself warm," Geralt replies in a sleepy voice.

Jaskier bites his bottom lip, cock twitching with need again.

He certainly isn't going to feel cold tonight.

#geraskier #geraskiersmutprompts #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #my writing

146 notes · View notes

terrm9 · 4 years ago

Text

Fall On Me

Words count: 4 200 Warnings: mentions of fertility issues, other than that just fluff Author’s note: This is the fic I have thought so much about. I have written something, then stopped, then written again, thought about it and considered for so long if I should post it or not. I have never been this nervous posting something, probably because there is a big part of me in it - therefore, any kind of feedback will be greatly appreciated!

After four years of dating and their first year being married, Chiara and Ethan find out that there are still surprises in store for them.

Important notes: My MC (Chiara) has been diagnosed with an immune system disorder that makes it close to impossible for her to become pregnant. It has been stated in Destination fic as well as in Already Gone series, but for those who haven’t read those, it’s important to know that so you understand the context.

There are three more important notes at the end (they would kind of ruin the experience if you read them in the beginning). PLEASE read them, especially the first one, it is really important to me.

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

As Ethan stepped into his office, the sight of sleeping Chiara on a couch didn’t even surprise him. It was the fifth time in the last ten days. She would throw an apologetic smile at him along with a muttered “I just need to catch a quick break” and half an hour later, he would find her fast asleep in his office.

At this point, surprise has been replaced by worrying. Ethan knew his wife and he knew that she could go weeks without rest. This behavior was strange, to say the least.

He approached the couch and knelt next to it, gently brushing the hair off her forehead. Placing a soft kiss on it instead, he whispered: “Chiara, are you okay?”

She opened her eyes slowly at first, obviously confused about the whole situation. Realizing what was happening – again – she sat up rapidly, trying to come up with a good excuse.

“I am sorry, Ethan, I must have fallen asleep. I just wanted to sit down for a while and-“

“It’s okay,” Ethan cut her off and took a seat next to her, hugging her waist. “I’m just a little worried about your constant tiredness.”

Sighing, Chiara rubbed her eyes and leaned into his chest, shaking her head slowly.

“I am fine. It’s just… ever since we’ve gotten back from the Europe, the work has been crazy. Two weeks and I feel like I need another vacation.”

Visiting Europe has become their habit through the years. It started with a trip to Tuscany on Chiara’s third year of residency, continuing with a quick trip to France after getting engaged, honeymoon in Greece and finally this year, when they decided to spend their first wedding anniversary on a three-weeks long roadtrip through Scandinavia, finished with four days in The Basque Country, so that Chiara could pursue her dream of visiting Guernica, the village on Picasso’s painting.

Chiara was right about the work being absolutely crazy ever since they’ve gotten back and throwing a glance at the paperwork on his desk, Ethan was very well aware of the exhaustion they both felt. Still, he managed to get through his days without needing a nap.

“Let me draw your blood so that I can run some tests. Maybe it’s just iron deficiency, but I want to be sure,” Ethan murmured into her hair, kissing the top of her head. “And go home to sleep.”

She turned to him, brows furrowed as she shook her head again.

“Absolutely not. I am fine, just a little weary. Just make me a cup of coffee and I’ll be fresh.”

Ethan stood up to make her the coffee, however he had no intention of letting her stay in work. He would bet that she was just ‘resting her eyes’ while he was turned to the coffee machine. As a doctor, there was one particular idea about what her exhaustion was about. Noticing such symptoms with anybody else, he would be absolutely sure. But this was Chiara he was thinking about and so he didn’t allow his mind wander into the direction it was tempted to.

“I am serious, Rookie. You are no use here, hardly keeping your eyes open. Drink the coffee, let me take your blood and go home to rest. I’ll come as soon as I can.”

She rolled her eyes and took the cup from his hands. Just as she was about to sip the coffee, she scrunched her nose in an utter disgust and looked up at him.

“Did you change the brand? This smells… ugh, I am not as demanding as you when it comes to coffee and even I can tell that this smells worse than the cafeteria coffee.”

