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scuttling · 3 years ago

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Lavender

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 9,244 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad's Best Friend Friend From Work Hotch, Me turning a naughty, smutty story into something way more aka my specialty, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Oral sex, Semi-public sex, Office sex Summary: You absolutely dread going home for vacation, to your sickeningly cheery childhood bedroom and opinionated parents, but meeting your dad's friend from work at a stuffy cocktail party has the potential to make this a vacation you'll never forget.*Requested by anon, severely altered by me 😅 Link to A03 or read below! Most people would jump at the chance for an unexpected two week vacation, but you are not most people. When your boss emailed you to inform you that there had been some kind of glitch in HR’s system and you actually had two weeks of paid vacation that were set to expire, your anxiety had kicked into high gear. There isn’t enough time to coordinate travel with any of your friends, too short notice, and you’re kind of afraid to travel alone, though you’d never admit it, so that’s out.

There’s always the prospect of hanging out at home, catching up on all the shows you started but never had time to finish, doing things you’re always too busy for, like cooking and cleaning out your closet and going to the animal shelter to pet the dogs and cats.

Unfortunately, those dreams are crushed when you accidentally let slip during a call to your parents that you have the time off, and they literally insist you come home, will not let you get off the phone without confirming your plans.

You only live about an hour away from them, but for one reason or another, you rarely visit.

The minute you step into your childhood home, you’re reminded of why you rarely visit.

“There’s my little do-gooder!” Your dad is all but waiting at the door when you arrive, pulls you into a hug despite the fact that your hands are full of luggage. “Let me look at you.” He pulls back, hands on your shoulders, acting like it's possible something has changed about you since you had lunch together a month ago in DC. “Oh, you’ve got that serious lawyer hairstyle now,” he remarks with a chuckle, even though your hair is styled the same way it was at that lunch. He might not mean it to come out this way, but it sounds condescending.

“That would be appropriate, considering I am a lawyer,” you remark, trying to keep the snark out of your tone. You know he always means well. “You look good.” He takes his hands off of you and puts them on his stomach.

“Your mom has me on some kind of greens and beans diet, says it will help me live longer.” You smile, a little awkward, not sure what to say about that—your dad is typically the meat and potatoes type, so you figure some variety can’t hurt, but if you say that you’ll never hear the end of it, and you’ve already got a headache.

“Where is mom, anyway?” You shift your bag on your shoulder, and your dad clues in, takes it from you and starts walking up the staircase.

“Oh, she’s at the gym, then taking care of some last minute things for the party.” You pause at the base of the stairs, sigh softly.

“Party?” You weren’t told about any party. Your dad keeps walking, and you’re forced to follow.

“Yeah, nothing major, just some people from the office and their spouses coming over for drinks tonight. Maybe some of their kids,” he adds innocently, and you can’t help rolling your eyes.

By kids, he means sons: eligible sons to try to set you up with. You wouldn’t mind being in a room full of hot, single men vying for your attention any other time—in fact, it’s been a little while, and your most recent hookup was lackluster, so you’re a bit more tightly wound than usual—but the kinds of men your parents bring around aren’t your type at all. You’re career driven yourself, but all they want to talk about is how they plan to be the youngest partner at their firm, or the clubs they can get into, or worst of all, money. Your potentially somewhat relaxing vacation just went to shit in no time at all.

“I didn’t bring anything to wear to a cocktail party.”

“I think mom got you a dress, honey. Check your closet after you get unpacked.” He pushes the door to your former bedroom open, and you’re assaulted by the color lavender; somehow you’d actually forgotten how purple it is. “You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” He sets your bag on the bed—oh god, the frilly purple comforter, you may have actually repressed that memory—and you drop your other luggage there too. “I’ll give you some time to get settled in, maybe order some lunch for us? Vesuvios?”

As irritated as you are about the party, it’s sweet that he remembers your favorite restaurant. You went there for dinner after you graduated from high school, college, and law school, so there are lots of great memories associated with the place.

“Do they adhere to the greens and beans diet?” you ask with a grin, and he puts his finger up to his lips to silence you.

“What mom doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?” You shake your head fondly, and he slips out of your room and leaves you to it.

You start unloading your clothes into the empty dresser, hanging them in the closet that holds things like your prom dresses, graduation gowns, old cheerleading and volleyball uniforms. Every touch of silky fabric is a memory, and at this point in your life most of them are good, even if they weren’t at the time. It’s kind of nice to remember where you came from, when where you are now can be so hectic, so fast-paced you don’t see the forest for the trees.

Feeling nostalgic, you walk over to your desk, where you spent so much time with your face crammed into textbooks it’s not even funny, and flip through your old stationary set—what teenager had her own stationery? You were a total nerd—and photos you’d taken off the mirror but left sitting in a pile to be packed away eventually.

You snap out of the past after that, finish putting your toiletries away, setting up your laptop and chargers where you want them, then shove your empty suitcases in the closet and grab your phone to head downstairs.

You meet up with your dad in the kitchen, where he is opening steaming takeout containers full of Italian food. You grab some plates from the overhead cabinet and lean against the counter, look over the offerings to decide what you’ll have.

“So how are things at the ACLU?” he asks with a bit of a teasing tone. You’re well aware of the fact that he thinks you could be doing more—translation: making more—in private practice, or working for the government like he does, but neither of those things interest you and he is well aware of that.

“They’re really good, actually. We’re working on a disability rights case now that will probably make national news if we win.” It’s been forever since you had penne arrabbiata, since it’s not very easy to eat at your desk without running the risk of staining your blouse with spicy red sauce, so you load up your plate with it, add wilted spinach for color, a piece of garlic bread because it’s garlic bread. You lick your thumb, and your dad points a finger in your direction in that way that means he’s about to give you life advice.

“When you win; if you’re not confident about your capabilities, no one else will be.” You roll your eyes good-naturedly, nod, because that’s a pro tip you’ve heard time and time again. “If you came to work at the bureau, you’d win more of your cases; Constitutional law isn’t easy.” He says that like you don’t already know, like you haven’t been working in your current department for more than a year. You sigh.

“I’m not really the bureau type, dad.” You take your plate over to the breakfast table, sit down and start to pick at your food. Arguing about your chosen career path is enough to make you lose your appetite, even for your favorite dish. Your dad follows, sits across from you.

“You’re so smart, honey, you could be if you wanted to.” He takes a bite of fettuccine alfredo, points his fork at you. “Hey, maybe you could talk to Jim from the Office of General Counsel tonight—or maybe Aaron. You’d be really interested in the work his team does.”

“Who’s Aaron again?” You don’t recognize the name, so he’s probably not one of the attorneys on your dad’s team, but he works closely with so many departments you might have heard it before and missed it.

“Friend from work. He’s the unit chief at the Behavioral Analysis Unit. They’re criminal psychologists or something. Profilers,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what they call them. They get into criminals’ heads, analyze them and interrogate them. I know you minored in psychology, I bet he could get you an internship.” You laugh at that, because he always gives you advice about furthering your career, but that’s a step backward for you and he can't be so dense not to realize it.

“An internship? I’m a little old for that, don't you think? Not to mention I have a job that I love.” You stab at your food, more than a little agitated by the current conversation.

“Never too late to get your foot in the door, sweetie. It’d be great to see you more, that’s all I’m saying,” he adds, ending on a gentler note, and you sigh. Your mom does it too, but your dad is an expert into guilting you into doing what he thinks is best. Unfortunately, you’ve never handled guilt very well.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him, if it means that much to you,” you promise, and you both smile and make easy small talk for the rest of the meal. The dress your mom bought for you for the party is a black, sleeveless, designer cocktail dress, something more form fitting than you would normally wear—she is evidently trying very hard to find you an eligible bachelor tonight. You pair it with your favorite jewelry, simple heels, and when you head downstairs your mom acts like it’s prom night all over again.

“Oh sweetie, you look so beautiful!” She puts her hands on your arms, spins you around. “You’re looking too thin—must be eating a lot of salads on that paralegal salary,” she throws over her shoulder to your dad, and they both laugh. You wish life were a documentary so there was a camera you could look into with an unimpressed expression.

“I’m a staff attorney actually. Fully accredited,” you add, but it’s no use. If you don’t follow in your dad’s footsteps, you will always be seen as living beneath your potential, and therefore always the butt of these types of jokes.

You love them, really, and you know they love you, but they are not the most supportive pair by a long shot. They made sure you got into a great college, let you follow your law school dreams—and you’re grateful, won’t deny their money is a privilege so many other people in your position do not possess—but that was only because those were their dreams as well. As soon as you told them about taking the position at the ACLU, it was like the tables were turned, and instead of your accomplishments, all they saw was wasted potential.

It’s enough to keep you away most of the time, which sucks, but it is what it is. It’s easier to love them from afar, so that’s what you do.

At the party, you shake hands, talk about the weather, introduce yourself to so many middle aged white guys and their sons that their faces all start to blur together. After half an hour you excuse yourself, head to the bar for a drink, and come to stand next to a middle aged white guy you have not introduced yourself to—this one, you’d have remembered, because he is tall, broad, serious looking, and very handsome.

If you were a dog, he’d have your ears perking up, no doubt about that. Instead, your heart just races a little.

“I have to say, these FBI parties are even less fun than I thought they’d be,” you comment as you wait for your drink. The man lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile.

“Get a bunch of men who are past their prime in one room, and all you hear about are the glory days. Can’t get a word in edgewise.” The bartender hands you your glass, and you turn to fully face the stranger.

“Why aren’t you talking about your glory days?” You immediately kind of want to slap yourself. Your social skills have been exhausted tonight, apparently. “I’m sorry, that was rude; I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re… past your prime.” You give him a brief once over, because he deserves it, is even more gorgeous up close than you’d initially assessed; he chuckles softly, sips on his own drink.

“It wasn’t rude, it was… shrewd.” His own gaze lingers on your face, maybe the neckline of your dress, just a little. “Your father’s really happy you’re here, wouldn’t stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, he's one of the most ambitious people I know; he gets an idea in his head and won’t rest until he’s seen it through.” It’s a quality that sounds good on paper, but when it’s constantly being applied to your life, it’s more tiring than anything. “Right now he’s trying to get me to bully one of these poor guys into giving me an internship, as if I’m not twenty-nine years old with a career of my own.” He wets his lips, laughs again.

“I think I’m the poor guy—Aaron Hotchner. I’m the unit chief overseeing the BAU.” Wow, 0 for 2. This guy’s got to think you’re a complete idiot. He extends a hand and you shake it firmly, melt a little because his palm is so broad, his fingers so thick.

“Right, I’m so sorry. Feel free to tell me right now that I’m not the right fit, and I’ll slink off and hide in a corner somewhere for the rest of the night.”

“No need for that. You strike me as someone who would be a great fit for my team, if that was something you actually wanted.”

You aren’t looking for a career change in the slightest, but you can’t deny it would be tempting to report to this man every day.

“It’s not that I’m not curious about what you do; my dad told me a little, and it sounds really intriguing. I just have a lot on my plate right now. If the offer had come up before I started my current job, I would be all over it.” You smile, shrug. “Unless you could have me intern for the next two weeks I’ll be on vacation, I’ll have to politely decline the offer you haven't actually made me.” You smile, and so does he.

“Now who’s ambitious?” he asks with a raised eyebrow; the way he says it, like he finds it charming, makes your face heat a little. You’ve never connected like this at one of your dad’s FBI events, and even though there’s no way it ends well—if anything even starts—you feel the need to see how far you can go. Even if it’s just a little flirting. Even if it’s just tonight.

“Have you ever been here before tonight?” you ask after a beat. You take a sip of your drink, and he mirrors you. You lean in a little closer.

“Once, briefly. I didn’t get a grand tour, or anything.” You smile—bingo—and reach out to place a hand on his arm.

“Oh, I’d be happy to give you one, if you like. Usually my dad is all about it, but he looks occupied.” You both glance across the room at where he is in the middle of a group of men—still discussing their glory days, no doubt—and Aaron looks at you again, nods.

“Sure, I’d love one.” You show him around downstairs, the backyard, the garage—he doesn’t seem to care about the cars at all—and then go upstairs, show him guest rooms, the master bath your mother recently remodeled; he gets a little closer as you go, and you smile more, flirt a bit. You stop outside the door to your room, block it with your body while you talk about the art hanging in the hall; he’s very good at reading your body language, apparently, because he leans closer to you, puts his hand on the doorknob next to your hip.

“What’s this room?” he asks, feigning innocence, and you put your arm over his.

“Oh, no, we’re not going in there. That’s my old bedroom.” He smiles, and you grimace.

“You mean the room I most want to see now? Come on.” He turns the knob, hears it click, and you cover your face with your hand, sigh.

“This is going to be really embarrassing. It’s exactly the way it looked when I went to college, and that was over ten years ago.” You push the door open with your hand, walk in and flick on the light. Aaron follows, chuckles.

“It’s... purple. Cute.” He makes toward the bed, touches one of the frills on the comforter with his big, broad hand. The juxtaposition of your innocent lavender bedding being stroked by the fingers you can’t stop staring at is a very interesting one.

“No, it’s not cute, it’s horrifying,” you say, and when he walks toward the open closet, you begin to regret this little tour. He pulls out your prom dress, your cheerleading uniform.

“Cheerleader, huh? You don’t seem the type.” He looks over at you, and you push it back into the closet, lead him away from it with your hands on his arms.

“I’m not. It was important to my mom.” The two of you are by your dresser now, and he leans in to look in the mirror, at you standing behind him and not his own reflection.

“I see. Do you always put other people's needs before your own?” You sidle up next to him, and he turns to face you.

“This is what you do, right? You… deduce for a living? Like Sherlock?” That makes him laugh, which in turn makes you smile.

“It’s called profiling, but that’s accurate enough.” You feel a challenge brewing inside you, take a step closer to him.

“Okay… What can you tell me about myself by looking around the room? Remember, this stuff is from ten years ago; a lot could have changed.” He crosses his arms, nods.

“You’re right, but your core values wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he walks around the room, taking things in, touching things, looking back at you briefly and then rifling through parts of your past. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“I think your father wants you to work at the bureau, and you don’t want to because you’ve always felt like you’d live in his shadow if you followed the same career path. You want to blaze your own trail, do what fulfills you, not let his last name be what moves you up the ladder.”

That’s all scarily true, so you nod, cross your arms, lean your butt against your desk.

“I think you’re afraid of commitment because you don’t think any relationship you’re in will ever measure up to what your parents have.” That stings a little, but he’s not wrong. He points to a flyer stuck to a cork board, something about a charity project you’d worked on that revolved around recycling. “Environmentally conscious: I bet you drive a hybrid, and if your dad bought it for you, it’s a... BMW.”

He glances back, and you encourage him to go on. He points to a copy of your Georgetown diploma hanging on the wall, then picks up a cheerleading trophy on your dresser.

“You were a cheerleader to please your mom, went to Georgetown to please your dad, excelled at both; you’re an only child, so you felt you couldn’t let them down. My question is,” he says, looking up at you curiously, “what pleases you?” The words make your heart beat fast; you lick your lips, tilt your head.

“Not much.” He comes closer, arms crossed again.

“Why?” God, that’s a loaded question for a Friday night, for the first day of your vacation. You absently wonder if he’s going to bill you for this impromptu therapy session.

“I find it difficult to ask for what I want,” you ultimately say, and he moves even closer. His stare is probing, and you speculate that he may have been a lawyer before the FBI. The look on his face is the same one you’ve seen in many courtrooms over your short career.

“Of course you do. You’ve never done it before. You've spent your whole life asking other people what they want from you.”

You feel very seen, and you kind of hate it, but you also kind of like it—that he’s able to dissect you like this is a huge turn on. What that says about you, you’re not entirely sure; maybe that you enjoy being seen for who you are—for all that you are—instead of who you know, or who you could have been, for a change.

“I think you didn’t lose your virginity until college—your second year.” It feels like bringing that up is a bold move for him; he doesn’t meet your eyes when he says it. “I would guess you got drunk for the first time around then, too. Your first year you were trying to navigate the feeling of not being under anyone’s thumb anymore; your second year, you finally felt like your own woman, you wanted to try new things, but it made you feel out of control and you don’t like that. Even now you only drink socially, never to get drunk.” He is directly in front of you now, and he reaches out a hand, brushes it over your cheek. “I also think you gravitate toward men you find inappropriate and unattainable so you don’t have to worry about being the reason your relationships fail.”

He looks into your eyes with a questioning gaze. It’s a painfully accurate take, but he softens the blow with the gentle touch.

“Wow, you’re kind of an asshole,” you breathe, but you smile, and he laughs low.

“Maybe. But am I wrong?” You nod your head, and his face falls a little, so you narrow your eyes to mess with him a bit.

“Only about one thing: I actually drive a Kia hybrid. And I bought it myself, for your information.” He smiles, and you press your hands against his chest; it’s crazy how quickly he drops back into the serious expression you first saw him wearing by the bar. “Are you unattainable and inappropriate?”

“I work with your father; we’re the same age. We play golf together sometimes.” He doesn’t seem uncomfortable, doesn’t back away or remove your hands. You slide them down his body, over his stomach, stop at his belt, and he looks the way you feel: tightly wound, aroused, a little breathless.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Aaron. May I do some profiling of my own?” You look up at him, curious, and he nods.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs, and you lean back. You rake your eyes over his body slowly—there’s no mistaking your appraisal for what it is. “No ring on your finger, but there’s no way you haven’t been married before. My guess is you’re divorced, and it wasn’t your idea.” You look up at his face, smile softly. “Sorry. You weren’t exactly pulling punches either.” He huffs a laugh.

“You’re right: I wasn’t pulling punches. You’re right about the divorce, too. Go on.” You nod, hum.

“Okay. You have a strong moral compass; you always do what’s right, even when it’s difficult. It’s what makes you such a great leader for your team. You like to go by the book, you’re a Fed through and through—but when it comes down to the bureau or the people you care about, you’ll fight the establishment with all you have. You aren’t a blind believer in the government; you have your criticisms, and you aren’t shy about voicing them.”

“Unlike your father,” he says, and you sigh. “You don’t have an appreciation for his work.”

“No, I really don’t.” Your dad specializes in Freedom of Information Act litigation—he does his best to keep the FBI from actually living up to its commitment to be transparent with the American people, and it doesn’t sit right with you, never has. You may both be attorneys, but you could not be more different if you tried. “But I’m profiling you, remember?”

“Right. Please continue.”

“This might be going out on a limb, but I think you went to law school. The way you speak, and the way you looked at me earlier? It was a little like cross-examination. Am I right about that?” His answering smile actually looks pleased.

“You are. I was a prosecutor for a number of years before joining the FBI. I think it’s something you don’t ever really lose.”

“For better or worse,” you say with a smile of your own. Happy with your assessment, you move a little closer again. “One more thing. I don’t think you’re the kind of man who would normally let a woman take you into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing her. Childhood or otherwise.” You smooth your hands down either side of his tie, over his firm chest and solid midsection. “Maybe you saw something in me you liked?”

“I was... dreading coming here tonight.” He brings his hands up to cover yours, but doesn’t pull them away, just holds them. “If you’ve been to one of these parties, you’ve been to them all—no offense to your father—and I was contemplating a good excuse to leave early, if I’m being honest. Then you showed up at my side—my friend’s mysterious daughter that I’ve heard so much about—and you’re funny, and charming. Insightful. Vulnerable.” He squeezes your hands, presses them closer to his chest. “Beautiful. It’s been a long time since I’ve looked at someone and felt an instant connection. Do you feel it?” His voice is just above a whisper, and you nod lightly.

You aren’t the type of woman to take a man into her bedroom after less than an hour of knowing him, childhood or otherwise, but he makes you want so badly you’re almost ravenous—you’ve felt this way before, maybe twice in your life, but neither of those experiences ended with you getting what you wanted. You really hope this time might be different.

“Kiss me?” He takes a breath and then presses his lips together.

“I shouldn’t.”

“I know. But will you?” After a beat, he does, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours, moving his hands to your face as he deepens it.