Ethan bit his lip to hide the jitteriness overwhelming him at those words.

It was the same coffee brand they’ve been ordering for more than three years.

It was all adding up.

He shrugged as casually as he could and said: “Yeah, I tried a new roastery and it’s disappointing. Lets get you out of here, shall we?”

Chiara wanted to fight him, to stubbornly stay and prove him that she was more than capable of working, but she had to admit that she’s probably never felt as exhausted. And the vision of their king-sized bed was way too tempting.

Relucantly, she nodded and followed Ethan into an empty patient room to get her blood taken.

To say that Ethan was nervous would be an understatement. He could’ve gone home a long time ago and instead he found himself pacing back and forth in his office, waiting for a nurse to page him that Chiara’s results were ready.

Still, when his pager went off, he all but jumped on the spot.

Seven minutes later, Ethan thanked the nurse and clutched the results in his hand, fighting the urge to read them right then and there, not quite believing his own self to be able to not to break down is the results confirmed the diagnosis he suspected.

Breathing heavily as he reached his office, he sat down on the couch – the very same Chiara was sleeping on just hours ago – and with trembling hands opened the file to see the results.

His eyes widened and just then, his vision turned blurry. New lump formed in his throat and his heart kept beating as if his dear life depended on the rate it was beating. His hands trembled so hard now that the file fell on the floor.

He was right.

Ethan could feel the tears damping his cheeks and falling on the fabric of his navy blue pants and he realized that he couldn’t care less about crying while at work.

Throwing his head back, he stared at the ceiling, letting the tears fall down freely, his heartbeat slowly calming back to normal.

He knew he needed to go home and share the results with Chiara. He just didn’t know how he should do such a thing.

Chiara’s peaceful five-hours long nap has been interrupted by the sound of keys clinking in the door.

Stirring lazily in a blanket, she sat up and smiled softly as Ethan walked into the living room.

“You look exhausted. Hard day?” she asked, patting the seat next to her. “Come here.”

Ethan slumped down on the couch next to her and kissed her cheek instead of answering, his mind a battlefield of ideas on how to tell Chiara. As a doctor, he knew that he needed to be honest and straightforward. As a husband, he didn’t feel comfortable throwing such a bomb into her face as if she was simply a patient.

Noticing how lost in his head Ethan was, Chiara grew concerned.

“Did something happen, Ethan?”

He blurted his next words out before he gave any of his battling ideas a chance to win.

“I’ve got your test results.”

“Am I dying?” Chiara laughed, putting her hand on his bouncing knee to calm him down. After Ethan refused to look back at her, she sensed that something was indeed wrong. “Oh, I am dying, aren’t I?”

Chuckling, Ethan finally turned to look at her and kisser her temple. “You are not dying.”

“But?” Chiara raised her eyebrow while Ethan took the hand on his knee into his own, stroking Chiara’s knuckles softly with his thumb.

Taking a deep breath, he stuttered: “I… we… you are pregnant, Chiara.”

Chiara’s face grew paler than he’s ever seen it and there were big drops of cold sweat on her forehead. Ethan squeezed her hand to stop it from shaking, but with no success.

At last, Chiara let out a choked whisper.

“What kind of sick joke is this?”

For a second, Ethan almost felt offended by her accusation, as if she didn’t know him, as if she didn’t know that he would never joke about such a thing. Then, however, he recalled his own reaction when he found out just an hour and half before and could understand the Chiara’s one.

Instead of another word, Ethan reached down to grab his bag from the floor and pulled Chiara’s file out. Handing it to her, he made sure to point his finger at the row that indicated the elevated level of hCG in her blood.

Her eyes widened as she recognized what he was showing her and she gasped audibly, looking up at Ethan and down on her own file, back and forth until she found her lost voice.

“But… how? That’s impossible.”

“Nobody has ever said that it was impossible, only that your chances were extremely low, close to none.”

Chiara started to reminisce the last days, trying to connect the dots now that she knew the result.

The extreme fatigue, waves of nausea here and there, those could easily be read as literally anything else. She missed her period, but her cycle has never been regular, so she hardly considered it anyhow important, especially knowing that travelling has always made things even more irregular for her.

“Did you know?” she whispered as she turned to Ethan, who was staring at her intensively.

“I didn’t know. I became suspicious few days back, when you wouldn’t let me go anywhere near your chest,” he grinned. “Together with the exhaustion, the possibility of pregnancy found its way into my mind, but I didn’t even want to think about it, knowing how very unlikely it was. It was your disgust with the coffee today that made me almost sure that you were, in fact, pregnant.”

Chiara stared at the results again, not quite absorbing what they were saying. For almost six years, she believed she could never be pregnant.

“You need to see your gynecologist tomorrow, of course,” Ethan cut the silence again. “But as Dr. Ramsey, I can say for sure that you are pregnant.”

He scooped her into his arms so that she would sit on his lap and hugged her shocked form tightly. Chiara’s lips were still slightly parted and she was blinking just a little bit faster than usually as his words – and their new reality – sank in.

When it finally did, she wasn’t able to contain the emotions any longer.

First sob escaped her mouth, followed by another and so much more, accompanied by huge tears falling from her eyes.

Ethan gently pulled her head closer so that she was resting it against his chest and peppered her hair with soft kisses. Even though his share of tears has already been shed in a privacy of his office, feeling Chiara’s shaking body as she cried all those happy, surprised tears, he couldn’t help but cry along quietly with her.

“I am going to ruin your shirt,” Chiara mumbled against his white Oxford, noticing how her mascara stained it.

Ethan let out a quick laugh, his voice thick with emotions as he replied: “I couldn’t care less.”

After what could have been minutes or hours, they breaths steadied, however their positions haven’t changed at all.

They were both quiet for a long time and one could say that they were lost in their own thoughts when really, they were both lost in the very same thought.

Parents. They would become parents.

They talked about adoption on a regular basis at this point, both open to the idea that two or three years from now, they would go for it, that they would become parents to a kid that was left alone.

But those were talks about future. Hypothetical.

This was real. In less than a year, they would be parents to their very own newborn.

“Are you happy?” Chiara whispered, looking up at him with a gentle smile on her lips.

Ethan kissed her forehead before responding.

“I can’t imagine being happier.”

Biting her lower lip, Chiara asked again: “Are you also a little bit…scared? Because I am.”

Laughing loudly at the adorable confession, Ethan nodded: “God, I am terrified. Being a father, that brings so many possibilities to screw it up.”

Chiara cupped his cheeks and pulled him down for a kiss, their first real, deep kiss that day and as his tender lips moved over hers, she knew that there would be no better father for her child than Ethan Ramsey.

One of the perks of being in her sixth month of pregnancy was the fact that her belly could easily serve as a tiny tea table. Right now, a large bowl of popcorn was sitting on her rounded torso as she was sitting on Bryce’s couch.

“The poor kid,” Bryce muttered as he noticed.

It was another Bryce & Chiara movies Wednesday, a habit that started even before Chiara and Ethan got together and carried on through the years.

With her third trimester slowly approaching, Chiara has been even more insistent on attending those, knowing that once she would give birth, they wouldn’t be able to watch a whole movie in one sitting.

“How is Ramsey? I haven’t seen him in the hospital this week,” Bryce asked as he put a glass of water in front of Chiara and played with a remote control to find the movie on Netflix.

“He’s busy with paperwork, so he mostly stays in his office these days,” Chiara explained. “Other than that, he has read two books about child’s development this week, so I guess everything’s as usual.”

Bryce laughed loudly and just before he pushed the ‘play’ button, he turned to Chiara: “Do you remember when you told me about not being able to have kids all those years ago?”

Chiara nodded, that day somehow still fresh in her mind.

“I told you back then, that you only had to find someone whose sperms will be stubborn enough to beat your own stubborn immune system, remember? Well, I was damn right,” he grinned smugly, earning a popcorn thrown into his head from Chiara.

On the other side of Boston, Ethan and Naveen just finished their meals and moved into the living room, glasses of scotch in their hands.