It’s not a hard kiss, but rough around the edges, your noses pressed together, mouths seeking contact even as you pull apart for breath. He kisses like he needs it, tastes like bourbon, feels like heaven; it’s steamy, wet, makes your chest heave and your pussy throb. When he walks you backward, gently presses your body against your desk, you hop up onto it easily and pull him closer, between your spread knees.

“Aaron,” you sigh over his lips, and his hands move to your thighs, pushing up your dress so he can get closer to you. You glide your fingers through his hair, plant a hand on the desk, then feel something tip over, hear the soft sound of paper sliding over the edge.

Aaron looks down, picks up a lavender envelope; he holds it up with a question in his eye and an enamored look on his face.

“‘From the desk of…’ You had personalized stationery at eighteen?” His mouth is a little red from the kiss still, and he’s teasing you, perfect; you smile, can’t believe this is happening.

“I liked to write to my congressman… and Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” you pant. He chuckles, kisses you a little softer than before, then moves down your throat, sweeps his tongue over your pulse. “Mmm. Right there.”

He pauses to look up at you, hair mussed from your fingers, and you push his jacket off his shoulders; he shifts to full height, helps you take it off, and you drape it over your desk chair, work the knot of his tie loose.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks as your fingers slip down the front of his shirt, freeing his buttons. You unclasp his belt, open his pants, and stretch up for a kiss, touching his face; you nod when you pull back.

“Absolutely. Are you?” He nods too, all serious eyebrows you want to kiss, mouth you want back on yours, on your throat, anywhere.

“Absolutely.” You step down off the desk, run your hands over his arms, then kick off your shoes and walk over to the door, close and lock it; when you pass him again, you guide him to the bed and sit in his lap, clutch at his shoulders and kiss him with as much desperation as he showed you before. There’s a lot of heavy breathing, sighing, moans from you both, and if just kissing is this good, you can’t imagine what he’ll be like inside of you.

When you can find it in yourself to stop kissing him, you pull back and climb out of his lap, present the back of your dress so he can ease down the zipper. He pushes it off, large, warm hands gliding over your body until it hits the floor in a heap unbecoming of the designer label. Your mother would lose her mind.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” Aaron says as he moves his hands to your hips, sliding your panties down and leaning in to press his lips to your stomach. You sigh, press a hand to the back of his head while his mouth explores you where you’re soft and sensitive. You’d like it lower, but there may not be time for that tonight. “What do you want with an old man like me?”

“None of that.” You sweep your hands over his shoulders, sink down onto his lap again, and his hands fall to your bare hips, squeezing you softly; you close your eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed by just the simplest touch. “Like you said: I feel a connection.” Your fingers move to push his shirt open, to lift his undershirt so you can get your hands on bare skin and soft body and hair. He groans, and you kiss him, deep and slow, hands moving to take off both shirts and add them to his jacket on your chair. You take a deep breath, reach out to touch his cheek. “Connect with me.”

He takes your hand, brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it, then drags it down so your fingers slide over his lips; you swallow hard, can feel wetness pooling between your legs, so you slide off of him and onto the bed—however sexy it may be to leave your mark on him, you do both have to return to the party at some point.

Sitting up beside him, you touch his body, ease his pants and boxers down; he takes them off along with his shoes, and you pull the comforter out from under you, push it to the side, let yourself lay back and bask in the look and feel of him as he settles between your knees, leans in for a kiss.

It’s even more intense than before, somehow, his thighs against yours, strong arms supporting him, and you drag your nails lightly up his body, tip your head back and sigh when his lips trail from the base of your throat to your jaw.

He moves a hand low, rubs his fingers between your lips and presses one finger inside you, slowly glides it in and out so you’re moaning, sighing his name.

“That feels so good,” you breathe, and he moves his mouth to yours again, soft and wet, the slide of his tongue sinfully delicious. He adds a second finger, earns more gasping moans, then a third; with the help of a capable thumb stroking over your clit, you come, and he kisses the praise right out of your mouth and then pushes inside you.

His mouth doesn’t leave yours, keeps you close as he thrusts inside, gradually lowering his weight onto you until you feel him everywhere: chest soft against yours, stomachs pressing together as you both work your hips, as your hands grasp his back to keep him close, heavy. Connected.

“You’re perfect. You feel incredible, baby,” he speaks against your lips in a rare moment apart, and you hitch your knees up higher, press the heels of your feet against his ass.

You thought he looked turned on before, but now he looks like he’s being consumed by it, like he wants to thrust deeper into you, make a home in your body and never leave; you would be more than okay with that, to spend the next two weeks beneath him, holding him close, sharing breath and sweat and pleasure so complete it changes you profoundly.

He moves a hand behind your head, cradles it, and sucks wet kisses against your throat—nothing so deep as to leave a mark, but that doesn’t mean you’re not panting, whimpering, begging for more.

“Aaron. Hmm, oh. You’re so gorgeous, I—everything about you.” He pulls away from your neck, peers down at you, and you’re sure you’re a sight to behold in your desperation; your palms smooth down his back, to his sides, and you hug him close, squeeze him hard when he comes, panting your name against your throat and pumping roughly inside.

You meet his every thrust, dig your nails into his hips, and he leans forward, covers your mouth with his and grinds against you until your second blissful orgasm shudders through your limbs. You clench tight around him, moan, then slowly sag back against the mattress, more thoroughly satisfied than you’ve ever been in your life.

He shifts, half on top of you and half off, his kisses gradually slowing, his hands sweeping over your shoulders, your face, your arms. When you’re calm, content, you sigh, kiss his hands and cheeks and lips; you’re warm, and you curl around him, overheated skin on skin, and never want to leave.

“Mmm,” he rumbles against your shoulder, mouthing at it, and you sigh, scrape your nails through his hair.

“Mm hmm. Think I can die happy now,” you murmur, and he shifts up to look at you, a smile curving softly from the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t die on me, now.” You smile too, scoot closer for slow kisses. You’re both happy to lay there, quietly kissing, but eventually it’s clear you need to return to the party in order to avoid suspicion—not that you think anyone would ever guess what just occurred.

You dress side by side, turning to have him fix your zipper, reaching up to help him with his tie. When you’re both technically decent enough to head downstairs, you plan to give him a head start, but the two of you get caught up in one more deeply sensual kiss that almost makes you want to just say screw it and take his clothes off again. He can tell, has the barest hint of a smirk on his face when the kiss breaks, and he punctuates it with a soft press of lips before walking out the door.

With your spare few minutes, you look around the room—and at your rumpled, frilly, lavender bed, on which you just had super hot sex with one of your dad’s friends, it’s still kind of sinking in—and wonder what the rest of your vacation could possibly bring that could top this night. At breakfast the next morning, you find out.

You and your parents are discussing the party, who got too drunk to function, who left with the wrong wife, which of your dad’s friend’s sons you got along with most, and then he drops the bomb on you.

“And see, honey, I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial.” You choke on a bite of scrambled eggs, try to wash it down with a sip of juice; your mom pats you on the back until the moment passes.

“What?” you ask, voice barely a squeak. You clear your throat and try again. “What about Aaron, dad?” He flips the newspaper he’s holding to the next page and peers over it at you.

“I told you talking to Aaron would be beneficial. Before he left last night, he told me all about the internship—it’s nice of him to set it up for the two weeks you’re here, so you can get some experience under your belt.” You briefly think about your experience under Aaron’s belt, but it’s really not the time.

He really set you up with an internship—one he knows you aren’t interested in—based on the offhand comment you’d made about squeezing it into your two week vacation. You’d be kind of irritated at him for making the plans on your behalf, but if it means the next two weeks are anything like last night, he’s going to make it well worth your while.

The internship excites both of your parents, and your mom declares it a girls day, takes you out for some new clothes, since you didn’t bring any workwear, for a manicure and pedicure and then drinks. She talks about what a great opportunity this will be for you, and you don’t have the heart—or maybe you just don’t care anymore—to argue about what great opportunities you’ve already made possible for yourself.

Sunday is for relaxing, and not internally panicking about seeing Aaron again. Friday night was incredible, but you didn’t think it would turn into anything, considering he is your dad’s friend, and you’re only here for a couple weeks.

You have to hand it to him, though: if he enjoyed himself as much as you did, and this internship is his way of getting to spend more time with you, he has managed to do what you haven’t been able for twenty-nine years—find a way to please your parents while finally pleasing yourself. Monday morning, you show up at the BAU office to receive a photo ID badge and fill out some paperwork. You don’t actually get to meet anyone from the BAU until after lunch, and when you do, Aaron is nowhere to be seen.

“Hi, I’m looking for Unit Chief Hotchner?” you say to a fair-skinned woman with long blonde hair and a kind smile. “I’m interning for the next couple weeks.” There is a man with her, Black, tall, bald, with very expressive eyebrows; the eyebrows don’t look like they think very highly of you.

“You’re an intern? A little old, aren’t you?” After a beat, his face breaks into a smile, and you roll your eyes, huff a laugh.

“Charmer. Yes, I’m definitely too old to be an intern; do you have overbearing parents by chance?” He raises his hands, palms up, and takes a step back.

“No, but enough said.” The blonde woman laughs, and he nods in your direction. “I’m Derek Morgan, this is JJ Jareau. Come with me, I’ll take you to Hotch.”

You thank him, follow as he leads you across the room and up some stairs.

“So what’s he like, Agent Hotchner?” you ask, wanting someone else’s opinion of Aaron as a boss, a coworker—anything other than the one night stand that wasn’t. You really know so little about him.

“He’s a good guy; smart, fair, great at what he does. A little tightly wound; could stand to live a little.” He looks back at you with a grin. “He’ll probably remind you a little of your dad.”

God. It almost makes you throw up in your mouth a little.

“You know, I doubt it, but thanks for the warning.” He knocks on a closed door at the end of the hall, and a moment later, Aaron answers it. His expression doesn’t change as Derek introduces you, and when he walks away with a friendly pat on your shoulder, Aaron gestures you in. He closes the door behind you and looks carefully over your face.

“Hi,” he says, and you see that hint of a smirk on his face again. You take a moment to appraise the room—there’s a window with blinds that are closed, a desk and chairs, bookcases, a printer, more windows on the far side, a loveseat. You look back at Aaron with a raised brow.

“Hi. What am I doing here?” His expression gets serious, like he can’t tell if you’re pleased or upset with him for the surprise. You sit down on the loveseat, set your bag down, and he sits down next to you.

“I know you wanted to get your father off your back, and you did say if I could squeeze an internship into two weeks that you’d be interested.” You smile a little, because you did say that. “I thought it might be nice to see you a little more, too. You’re under no obligation to stay,” he assures you, briefly looking down, and then he takes your hand. “But surely there are worse ways to spend your vacation?”

You give him an uncertain look, like you’re really trying to decide what you’d like to do, and then you push up your skirt and swiftly straddle his thighs, press your hands against his shoulders. His mouth falls open a little, and you lean in to catch it with yours.

“I have been thinking about you all weekend,” he mutters into the kiss, wraps his arms around your back. “Have you thought about me?”

“Only every night.” He groans at your words, lets his head fall back a little, and you press your lips to the column of his throat, nip softly with your teeth. “Every morning. Every minute.” You bite at the shell of his ear, kiss it, card your fingers through his hair. “Do I have an actual job to do here?” You pull back, and he raises his eyebrows; you can’t help the grin that takes over your expression. “Because if not, I’m going to focus on making this the best two weeks of your life.”

He pulls you in for another kiss, a little rougher than before, deeper, and you tug on his hair, pant against his cheek when you separate.

“In that case, no. You don’t have a job to do here.” You tilt your head, and he smiles a little. “I'm the boss, I make the rules.” That kind of thing has never done it for you before, but you have to admit it’s making you feel some type of way right now. You sweep your hands inside his jacket, squeeze his sides.

“Mmm, yes you do. Hey, do you think there’s enough room for me to fit under your desk?” He wets his lips, and you climb off of him, walk around to check it out for yourself, bending over his desk in your tight black skirt to peek beneath it. You look up to see Aaron is not shy about taking in the view, and you grin. “Spacious.”

He walks toward you, and when he’s closer, his eyes look dark with need; his hands look like they ache to reach out and touch. You step forward, let yourself be caged in against the desk by his arms, and you arch your back a little, open his belt slowly.

“I didn’t set this up so you would feel obligated to do this.” You sigh, lean up to catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“I know you didn’t. But if I want to?” You tug down his zipper, slip your hand inside his underwear, feel him hot and stiff in your palm. “And you want to?” He nods tightly and you kiss him again, squeeze him softly, sweep your tongue between his lips. “Then let’s.”

You take a step back, push his chair far enough out of the way that you can crawl under the desk, come up on your knees; he exhales deeply, then sinks down into his chair, stretches his long legs so they rest on either side of your body, holds his pants open for you. You look up at him, hope he sees how ridiculously eager you are to do this, and you take his dick out, stroke it a couple times, and cover it with your mouth.

“My god,” he sighs, head resting back against his seat. You hold him with both hands, suck deep and wet, moan a little when he spreads his legs further apart. “Your mouth feels so good, baby. Does this make you wet?” You pull off, move one hand to slide up his stomach, clutch his shirt there.

“Very, but I’m patient. Want to make you come.” He wets his lips, sighs, and you dip your head, lick up the length of him before sucking him back down.

He is all perfect, desperate noises, soft grunts and moans, gently palming your head as he gets closer, and you’re pretty sure he’s about to get off when there’s a knock at the door. He mutters a curse, and you squeeze his stomach, determined to make him come in the next five seconds. He looks like he’s going to lose his mind.

“Just a minute,” he manages, his voice strained, and he puts his hands on your arms, but you stroke and suck him quickly, actually sigh in relief when he spills in your mouth; your only regret is that he couldn’t be louder.

As soon as he’s through coming, you duck under the desk to wipe your mouth, and he hurries to fix his fly, to close his belt. There’s another knock, and he exhales, calls for whoever is on the other side to come in.

He accidentally bangs his knee off the desk, winces, and you lean back against it, panting, your heart racing.

“Aaron!”

Your eyes snap closed. What are the actual chances of this? You don’t know enough about karma to have an opinion on it, but you come to the sudden realization that you must have done something wrong in a past life.

“Hey, what are you doing in our neck of the woods?” Aaron asks, managing to sound like he is in fact not talking to the father of the woman who just swallowed his come.

“Looking for my little girl, of course. Had to see what she was getting up to on her first day at the FBI.”

“She’s actually… downstairs. In the mailroom. Interns start at the bottom and work their way up.” You stifle a laugh, because despite your compromising position, that’s kind of funny.

“Oh, okay. Agent Morgan thought she was up here, but I guess she must have snuck by him. Would you tell her I stopped by?”

“Absolutely. She’ll be happy to hear it,” he says, and you think you might be out of the woods, but you hear your dad’s voice again.

“Hey I almost forgot to mention: Monday Night Football tonight, got a bunch of guys coming over to watch the game. You interested?”

“You know, that would be great. You can text me the details. Thanks for the invitation.”

“Sure, of course. I really appreciate you taking care of my girl.” You have to bite your lip this time, and Aaron taps his foot against your hip.

“It’s my pleasure. She’s really wonderful. You should be proud.”

“I am. I’ll text you the details,” he says, and then the door closes and Aaron pulls back, looks down at you beneath the desk. You kind of just stare at each other for a minute.

“Close call?” you say with a shrug, and he helps you to your feet, then lifts you up and sets your ass on the edge of his desk. He grabs your face for a messy kiss, and you cling to him, breathless when he pulls back.

“What does it say about me that I’m turned on again?” he asks, and you shake your head, pull him close for another kiss.

“I don’t know, but I’m really turned on, too. Can you—” That’s as far as you get before he strides over to the door, flips the lock, and comes back to push your skirt up, tug your panties down to your knees so quickly it makes you gasp. He gets on his knees slowly, looks up at your face, and puts his hands on your hips, takes a few deep, thorough licks of your pussy. “Oh, my god.” You put your hand on the back of his head, drop your ass harder against the desk and press your other palm against it for support.

He is as enthusiastic as you were for him, slipping his tongue between your lips, gliding rhythmically over your opening but not pressing in, the tease. It feels insanely good, so much but not quite enough.

“Aaron. Oh, mmm—please. Please.” You sigh, dig your fingers into his hair, and he puts his hands under your ass and tilts you back on the desk, dives lower to start thrusting inside you with his tongue. “Yes, yeah, right there,” you murmur, and you rock your hips a little; your hand slips, sending you further back on the desk so that you’re almost laying back on it, and it makes you feel so deliciously dirty that you groan, grab at the collar of his jacket at the back of his neck.

“You okay?” he asks, pulling back to look up at you, and you nod, frantic; he licks his lips, lifts your legs and puts them over his shoulders, then dips down to stroke his tongue inside you, to press a finger inside alongside it.

“Holy—oh, yes.” You toss your head back, whine, and come around his finger while his tongue flicks in and out until you’re left breathless, spent.

You press yourself up to sitting, and Aaron stands, kisses you deeply, hands on your face while you’re still slick on his tongue. After a couple of minutes, he helps you get cleaned and straightened up, his kisses soft presses of lips this time.

“I should try to get some work done,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he wants to; after that, you can’t really blame him.

“That’s okay; I brought my laptop, so I can work on some stuff too, if you don’t mind.” He doesn’t of course, and you get set up at the other end of his desk. You’re both plugging away at your work when you’re reminded of something from earlier; you close the lid of your computer and look over at Aaron, head tilted. “I didn’t take you for someone who likes football.” He smiles, taps his pen against his chin.

“I don’t. But I figured you’ll be there.” You smile back.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if my old cheerleading uniform still fits—you know, just to go with the theme.” You open your computer back up, but the look on Aaron’s face out of the corner of your eye is very, very promising. “Mmh, that feels good,” you murmur, one hand on Aaron’s shoulder and the other on his thigh; he is propped up against your pillows, massaging your bare breast and your clit while you roll your hips in his lap. Your cheerleading skirt fits, mostly, but you couldn’t zip it all the way; still, it’s the only thing you’re wearing, and you can’t deny the whole situation is so hot it hurts.

“You feel so incredible. Taking me so well.” He can’t kiss you in this position, and you can tell he wants to—you really want him to—so you feel a little like a tease as you work your ass and thighs atop him. “You know you’re beautiful, but I can’t stop saying it. You’re perfect, baby—in this little skirt?” He moves the hand from your breast to your hip under the skirt, squeezes you there. “So sexy. Do you remember any cheers for me?”

You groan, roll your eyes.

“Not worth the orgasm to embarrass myself,” you say, and he lifts his hips, slams up into you hard. “Mmh. Okay, almost worth the orgasm, but not going to do it.” He lifts an eyebrow, pumps his hips up again.

“Really? Not even if I…” He lunges forward, lifting you out of his lap and making you laugh, then maneuvers you onto your stomach, gets on his knees behind you, flips up the skirt.

“God, Aaron,” you sigh, and he presses his thighs right up against your ass, slides inside, pumps slow and steady while squeezing your cheeks, pulling you back toward him. Your fingers dig into the stupid, frilly bedspread, which will probably turn you on for the rest of your life, now, and you move back against his thrusts, moan.

“Worth it now?” he asks, filling you so completely, and you pant, hum.

“Wouldn’t you rather I just moan your name?” He leans forward at that, hands planted up under your arms, and leans in to speak into your ear; the way he’s pressed against you, the angle is perfect, and you’re right on the edge when his lips brush your throat.

“Yeah, why don’t you do that instead.” It takes about two seconds for you to come, and you aren’t shy about it, let his name fall from your lips in an endless string of praise. He hammers against your ass, the roughest he’s been—and god, does it feel good—then comes inside you murmuring your name.

He pulls out, rolls you over, and you finally kiss, make it count; it’s like the first night, how you can’t get enough of each other, messy, desperate, curling tongues and soft, eager lips, but you know you can’t keep it up forever, because his presence downstairs will be missed much sooner than Friday’s party.

You help him get dressed—in jeans and a blue polo, maybe the only time in your life a polo has made you wet—and then throw on a t-shirt and jeans of your own, head downstairs. You detour for the kitchen to grab a couple beers while he heads into the living room, and then you plop down next to him on the couch and hand him one like you weren’t just defiling your childhood bedroom yet again.

“There you are,” your dad says when he registers your presence—it’s impossible to get him to look away from the tv when a good game is on. “So how was your first day at the office? Think you’re going to like it there?”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I was resistant for so long.” You shift, put your leg under your butt, and take a sip of your beer. “It’s not going to be a career for me, but I have a really good feeling about the next two weeks.”

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

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writingsfromhome · 3 years ago

Text

Crystal Clear

A/N: Here’s some fluff, friends to lovers I’ve had going on while I work on something bigger :))

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“Y/N,” a strange man calls my name. I look him up and down but I don’t think I know him.

“Who’s asking?”

“Y/N, it’s me? Harry.”

“Oh,” I laugh and greet him how I would have if I’d recognized him under all those layers, in a great big hug. “Your disguise is brilliant!”

“It’s not a disguise,” he says into his coat. “It’s bloody cold here.”

“Coldest day so far,” I accept the hot chocolate from the vendor and ask him for another, Harry could use one, poor thing. His plans this week were changed last minute, and since he was in New York City where his best childhood friend lived, he decided to actually hang out with me. Ever since he got famous, it was hard to catch time with him.

“Did the cold freeze all the English out of you? You’re not even wearing mittens,” Harry accepts his own cup from the vendor.

“I’m got them in my pocket,” I point to the bulge on the side of my coat as we step aside and make our way deeper into the winter festival that was at Bryant Park. “Don’t insult me, I can still make a better cup of tea than you ever could.”

“There she is,” I hear the smile in Harry’s voice more than I see it. It truly was ridiculous--not only was he wearing the thickest parka I’d ever seen, he also had on a beanie and a scarf, as well as knit gloves that held tightly to his hot chocolate.

“I’m always here, you’re just too busy to see me.”

“Not this again,” he groans. I was always giving him grief every time he touched down to NYC but didn’t pop by for a visit. I knew he had a hectic schedule, and even though I wasn’t that bothered I still liked to tease him.

“It’s true, you come to the city so often but I see you once a year. And maybe again when I’m in London if I get lucky.”

“I’m busy Y/N, I talk to you all the time!”

“I know,” I elbow him. “I just like to rile you up.”

“Well now that you’ve got that out of your system,” he tugs my hat over my eyes. “Where are we going next?”

I push it back up, “I thought we could just wander the shops, then get on the skating rink if you’re not frozen to death.”

“Alright I’ve got to pick some gifts up anyway let’s see what’s here.”

We make a good team as we visit stands selling ornaments and kitschy decor, handmade gifts, and hot cider. We sift through exactly what we might want, or what the other’s looking for. And with the light dusting of snow coming down, and the bright lights strung around the Park, it was like walking in a Christmas movie.

“Look at this,” I point ahead. We’d nearly visited all the stands and holiday shops but a festive psychic advertises their services in a small glass booth. “Should we?”

“It’s a waste of money,” Harry scoffs. “She’s just going to read your body language.”

“She might be the real deal-”

“You can’t be serious-”

“C’mon!” I tug his gloves hand and it takes a few but he stumbles towards me. It’s slightly warmer inside and I notice the space heater running in the corner. “At least it’s warm” I whisper to Harry.

“You really want to do this?” He asks one last time.

“It’s just $10-”

“$20 for the two,” the woman almost shifts out of the wall and I hide my jump with a laugh. There’s a curtain behind her, I realize, she must have stepped out.

“It’s just me,” I clarify.

She eyes Harry and Harry eyes her back. “You look familiar.”

“Just have that face,” he shrugs, burrowing into his scarf. “I’m just here to watch.”

She stares at him a moment longer before settling at the small table. I flash Harry a smile before sitting down myself, setting my bags onto the floor.

“Palm reading, cards, what will it be dear?” The psychic asks. I remember the sign out front said cards would be more than having my palm read so I opt for the cheaper option.

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully as she traces the lines on my palm. I wriggle my eyebrows at Harry and he rolls his eyes, but he stays watching her like a hawk. It was cute how overprotective he got sometimes. The psychic glances up to catch him watching her, she then glances at me and tilts her head.

“I see longevity, in life and love, a few bumps but you’re a strong persistent woman.”

Harry grumbles behind me and I resist the urge to say something to him.

“I see success after hard, hard work. But a big success that will change the course of your career.”

“Wow, how soon?” I ask.

“Mmm, after a big milestone. Turning 30?” she continues to examine my hand. “I see a second life later in life, with kids...just one no maybe two children.”

“How about her love life?” Harry asks. “Her last love s’not too nice.”

“Seriously Harry?” I turn to glare this time. He’s grinning with flushed cheeks, knowing it was a sore spot he liked to say i told you so to. It was true, he had told me so about my 3 year relationship but I’d ignored him.

“Your love life,’ the woman speaks up. “Shows me two great loves. One cuts short, the other is as long as your life line.”

“Ooh,” I lean in, interested. “I think I know about the one that was cut short. Tell me about the second!”

“This second...” she traces my palm and I feel a tingle. “This second love is very close, a bit rocky but it will last.”

“A bit rocky?”

“Hm,” she chews her bottom lip. “Time, distance...it will make it rocky. But it lasts.”

“So how close is close?” I ask eagerly.

“Close,” she says with a smile that tells me I wasn’t getting anything else out of her.

“That’s a bit vague isn’t it?” Harry pipes up from the back.

“The future isn’t always crystal clear,” she says without looking up at him.

“Lay off,” I scold him.

“It’s okay, I get nonbelievers all the time.” She laughs. “That will be $10 dear.” When I hand her the bill she stops me as she takes it. “A little free advice?”

“Sure.” I pick up the bags I placed on the floor earlier.

"Don’t be so focused on the life you want that you don’t see the life you have around you.”

“I’ve actually told her that before,” Harry decides we want more of his unsolicited opinions. “Maybe there is something true to all of this.”

“Thanks,” I pocket her words for later. Harry was right, he’d said something along those lines to me before, especially when it came to giving up control and going with the flow on trips and events with him. I always declined his offers, we lived a modest life growing up and accepting these gifts from him always felt so excessive. I wanted to make my own way in the world, but Harry always had something to say. “And sorry for his attitude, he’s not always this rude.”

“Yeah,” Harry shifts forward. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m a lot nicer usually.”

“I know,” she smiles.

“She’s psychic,” I remind him.

“I’m also online,” she laughs. “Can I get a picture?”

Harry eyes me, before going in for a selfie with her. I know he usually didn’t mind getting asked in smaller settings but he’d admitted it was something he was still getting used to. It had been a couple years since he became so famous, in such a short amount of time I went from being able to go down to a local pub with my best friend to schedules and security details and a whole other list of complications. Sometimes I hated it, mostly I was happy for him.

“Another day, another fan.” I tell Harry after we walk away from the psychic and he flips me off. “Should we get something to eat and get out of the cold?”

“God yes,” Harry shivers. “Can we just go to yours?”

“Let’s go,” I loop my arm through Harry’s.

Harry wants instant warmth so he hails a cab and we pick up takeout once we reach my neighbourhood. Harry had been here a few times, my roommate had gotten used to the fact that I was best friends with him, and sometimes he preferred to stay here when he wanted to be anonymous. Paparazzi sometimes crowded outside his hotel when word leaked he was there.

We eat ourselves into a food coma and Harry decides to stay the night, not wanting to face the cold again. Since our living room couch sprained his neck the only time he’d slept there, he usually crashed in my bed. His head barely hits the pillow before he’s snoring, I guess the jet lag finally caught up.

***

I jerk out of sleep, a crashing noise followed by swearing catches my attention.

“I think your roommate dropped something,” I hear from beside me. I turn my face to get a facefull of Harry’s thigh tattoos.

“Y’think?” I croak and shift backwards to see his face. He’s sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.

“Guess which psychic is officially internet-famous?” Harry asks dryly.

“Hm?” I’m still calming my heart from waking up so suddenly so it takes a moment to register Harry’s words. “What?”

He shoves his phone in my face, the selfie he took with the psychic yesterday is posted on social media with over half a million likes. He swipes away and a lot of his tag is filled with news outlets and fan accounts spamming the picture. He pulls it back to read a heading: “Harry Styles visits Psychic for ideas on his next album. There’s also Harry Styles rumored to be connected to the Occult...I don’t know what that means. Psychic tells all on Harry Styles reading.”

“How did that picture circulate?” I rub my eyes and sit up beside him. “And where is all of this coming from?”

“She has a Twitter, and she posted the picture.” He shows me, it’s there with the caption A handsome face showed up to my booth at the Bryant Park Market tonight. Get your future told, 5pm to 9pm 7 days a week.

I can’t help but laugh, she was a business woman and she really took the opportunity to sell her service.

“It’s not funny Y/N,” Harry looks furious so I cover my mouth and squint at his screen as he scrolls. A ton of people are responding asking about his future or what he came there for. Amongst them, she responds to only one person: His love life was involved.

My jaw drops, “That’s such a lie! She read me my love life, and life lines!”

“I told you she was a fraud,” Harry jerks the phone back to him.

“She lied for sales, but doesn’t mean she didn’t tell the truth yesterday.”

“If she lied about this she lied about it all and you wasted $10. She only talked about your love life, not mine...”

I remember her words, my second love was very close...could she have meant...

I glance at Harry and he seemed to have followed the same train of thought because we lock eyes, his probably just as wide as mine.

“D’you think?” he says just as I say “Was she...?”

We immediately burst out laughing as the tension comes to a head and bubbles over in a safe trickle.

“Is that what she was trying to say?” I say when I’ve finally caught my breath, my stomach hurt from laughing this hard.

“I guess when she said close she meant close,” Harry’s flat on his back from laughing. “Quite literal.”

“And you were calling her out on being so vague.”

“I’ve got to give it to her,” he shuts his phone off and throws it onto the covers between us, releasing the annoyance. “She’s a good businesswoman.”

“I was thinking the same thing but I thought you might kill me if I said that,” I admit.

We lay on the rumpled covers in silence, I think about everything else she said. The potential of it all is tarnished by the idea of Harry being my second love, for life. It was so ridiculous, unless by love she meant the way I love him now. As my best friend. Our lives were so different, there was no way it could ever work. Not to mention...he was my best friend since forever.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks out of the blue.

“Thought about what?” I prop myself on my elbow.

“Us, like...the way she predicted?”

“Together together?” I can’t help but laugh. “No never, you’re my best friend!” I recognize the flash of hurt so I backtrack a little. “No offense Harry, I love you but could you imagine?”

“I have,” he says it so quietly as I lay back down. “What?” I ask. He shrugs, “I’m surprised you haven’t. We’ve been friends since...we were 7. You’re saying you never thought about it?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Actually I haven’t. When...what did you think about?”

“I dunno,” he fiddles with his rings. “Like for school dances, when I didn’t have a date I thought about asking you as more than a friend...thought about where that could lead. Or every time you had your heart broke. I wanted to take the pain away and just show you what you deserved.”

“Harry I...” it was sweet, what he was saying. But he never gave a single clue about it the entire time we grew up. He was always chasing girls who looked nothing like me, so I always thought that’s what his type was. Never did I think about anything more with him.

“Not-not recently though,” he forces a laugh. “Just when we were kids.”

“That’s sweet Harry. I had no idea.��

He shrugs, and sits up.

“No seriously I...that’s so sweet. But just so you know, you have shown me what a good man can be. Just by being the best friend ever.”

“Aw,” he swipes my cheek as he gets up. “That’s cute. I don’t know if I’ve done such a good job when you’ve only dated knobs.”

I could recognize his defense mechanism--turning it into a big joke. But he leaves the room before I can call him out and I’m left sitting in the mess of what he’d just told me. It’s not that it was awkward or a bad thing, but suddenly it felt tense and the tension triggered an anxious feeling in my chest.

I decide to get out of my room and find my roommate cleaning up the remains of her broken mug. I offer to clean the spill as she dresses to go out for her run. Helping her distracts me, and when I hear Harry leave the bathroom I lock myself in, and try some breathing exercises to clear the anxiety creeping up. When I realize I was trying to avoid Harry, I scold myself. This was ridiculous and funny! Harry wanted to ask me out when we were kids, it was cute, and that was it. The psychic was a fake anyway, nothing she said meant anything.

I head back to my room where Harry’s made the bed. I change into trousers and my favourite fisherman sweater, and find him having coffee at our small kitchen table with his phone on speaker as he talks to someone. His legs barely fit underneath, so they’re sprawled to the side. He’s still shirtless, and my attention snags on his torso.

I shake myself out of my thoughts as I bump into the kitchen island, and glance up to see that although he was talking to the person on the phone, his eyes had been on me...while my eyes were on his abs. Oh god, I cringe. I try to act casual, mouthing if he wanted breakfast but he shakes his head and points to the call he’s having.

I make myself a toast and try to ignore what just happened but it only adds to the tension from this morning. When he gets off his call he brings his cup up to the sink.

“I think I need another cup.”

“Be my guest,” I move aside. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?”

“Are you going to feed me avocado flax seed quinoa toast?” he teases.

“There’s no quinoa.” I correct, crossing my arms. “But...yes.”

“I’ll take this banana,” he holds the lone banana on the counter. “I’ve got to be in East Harlem by noon, that’s what the call was about.”

“Aw,” I hated saying goodbye. “Are you busy the rest of your stay?”

“I can make it back here,” he says.

“Do whatever you need to do,” I say. “I’m used to being discarded after you hang out with me in the city.”

“I don’t do that!” he reaches behind me to slot his cup in and set the machine to grind his beans. I can smell my shampoo on him, he must’ve showered. “If you want me back, you can just say that.”

The morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window leaves no room for shadows; the shift in the mood is clear as the daylight streaming in. Or maybe I was reading too much into his words.

“I always want you back,” I look up to his height now that he’s standing so close, and the kitchen tightens further.

We’re stuck in a tableau; with my back against the fridge looking up at him as he gazes down with a curious expression. My mind grows blank the longer I stare. No one says a word, the sound of beans grinding the only noise in the kitchen.

My best friend in the whole world looks torn standing in front of me like this, and as my senses slowly rush back I realize that even if my expression doesn’t show it...I was torn. Because out of nowhere, all I can think about are all the questions I ever shoved away in the dark: what would it feel like if I kissed him right now? And what would have happened to us if he had asked me out to our school dance? Would we still be best friends? Would we have cut each other out? How many universes were we still good together like this? How many universes were we good together as more than this?

An urge to touch his face, make sure this was real, takes over me. But as soon as my fingers brush his cheek he snaps out of his trance and stumbles back like I’d burned him.

He forces a laugh. “I really do need that coffee.”

“Right,” I turn to the machine to put the grinds into their slot but I yank too hard and the freshly ground coffee flies out towards me. “Shit!”

“What happ-” Harry takes one look at what’s happened and turns away, his shoulders shaking.

“I can see you right in front of me laughing!” I shout. “Help me!”

“It’s all over you Y/N,” he turns around, tears in his eyes. “Give me this, I’ll put it far away from you.” He takes the remaining grinds and sets it down. I brush away what’s closest to my eyes so I can see and try to shake it off my sweater but they stick to the fibers of the knit.

“Great,” I grumble. “This is dry clean only.”

“It’s in your hair,” he runs his fingers through the strands that hang over my shoulder. I shake my head to dislodge the grinds; his fingers brush my neck away and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Uhm, that should be most of it.”

“It’s not out of this sweater,” I pout. “Screw dry clean, why did I think I could buy dry cleaning clothes?”

“I can drop it off on the way out today?” he offers.

“That means you’re coming back to drop it off to me?!” I ask hopefully.

His expression softens, “Y/N I’m coming back to your flat. I promise.”

“He promises!” I shout. Even though things were a bit awkward this morning, I got to spend more time with my hard-to-catch best friend and for that I was over the moon.

“We could also try to vacuum the sweater?” Harry suggests.

“So you don’t have to come back with dry clean?” I tease. “I’m not letting you get out of your promise, let me give it to you before you change your mind.” I tug my top off and ball it up, shoving it in his hands. It falls to the floor when he doesn’t hold it.

“Hello?” I look up and he’s a deer in the headlights. “Harry...”

“I can’t do this right now,” he takes a step back. I get the sweater from the ground and hold it out to him again.

“Do you want to wipe the kitchen floor with the sweater too? Take it!” I sigh. “Harry are you really acting so chaste about seeing a girl in her bra?”

“It’s-” he decides to stop mid-word. “You’re not just any girl Y/N, I’ve already made it clear.”

Now it’s my turn to stare--he hadn’t made it clear. “You said you only felt something when you were younger...”

“And you believed me?”

I realize I didn’t, but I wanted to believe him so I hadn’t questioned it. “Well it’s not the first time you’ve seen me in a bra. Can you take the damn sweater?”

“Yeah I can I’m just...” he seems to calm down a bit, enough to step towards me and take it. “I didn’t have to face this conflicted feeling in me if I didn’t see you often. I can just be the best friend. But now, with the whole psychic thing and you in--like this in your kitchen and I--I’m remembering how much I just want to...”

“Kiss me,” I say.

“Yeah...” he looks away.

“No, I’m telling you to kiss me.” I clarify. His expression would’ve made me laugh if my heart wasn’t beating so fast. I couldn’t believe I was being this impulsive.

“Really? You’re not just saying that cuz of this morning?”

“Fine,” I step out of his reach and cross my arms to hide my shaking hands. “If you don’t want to kiss me-”

He pulls me back too quickly and I bump into his chest. “I never said that.” He says in a tone I’d never heard from him before, it’s serious and sexy and it sends tingles through my body. I press myself up against him and he finally, finally, kisses me. Every bit of tension and anxiety the day had built up releases in the single moment his lips cover mine.

How had I waited this long?

The kiss is gentle, delicate like he’s still not entirely sure I want the same thing he does. I show him I do by using my tongue to open his mouth slowly and the hesitation disappears immediately. We’re a fighter jet taking off from there; I don’t know where I end and where he begins as he walks me to the kitchen island and lifts me onto it, our limbs tangling together, His hands roam down the side of my body, but he stays in the safe zones until I unclasp my bra.

“Oh hell no,” my roommate’s voice interrupts us from behind. I hold my bra close and turn. She stands at the entryway, shaking her head. “Not here. Not on our kitchen island. You two have a room literally 10 feet away...”

“Oops,” I say quietly which seems to set Harry off. My roommate is still shaking her head but I see the smile on her face. I’d caught her hooking up on multiple occasions so it wasn’t anything new. But I didn’t do this often. I jump down, apologizing to her. “Harry’s going to clean the coffee off the floor...I-I’ll find a shirt.”

“Mhm,” she closes her bedroom door and I look over at Harry who’s crouching on the floor in tears.

“This is all your fault!” I whisper but he tugs me down to where he is and holds my face as he kisses me.

“I know you two aren’t behind the island,” my roommate’s voice comes out again. I stay there as her footsteps move to the bathroom and the door closes behind her.

“I hate you,” I skirt out of his reach, and rush to my room yelling another sorry as I head back and find a top. Harry appears in my room as I put it on.

“I guess that was a good time for her to walk in on before it got too far?” he still has a stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” my cheeks were burning and even more so that Harry was elated.

“I’ve actually got to head out now.”

I pout but he kisses my pout instead. He promises he’ll be back in the evening and I let him go with one more kiss, my mind catching up with everything that just happened.

Oh my god.

***

It’s nearly 8 by the time I’m done running all my errands--taking holidays off for work was usually a good decision for me. I had a big family and picking up all the holiday bits before I flew back home was always a big job. I take an Uber home, I couldn’t handle a 40 minutes trip back home carrying everything home on the subway.

I call out to my roommate when I get in but she doesn’t respond. I check her door and it’s open and dark, the bathroom is also empty. She must have evening plans.

I open my door to a surprise. Harry is sprawled on my bed. He jerks awake when I settle my bags down.

“Y/N?” he squints as I turn the light on.

“How did you get in here?” I shrug my coat off.

“Y’roommate let me in before she left,” he rubs his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep...I had a whole thing planned.”