A comfortable silence accompanied them, their talks about work already finished.

Taking a few gulps of his drink, Ethan leaned into a couch with a soft smile on his lips.

“It’s going to be a girl,” he let out finally, his soft smile soon turning into a wide, happy one.

They only found out yesterday. Ever since beginning of the pregnancy, they couldn’t decide whether they wanted to know the gender of the baby or not. After long discussions – and Sienna’s suggestion that they should do a blood tests that would reveal the gender, give the results to her without looking at them so that she could organize a baby gender reveal party – they came to the agreement that they would only find out if the ultrasound would show it. And yesterday, in Chiara’s 25th week of pregnancy, the doctor informed them that their ‘princess’ is growing beautifully.

Neither Chiara nor Ethan wanted any kind of baby party organized – much to Sienna’s disappointment. This pregnancy – most likely the only one they would ever get to experience – has been such precious, sacred thing to them that they tried to keep everything as private as possible. They found joy in their bubble of emotions only two people who never believed would be this lucky could feel.

“A girl!” Naveen clasped his hands together and beamed even brighter than Ethan. “A granddaughter!”

Ethan nodded, the warmth in his chest expanding even more at Naveen’s words.

“Have you decided on a name yet?” he asked, his curious nature not letting him keep the question to himself.

Shaking his head this time, Ethan said: “Since the beginning, we’ve known that if it was a boy, he would be named Dorian after Chiara’s father. There have been some ideas about girls name, but nothing seemed right so far.”

The first idea they both had was Dolores. It came naturally to Ethan, knowing that she named her son after him and that his friend’s name deserved to be celebrated. Still, he didn’t want to be reminded of the tragedy every time he would talk to his daughter. Chiara has been very supportive about the name Dolores, knowing better than anyone what it felt like to want to name her child after someone important to her. But she never insisted. She could tell that simply thinking about Dolores Hudson made Ethan’s heart ache and she would never push the name on him.

“You seem lost in your thoughts,” Naveen commented. “Are you worried that your daughter will inherit your insufferable stubbornness?”

Ethan laughed at that, raising an eyebrow at his mentor and his friend.

“As if you didn’t know Chiara. The kid is going to be insufferably stubborn no matter who she takes after.”

The truth was, he did wish their daughter would take after Chiara. The idea of raising his own little self terrified him more than he would ever admit and on the other hand, the idea of having someone else as bright as Chiara in his life made his heart happy.

“Well, no matter who she takes after, it’s safe to say that she will be a strong girl,” Naveen smiled, raising his glass. “Beating all those odds and finding her way into your life, she is already a bigger rebel than any of us. She will be a warrior and a mighty one, I am telling you.”

When Chiara returned home, she found Ethan deep in a research on his laptop.

He registered her presence only when she sat down next to him, taking a glance on the screen only to find yet another study about children.

“Hey,” he kissed her cheek and closed the laptop. “Did you have a good time?”

She laid down, putting her head into his lap. “The movie was terrible. I could feel my braincells leave my body. Other than that, yeah, it’s been great. Bryce is so excited about being an uncle to the ‘little queenie’. He said, to quote him, that he will make sure she sees him as an example of how gentlemen should treat their ladies, so that when she is dating she doesn’t settle for anything less than what she deserves.”

“That’s really… nice of him. Thoughtful,” Ethan nodded; however, his furrowed brows didn’t quite match the words. “I don’t think we need to talk about dating just yet, though.”

Of course he will be that kind of a father, Chiara thought, laughing.

“What were you reading about?” she decided to change the topic.

“Oh, I’ve been looking up baby carriers online and so I decided to read some articles and studies about them.”

“Baby carriers, huh? I never took you for someone who would want that.”

Ethan shrugged, fighting the temptation to read her all those articles. Instead, he went with simply pointing some interesting information.

“It helps to build a healthy attachment between a child and their parent. You know, you are carrying her in your body for nine months, you have a possibility of breastfeeding, you two are naturally connected. As a father, I would like to… increase my chances of bonding with my child properly,” he swallowed harder that he wanted, hoping that Chiara didn’t notice just how nervous about this whole attachment thing he’s become.