I’d gone over the whole morning during my errands, surprised and excited and nervous about this new step for us. But I continued to think about what the psychic said, our love lines extended alongside my life line. Even though there wasn’t much comfort or trust in a psychic who used a photo opp as a marketing opp, what she said had come true. And I put my faith in that, calming my nerves about this new step potentially ruining our friendship forever.

“Was that okay?” Harry sits up. “She didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Oh no that’s fine,” I unwrap my scarf and stand at the foot of my bed. “I really wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

“Of course I would,” he reaches for my hand. “I wouldn’t leave you after this morning, I’m not that flighty.”

“Well we never really got to talk about it,” I say as I sit down. I’d texted him during the day but it never showed he read it, I wasn’t sure how to read into that; finding him passed out on my room meant he was probably on the go all day.

“Are you okay with this?” he says with such concern, I nearly tear up. This was making me way too emotional.

“I am,” I smile at my best friend in the whole world. “I just don’t want to go too fast.”

“We won’t,” he promises as he holds his arms out. I lean in towards his solid chest and he wraps his arms around me. I feel his breath on my cheek, then his lips in my hair. “I’m yours for eternity Y/N, we can take it as slow or fast as you want.”

It was a good thing to say, and I believe him entirely.

We eventually untangle ourselves to get food in us, and even though things are different, they’re also not. We still pick out the same parts of our food to give the other person, we still talk the same shit and laugh at the same jokes. But his hands grasps mine and his thumb brushes over my knuckles absentmindedly. His eyes stay steady on me as I talk like I’m someone new he’s exploring. We kiss after dinner, but we also load the dishwasher and laugh about the one time I’d managed to burn soup from a can. Eventually we end in my bedroom, where we lay together, our conversation growing quieter by the minute, the space between us growing smaller.

And even though we’d slept like this a hundred times before, it’s different now. I can feel it in every atom of my being, I was his and he was mine. And I don’t know how long it’s been like this for it to feel so easy, but accepting it was a no brainer, like accepting the sky was blue or the sun was hot. I remember the advice the psychic gave, I was following it: living the life I had around me even though it wasn’t the life I thought I would have.

There were a million things Harry and I had to figure out to make this work--I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But I did know that it was right, it was true, and it was going to be forever.

The future may not be crystal clear, but my future with this man was.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #fic #writingsfromhome #friends to lovers #standalone #holiday fic #ignore any grammar or errors pls ty

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

Text

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 9

Yay! Next chapter! True confessions, this *sorta* slow burn is killing me....and i’m the one writing it! (sorry not sorry?)

Warnings: some swearing, nothing really, Hvitserk being a good bro?

Words:7100 (I hope these longer chapters make up for the wait)

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @love-all-things-writing @southernbe

Series Masterlist

The ringing of her phone had Kari dropping the leggings she was folding on her bed to quickly snatch it up.

"Albus!"

The voice on the other end sighed. "You know I hate that nickname."

Kari laughed, picking the leggings back up to fold. "But it fits you so perfectly."

"I am not an old wizard."

"I'll give you that, but you're studious, kind and too wise for someone your age. So close enough."

"I suppose if I haven't been able to convince you to drop that nickname for the past ten years, I won't be able to now."

"Nope." She cheerfully said. "So, how are you? Your mother still wreaking havoc in your life?"

"She set me up on a date last week." He grumbled after a moment's hesitation.

In her mind, she could imagine him sitting at his desk with a slight furrow between his brows and lips pursed as he lamented his mother's involvement in his love life. This would not be the first time he complained to Kari about this topic. "Ohhhh? How did that go?" She asked, even if by his tone she could already guess his answer.

"I know my mother means well, but the women she thinks I should date…." He trailed off with a forlorn sigh.

"Not your type?"

"No."

"I'm sorry. You'll find someone and your mother won't be able to help but love them."

He snorted inelegantly. "I won't hold my breath for that."

"See, you're so wise." She teased, smiling as she folded a work shirt. "Now, what else is new since last month?"

The two spent the next hour talking. It had become their tradition after she moved. Hearing the gentle cadence in his voice, his quiet chuckles, it sent a wave of nostalgia washing over her. He was the only person from England she still kept in communication with, the only one who knew where she was. The last string tying her to her prior life. Although she would not have labeled him her best friend, they were certainly close and even more so after she moved. In their monthly conversations, they would chat about anything new in their lives, TV shows watched, books read, his latest exams in university. He always made sure to inform her what he knew about her family. Something she was grateful for but it always felt like a knife to the heart after.

As they talked, she finished folding her laundry, a necessary evil in her opinion. Once done with that, she moved on to the package she received in the mail today. It was addressed to her but the sender was a designer name she would never be able to afford in her lifetime. She shook her head, wondering what surprise the youngest Lothbrok had bought for her.

Listening to him regale her with the latest family drama of his, she opened the package and had to muffle a gasp at the two dresses that lay inside. The first was an off-the-shoulder, black skater dress that would reach mid-thigh in length. It was a classy and elegant cocktail dress that reminded her of the dress she wore on her and Ivar's "date" but way more sophisticated and stylish. It was the second dress that made her pause and wonder where Ivar thought she would ever wear something like this. It was a deep red evening gown, the hem long enough to trail slightly on the ground. The dress was gorgeous with a tight bodice and slight flair of the skirt. It was the slit in the skirt that touched her upper thigh and the sheer middle of the bodice that made Kari raise her eyebrows. The gown was the perfect blend of chic and sexy. What was Ivar thinking? She would feel so self-conscious and she never went anywhere fancy enough to wear it. Though as she stared at both dresses, she decided it never hurt to admire them on the hanger, even if she never got the chance to wear them. As her friend continued speaking, she hung both dresses up in her closet, making a mental note to talk to Ivar.

"It's probably good your brother moved out last year." She commented, tucking her laundry basket away in her closet.

"Yeah. He only comes over to the house if he has to." He said with a resigned sigh. After a long moment of silence, he spoke up again. His voice hesitant, almost remorseful, as what had been obviously on the tip of his tongue finally came forth. "Your mother has been talking about trying to find you again."

Kari froze, her mind shorting out and heart rate skyrocketing as his statement sunk in. "What…. what did she say?"

"Not much that I overheard." He confessed, sympathy in each word. "How much she misses her only daughter and feels abandoned by you. She has been telling people that you're doing charity work in another country when they ask about you."

"It's been almost two years… I hoped…" She slumped onto her bed, legs wobbling and mind whirling.

"That your mother would forget about you?"

"I don't know. I just…. I don't know."

Silence reigned for a moment before he spoke again.

"Are you ever coming home?"

"I…. I don't think that's home anymore."

"I miss you." He whispered.

Tears welled in her eyes. She took a deep breath forcing them back, but knew her shaky voice betrayed her. "I miss you too. Maybe you can come visit me here?"

"That would blow your cover."

"Could we meet up somewhere? You take a vacation or something?"

"I'll consider it…." His voice trailed off, only to come back stronger. "You know, when you wanted help to leave England, I thought it was just a temporary reprieve. I didn't imagine you would stay away."

It felt like a knife twisted in her gut, because he was right. She had never thought she would be gone this long. "I know…. I just…. I like my life here. I don't…. I don't want to go back to that."

He sighed as if giving up on convincing her to return. "I understand. I'll always be here for you. I still think of you as one of my closest friends."

"Same. We've known each other since we were thirteen. A few countries between us isn't going to stop that."

He chuckled. "Right. Well, I'll still hold you to your promise. If we're both unmarried by thirty-five, we'll have a courthouse wedding to keep our families off our backs."

"Sounds good." She laughed out, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"I have to go. I'll text you about when we can catch up next month."

"Perfect. Stay safe, Albus."

"You too, Abs."

"Ugh! That nickname is worse than yours!" She groaned, hearing a small chuckle on the other end of the phone. "Bye!"

After hanging up, she stared at her phone for a minute, the smile fading as her mind revisited the conversation. The weight of everything slammed into her, her body no longer able to support her under the strength of her duress. She crumpled onto her bed, curling into a fetal position, tears streaming down her cheeks. It hurt that England no longer felt like home to her, but neither did where she currently lived. What hurt and confused her most, was when she thought of being home- Ivar's face filled her mind's eye.

*****

"Thank you everyone for coming to class today. I'll see you either tomorrow or next week."

With the lights still dim, Kari turned off the soothing water music over the speakers in the yoga studio room. The women who had been laying in corpse pose on their mats began to rise and gather up their personal items. A quiet murmur of voices replaced the music in the enclosed room. She waved at a few of the regulars as they left her class. Even if she was not the one doing all the poses, by the end of class she still felt refreshed and rejuvenated. It always brought her joy to see people come in, stressed or anxious, and leave her class with a smile on their faces or just looking less tense.

Through the mirrors along the wall at the front of the room, she could see the tall, statuesque blonde making her way over, yoga mat tucked under her arm.

"Hey, you doing anything for lunch?" Gyda asked, coming up beside her. Even in leggings and a tight tank top, she looked like someone off the covers of a women's magazine. All Kari could figure was it was in the Lothbrok blood.

"Um, working on inventory?"

"How about instead you come out to lunch with us?" She motioned vaguely towards Torvi, who was gathering up her yoga mat. "We planned on stopping at that new boutique down the strip. So, we can just meet you for lunch when you're done."

"Really?" The brunette was startled by the offer. Sure, she had gone out with Gyda a few times but never with Torvi too. The three would chat occasionally before or after class and she liked Torvi's no-nonsense attitude. They had flippantly made comments about the three of them going out but to actually hear they wanted her presence both surprised and warmed her heart. "Torvi is okay with this too?"

Gyda rolled her eyes. "Yes. So…. Yes? No? Don't leave me in suspense."

"Yeah, I'd love to."

"Great. Text me when you're done and we'll meet up."

"It'll be at least half an hour…."

Gyda waved her off, her voice growing louder. "That's fine. Torvi takes forever when she browses anyway."

"Sorry, I like to think through my purchases before I buy something!"

Kari smiled at Torvi's retort. The other blonde was checking her phone, a smile on her face though as she peered up at her sister-in-law and her yoga instructor.

"Are you joining us?" She called over.

"Of course, she is!" Gyda replied, before Kari could respond. "But she's only coming if you swear not to share any stories about you and Bjorn's kinky sex life. Nobody wants to hear that."

Without a word, Torvi gave her the middle finger salute, before looking back down at her phone.

Gyda chuckled then turned to raise an eyebrow at the shorter woman. "Unless you're into that kind of stuff…."

"Oh gods, Gyda! No!" Her face flushed at the thought.

"Hey, it's the quiet ones who are the kinkiest. I bet Ivar would like that." She laughed as Kari tried to swat at her. Taking a step back, she pretended to zip her lips. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Text me when you're done! We can meet at the café down the street. "

Kari waved at Torvi as the two blondes walked out of the studio room. Quickly, she hurried to finish tidying up. It had been a long time since she felt this excited to go out to eat with some female friends. A handful of times she had gone out with some coworkers or Lydia. In the beginning she was excited when Alana would invite her out with her friends to a club or bar but Kari quickly learned that was not her scene and began making every excuse possible to not be forced out with them. She always felt like an afterthought amongst the group, especially since getting drunk nor sleeping around was not her style. This time, she had high hopes for spending time with Gyda and Torvi. It would be nice to have female friends again.

The door to the studio room opened and Lydia popped her head in. "Almost done? You've got a visitor out here and he's causing quite the distraction." She said with a distinct shit-eating grin and wink before ducking back out.

"He?" Kari questioned out loud, although her mind suspected who it was. He was the only one who ever visited her. Slipping her phone into the pocket of her maroon leggings, she gave the room one final survey, wanting it to be ready for the next class before she left. With a nod, she headed out, the door swinging shut behind her.

In the large open area, she understood what Lydia meant by 'causing quite the distraction'. If she paused for a moment to drink the sight in, no one could possibly know, right?

Ivar leaned his shoulder against a wall, arms crossed over his chest with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to display his toned forearms. His dark locks were pulled back loosely in a man-bun, a few tendrils slipped free. Even in jeans, braces and smart-looking leather shoes, he looked quite handsome. With no cane in sight, it must be a good day.

Kari noticed more than one pair of eyes lingering on him from around the studio although he did not seem to notice as he stood there talking with Gyda and Torvi in hushed tones. The latter said something that immediately caused Ivar to narrow his eyes at her as he snapped a comment.

Even from across the room, Kari could read the tension in his frame and decided to intervene before he caused a scene. Walking over to them, aware of the many sets of eyes upon the group of three, she fixed a smile on her face. Once those intense, blue eyes locked onto her and his posture softened marginally, her smile transitioned into a genuine grin. "Hey, Ivar, what are you doing here?" She asked, coming to stand between him and Gyda.

"Do I need a reason to come see you?" He smirked down at her.

That look released butterflies in her stomach but she ignored them to tease him back. "Usually that's how it works."

"And if that reason is to fulfill my quota?"

The blush that rose to her cheeks was so hot, she wondered if you could fry an egg on her face. Immediately, she dropped her chin to her chest, willing the warmth to vanish.

"Hmmm…. that blush for me, kattungen?" He shifted closer so his mouth was near her ear, his question asked in such a lecherous tone, Kari felt her core clench.

"Shut up." She mumbled, pushing him away. He rocked back on his heels, a smug grin on his face, and an amused chuckle leaving his lips.

Gyda patted Kari's shoulder, drawing the brunette's attention upward again. "Text me when you're done. We'll leave you with this grumpy asshole. I'm sure you can think of a way to cheer him up." She winked as she took a step away.

For a moment, Kari wished the ground would open up beneath her. Between Gyda's teasing comments and Ivar's blatant remarks and heated looks, Kari's face was going to be permanently red in an endless flush.

"Good luck on your trip, Ivar." Torvi called over her shoulder as she followed Gyda.

"Oi! Tell Bjorn to keep his big fucking mouth shut!" He yelled after the blondes; the tension returned with Torvi's parting statement. Glaring at the door the two women passed through, he muttered something in a foreign language as he rubbed his hand over his mouth. Briefly, his thoughts seemed to take him elsewhere but he quickly snapped back, blue eyes finding Kari once again.

It was only something she had realized lately, but when he looked at her, that consuming and burning gaze landing on her with all the impact of a sledgehammer, it made her feel like the only woman in the room. It was such a cliché thing, something stupid out of a romance novel, but it was the only way she could describe the feeling. When he looked at her like this, nothing else mattered in the room. She had his whole attention, all his focus. It was heady and powerful and terrifying and astounding. The weight of others watching made her skin itch but with his gaze locked on hers, lips tilted up slightly in the hint of a fond smile, she felt in the eye of a hurricane.

Her blue-green eyes dropped to his chest, unable to maintain eye contact when it left her feeling so flustered. Tugging on her earlobe, she quietly asked. "What are you doing here? I thought I wasn't seeing you until you picked me up for dinner tonight?"

"Something came up." Silently, he reached over and grasped her hand, causing her head to jerk up. Intertwining their fingers, he watched her with regret in his eyes. "I have to fly out to Italy in two hours."

"Oh. Is everything okay?" That was not what she had expected to hear. Her heart plummeted that their dinner would have to be canceled but tried not to let it show.

"Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"

"Um, sure." Emotions flickering between curiosity and concern, she guided him back to the studio room. The weight of eyes lingered as they walked, especially since he refused to release her hand. A brief glance at the front counter, only to see Lydia and Sasha both staring at her with amused and proud smiles, had Kari trying to hurry out of sight with Ivar in tow.

Soon as the door shut behind them, hiding them from view, he pulled her against his body, one arm wrapping around her waist, trapping her against him while the other hand gripped the back of her neck. He kissed her passionately, like a man dying of thirst and only she could save him.

"Ivar…." She tried to pull away, aware she was at work and anyone could walk in. Instead, he held her tighter, molding her body to his. The drugging kiss that followed had her all but melting against him, knees weak and her resolve disappearing like smoke in the wind. When she opened her mouth, inviting his tongue to dance with hers, the growl that erupted from him was so thready and rough, it called to a primal part of her, making her warm all over and a tightness grow in her belly.

It had been two days since they had seen each other and she genuinely missed him. They had been texting during that time, but it was not the same. She missed his presence, his touch, his kisses, his grumpy comments and the way he made her laugh. Even when he annoyed or frustrated her, he still was the color in her otherwise monochromatic world. And with each day that passed, her desire to push him away fractured a little bit more.

When their mouths finally unlocked, both panting and lips swollen and red, she was almost shocked the nearby mirrors were not fogged up. Breathless and overwhelmed, she pressed her forehead to his, her arms around his neck. For a minute they stood there peacefully, only the sounds of their ragged breathing and the occasional noise from those outside of the studio room broke through their tranquility.

"What's going on, Ivar?"

"Something with work."

"Does this have to do with why you've been so busy?"

He sighed but when he spoke in a hushed tone, the rage painting each word was undeniable. "Someone on the inside has been selling information about us." She gasped, shocked but when she tried to pull away to look at him, he tugged her back against him, placing his chin on the top of her head. "I think I know who the fucker is."

"That's why you're going to Italy?"

"Hmmm."

"Will you be safe?"

That made him chuckle, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Are you worried about me?"

She thought about making a joke, about teasing him about his recklessness. Instead the question knocked the air from her lungs momentarily, because the truth was, she was. What little she had gleaned about his work when he needed to vent, there was still an element of danger to it. She tipped her face up to look at him, her answer a quiet murmur that did nothing to hide the emotion behind her words. "Yes…. I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt."

The amusement in his eyes drained to be replaced with a softness that made her heart clench. He inhaled sharply and glanced away for a moment. "Fuck, kitten…." When he turned back, he kissed her tenderly, a slow melding of their mouths like the taste of her was a fine wine he wanted to sip on endlessly. There was a promise in his action, just as much as his words when he finally whispered against her lips. "I'll be safe, just meeting with a contact. That's all."

"Okay, just please be careful." Worry still tainted her, but she trusted Ivar to keep himself safe. He had been doing this job far longer than she had known him.

"Don't tell anyone about what I've said. No one else knows."

"I promise. Not a word."

"Good girl." He swatted her ass, making her squeak and glare up at him. "I'm going to have Hvitserk check up on you later."

"That's not necessary." She tried to say. She would hate to be a waste of time for the older Lothbrok. The look he gave her said to not argue with him. "Fine," she dramatically sighed, "maybe him and I will watch movies and cuddle since you're soooo busy. I wonder if he'd think my bed is comfy enough or if the couch is better?"

"Don't you fucking dare." He growled, gripping her waist in a possessive hold.

She just laughed at how easy he was to wind up. It was mean and she knew it.

He nipped at her bottom lip. "Keep playing, Kari and I'll have to punish you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She batted her lashes at him, failing to suppress a childish giggle.

He rolled his eyes, the twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement. "I need to go." He softly said though he made no move to release her from his arms.

With that a wave of worry and fear cascaded over her, it was unfounded she knew, but it still threatened to drag her into its depths. Not giving it a second thought, she raised up on her toes to plant a lingering kiss on his lips.

"You're not helping." He muttered, never removing his mouth from hers.

"Maybe take the next flight?"

"Don't tempt me, vixen. I'll lock that door and have my wicked way with you right fucking here until everyone hears you screaming my name."

Between the image he painted in her mind and his mouth having moved to her pulse point, heated arousal pooled between her legs. She gulped, her mouth suddenly dry and words sticking to her throat.

He leaned back, a devious smirk on his lips at her obviously flushed face. "No, my priestess," he purred, a filthy, predatory glint in his blue eyes, she could not help but gasp as her knees threatened to buckle under her. "When I finally have you, it'll be somewhere I can both worship you and fuck you all night long without fear of being interrupted."

She let out a shaky breath. "But, um…. we…. ah."

"Soon, Vakker, blir du min." He kissed her roughly, as if sealing his words. "I do need to leave. Walk with me." He took her hand, leading her out of the studio room, giving her no choice but to walk beside him. Not that her brain was fully able to make coherent decisions at the moment.