He was so excited to meet their daughter, to hold her in his arms, it sometimes surprised even him.

But there was another part of him. The one that constantly doubted his ability to be a good father. For such a long time he didn’t believe that he could ever find himself in the role of a parent and he got used to the idea, no matter how painful. He used to remind himself that it would be for the best if he never had them, that as a man unworthy of his mother’s love, he wouldn’t know how to be the parent his children deserved.

Everything has changed with Chiara in his life and now he was about to become a father. And he was scared that it would be the one task he would fail. He tried his best to be prepared – reading books and studies and articles, watching videos on how to bath a newborn and taking notes about how many layers of clothing was suitable for various temperatures. He made arrangements with Naveen and his team so that everyone knew that he would be stepping down as a head of diagnostics once the baby is born, with Aurora becoming the director of the team.

For more than fifteen years, he’s been building his career and he’s been proud of what he achieved. But there was no feeling connected with his career that would make him as proud as the idea of being a decent father.

“According to these studies, the position they are in while in a carrier helps the newborns with their colics and also there are children that don’t like being in a stroller and the carrier helps them to fall asleep.”

Chiara nodded, noticing absolutely clearly how nervous and overwhelmed Ethan was. She also knew why, even though he would never share his concerns with her.

“I kind of believe that. When I was born, I was the perfect baby. You know, the kid that everyone envied when my parents talked about me. I slept most of the day and then the whole night, I never cried, I smiled at everyone. My parents would joke that sometimes they forgot they had me. And Liam was very similar from what I can remember – and what my mother told me. He was such a cutie and even if he couldn’t fall asleep or calm down, a little bit of bouncing in a stroller and he would be fine,” she laughed softly as she was reaching the end – and the point – of her monologue. “My parents were so proud. They always said that they could only create the good sleepers that never cry. Probably encouraged by the belief, they decided to have a third child and God, Alicia was such a difficult baby. She would always cry and never sleep. The only thing that calmed her down enough to sleep was when someone carried her in their arms and walked around the house – so that’s what my parents did. All the time. Sometimes, when they’ve gotten too tired or needed to do something, they would put her into my arms – let me remind you that I was seven – and I would be in charge of walking around the house. I bet they would appreciate the baby carrier back then.”

Ethan chuckled softly while stroking Chiara’s wild hair and after a while decided to tell her the real reason he even browsed the internet this evening.

“I might have found a name.”

After Naveen left, something he’s said resonated with Ethan.

‘She will be a warrior and a mighty one.’

Ethan never cared about meanings of names, he didn’t even know the meaning of his own name until this evening. And yet, despite his best principles, he decided to search girls names that meant warrior or ‘strong, mighty’.

And he found it.

Mighty in battle.

It clicked.

“What name do you have in mind?” Chiara asked.

“Matilda.”

Chiara didn’t even try to suppress her surprise, expecting anything but Matilda. What surprised her even more, she loved it on the first hearing. It indeed was the one.

“I have also thought about the name a little bit,” she admitted. “I found one that I would love to be a second name for her.”

Nodding, Ethan encouraged her to spill it.

“Nekane.”

“Nekane? I have never heard of it.”

“It would be surprising if you did,” Chiara smirked. “It’s the Basque form for Dolores. And you know, since now we know for sure that our daughter has been conceived in Spain, I think it would be rather fitting. It would still carry the honor of Dolores, just in a different form.”

Matilda Nekane Ramsey.

They both loved the sound of that.

It sounded like their daughter.

After sharing another silent moment full of love, peace and understanding, Chiara decided to go to bed and Ethan promised to follow her as soon as he’d finish the study.

When Ethan stepped into their bedroom, Chiara was already asleep, lying on her right side. Climbing to the bed, he laid down on his left side so that he could face her. Suddenly, not knowing how the idea has gotten into him, he was shifting down slightly until he reached her round stomach.

Moving the fabric of her cotton shirt higher, he put his hand over her belly and did something he had never done before.