As they walked towards the front of the building, she wondered if their make-out session was obvious. Her lips felt red and swollen and a blush still colored her cheeks. A glance at Ivar showed his lips fuller but he appeared so calm and collected it was unfair.

"Did you like the dresses?" He asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"I do. They both are gorgeous, but they're too much. I don't have a reason to dress up that fancy."

"With me, you will. I'll get you some casual dresses too."

"Ivar…." She whined.

"You need more clothes, Kari."

"Fine. Not because I want more clothes but because I know you'll buy them for me anyway."

He winked at her, his tone smug. "I always get my way."

"You're unbelievable."

They stopped beside his SUV, parked next to the sidewalk. His driver was already in the driver's seat waiting. Kari made sure to wave at the man, earning a nod back from him. The driver was a huge guy with long, thick locks of white hair and a scar on his face. He intimidated Kari but she tried to ignore that and be friendly. Even if Ivar made fun of her for it.

"I should be back tomorrow unless some shit comes up." Ivar stated, opening the back door.

"Okay. Be safe."

"Stop worrying. Shit. I'll be fine." He remarked, sliding into his seat. Before he closed the door, he met her gaze. "I'll text you."

She smiled in acknowledgment and stepped back, giving him a quick wave as she headed back inside and his SUV started off.

Lydia leaned against the front counter with Sasha and Alicia now, all three watching her with expressions ranging from amused to shocked.

"Um, I'm going to…. go on my lunch break now." She mumbled and hurried away to grab her purse from the office, the sounds of laughter following her.

The stray thought crossed her mind that she would need some new bras if Ivar was set on buying her new clothes. Not that he would see those bras, but it would be good to have…. and maybe some matching panties.

*****

Summer was transitioning to fall, cool undertones intermixed with the residual warmth of a September evening.

Kari stared at the book in her lap but the words blurred together no matter how many times she reread the same line. She loved reading outside, sitting on the small patio behind the townhouse, especially when none of the neighbors were out. She could pretend it was her own place of solace, being out in nature. The sunlight shined through the line of pine trees separating their row of townhouses from the ones behind them, bird songs mixed with the sound of traffic from the nearby roads. She much preferred this too being stuck indoors.

Today though, her mind drifted like the breeze, but it all centered on a conversation she had not even ten minutes ago. If she listened closely, she could hear Alana through the screen door, making her dinner in the kitchen. She knew it was not Alana's fault, but the conversation still felt like a rug had been yanked from underneath the brunette. With everything going so well in her life, of course fate had to throw her a curveball.

Now her mind scrambled as what to do next.

A sound from her left had her glance over to see Erik stepping out of his back door. A boyish grin lit up his face when he saw her.

"Hi, Kari. Beautiful evening, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It is." She gave a half-hearted smile, watching as he closed the door behind him and stepped closer.

"Mind if I join you?"

She waved a hand at the patio set. "Not at all." Hopefully talking with Erik would be the distraction she needed for the moment, to pull her out of her quagmire of thoughts.

Dropping onto the cushioned chair to her left, he ran a hand through his dirty blond hair. In jeans and a t-shirt, he appeared ready to relax for the evening.

"What are you reading this time?" He asked curiously. This would not be the first time he had found her outside reading.

She reclined on the two-person, cushioned couch, legs up and bent with her open book resting against her thighs, wearing her typical leggings and slouchy shirt. At his question, she flashed him the cover. "The Princess Bride."

"Isn't that a movie?"

She pretended to gasp in horror. "Yes, but the book is still a classic."

He raised his hands in surrender, grin spreading across his face. “If you say. Not really my taste. So how was your day?"

"Nothing exciting. Yours?"

"The usual. Customers thinking they could do my job better than me."

She winced. "I know the feeling."

They made small talk for some time, talking about work and a documentary he recommended for her to watch. They argued which was the better coffee shop nearby, something they continuously disagreed on. Soon the upsetting conversation with Alana drifted to the back of her mind. It did not take long for her to close her book and set it on the ground so she could be fully invested in the conversation, especially when Erik became so animated about a topic, his hands waving around like a conductor in his enthusiasm. It was an endearing trait of his, but also alerted her to settle in because it meant he would not need much encouragement to keep talking.

The opening of the sliding door behind Kari stunted their conversation.

"Kari, someone is here for you." Alana said sweetly, stepping out onto the patio.

Unsure what she meant and since Kari never had visitors except for Ivar, she finally turned around. Only to be met with the view of Hvitserk leaning against the doorframe, a smirk on his lips. Standing there looking quite handsome in a dark navy business suit with a white undershirt, sans tie. Even his hair was nicely pleated back, making him look very professional and attractive.

"What are you doing here?" She asked in surprise, wondering if he just got off work.

Pushing off the doorframe, he meandered past Alana to approach Kari's side. "I came to check on you." He answered easily then scooped her up like she weighed nothing, making her squeal, and casually resettled them on the couch. Now he sat where she had been with her tucked against his side and his arm behind her. She also noticed how he purposefully put himself between her and Erik but chose not to comment on that.

"Ivar sent you, didn't he?" She grumbled, poking Hvitserk in the chest. "I told him it wasn't necessary."

"Well, you know him." He shrugged, that teasing smirk still adorning his lips. When she tried to poke him again, he snatched her hand and held it hostage, even as she tried to tug it back. Ignoring her, he turned his attention to Erik. "Hey, man. I'm Hvitserk."

"I'm Erik. I live next door." He responded warily, eyeing up the man as if debating to be friendly or not.

"Ah." With that understanding, Hvitserk seemed to give Erik a more assessing look before peering down at Kari. "You eat dinner yet?"

"Sorta. I'm not too hungry."

Alana spoke up from leaning against the other chair. "If you're hungry we can order something, Hvitserk. It's not a big deal."

Kari's head whipped around to stare at her roommate in shock. Never had Alana played the hostess to Kari or anyone she knew. Then she really noticed the coquettish look of her roommate- the fluttering lashes, the sensual biting of her bottom lip in mock innocence, the way she casually leaned against the chair in a way to best highlight the curves of her body. Kari wanted to sigh. Of course, the only reason Alana pretended to care was to try and entice Hvitserk. An attractive man in their home, it was as if Alana could not help herself.

Apparently the flaxen-haired Lothbrok noticed her flirtatious manner also. He tipped his head, eyes blatantly tracing over her body with appreciation. Kari could see the blonde preening under Hvitserk's gaze.

"Did I fuck you?"

What confident, amorous expression on Alana's face dropped in a second. "Excuse me?"

Hvitserk waved a hand dismissively. "Sorry, you seem familiar but I can't remember…. Did you fuck one of my brothers?"

Anger transformed her face, making her rigid and lip curled back in a snarl. "Fuck you, asshole." She shrieked, then stormed back inside, slamming the door shut.

He chuckled. "Huh. I take that as a yes…. ouch!"

Kari slapped his chest. "That was extremely rude and insensitive."

"Why? Because it's the truth?"

"You can't just…. ask something like that." She turned to look at the closed door, wondering if she should go apologize to Alana and check on her. After a moment's debate, she turned away from the townhouse, figuring seeking out Alana would most likely end up with a door slammed in her face.

Hvitserk shrugged, pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking it before slipping it back in.

His nonchalance baffled Kari. Did he not care that he just humiliated her roommate? Should she make him apologize? Though she doubted he would. Finally, she settled for just muttering, "you Lothbroks are unbelievable."

"Oh, are you related to…." Erik's question trailed off. Where he once had been relaxed back in the cushioned chair, now he sat tensely, one of his hands tapping his knee repeatedly.

"Ivar? Yeah, he's my brother." Hvitserk said with a knowing smirk.

"He's, um…"

"A crazy, mad bastard? Yeah. Don't recommend getting on his bad side."

"I was going to say intense."

Hvitserk threw his head back as he laughed. Even Kari smiled at the hesitant way Erik answered. Intense was an understatement for the youngest Lothbrok. "Yeah, he's family."

Erik then motioned between Kari and Hvitserk. "So are you two…. just friends?"

Before Kari could explain, Hvitserk jumped in to answer.

"Ivar and I share her."

Immediately Kari choked on air due to his candid response. Her gaze darted to Erik in horror, seeing his jaw dropped and eyes wide as saucers. Beside her Hvitserk cackled like a hyena at both of their expressions.

"That's not…. ugh! No!" Kari tried to speak, once she could functionally breathe again, only to cover her face as her words tumbled out of her mouth inelegantly.

"Awww, come on, Kari. You know I'm teasing." The elder Lothbrok tugged her hands away from her face, which only caused her to bury her face in his shoulder. "We know Ivar doesn't share. But if you ever get tired of his cranky ass, I'll be more than willing to show you a good time."

"Oh my god." She mumbled to herself, completely mortified. The evening had been going so well, and now…. all of this. Whose grave had she accidently stepped on today?

Erik awkwardly cleared his throat as he rose to his feet. "Um, I'm going to go."

"I'm so sorry, Erik." She elbowed Hvitserk when he refused to release her hands, earning an 'oof' from him. Turning her body to give Erik her full attention, she continued, hoping this had not ruined their friendship or his night. "I know this is last minute but do you think you can give me a ride to work tomorrow? If you don't want to, that's fine, especially after all of this, I wouldn't blame you."

"No, no. I mean, sure. It's not a problem. Just, ah, text me when you're ready."

She smiled gratefully at him. "I will. Have a good night, Erik!"

"You too, Kari." He gave her his signature boyish grin. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he looked at Hvitserk. "Nice meeting you."

"Yeah, nice meeting you too." He said back, draping his arm once again behind Kari.

Erik gave Kari another brief smile before disappearing back inside his townhouse, the door sliding quietly shut behind him.

Hvitserk continued to stare where Erik disappeared for a long minute before muttering, "boy better watch himself."

"What are you talking about?" She sighed out, feeling the lurking sensation of a stress headache coming on.

"He wants to fuck you. Ivar won't like that."

"What is with…. No. I'm ignoring all of that." She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Ugh, my evening was going so well until an hour ago."

"What happened? That guy showed up to bother you? Want me to tell him to lay off?" His questions came out in rapid-fire, concern infused in his voice.

"No, Erik is fine. It's …. it's nothing like that."

"So, what happened?"

"Nothing important. Have you heard from Ivar?"

He raised a brow at her dismissal but changed the subject. "Yeah, looks like he got what he needed so he'll be back tomorrow morning."

"Oh good."

"Hmmm…. which means he'll want to take you out tomorrow."

"He bought me some dresses." She softly confessed, fiddling with her diamond stud earring.

"I'd recommend wearing one of those."

She swatted at him, only to mirror the easy grin on his face. After a moment, she asked, "I just…. is it weird for him to do that?"

"What?"

"Buy me stuff."

"Does it bother you?"

"I don't know."

"If you want my advice, I'd say to let him." He lifted a finger to silence her protest. Her mouth snapped shut at his pointed look. Once he was sure she would not interrupt him, he spoke. "Ivar has never been good with…. verbally expressing affection, something I am sure he learned from our father. So he buys gifts, something he can touch and control. If he's buying you gifts, not out of obligation but because he wants to spoil you, then you mean a lot to him."

She pondered his words and how she felt about them. Never did she want Ivar to feel taken advantage of by her, especially in regards to his money. She would rather tear her own heart out than make him feel used again. It grated slightly how freely he wasted money on her. The dresses were lovely, something she could only dream of having with her current salary. But she worked hard for her life, to be independent. Even whenever they went out to eat together, he never let her pay for her own meal. She had given up that fight already but this…. It felt different. Yet what Hvitserk said slunk back to the forefront of her mind. If this was his way of showing affection, of letting her know he cared about her, would it do more damage to refuse his gift?

"How did you become so insightful into Ivar?" She teased, deciding to think about this more later.

He laughed, flicking her ear with the hand he still had behind her. "Out of necessity. I don't think anyone can fully understand him, not even himself."

"He's complex." She agreed.

"That's a nice way of putting it." He tipped his head to the side to meet her gaze. "Now, tell me what happened earlier."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Ivar told me to check on you. If I left you trying to hide tears and he found out, he'd probably break my hands or legs, not sure how particular he would be."

Biting her bottom lip, she debated blowing him off again. It was not his problem, she could deal with her own issues. But there was something about Hvitserk that made her feel comfortable around him. Even though he was under no obligation, he seemed to actually care about her.

Finally, she gave in with a sigh, laying her head against his shoulder. "Alana said…. Um, this townhouse belongs to her uncle. Him and his family moved into a bigger home and instead of selling this place decided to rent it out for a little extra cash. The rent is minimal, since he isn't renting to really make a profit. It's honestly the only way I've been able to afford being here. Well, Alana told me earlier that he is having to increase our rent. She didn't really tell me why but now it's going to be an extra 300 a month…. and I don't have that. So unless I want to find somewhere new to live, it kind of looks like I need to get a second job."

He waited a moment before flatly stating, "have Ivar pay the extra. Fuck, he'd probably pay your whole rent if you asked him too."

"No! I don't want that!" She sat up so fast, it was a miracle she did not fall off the couch. Her eyes turned to the brother beside her, wide and pleading. "Please don't tell him, Hvitty! I don't want him thinking I'm using him for his money. I…. I need to do this on my own somehow. I'll figure it out, honestly. I just wasn't expecting this to happen, that's all."

"You really don't care about our money, do you?"

"No." It broke her heart a little at the shock in his questioning tone. Did any of them ever expect someone to care about them without the influence of their money?

He stared off into the distance before looking back at her with a solemn expression. "I'll make you a deal. I won't say anything to Ivar about this, but if you are struggling, even if it's just one month's payment, you come to me and I'll help until you get your head above water again, got it?"

"Why would you want to help me?" She quietly asked, meeting his gaze.

He smirked. "I like you. You're genuine. Plus, you're also great for Ivar. I'd like you to stick around and if this is one way to help with that, it's an easy solution." He narrowed his eyes at her as she started to protest again. "Don't fight me on this."

"You Lothbroks are unbelievable. Fine." She laid her head back on his shoulder. "Thank you, Hvitserk…. and thanks for coming to check on me."

"Anytime. You've got my number. Just cause you're Ivar's woman doesn't mean we can't be friends. But my offer still stands, if you get sick of him, I'll be the first to snatch you up."

She laughed, heart feeling lighter than it had all afternoon. "Stop. I'm not Ivar's woman."

"You keep telling yourself that."

They sat quietly for a few minutes, watching the sky change colors.

"Mmmm…."

"What?" She looked up at him.

He peeked down at her with a shit-eating grin. "I still can't remember if I fucked your roommate or not."

"Gods, Hvitserk!"

*****

Before she fell asleep that night, she checked her phone one last time. A jolt of elation shot through her when she saw an unread text from Ivar. Her fingers fumbled with how quickly she tried to unlock her phone to read the text.

Ivar: good nite, kitten. C u 2morrow.

A silly smile on her face, she replied.

Kari: sweet dreams, Ivar.

After that, she plugged in her phone and curled up under her covers. Relief and excitement bled into her veins, allowing her to drift off to sleep with thoughts of the dark-haired Lothbrok coming home to her.

#vikings #MODERN VIKINGS #vikings ivar #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #modern ivar #ivar x oc #ivar x ofc #modern!ivar x oc #modern!ivar #ivar's heathen army #Hvitserk #Hvitserk Ragnarsson #hvitserk lothbrok #to call forth love #mzwrites

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jangosweat · 4 years ago

Text

Surprise (Part One)

Pairing: younger Boba Fett x female reader Summary: Boba is on a mission, you happen to have more than just some information for him. Length: don't @ me ok this got away from me pretty quickly, the gc chose violence the other day and my brain ran the fuck away with it so... LONG. Warnings: NSFW, Boba smokes in this ok (smoking is bad ofc), strong language, explicit content, alcohol consumption, virgin!Boba, eventual p in v Tagging these bucket fuckers: @batfamily14 @kavecika @aurea-corde @beskarprincessjenny @ahoeformando @onabouteverything @rosethornsxx @latenightsthoughtsnstuff @deewithani @hobbitlover23 @thisgirl-knm @adonishxney @vegethiagoddess @the-siren-writes-it @tibbietibbs @meabravo @kenob1 @theifofstars @metchachotto @blissful--moon @mysticalgalaxysalad

ENJOY!!!

It was a shame really, having flown out all this way with a strong signal until the night Boba Fett had landed his ship down on this bustling planet, after a month of hunting and beating the information out of humans and a few droids he needed for his latest quarry he had come up short.

He hated being let down, he was on a roll with capturing quarry after quarry, bringing them to their knees with a swift prowess only he seemed to encapsulate. His father's genes he would think thoughtfully as he laid in bed. The cuts and bruises would soon fade, adding to his track record as being one of the up and coming best bounty hunter in the parsec. He was making a name for himself, preening when he'd enter some dive bar or cantina, all eyes on him and rumor had it that if you saw his painted beskar, someone was in big kriffing trouble.

A pompous man only known to the hunter by the name of Tarrik was all he knew and that the client he was hired by wanted his payment. Now.

Boba tapped on his holopad, filling in his planner of sorts, archiving his triumphs as he sat wide legged at the edge of his bed aboard Slave I. He bit his lip, opening a new tab on the blueish screen, setting his sights on a map of the city. He used his fingers to expand the map, reaching absently at the table next to him to retrieve a lit cigarette of sorts. The shredded tobacco type substance was sweet and fragrant, coils of smoking spiraled around his fingers before he took a drag and kept on with his search.

He was on the right planet, nearby to where this theif was either hiding deftly among the people and aliens just outside from the landing areas restricted section or he was one step ahead of Fett and that thought alone made his eyebrows crease together. That was his job, to be on the Frontline, to outsmart his naïve prey. He sighed and kept the map page open, looking from a top view of what looked to be a little shopping center, a jewelry store with the name Tarrik's Trinkets lit up neon on the screen.

....

"Did you take inventory yet?"

"I'm on it right now!" You called back to one of your coworkers, she was on her way out to lunch, leaving you in charge of the jewelry store for the next hour. Your boss Tarrik had left a rather cryptic note of explanation that he had a family emergency and you and Juni were to be in charge of keeping to store up and running for the next few days.

She shrugged on a jacket, careful not to snag the flow of her long head-tails before leaving, telling you she'd bring you back something sweet.

The low chime of the store from the door opened and closed as you grabbed the holopad and set to work.

Only a few moments passed when you heard the chimes again, crouched underneath a display case you sing songed out. "Back so soon?"

You were met with silence.

That's odd you thought, you know you heard the door open...

"Juni?"

More silence.

When you finally stood to your full height you didn't see a soul in the store, you set the holopad down on the glass counter and rounded about the side. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon."

You jumped at the voice that answered you, that was definitely not Juni. You turned around to find a tall man, covered literally head to toe in some sort of hard armor and gloves, not a lick of his skin was presented to you, a T visor looked down at you.

Stealthy son of a bitch you thought as you relaxed a little.

"Oh! Good afternoon sir." You smoothed your hands at your sides, curious as to who he might be. You've seen and met quite a few strangers, of all sorts but none as mysterious as the man before you. He tilted his helmet in acknowledgement and rested his gloved hands at his waist, fingers displaying on a utility belt.

"Nice place you've got here." His voice was covered with a thick modulator, you could hear the nice smooth tone of it even through the slight crackles.

"Thank you, we pride ourselves on serving the best and making the best. Even the gentry have been known to visit from time time, by their aides and associates of course. Is there something in particular you're looking for sir?" You asked.

The helmeted man looked around the empty store then back to you after a moment. "Is the owner perhaps around?"

"Not today. But I can be of any assistance you might need."

The man hummed and tapped his belt, strong and quiet as he peered around again as if casing the joint and that set you on edge, tiny hairs on the back of your neck prickled and you moved back behind the display case you were just working on.

"Do you do customized pieces?" The man asked, turning on his heel to see where you had scurried off to.

"Of course we do! Do you have something in mind?"

The man pondered and leaned against the top of the case, a sweet smell wafted into your nose as he looked down at some of the pieces laid out on a fine Vermillion felt. "What might you suggest?"

"Is it for you or a someone special? A partner perhaps? A special occasion maybe..."