“Hello, Matilda,” he whispered nervously. “This is Ethan speaking. Your father. Or your dad, as you will probably call me. We have never really talked before but the annoying knocking you hear sometimes, that’s me stroking your mom’s bump.”

He paused for a while, composing his thoughts.

“I am sincerely scared about how this whole father thing is going to work for me, but I promise you as I am trying and I will by trying for the rest of my life. I have done a lot of bad things in my life, Matilda and I can’t take them back. They are part of who I am. But looking at your mother and thinking about you makes me realize that both of you are part of who I am too. And I don’t know in which point of my life the universe decided that I have shared enough kindness to earn your presence but I must have done something right to deserve you in my life, right?”

Kissing the skin of Chiara’s stomach, he added: “I just really hope you inherit your mother’s patience and kindness so that you will forgive me every time I fuck things up.”

Biting his lip, he grinned to himself before saying one last thing to his Matilda.

“Please don’t tell your mom I said ‘fuck’, she would be furious.”

*** *** ***

1) as someone who is mother herself, I realize that topics of pregnancy, infertility issues, children in general are extremely sensitive - in this particular fanfiction, Chiara has gotten pregnant against the odds while on vacation. PLEASE note that I, by no means, am trying to say that if you are suffering from fertility issues, taking a vacation/reducing stress/changing the environment would definitely help you. There are some cases /that I know of/ in which it did help, however I would never dare to say that it’s the solution. I just need to make sure that I acknowledge how difficult and sensitive the topic is.

2) I really, really wanted to write a pregnancy fic, I had this idea in my head for very, very long time. However, I also absolutely love the idea of Ethan and Chiara adopting a child (I think especially Ethan would be fond of it, since he knows what it feels like to grow up without a parent) and so here is a little HC for after this story - Matilda is indeed the ‘miracle’ and their only biological child and when she is around six years old, Ethan and Chiara decide to adopt ophraned twin girls Luna and Siria. Purposefully girls, because I can see Ethan not trusting women after his mother leaves him and feeling like no woman could ever love him truly and boom suddenly there are four women in his life that love him more than life itself and he is proven wrong every day.

3) the story about the name Matilda is so funny/tragic that I have to write about it - I love the name, always loved and believed that I would name my daughter Matilda one day. My man hates the name so it’s off the table and I always knew that little Ramsey would be named Matilda to pursue my dream at least fictionally. When I was looking for some photos at David Gandy’s IG, I found out that his very own daughter is named Matilda. Whoa. Then, I was on a search for a faceclaim for Chiara and boom - the girl is named Matilda. Ooops. And only when this fic was finished and I googled the name Matilda for some reason, I found out that there is kinda popular person named Matilda Ramsay and I was just like okay screw this. But I couldn’t bring myself to change the name, so here it is. Sorry not sorry.

Taglist: @takemyopenheart @maurine07 @senseofduties @mercury84choices @flightlessbirdiee @udishaman @honeyandsunfl0wers @ohchoices @adrex04 @queencarb @archxxronrookie @choicesfan10 @whatchique @drariellevalentine @gryffindordaughterofathena @mvalentine @doilooklikeiknow @custaroonie @secretwolfdreamertree @jamespotterthefirst

#also I could've named the fic COUCH #since 90% of the story happens on some #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction

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crispyjenkins · 5 years ago

Note

Prompt where the 212 gets together to paint Obi-Wan’s armor so he would wear it more but at some point our fool gets captured and his captor wears the armor to piss Kenobi off so when the 212 comes in Cody goes absolutely feral when he sees someone else where his general’s armor and Kenobi gets absolutely railed by Cody after.

(i don’t do smut, but i love this idea so so much, i really don’t know why i haven’t come across more painted armour Obi stuff, and y’all have probably realised i’m all about Obi angst, sooo this one was a lot of fun. thank you so much for prompting, lovely! threw in some headcanon mandalorian family and courting culture just for you)

Jedi were not made to wear armour, they were not soldiers, at least not before. Cody knows his general picked up clone culture better than most, from the little bits of Mando’a to the importance of Vode An, and he should perhaps be thankful that General Kenobi wears any armour at all, but what good are simple pauldrons and vambraces when Kenobi throws himself against hundreds of clankers without backup on a weekly basis?