"I'm not a married man if that's what you're asking. Jewelry doesn't fit in with my armor. Someone special I suppose."

"Alrighty, how special are we talking?" You asked using one of your hands to showcase what you had at this case. "We have earrings, these are a popular buy or if want something more flashy we have bracelets and necklaces over there."

"A necklace will do I think."

"Excellent! Why don't you follow me over here then," you waved him over and he followed slowly after you, stopping to look at how nicely you had placed the varying lengths and sizes of adornments. "What kind would you like? Have you seen them in something familiar in style or coloring? A gemstone or two maybe..."

"What would you like?"

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. What would you like to receive as a gift?"

Oh.

No one had ever asked you for your personal opinion on the matter, not in that way at least. You had modeled a few items for your customers, if you were a similar size neck or wrist for the client but never had someone asked what you would prefer to wear.

No one had bought you jewelry before so the question had you stunned for a moment to think.

"Well... I don't like gaudy items, I'm more of a dainty subtle kinda' girl. If it were me, I'd go with a lariat style. It's just enough to catch someone's eye and when the sun hits it just it right, you know it's something special."

"Hmm can you show me? Might be interested in something like that." The man was sold you could tell, you were top in sales last month after all.

You smiled and bent down and brought out the style you were talking about, proudly showing off the necklace. "What do you think?"

The man hummed and touched the slinky necklace, as if he could feel the smoothness through those thick gloves. "Classy. You said I could add an gemstone no?"

"Absolutely sir, whatever modification you'd like we can do. It will cost extra of course." You explained and the man chuckled through his modulator.

"Of course. Money is of no expense to me smart girl. Three emeralds will do I think."

Emeralds? Three emeralds no less! This man had expensive taste and could afford it.

"Placement? They would like very royal spaced out like this," the man nodded once in agreement once you showed him your idea. "How about length?"

His T visor rose slowly from the necklace, taking his time to look at you as if you could see his face underneath. "Their about your size I suppose."

"For my neck I'd prefer a sixteen inch in length."

"Let's do it then."

That was easy, you smiled and made a quick sketch on a spare holopad nearby, a glimpse of what his custom piece would look like and cost. He agreed to the amount and gave his signature on the pad.

All it said was Mando when you took it back.

"As I'm sure you're aware sir, Emeralds can take some time to set, about a week or so, is that ok?"

"Absolutely." The man breathed and took out a strange looking square of steel, placing it in your hand before he took a step back and took his leave.

The chimes of the door sang again as he left, leaving you with his personal comm link number on the back of what looked like an imperial credit business card. But no name was present.

....

Boba thought of you while he took off his armor for the night, snagging a few bags of food from a very skittish man and woman at a food stall on his way back from the shopping market.

You had called him Sir, either out of sheer politeness or intimidation. Not that he was taught to call attention to himself or his armor or profession, like his father had instilled in him as a boy, but it alarmed him. Took him down a notch. He was just a man to you, clad in his father's beskar. He wasn't scary to you and that humbled him, where his name proceeded him nowadays, being unrecognizable was in a way a touch of honey to the battered man.

You didn't know his name like so many others had. Didn't cower in fear that he was possibly after you. No, he was after your boss. He didn't want to scare you, he was after one man not an army and certainly not a shopkeeper like yourself.

He had hoped you would call him the next day, give him details about the necklace that he bought on a whim with no real flesh and blood person to give it to. It was a means to an end, get in good with you, nonchalant and easy in order to find out the whereabouts of Tarrik.

It was only one meeting with you but as he sat in just his underclothes, untying the bag of steaming food, he couldn't help but feel a little off about using you. Strange as that may seem.

You didn't call the next day or the next after that, four days later he wondered if he should stop by the shop again just to see. Scope it out even though the puck he toyed with wasn't blinking.

He lit one of his cigarettes while he cleaned his armor, leaning his hip against one his many weaponry crates that made their home in the hull of his ship. He let it dangle from his lip before maneuvering it between his front teeth as he cleaned his helmet. The unsuspecting call from his comm link took him out of his routine, he popped the piece next to his chest plate into his ear.

"Hello?"

"Mando?" You sounded unsure of yourself, Boba narrowed his eyebrows as to why until he realized his helmet was in his hands, not placed on his head.

"Speaking. Everything going alright?" It never occurred to him that he had given you a name to call him but he didn't catch yours, too preoccupied with his song and dance of trying to sus out information and how you smiled at him. Not knowing the predator he truly was.

"Yeah yeah everything is fine with your piece it's just you forgot to put in your credit information. I was looking it over and-"

"When should I come in?" Boba stabbed out his cigarette.

"Oh uh whenever you're free would be great, were open until nine tonight if that works out for you?" You sounded excited and nervous which made him feel the same.

"I'll see you soon then."

You fumbled through some goodbye by the sound of it, Boba smiled and got dressed.

....

Tarrik's Trinkets seemed to be in a rush, there were people picking up some of their cleaned items and some were being helped, you were behind the register handing off a bag to a very excited young Twi’lek couple, they even kissed in front of everyone. An engagement Boba thought to himself, smiling under his helmet. As he made his way through the busy little store the engaged couple made eyes with him, wide ones as they hurried past, even as he had gave them a pleasant nod of his helm.

The people outside in the shopping center had done the same when they had seen him strolling through the street.

None the wiser were you to his presence, another girl was asking you a question before returning to her own set of waiting customers.

He didn't know why all of a sudden a strange pang in his gut hit him then, she was close to you, her face next to your ear her hand on your elbow as you turned and answered her.

Boba Fett waited for the crowd to die down, patiently waiting towards the back wall full of portraits of clients showing off the jewelry that was made here.

But once the rush was over he watched you close up the drawer and hang your head with a bit of exhaustion, your hands on the tabletop before he took his turn and made his way over to you.

"Busy night huh?"

You sprang up at the distinct tone of his modulated tone, eyes wide with Sprite but with a smile. "Mando! You’ve gotta’ stop sneaking up on me."

"I told you I was coming."

"Yeah but I didn't think so soon!" Your smile made him smile, you took out a holopad from underneath the glass, scrolling through until you found his name and lack of information. You handed it over to him.

"You said you closed at nine, wanted to get here before you closed." Boba answered while tapping in his numbers.

"Were still open for another hour, Mando." You countered, a flirty smile on your face as he handed the pad back to you.

"Had to be sure you didn't forget about me."

"How could I forget?"

So this was happening.

Usually when Boba flirted it was for information, nothing more than that and in a way it was exactly that but something more, some lingering feeling that felt natural when he spoke to you.

The women he did flirt with always wanted something from, dank farrik everyone wanted something from him. To hire him to use him to dispose of him when they were through, he didn't let it bother him too much to waste sleepless nights on it but sometimes it hurt. Just a little bit.

You were genuine about it though as he studied your face.

"So what is there to do around here? I haven't been on this side of the planet in a long time." He wanted to keep you talking, to hear your voice.

"Well that depends, what do you like to do? I doubt hiking with all that armor on." You pointed.

Boba chuckled, smiling at the fact he'd just left the dessert before landing here a few days ago. "Not exactly. What do you like to do?"

"Well I like art so I go to the museums a lot. There's quite a few bars and cantinas around too. A bunch of stuff really." You shrugged.

Boba hummed along and took a chance. "Do you go out for drinks a lot?"

"Sometimes I'll go out with Juni after work."

"Juni?"

"Oh! My coworker, she's around here somewhere." You looked around the store but didn't see her, neither did Boba and he was grateful for the one on one conversation.

"Ah ha. You know you never did tell me your name the other day."

You're face had look of shock when you looked up at him then. "I didn't?! That wasn't very professional of me, was it?”

"I won't tell on you."

You bit your bottom lip before apologizing, adding your name at the end with your hand out for him to take. It was dwarfed by the size of his hand and glove.

He cemented it to his brain, rolling it over and mouthing it behind the beskar of his helmet. "Mesh'la."

"Excuse me?"

"Mesh'la. It means beautiful in my native language."

"Oh! I like that."

Boba suddenly realized he was still holding your hand before he took it back gently. "Are you going out tonight?"

"Not that I'm aware of, why?" You cocked your head. "You wanna ask me out?"

Very bold little one.

"Maybe. Would you go out with me? Just for a drink, you can tell me about all the other places I should visit while I'm waiting."

"Sure. Why not?"

Boba's stomach twisted at your coy smile. "It's a date. I'll be waiting outside."

"Outside? Mando I still have an hour to work!" You protested.

He tapped the side of his helmet and the clock counter showed him the time. "Forty-five minutes. I can be patient." Boba then patted the glass counter, noticing the way you twisted in place as if bashfulness had grabbed you by the throat and strutted towards the door, looking over his shoulder at you still watching him as he chimed through the door.

He had done his job and damn well if he was being truthful to himself. He was proud and took up post just to the side of the store front, noticing how others jogged across the street from him while a few reckless others strolled by giving him a side eye.

They're lucky I'm not after them he thought as he checked the time again, only three minutes have passed and for some unexplained reason all he could do was picture your face and repeat your name over until it sounded faintly like an ancient prayer.

#part one is done bitches #this has been haunting all week from the gc and here it is #so far i mean #we're getting there trust me #boba fett x you #boba fett x female reader #younger boba is a tough guy #ENJOY!!!

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wolfish-trickster · 4 years ago

Text

Show, don't tell

Loki x female!reader

Word count: 1 815

Summary: your friends dare you to tell your crush how you feel. But since you're mischievious just like him, you'll do it in your way

Warnings: none i guess (besides my bad grammar, but you already know that) and Loki is slightly ooc

Tag list: @gaitwae @lucywrites02 @hard-to-be-the-bard @birdgirl90 @laramoonworld

When you were a kid you saw a little boy at your favourite playground. He never spoke, he only moved his fingers and hands strangely. When you asked your parent, they said it's called sign language and people who can't hear use it to comunicate.

Later in your life you met a girl in school who was deaf and lonely. You wanted to become her friend so you took few classes and learned sign. You two were always together, best friends till the end of the school. You two stayed in contact after you went your separate ways.

That was the past. Now you had another person in your life who knew sign language: Clint Barton. Actually, you taught him sign when he lost hearing in an accident on a mission. You were friends ever since. He introduced you to the rest of the Avengers and they became your friends as well. You began spending a lot of time in the tower, you slept over sometimes so Tony gave you your own room. It was smaller than the rest of the Avengers' and was practically the attic of the tower, but it was cozy and you liked it.

It was a cloudy friday and you just entered the tower. You and Natasha wanted to hang out (and how better than having a sleepover with movies, nail polish and classic girly thing Nat doesn't get to enjoy in her hero time?)

As you stumbled across the living area you heard voices. Most likely coming from the party deck. Strange, Tony didn't mention any parties.

You walked one floor upstairs and saw Clint, Nat, Steve, Bucky and Thor sitting on couches, a single glass bottle layed on the table. Everyone had their heads turned towards the ceiling. You looked up and saw Peter making a giant web.

He sticked a big spider plushie inside and swung himself down to couches. "Alright, my turn."

"What are guys doing?" you sat down next to Thor.

"Playing truth or dare of course," Peter explained as he spinned the bottle.

"We are teching Thor what people do to embarass eachother," Natasha chuckled as she was showing you her pigtails and childish make up.

"Can I join?" you asked.

"Sure, who knows, maybe it will land on you."

The bottle stopped right as Nat finished the sentence. Its openening pointing to Clint.

"Alright mister Barton, truth or dare?" Peter asked.

"For the last time kid, just Clint. Truth, I already picked dare twice. Let's hear your question."

"Alright, ummmm," Peter held his chin inbetween his fingers, thinking. He snapped. "What happened in Budapest?"

Clint and Natasha looked at eachother smirking. This will take a while.

After few more rounds the bottle finally pointed to you. Your heart pounded with excitement and fear at the same time.

"So," Steve sat a little straighter, "truth or dare?"

"Uhm...... I'm a big girl, dare!"

"Okay then, I dare you to-"

"How in the nine did that web get there?"

All of you turned to the entrance hall. Loki stood there, arms crossed, leaning against a wall.

"Uuuuuh a giant spider?" Peter smiled sheepishly trying too hard to be believable.

"We are playing a game to embarrass eachother. Join us. It's way more fun than I expected," Thor invited Loki.

Loki shook his head. "I have no interest in games today. Maybe later I shall join," his eyes locked with yours. He smiled softly and waved at you. "Hello Y/N."

You blushed and waved back. "Hi Loki."

The younger prince then turned, walked to Tony's stash of alcohol and found himself a glass.

You smiled to yourself. He ignored everyone in the room and said 'hello' to you. Only you. It felt good being noticed.

You felt stares on yourself. Everyone looking at you. Clint smirked and whispered something to Steve. Both of them smirked (almost mischeviously) as they leaned against the back of the couch.

Steve licked his lips. "I dare you to tell Loki you have a crush on him."

"What? No, no way. I change my mind, I want truth."

"I may be too old for this but even I know that's not how this game works, doll," Bucky chuckled at your poor attempt to get yourself out of the dare.

"But- I can't do that, I mean.... I like him, really but not like-," you noticed Natasha raising an eyebrow at you, "-that. Oh gosh, is it obvious?" you asked as you hid your burning face in your hands.

A loud and clear 'yes' was said in unison. You groaned and pulled your knees towards your chest hiding you even more. "This is bad guys. I can't tell him."

"A dare is a dare, you have to."

"But I can't! I can be glad a god, and a bookworm one, considers me his friend. With admitting my true feelings to him I risk looosing him for good!"

Thor huffed. "Loki is not mean. Well, not THAT mean at least. Besides, worse could have happened. Like that one time he and this maiden-"

"We are NOT discussing his previous love life infront of her!" Natasha interrupted Thor's story.

As they started to argue Clint smiled at you and started signing: *I may be deaf, but I'm not blind. I can see it in his eyes. He likes you and I doubt he will reject you. There is something pure between you two, would be a shame if not explored and deepened. * he winked at you as he signed the word "deepened".

His encouraging words helped you sooth your anxiety. He was right. There is something between you, you just aren't sure if that something is romantic.

You took a deep breath. "Okay, I'm going."

You smirked secretely when all they could see was your back. Oh, you are going to tell him, but in your way.

You found Loki sitting at a bar, book on the table, a glass of wine in his hand. You sat on a chair next to him and tapped his shoulder. "I thought you don't drink," you gestured at his drink.

He chuckled. "Just because I can't get drunk from midgardian alcohol doesn't mean I can't enjoy their taste. Do you want some?" he held out his glass to you.

You put a hand on his own and pushed the glass away. "No, thank you."

You heard a cough behind your back. Those bastards must be watching. Time to confess.

"Actually, Loki I came here because I got a dare."

"And what is that?"

You cracked your knuckles and signed out: *I love you Loki*

You made sure it was visible enough for the audience behind you. From the sound of facepalms and groans, they saw it crystal clear.

Loki on the other hand was completely confused. "Eeeh, they dared you to move your hands in my presence? How is that embarrassing? They clearly never played a REAL embarrassing game."

You shrugged. "A dare is a dare. I did it, now it's my turn. Want to help with my revenge?" you tried doing his signature smirk.

He grinned. "I would love to, my dear."

Few days passed since you 'confessed' your feelings to Loki.

Nothing changed between you two, he was still polite and charming as ever and you were comfortable in your role of a friend.

Now when you think of it, he began touching you more, not in a creepy way. He also started to make you cups of tea or hot chocolate whenever you visited or when he accidentally brusged his hand along your cold one. He let you borrow his books and when you returned them he eagerly asked you about your opinion.

Maybe something has changed. Maybe, just maybe, he started catching feelings for you too.

Your mind wandered to Loki again just as you were unlocking door to your apartment after a long day at work. You sighed, taking your clothes off and planing to sleep until it's time to sleep for real.

A giant bouquet of red roses on your kitchen table surprised you. You jumped as you heard Loki's voice behind you. "I just couldn't come bare handed now, could I?"

"Loki! What are you doing here? How did you get here?"

He scratched the back of his head. "Sorry. I had to see you."

Your heart sped up. "R-really? Well, that's nice but you could've just called, you know?"

"I still have to ask Tony to get me on of those phones. Listen, I.... do you remember that night, when you played truth or dare and you had to move your hands in front of me?"

You smiled at the memory. Everyone was so annoyed you tricked them. Loki would probably be proud of you. If he knew.

"Yes, I do. What about it?"

"Well, uh- could you do it again?" he asked with, what was it? Shyness in his voice?

"Oh, okay," you said and your hands and fingers spelled out your confession once more.

Loki smiled at you softly. He raised his hands and started signing *I love you too Y/N, I have for a long time. Can we, perhaps, be in a relationship? * he dropped his hands and looked at you hopefully.

You couldn't believe your eyes. He knew how to sign? Since when?

"I've been learning ever since that 'truth or dare' night happened. I wanted to know if your dare wasn't putting a silent curse on me."

You stared up at him. "Did I ask that out loud?"

"No, but you had it written all over your face," he chuckled and tucked stray hair from your eyes. "So, now that we know how the other one feels, can I kiss you?"

As much as you wanted to say yes, you had a different idea. "Even though I enjoy the effort you put into the confession, could you say it out loud? You know, just to be sure," you smirked.

Loki chuckled. "I know I fell in love with the right person. I love you darling."

You stood on your toes and your nose brushed his. "I love you too," you softly pecked his lips. His hands held onto your waist as your own snaked around his neck.

When you two parted he rested his forhead on yours.

"Loki?"

"Yes dear?"

"Can you stay here and cuddle with me? I'm incredibly tired."

You felt his lips on your cheek as he led you towards your couch. "I would love nothing more."

#loki x reader #loki odinson #loki #loki laufeyson #the avengers #fluffy loki #loki fluff #fluff

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potionsprefect · 4 years ago

Text

The Familiar Face (Chapter 3)

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: Victoria and Sienna meet up for lunch and a catch up

Rating: General Audiences

Category: Fluff, series

Previous chapter here

Chapter Three: A Catch Up

Victoria was up early the next morning. Not 6am early but 8am early. Ethan liked to let her sleep in when he wasn’t working but now they were both at home this week, they were both sleeping past their alarm clocks.

Victoria was sat at the kitchen table, looking at the news on her laptop. She knew she shouldn’t be looking at it but she couldn’t help herself. There were several articles covering Ed Farrugia’s visit to Edenbrook.

Nominee Ed visits local hospital

Rallying the locals - Republican Ed visits Bloom Edenbrook who saved his life years ago

Start as you mean to go on - Farrugia gains support and respect for hospital visit

Victoria rolled her eyes at the article headlines. But the one that talked about saving his life was half true. Yes they did manage to successfully find out what was wrong with him but when disaster struck, he just ran away and left others to clean up his mess. Victoria just hoped Massachusetts had some sense to not vote for him.

“What are you looking at?” Ethan entered the kitchen.

“Just some articles on Ed’s visit yesterday. Seems like there’s a lot of the media on his side. Maybe people will be glad seeing someone from their state running for office.” Victoria sighed.

“And if that’s the case then there’s nothing we can do about it. Remember, control what you can control.” Ethan said wrapping his arms around Victoria from behind and pressing lazy kisses to her neck.

“Maybe you’re right. Are the twins not up yet?”

“No, which is unusual. I’ll go wake them up.” Ethan planted one last kiss on Victoria’s head and headed out the kitchen.

As Victoria continued to scroll through the articles, she saw a text message from Sienna pop up on her phone.

Fancy a catch up at lunch, 12pm? My treat x

Victoria smiled at her phone. If there was anyone who would help lift her mood, it was Sienna. Victoria fired back a quick yes before heading upstairs.

“I’m going to meet Sienna for lunch.” Victoria called out as she saw Ethan in Luke’s room.

“That’s good, if anyone can make you smile it’s Sienna.”

“And you of course.” Victoria laughed.

“Well I don’t want to toot my own horn.” Ethan laughed back.

Victoria walked into her and Ethan’s room and sat down at the vanity and began to get ready. It only took her 20 minutes to do her make up, opting for a simple look before she picked out a purple top and some jeans to wear.