It’s Wupi that suggests it, drunk on Waxer’s rotgut and going grey with how often he has to patch up their general after missions. Boil is mostly amused by Kenobi’s apparent death wish, but he isn’t like their medic, or Cody: he doesn't have to deal with the fallout when Kenobi comes back to the Negotiator so much worse off than his men.

“Why don’t we give him one o’ yours armours?” Wupi had slurred, half out of his blacks and staring into his cup like it would relieve him of his duty. “S’General’s too nice to lose someone else’s.”

Wooley had jerked his attention from his own cup and stared at Cody because that... that wasn’t a bad idea.

And because Wupi is too hungover the next day to do anything about it himself, it’s Wooley that starts the task of finding and retrofitting pieces of clone armour to fit their general (their “wonderfully tiny" general, as Wupi had put before passing out in his chair). It takes a few days, bouncing between three different quartermasters and Commander Tano for input on how to wear it over more traditional Jedi clothes, but Wooley finally amasses something close to a full set that they might convince Kenobi to wear, and then goes around giving each member of the Ghost Company a few pieces to paint.

Cody tries not to think about why Wooley gives him the chestplate. He tries really hard.

There’s something to be said about family giving each other armour, of course, Cody doesn’t think Wooley or Boil or Wupi or Waxer are trying to woo their general, and it shows in the pieces of armour they choose to paint, but the breastplate is... forward, when not given in a familial sense, and Cody can’t pretend that he is. Giving it in a familial sense. Kriff.

Ghost Company all sit together in the empty mess one night, Cody having strategically made sure their sleeping shifts line up, and they paint the pieces while drinking more of Waxer’s rotgut and pretending they don’t have a battle tomorrow that they might not win. Cody’s men paint each piece to match their own, so that Kenobi’s set is a mix of bits of each of them. They aren’t quite sure how it works for natborn Mandalorians, there were limits on what the Kaminoins let the Cuy’val Dar teach them, but this is as close as they can get to claiming Ken— Obi-Wan as one of the vode. The meaning won’t be lost on him.

Cody carefully paints his sun rays onto Obi-Wan’s chestplate, the orange crisp and shiny-bright, and he wonders if Obi-Wan knows the meaning of colours on beskar’gam. He seems to know a lot about Mandalorian culture that even the clones don’t, but Cody has never pushed to know more about why, not when it makes Obi-Wan clam up like that.

Boil finishes quickly, and just as quickly gets completely smashed to the point he’s singing the last raunchy jig they’d picked up planet-side, and it’s almost calming to see him so relaxed. Waxer smiles fondly at his brother and switches his cup for one of water instead, shaking his head at Wooley’s disapproving glare.

Cody waits until the others have gone to bed to ask for the medic’s steady hand, to help him stencil a beskar’ta right above the sternum. He isn’t sure if he’s ever seen another vode with a beskar’ta, and perhaps it’s a little presumptuous for Cody to give Obi-Wan one without discussing it with him first, but he can offer no greater protection to his general. The way Wupi doesn’t say anything when Cody carefully paints in the lines says more about his relationship with Obi-Wan than he’d really like to admit.

Cody isn’t there when Wooley presents the armour to him, but when Obi-Wan joins them in the hangar before descent planet-side, he wears every piece as if it were the regalia of some ancient royal, and not a cobbled-together attempt to keep him alive. The rest of the 212th hide their stares inside their buckets, and Obi-Wan still wears his outer robe over it all, but Ghost Company all preen at the sight of their general not only protected, but in their colour and crests.

Obi-Wan smiles at Cody as they load into the shuttles, tapping a closed fist over the beskar’ta in all-too-knowing thanks. So he knows at least the familial connotations, which doesn’t bode well for Cody’s half hope that that’s all he knows.