It wasn’t long before she was leaving the house and heading towards the coffee shop she and Sienna frequently hung out in.

“Hey Sienna!” Victoria smiled as Sienna approached her.

“Hey Vic! I’m glad I got away on time. We had a major trauma this morning.” Sienna gave her a hug before they entered the coffee shop.

“What happened?” Victoria asked.

“Some sort of explosion in a science class. Thankfully no one was seriously hurt. Just minor burns.” Sienna replied.

The two women ordered lunch and brought it over to one of the empty tables by the window.

“So how are my two favourite godchildren?” Sienna beamed.

“Driving Ethan and I mad.” Victoria laughed a little. She got out her phone and showed her some latest pictures.

“Oh em gee they’re so cute! I miss cuddles with them.”

“They miss Aunt Sienna too.”

“And how are you and Ethan enjoying your week off?” Sienna asked.

“I’m not gonna lie it feels strange. Especially with Ethan being around more. I’ve never really realised how much I miss him when he’s not around.” Victoria replied.

“You deserve the time off.”

“So tell me, what really happened at the hospital when Ed came to visit? And don’t skirt around anything. I want the full story.”

Sienna explained how the hospital were briefed only 15 minutes before Ed turned up that he would be visiting, although she didn’t realise he was in the hospital until she saw the news coverage and how Leland Bloom had approached her when she rushed downstairs to see if it was true and asked her to give Ed a tour of the hospital. Ed Farrugia hadn’t even given her a glance and she did most of the talking whilst Ed just nodded and had an assistant write out some notes on their notepad.

“So he didn’t even acknowledge you? Didn’t make any small talk or ask any questions?” Victoria asked.

“None whatsoever. It was incredibly annoying. I thought I made fair comments about him all those years ago. I gave a constructive opinion on him. And remember all those tweets about me that praised my honesty? I was labelled a hero!”

“There’s no way he’d forget Edenbrook. Maybe he’s only acting in front of the media. Deep down, I reckon he would crack if anyone of us asked him about what happened that day.” Victoria said.

“That’s what I thought as well. Plus he said he never wanted to see or hear from us ever again. I reckon he didn’t want to pay a visit but he knew it would be good for support.” Sienna replied.

“When did he say that?” Victoria asked.

“That day.” Sienna looked down. Victoria reached over to take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, urging her to continue when she was ready. “Ethan and I found him hiding in a supply closet. When I agreed to sing his praises to the media he said that would be the last time we ever saw each other.”

“I think he meant that. He was just playing to the media’s advantages by attending the hospital and acting like he was just paying a normal visit. He was probably wishing he was anywhere else.”

The two women then opted away from discussing Ed Farrugia and went on to chat about everything else.

It wasn’t long before Victoria was heading home, as she turned the key in the lock and opened the door she was surprised to be greeted with silence. Normally, Luke and Lily ran to greet her at the door but this time they didn’t.

Victoria took her shoes off and walked into the living room. It was empty. She then made her way to the kitchen where she found who was looking for.

“Mommy!” Luke and Lily beamed when they saw Victoria. They were covered in cake mixture.

“What have you been up to?” Victoria laughed as she looked at Ethan.

“We made a cake!” Luke said.

“Did you? It looks like you’re wearing most of it.”

“It’s never been a simple task.” Ethan laughed.

“But it tastes so good Daddy.” Lily looked up at Ethan.

“It’ll taste even better when it’s cooked. But now it looks like we’re going to have to hose you down.” Ethan ushered the kids out the kitchen, instructing them to go up the stairs and to not touch the walls.

“Did you have fun?” Victoria asked smirking.

“We thought it would be a nice surprise for you.”

“Everything you do is a nice surprise for me.” Victoria leant up to press a kiss to Ethan’s jaw.

“I’m glad you think so. Now let’s see how long it will take us to shower them before they turn into cake monsters.” Ethan took Victoria’s hand.

“Lead the way.” Victoria smiled.

— — — — —

Took a break to write another chapter of this!

Let me know if you would like to be tagged

Tag list:

@ohchoices @openheartfan @queencarb @genevievemd @iemcpbchoices @choicesaddict5 @schnitzelbutterfingers @alina-yol-ramsey @stygianflood @malakemads-blog @gryffindordaughterofathena @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor @openheartfanfics @rookie-ramsey @sophxwithers @caseyvalentineramsey @romewritingshop @ethansramsey @codykosuckmytoe @mrsethanfreakingramsey @coffeeheartaddict @mm2305 @nikki-2406 @maurine07 @nishas-paradise @replayfootsteps @mainstreetreader @anntoldst0ries

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke #Ethan x Victoria #open heart fanfiction #choices: open heart #playchoices #series #fluff #fanfic

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yoon-kooks · 5 years ago

Text

Tie Me Up

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff & Agust D

Summary: While planning the promotional shoot for Agust D’s second mixtape, you’re visited by the man himself who seems to have a lot of ideas for a “baddie” aesthetic. One suggestion in particular sounds a bit risky, but somehow you’re tempted.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warning: Yoongi may or may not have a bondage kink

A/N: i know what the title says but this is straight fluff, fam :^)

As the countdown begins for Agust D’s return, it’s up to you, BigHit’s resident art director, to make preparations for the photoshoot and music video. After playing the mixtape on repeat for the past few days, you’ve come to the conclusion that the visuals need to be bold, in your face, and for lack of a better word, badass.

The only problem is that you know Yoongi. You know how he likes to present himself as the hardcore underground rapper that he is. And you know his Agust D persona is quite raw and outspoken. But more than that, you know that Min Yoongi is actually a softie. Especially around you for some reason.

You’ve seen and experienced it with your own eyes. Because whenever he casually drops by the art department of the BigHit building, he always makes up some pathetic excuse about “enlisting your help for a personal art project” or “needing a change of scenery” just to visit you. And then he’ll just sit there, working next to you on the spare desk that somehow became his second office. He even goes out of his way to buy your favorite dessert “for himself,” only to share half of it with you on late nights in the office.

With the knowledge that Yoongi’s that soft, you struggle to envision him as the badass that Agust D is supposed to be. If only he weren’t so dang cute all the time.

“Fucking Yoongi,” you mumble to yourself as you study photos of the shooting location and several props to spark any sort of inspiration.

“Y/N.” You look up from your computer screen at the boy you’d just cursed out. “I can hear you, you know.”

“What brings you here today, Min Yoongi?” you ignore his comment.

“Ah, me? I just needed a change of scenery,” he shrugs with a whole ass keyboard in hands. “Helps the creative juices flow better.”

“You used that excuse like two days ago. Try harder,” you tilt your head.

“Oh, I did?” he ruffles his hair.

“No, I’m just fucking with you,” you crack into a giggle. “You did say it last week, though.”

“Oh, so you’re keeping count?”

“You could say that.”

“Anyway, I just thought I might as well stop by to make sure you’re not goofing off, young art director.” He makes himself comfortable on the spare desk beside yours. “How’s the planning going?”

“The most goofing off I’ve done all day is bickering with you,” you pinch the rapper’s cheek because that’s just what your fingers do. “As for the planning, it requires a big brain to make someone like you look badass.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he narrows his eyes at you. “Doesn’t it help that I’m naturally scary?”

You blink at the “scary” boy without answering his question. Then an idea pops into mind. “Want to help me plan? It is your music video after all.”

Yoongi nearly shoves his keyboard off the desk. “Sure.”

You turn your screen towards the boy to fill him in on the details. “So what I’m thinking so far is to have some fire involved…you mentioned Bang PD, so maybe like a cameo from him… oh, and it’d be cool if you had an eye scar like Kakashi.”

“Who’s Kakashi?”

“I was also thinking of inviting Seokjin and Jungkook to make a brief appearance?” you continue, again without answering his question.

“Yeah, maybe it’s better not to,” Yoongi sighs. “You know how those two are. They’ll probably just start fighting each other for the hell of it.”

“It would be good to have some of your friends on set to support you, though.”

“Are you saying you’re not a friend who will support me?”

“You know I’ll support you, Silly,” you chuckle. In addition to being a softie, Min Yoongi is also a funny guy.

“Right, right,” he says as one of the sample props catches his eye. “What were you planning on using the rope for?”

“Oh that… You know how Bruno Mars uses a rope to drag a piano around in that one music video? I was thinking something along those lines, but like with something to symbolize your achievements.” You start gesturing as though you’re playing charades. “It’ll be like ‘I had to work my ass off for this motherfucker.’”

“Interesting. I like that,” Yoongi nods, casually picking up the rope. “Or, what if we tied me up?”

“What.”

“Wouldn’t that be kinda badass?”

You attempt to envision a soft Yoongi all tangled in rope, but it’s a little too much for you to process. “Maybe it’s not best to broadcast your bondage kink to the entire world.”

“It’s not a kink, it’s an aesthetic.”

“Right,” you roll your eyes. “It’ll make you look like a real baddie, Yoongi.”

As soon as you snatch the rope out of the boy’s hands, he offers up his wrists to you. But all you can do is stand and stare, wondering if he’s legitimately serious about the bondage kink.

It takes a good minute or so, but Yoongi finally budges. However, you’re caught off guard when his hands wrap around yours—not that you’re complaining. If there’s one thing that you’re weak to about Yoongi, it’s when he completely breaks down his “scary” front and goes full soft boy on you. You’re not sure what triggered the handholding all of a sudden, but you’ll take what you can get.

“I still think it’s a good idea, yeah?” He tilts his head at you with a slight pout. A pout!

Aha, you see what’s going on.

“I’m not going to let your adorable face sway me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Yoongi drops your hands and sighs. “I don’t get why you always think I’m cute.”

“Because that’s just what you are,” is what you want to scream. You swear the boy drives you crazy sometimes. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Yoongi. You are what you are.” It’s not an opinion. It’s a fact.

“So no rope?” he blinks at you with that pout again. Stay strong, Y/N.

“Fine, we can try the rope if it makes you happy…” It’s your turn to pout. His cuteness always wins. It’s too powerful. Even more powerful than Agust D himself.

As you fumble around with the rope to get it around the boy’s wrists and body, he has the audacity to snicker.

“What?” You shoot him a look. You’ve never seen someone so delighted to be tied up. Then again, bondage isn’t really your area of expertise.

“Nothing,” he hums.

“You know, if someone walks in right now, they’ll get the wrong idea.” You tie a neat bow at the small of Yoongi’s back.

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

“You seem to care when I think you’re cute.”

“You’re different.”

“Is that so?” you giggle, backing up to get a full view sample photo of the tied up boy. You honestly don’t get the appeal. He just looks like a bigger dork than he already was. Then again, you are pretty smitten for that adorable dorky side of his.

“Did it work?” He waddles over to you in the restraints. You show him the photo and he nods in approval. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re the biggest dork ever, Yoongi,” you tease.

“You’re not affected at all by this?” He tries to lift his wrists.

“I’ll admit you’re right about it fitting the Agust D aesthetic. I can respect it to that effect,” you try to keep it professional for 0.2 seconds. “But on a personal level, I can’t unsee how dang soft you are.”

“I’m not soft,” says the soft boy as you untangle him from the rope.

“Right, and you’re not going to treat me to my favorite dessert after this.”

“I’m not?” The first thing the boy does when his wrists are free is take your hand once more. “Because I’m headed there right now if you want to tag along.”

You smile, shake your head, but follow him nonetheless. You’ve proven your case. The world may see and fall for the hardcore badass in Agust D all tied up with scars and shit, but you’ve fallen long ago for the dork who simply hangs with you for a nice change of scenery.

#bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fluff #yoongi x reader #btsboulangerie #agust d #yoongi #suga #yoongi fanfic #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts #bangtan #tie me up

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 5 years ago

Text

Just A Taste

Characters: Spencer Reid x reader, minor characters

Word Count: 2,925

Warnings: talk of men abusing their female partners (very implicitly), smut, oral (female recieving), fingering, a bit of dom!spencer

request by @theitcaramelchick: Okay but imagine Reid interrogating a suspect and you, an assistant at the BAU office, happen to hear how domineering he is with them and you get all hot and bothered? Jesus. 🥵 And the way he would make the suspect tell him stuff. ...Could you do a one shot with this?

Summary: You assist Spencer with an interrogation despite having no experience with it all. Turns out, there is a reason why Spencer chose you, and it’s not all for work.

Squares Filled: office sex for @cmkinkbingo // free space for @cmbingo

Author’s Note: If you have any requests, please send them in! this is unbeta’d and every mistake is all on me.

Feedback the glue that holds my writing together

Tags at the bottom

For the first time in… ever… you’re going to assist the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid in an interrogation room with a real criminal. You’re only an office assistant, but they wanted you to be in there with him. You know nothing about how to talk to criminals or where to even begin, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer. You don’t even know what you would do in this interview, but you’re not going to question it. This is your chance to prove you belong with the rest of the BAU.

Your dream is to be a profiler that catches bad guys. If you can see how they think during this interrogation, then maybe you can start to work on your own profile. While you’re very nervous to be in this interrogation room, you’re more worried to be in that room with Spencer. It’s not that you’re worried for how bad you might be in front of him, you’re afraid he will figure out your feelings for him. He’s the most talked BAU agent on your floor. He’s so smart, innovated, talented, and very handsome.

His brown eyes can be so soft and caring, but can also turn hard and threatening in a moment’s notice. How he hasn’t landed himself a girlfriend yet is beyond you, but you’re glad he hasn’t. Him being available makes you less guilty for the thoughts you have about him. He’s tall, lean, has curly hair that you really want to tug, and he has a habit of biting and licking those damn lips. He’s definitely been the center of far too many fantasies you relive over and over again.

Your office is one floor below the BAU team. You’re best behind a computer, but you’re trying hard to prove yourself worthy enough to be a profiler. Because you’re great with a computer, your best friend is Penelope. When the team is away, you like to go to her office and hang with her when she’s not assisting her team. You use her to gather intel on the rest of the team, and you’ve learned the following details:

Rossi loves to drink. He has a very impressive collection of old alcohol that he doesn’t really use all that often, but always loves to show off. Hotch loves his son, and would do just about anything for him. One year, Jack dressed up as his father for Halloween. You thought that was the best thing ever. While Emily isn’t on the team anymore, Penlelope does talk about how brave and selfless she is. She’s saved the other teammates in more ways than one.

JJ has been through so much; not only as a mother but as an agent. She’s suffered the most, but she works the hardest. Derek is the muscle of the team, and Penelope has said some raunchy stuff that you’d rather not repeat. Last, but certainly not least, Spencer. He’s had a kind of serious girlfriend, Maeve, but she ended up dying right in front of him. He’s been through a lot as well, but he won’t ever give up on helping people. He’s really great with kids, and he is definitely husband material. Even Penelope is surprised how Spencer hasn’t settled down by now.

Fine by you, as long as you get a piece of him at some point.

It’s hard to put yourself out there for a man like him because if he somehow rejected you, then you won’t be able to recover from that. You don’t want to be one of those women who centers her world around some guy, but Spencer is just so special that you wouldn’t bounce back by a rejection from him. You’ve voiced your thoughts and opinions to Penelope, and as far as you know, she’s kept all those opinions to herself.

Now you have to work with the guy you are already nervous to be around. No one told you why they wanted you in there with him, but it’s not like you’re going to complain. You head up to the floor above you where Spencer is waiting for you. Once he sees you, he heads over to you. Your heart pounds just a bit faster, and your breath comes out a bit shakier. You try to keep your complexion the same color, but you know you’ve revealed how pink they are.

“Are you okay? Do you need a minute?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Your cheeks are flushed. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m just a bit nervous. I’ve never done anything like this before. I don’t know why I’m even here,” you chuckle nervously.

“You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

“Why am I here, Spencer?”

“I asked for you.”

He leaves your side without another word, and you follow him to the interrogation room. The unsub they caught, Frank Bishop, sits inside the room silently. From what you’ve heard about this guy, he’s killed half a dozen men. The BAU doesn’t know where he’s buried them, and they have to get him to confess to their murders as well as their locations. You’ve seen some terrible people, but he is on your radar.

First and foremost, this man is accused of killing men who were physically and emotionally abusive towards their wives or girlfriends. He sees himself as some sort of God or savoir in the eyes of these women. Not that you agree with his method, but these women aren’t suffering anymore. You’re actually nervous to talk to a man like him because of the person you are.

Yes, you’re a submissive. Everyone who meets you knows this. You don’t broadcast it, but it’s all in the way you present yourself. You’re also showing signs of nervousness, you rarely say no to people in fear of what they would do to you if you did, and all your friends are dominants. They just embrace life and want you to do the same. You’ve done some stupid shit in your day because of them, but your life wouldn’t be what it is now if you didn’t have them in your life.

Spencer gives you one last look before entering the room. Frank’s head pops up, and he straightens when he sees you. He must have seen the way you’re presenting yourself because he can’t take his eyes off you.

“Don’t look at her, look at me. Tell me where you buried those five men,” Spencer demands.

Seeing him like this is putting you back into your late night fantasies. One thing you never considered is the way he is with hardened criminals. He can get so threatening that sends a heat sparking up your core. You push your thighs together to relieve some tension, and you cross your arms loosely.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What five men?” he asks and smiles at you.

The way he smiles makes you nervous, and you begin to bounce your leg aimlessly. Frank likes how nervous you are, so you try to keep it under control.

"Don't waste my time here. Where are they?" Spencer asks again.

The man doesn't answer. All he does is stare at you. Your leg bounces faster so that's the only thing you can hear besides the ticking of the clock in the room.

"Stop bouncing your leg," Spencer demands.

He puts his hand on your thigh to stop you himself and that doesn't go unnoticed by Frank. You immediately stop what you're doing and look at Spencer with wide eyes. Once he knows you won't do it again, he takes his hand away.

You wish he hadn't.

"We know you stalked and killed men who abused their partners. They'd be somewhere where you can visit and continue their humiliation. You wouldn't want a proper burial for them, would you?"

"I didn't kill anyone else besides Jack Harmer."

"Yeah, that's because we caught you in the act. We know you did it. We found traces of your DNA in their houses."

"Doesn't mean I killed them."

The tension in the room thickens, and you feel trapped. You can't go anywhere, you haven't said a single word since you got here, and all Frank has done is stare at you. You'd leave, but you're afraid Spencer is just going to yell at you. You knew he wouldn't, but your anxiety doesn't know that. Because you feel trapped, you result in biting your nails. It's one of the things you do when you don't know what to do. However, as soon as you put your thumb between your teeth, Spencer swats your hand away.

"Don't bite your nails," he orders.

Why is he being like this? He is never this aggressive towards people—or that's what Penelope told you.

"Why don't you let her do what she wants?" Frank asks.

"Is that what you told Jason Hurley, Jared Bush, Harold Jenkins, Bailey Pickett, and Cody Campbell?"

"Who?" Frank smirks.

You shrink back into your seat because this interrogation can literally take a number of turns. Spencer looks at you with fire in his eyes, and you actually became scared at the thought of what he might do to you.

"Sit up straight. We're in a goddamn interrogation. If you can't handle that, then why are you even here?" he snaps.

Okay, you have no idea why he's treating you like this. Is it all for show, or does he really think he can boss you around like that? Of course, you're not going to say anything to him about it, but that doesn't mean you won't complain to Penny about this.

"Leave her alone! Who do you think you are treating her that way? Jason, Jared, and Harold all thought they could get away with treating their women like that. It's why I threw their bodies in the lake behind my house. Now, don't get me started on Bailey and Cody." Frank blew up.

He confessed to all five murders including revealing where their bodies were located. It wasn't long before you were able to leave. However, you didn't get very far because Spencer was pulling you into the nearest empty office.

"Look, I'm sorry for how I treated you there. Frank looked for men who "bossed" their partners around. I figured if I did that to you, he would reveal where he hid those bodies."

You knew Spencer was one of the good ones.

"You could have just told me. I would have played along."

"Your reaction needed to be real. I chose you because I know you're a submissive. I needed all of it to be real."

"How did you know that?"

"Besides how you acted today... Penelope told me."

"She what?"

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Though, that's the other reason why I picked you."

"Which is?"

You meant to say that accusingly, but it came out in a breathy whisper.