Crys claps Cody on the shoulder with an eyebrow wiggle, and Cody wishes Jango hadn’t taught them a damn thing.

Day three without water, even with the Force sustaining him, leaves Obi-Wan more than a little delirious. The Nikto bounty hunter that thought they could somehow convince Count Dooku that they’d captured the famed Negotiator grows increasingly agitated as the hours roll by, and Obi-Wan wishes he had better presence of mind to appreciate it.

They have him on his knees and strung up in chains like a barbarian, and stick him with a needle every three hours with some sort of Force suppressor that makes him even more incoherent — Obi-Wan is fairly sure they’re over-drugging him. Actually, perhaps the Force isn’t sustaining him properly; that would certainly explain a lot.

The morning of day four in the brig of a ship Obi-Wan can’t remember the make of, the Nikto starts picking through his removed armour, with scathing comments about the colour and fact that it had come from “cannon-fodder slaves that are better put-down than eating up the galaxy’s resources”, and oh, Obi-Wan wishes he could rend them limb from limb.

“A bastardisation of Mando armour, you know,” the Nikto grumbles, sending Obi-Wan a pitying look when all he can do is grunt angrily. “Look, this even has an iron heart; what poor kriffing fool told you you were allowed to wear such a mark?” Scoffing, the Nikto discards their cloak to slip on Obi-Wan’s chestplate; every last scrap of energy in Obi-Wan screams at the wrongness, and he jerks in his chains.

The Nikto startles and doesn’t get to fastening the sides as they stare at their prisoner. “You shouldn’t have any mobility left,” they say in part surprise, part anger, getting back to their feet to drag the small medical crate of suppressors back across the room. They kick it open and pull out an almost-empty vial, but don’t get to the needles before a proximity alarm goes off.

They drop the vial and grab the blaster from their hip, and barely get it up in time for the single door to explode inwards, Ghost Company forcing their way into the room before the smoke has even cleared. And Obi-Wan trusts his men, his family, with every Force-forsaken bit of him, which means he promptly passes out at the sight of them.

He doesn’t wake in safety, rather with a vibroblade pressed to his throat and a hand twisting cruelly in his hair. His vision is filled with white and orange and warmth, before his brain catches up to what he’s actually seeing, and he focuses on the blank helmets of his men. The suppressors in his system do nothing to hide the molten metal anger that leaks into the Force all around them, and Obi-Wan must look worse than he thought, if Cody’s hand is trembling on his blaster.

‘Easy,’ Obi-Wan whispers without moving his lips, Cody giving the smallest of jerks so Obi-Wan knows the message is received.

‘Sir?’ Cody shifts on his feet, the Nikto saying something from behind Obi-Wan that’s surely full of gloating and threat, but Cody’s helmet is tilted towards Obi-Wan, his presence fluttering in the Force like a lamp in the dark.

‘I’m not quite sure how you’re managing this,’ Obi-Wan admits, with half a thought to the cosmic implication of Cody giving him a beskar’ta, which has meaning even outside Mandalore, outside even the Force. ‘But my lovely captor is weak on their left side, an old injury, I think.’

‘He’s wearing your armour,’ Cody all but growls and raises his blaster properly, and the Nikto must sense the change as they nervously fumble the vibroblade and cut through the collar of Obi-Wan’s tunic.

And Obi-Wan is tired, he’s been in chains for four days with drugs he’s never encountered burning the ends of his nerves and cutting off an entire sense he has never been without, so he looks up until he meets Cody’s eyes squarely. ‘Then relieve them of it.’

‘With pleasure, sir.’

Mando’a: Vode An — "Brothers All" (a Mando’a war chant taught to the clones by Jango and the Cuy’val Dar) Cuy’val Dar — “Those who no longer exist”, group of 75 Mando’ade and 25 others put together by Jango to train the clones beskar’gam — Armour made of beskar, “Mandalorian Iron” that was actually probably a steel alloy beskar’ta — “Iron heart”, the elongated hex-shape common in Mandalorian armour designs (great post here comparing them to katana tsuba). also called ka’rta beskar or “heart of the iron”

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