"You're attracted to me. I need that attraction to be real," he reveals. You want to deny it, but your brain just isn't cooperating. So, he continues when he sees you wanting to deny it. "I knew it was true when you came up this morning. I asked you if you were okay because your cheeks were pink. They were like that because of me. I'm sure your heart started pumping as well. The next sign was in the interrogation room. You were rubbing your thighs together because of me. Should I continue?"

Goddamn, the man really knew how to sweet talk you. You could deny it, but what would the point be? He already knows your feelings. The other option is to come clean and hope he doesn't reject you.

"What are you going to do if what you said is true?” you wonder.

He takes three large steps toward you, and you, purely out of intimidation, take five much smaller steps back. Your back hits the wall next to the door, and you realize you trapped yourself. He places one hand on the wall next to yours and with the other, he locks the office. He leans down so that his mouth is right next to your ear.

"If it were true, I'd get down on my knees, yank that unbelievably tight skirt down your legs, and bury my tongue in you," he whispers.

Shit. Did he really just say that to you? Your panties are so wet right now, and it's all because of the man right in front of you.

"Hmm? Would you like that?" he asks as he tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. You can't help but nod slightly. He's taken your ability to talk. "That's my girl."

You could have come right there, but you really want to know what his tongue feels like inside you. He presses his lips on your neck and gives a few kisses. He has you exactly where he wants you. You are his and he knows it.

"Remember, we are at work. Be a good girl and don't make a sound," he whispers before dropping to his knees.

Holy shit, this is exactly what you pictured in your fantasies. Now, you're getting the real thing. His hands grip your waist, digging his fingers into your skin. You know bruises are going to show up even through the couple layers of clothing. He gives you a questioning look as if to ask if this is alright. You just nod once, and he gets to work.

He slides down both your skirt and panties until they are on the floor. He keeps your heels on, and you make a mental note that he likes heels. He rests one leg over his shoulder, and he presses light kisses to your inner thighs. It didn't occur to you that you're exposing yourself to him for the first time. He has an eidetic memory. If this whole thing doesn't work out, he will have the look, taste, and feel of you embedded into his mind.

The smell of you messes with his mind, and he knows he has to get a taste of you. He gives one kiss to your clit, and you do your best to keep that moan in. Whenever you had sex, it’s always a challenge to stay quiet. You did it, but it always came at a cost. Spencer loves it when a girl moans for him, but not at work where his coworkers and bosses are.

Too much time has passed since he first got a whiff of you. Maybe he can take his time later, but for right now, all he wants is to make you come. From the bottom to the top, he licks one thick stripe up your center. When he sees you dripping with anticipation, he shoves his unbelievably long tongue inside you. You bite your lower lip to keep yourself from screaming out. Spencer looks up through his lashes and swipes his tongue from one wall to the other. The way he's looking at you makes you clench around his wet muscle. You have to get your tension out somehow.

There is finally an opportunity for you to satisfy one of your urges. You reach down and grab a fistful of his curly hair. You tug, and he moans. The vibration sends ripples through your body, and you give another hard tug. Your head bangs against the wall behind you, but you're too caught up in the moment to care.

He grunts when you give another yank. You file that piece of information in the same place as the heels. He pulls away only to suction his lips around your clit. He doesn't want you to feel empty, so he slides in two very long fingers.

“Shit! Spencer!” you hiss.

That response only makes him suck harder. You tighten around his fingers, making it almost impossible for him to remove them. He keeps his fingers right where they are and wiggles them so that he's hitting places not even you knew you had.

"I'm close! Fuck!"

Without going too hard, he nibbles on your clit with his teeth. The stimulation, combined with what his fingers are doing, is enough to push you over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you just as your come spills over his fingers. He pulls away and sticks them in his mouth. He sucks your juices from them before diving in once more. You're very sensitive from the first orgasm, so you twitch away from him. However, he grips your hips to hold you in place. He licks you clean until there is no more evidence lingering.

Once he finishes, he sets your leg down and redresses you. Your legs are wobbly, but you're doing a good job at keeping yourself up. He pushes your hair back to expose your ear, and he leans down to whisper in it.

"I never knew you tasted so sweet. I'm going to have a hard time focusing on work now that I got a taste. Be a good girl for the rest of the day, and I’ll show you what else I'm good for."

He presses a kiss to the side of your neck before leaving the office. Did that really just happen? How can you get through the rest of the day when you've experienced how well he can work his tongue? Plus, you also won't be able to stop thinking of his proposition. If he's that good with just his mouth. What else will he be good at?

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@adlerorzel-blog @kendall-michele @megsyrae @bitchwhytho @kt-bug3 @broimjustvibin @practicallylivesonline @cynbx @cobrakai1967 @reid-187 @mbmrocks @idkbutspencer @yellowbadgergirl @onceuponthenightmares @yeet-the-nugget @izzythefanfreak @very-lonely-august @sammy-jo1977 @nomajdetective @skarsgardandredmayne @neutralwiener @miraclesoflove @skylarraker @theitcaramelchick @whatspunispun @countrygal17a

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 4 years ago

Text

Save Him

Warning: A total rewrite of Carry on because…well…it’s shit. And maybe not from start to finish, the beginning half of the episode was good. No other warnings, just a feel good fic to help cope with the end of SPN.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

A/N: Events are after the fight with the vampires.

Word Count: 1,369

Mobile Masterlist

Summary: Sam and Dean go on one last hunt. But just before the older Winchester can accept his fate, his little brother fights for him one last time.

(My opinion, the acting was awesome. Jared and Jensen deserve all the Oscars after that performance. Just, story-wise, it’s shit. Too fast and rushed. And out of character, Sam didn’t even call 911, or put an attempt into saving Dean. They just accepted ‘fate’. After they said they’re better together, and worthless apart. Dean saying, he sees him retiring from the life in Season 13, and actually seeming like he was looking forward to it. Sure, it’s the only way to end the show, but too soon. Dean deserved more, and Sam’s kids deserve an uncle. The boys deserve to grow a family of their own. But that is just my opinion, Jensen and Jared will forever be my favorites.)

“It’s okay,” Dean says. Fighting off the pain as best as he could. “It’s okay, it’s good.”

“It’s good.” He says, smiling.

“No Dean, this is not good.” Sam argues. Clearly upset and freaking out his older brother is dying and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Unless…

“Jack!” he calls out, pacing the barn.

“Sam, don’t.” Dean groans. “He said he was hands off.”

“Jack if you can hear me, save him. You owe us that much!”

Moments later Jack appears in the barn.

“Jack, save him.”

“Of course, Sam. You don’t have to ask me twice.” Jack says. Snapping his fingers. Snapping the boys back to the bunker, Dean fully healed. Miracle running over to them, greeting them with licks and tail wags.

“But I thought—”

“I owed you guys that much. For all the things I’ve done to you, Mary. I just wanted to not only make it up to you guys, but to give you a proper chance at life.” Jack explains.

Dean stood there, speechless and taken aback by Jack’s reasoning. He was still wanting their forgiveness, and he did it by bringing Dean back to life.

“A proper chance?” Dean asked.

“I got Cas out of the Empty and we’re working on making a world just for monsters. So, this world can be free of them. No more monsters, no more hunting.” Jack says.

“That’s amazing Jack, thank you.” Sam says.

“Yeah, that’s awesome.”

Jack smiles on his family. “Anything for my family.” And vanishes.

“So,” Sam goes. “What now?”

“Now, we start living.”

5 years later…

After 5 years of leaving the bunker and living the apple pie life. Sam, managed to get back together with Eileen, and have been married to her for two years. Sam working at a law firm agency, having gone back to law school, and graduated recently with honors.

Dean’s story. Dean always liked working around cars, he liked working with his hands. Dean tried his hand at school, wanting to open up his own garage. Not being a fan of being bossed around and such, following in Bobby’s footsteps. Opening a garage, scrap yard, fixing up cars, reselling them. Restoring them. At Winchester’s Restorations.

It wasn’t until a few years later, after his garage has been opened, and the Winchester’s are living comfortably in their apple pie life, he had a visit he didn’t know he was waiting for his whole life.

It was a stormy night, his garage normally closes around 8pm, later than most garages in Lawrence Kansas.

A car pulls up to his garage, sounding god awful. The engine making a noise even he didn’t like the sounds of it.

Hurrying outside, he urged the driver to shut off her car. She does so.

Grabbing her things, she gets out of her car.

“My car has been making this noise all day today, and just as I’m driving home from work the check engine light came on.” She explained. “Now, I know you do restorations, but what about just, regular like, garage stuff like fix up cars like mine.” She asked.

“I know what you mean, and yes, I do that stuff too. Let’s get you squared away so I can do it tomorrow.” Dean says with a smile.

They hurry inside to get out of the rain.

Dean grabbed the correct paperwork, having her fill out her information of her car and her contact information and the problem. And handing it back to him.

“Alright, I’ll start on it first thing tomorrow.” He tells her.

“Thank you so much.”

“It’s not a problem.” He says with a smile. “Do you have a ride home miss?”

“Um, no I don’t. I’m new to Lawrence.” She says.

“It’s totally fine, I have no problem giving you a ride, if you like.” Dean offered.

“I don’t know you.”

“Just thought I’d offer.” Dean says.

“My name is y/n. I’m from Nebraska, and I’m a writer.” She says.

“Dean Winchester, I’m was born and raised here.”

She nods. As the two get to know each other.

Dean happily gave her the ride, she accepted happily given the storm not lighting up.

As Dean sat outside her house, while she gathered her things and got ready to head in.

“I really enjoyed your company Dean, maybe you should call me some time.” She offers.

“I’ll take you up on that offer sweetheart. See you soon.” Dean smiles.

She smiles back, as she exits the impala, she’s taking a number of times looking back at Dean. She shuts the car door behind her, running inside so as to not get soaked by the rain.

Dean keeps an eye out to make sure she is in the house, safe and sound before driving off.

Only to make a turn seeing the road flooded. Turning around he tries another route to getting out of the neighborhood, getting the same road.

It had been raining all day that day, and well into the evening. It’s no surprise if the creeks and rivers have gone over their banks, or even the storm drains having a hard time keeping up with the rainfall. So, he drives back to her place.

Rings her doorbell. She opens the door after a few beats. Dressed in her more comfortable clothes, sweats, oversized t-shirt and a pair of big warm socks.

“Problem?” she asks, when she sees him.

“Roads are flooded, kind of trapped here.” He says sheepishly.

“It’s not a problem, come on in.” she offers

She had popped in a couple of frozen pizza’s in the oven while Dean got himself comfortable.

She headed up to her guest bedroom, where she had spare clothes stashed away. From number ex-boyfriends who have forgotten most of their clothes. She grabbed Dean a pair of sweats and a comfy t-shirt.

She heads back downstairs to offer Dean the clothes.

“I have some clothes, hope they fit.” She offers.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine, thanks sweetheart.” He says, taking the clothes.

“Bathroom is down this hall here on the left.” She points out.

Dean makes his way to the bathroom, getting out of his work clothes and into the comfy clothes offered to him.

The beeping of the oven going off as he exits the bathroom.

“Hope you don’t mind, I heated up some pizza.”

“It’s okay, I am starving, thanks for offering.”

She smiles, offering him a styrofoam plate of pizza.

Dean spent the night that night, and every night since then.

After that night, they bonded over stories. She learned of the places he’s been, she knows he’s keeping a major part of his life secret. But maybe it is for the best that she doesn’t know the hell he has been through.

As the years went on, Sam and Dean having families of their own. Sam had his son, who he named after his brother Dean. And Dean having him kids of his own, two boys, twins and a girl. Kevin, Jack and Charlie.

Monsters really were a thing of the past. But the people over the years up to this point, the people Sam and Dean have saved, made stories. Like heroes to legends.

They lived their life, happy and to the fullest.

Sam and Dean died of old age in their homes, surrounded by family and those they love.

Up in heaven, where Bobby sat on the porch of Harvell’s Roadhouse and waited for the boys to enter heaven.

“It’s about time you boys showed up.”

“Bobby?” Dean asks.

“What memory is this?” Sam asks.

“This ain’t a memory. You’re not living in your golden years anymore. Rufus just lives about half mile that way. You’re parents there.” Bobby pointed out.

“Wait, mom and dad are here?” Sam asked. Bobby nods.

Sam taking off, Dean following him.

They catch a glimpse Dean’s Impala, with his old Kansas plates, KAZ 2Y5. Dean excited he sees his old baby again.

“Let’s go see our family.” Sam says. Dean smiles, agreeing.

Dean turning the key in the ignition of the impala, roaring the engine to life.

The radio playing Carry on Wayward Son by Kansas.

“God, I love this song.” Dean sighs.

“Same.” Sam says.

Dean Tag List:

@luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @winchest09,

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 12/2/2020

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hela-avenger · 4 years ago

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poison & wine- part 31

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1394

Summary: Prince Loki of Asgard is in need of a date to take back home. That’s where you come in with a task of your own to make the whole trip with an insufferable prince worth it. Too bad that things don’t always go as planned and you end up giving more than you can take. Fake-Dating AU.

A/N: And so it begins again! GAH, another cliffhanger and another... well, I guess you’ll have to read to find out. Be nice to me in the comments pls. I was the one who had to write this!

poison & wine masterlist

Loki stops before you’re able to reach the royal hall. You refrain from asking him why as you catch the serious look on his face. It was enough to tell you that he was worried about what you two were about to walk into.

“This the point of no return,” Loki whispers. “No going back the moment we step inside that room.”

“If you’re trying to ask me if I’m having second thoughts, I’m not,” you assure him. “So tell me, what exactly am I walking into?”

“As usual, we will be the center of attention,” Loki answers. “There will be food, wine, and more, but essentially we will be the idol of affection of the people of Asgard. They will be fawning over us with well wishes and gifts.”

“I like gifts.”

“Of course you do,” Loki chuckles. “Sadly the gifts will have to be turned into the royal treasury but if you see something you like I’m sure I could find a way for you to keep it.”

“I don’t think any gift can compare to the one you already gave me,” you tell him. “My father’s office… I didn’t even realize how close he was all this time.”

“Took me some time to find it,” Loki answers. “Your father stayed in the palace in between his travels, but the office held all of his personal belongings. Everything inside it is yours and you may come visit it anytime you’ll like.”

“I will take you up on that offer as long as you’re coming with me.”

You smile up at him hoping for him to continue the banter along but he’s silently staring at you. There was a softness to it and you wonder how long he’s been looking at you like this and you’ve been missing it.

“Loki, I…”

...love you.

You find yourself stopping knowing this wasn’t the time nor the place to be confessing your feelings to him. You were about to walk into the most stressful and trying times of your lives and you couldn’t put it on the line now.

“...I’m ready, if you are.”

Loki nods and offers his arm for you to take. You nestle closer to him as he escorts you down to the royal hall. The guards are quick to open the doors for you announcing your presence for all the court to hear.

“Prince Loki of Asgard and his fiancee Lady Y/N of Midgard.”

You’re met with loud cheers and applause as Loki leads you to the thrones that were set front and center in the room. King Odin and Frigga were seated nearby with their own matching thrones.

“You’re late,” Frigga whispers to Loki with a playful glare.

Loki simply smiles in response and shrugs, unable to offer her more as the first royal family comes to greet them.

You hadn’t realized how many royal families were involved in the hierarchy of Asgard but you had met and received so many that it was hard to keep track on who was who. Luckily for you, you were once again allowed to drink wine which made the whole event tolerable, but with the side effect of allowing your mind to stray away easier. Hence, your immense focus on the prince seated next to you.

Loki was doing all of this with such ease. He knew all of their names before they were announced and he always managed to thank each and every one of them in unique and specific ways. It was mesmerizing to watch and you couldn’t comprehend how his own father could overlook the great work he was showing.

You took a hold of his free hand squeezing it gently earning you a brief moment of his attention in which he smiles fondly at you.

“You’re doing great,” you whisper to him.

Loki’s smile grows even brighter than before.

“So are you,” he whispers in return. “They love you.”

You find that hard to believe but take the compliment anyway.

The next royal family makes their way up to you taking his focus away from you. You didn’t mind enjoying the way he returned to his regal self. It was nice to know that his rare softness was reserved only for you.

Another round of blessings is heard with chests of gold and ornate jewels to further compensate the message.

Loki’s hand was still in yours and he squeezed it every few minutes. You chuckled every time he did it which made you believe that was the reason he was doing it in the first place.

Things finally start to slow down and you look over at Loki to find that he’s already staring at you. You smile at him unable to do much else.

“All rise for the Allfather, Ruler of the Nine Realms, King Odin.”

You’re surprised at the announcement and so is Loki as his grip tightens in your hold.

“I never thought I would see the day when my son, Loki, would find his match,” Odin begins to announce earning a laugh from the crowd. “It has certainly been a blessing for our family to be graced with Lady Y/N’s presence. She has shown pure courage in the face of adversity and has handled herself with care and grace.”

As if on cue, the room erupts in applause eating up his words. You were unsure if he was being honest or not, but it didn’t really matter. His opinion wasn’t something you depended on but you knew it meant the world to Loki.

“I would like to be the first to welcome Y/N into our family,” Odin continues before he waves towards a servant. “And in doing so, bestow her this rare and unique gift that is rightfully hers to begin with.”

The servant appears once more, bringing a small case towards you. You let go of Loki’s hand in order to receive the offered gift.

With all eyes on you, you have no other choice but to open it and amongst the gold tinsel, a small red apple was cushioned in the middle. You pull it out of the case confused at the simple gift until the whole room erupts in loud gasps and murmured talk.

“The Apple of Idunn.”

The smile you had been wearing instantly disappears and you turn to Loki to find him in the same shocked state that you were.

“This is… why would you…?”

You feel a tightening in your chest, a pure wave of panic and pain, knowing that you were holding the reason your father had not come back for you and your mother in your hand. The real reason he was dead.

“Your father wished this for you,” Odin answers simply. “And I would like nothing more for my son to have you for more than a handful of centuries.”

You look down at the apple in your hand having a hard time believing that such a small little thing could have caused such chaos. Even now, it was causing disruption as everyone watched you awaiting your next move.

“No.”

“No?” Odin asks in surprise.

“No,” Loki repeats as he rises from his seat.

The whole hall falls into a silence at the sudden response. You’re quick to place the apple back inside the case unsure of what else to do. Loki had made the decision for you and you didn’t know how to take it.

“Loki…” you call out to him. “What are you doing?”

Loki looks down at you, his mask gone, revealing remorse for you.

“You should go,” he answers. “You shouldn’t have to be here for this.”

It’s not that hard to figure out what Loki intends to do. He was about to confess to it all and all because he wanted to save you from a life of eternity.

“Loki, you can’t…”

“Just leave.”

“What?”

Loki turns back to look at you but the man you knew and loved was gone. A different mask was being worn, one that you hadn’t expected to see on him again.

“Go,” Loki snarls with a scowl. “Just go!”

You hand over the case to Loki unsure of what else to do with it. You tried to ignore the burning humiliation and collective pitying stare directed to you. Grabbing the silk of your skirt, you run out of the hall without looking back.

poison & wine tag: @damalseer @just-the-hiddles @jessiejunebug @nonsensicalobsessions @smollest-soybean @assassinoftheworld @readerbandit @doyoufeelikeayounggod @strangemcuvlogs @ha-tep @i-dont-know-eiither @gene-king @day-dreaming-fox @bn-studies @is-it-madness @devilbat @victor-criss-bish @skinny-macncheese @musicconversedance @baby-bunnyxn @fandoms-allovertheplace @marvelloonie @jinxjinxednova @queenmuahaha @accio-boys @eternalqueensworld @umlvk @roger-the-reindeer @punkrockhufflefluff @your-local-abyss @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @rogerrhqpsody @imsad420@pandacookieowo @justnerdystuffs @hanoi15 @oneprolificqueen @nikki-who-likes-coffee @fandomrelative @nikki419ninja @onedollarduck @help-i-need-a-social-life @ephemeraljade @catsladen @amwolowicz @captainmarvelnerd @thegirlbeyondtheuniverse

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-njorddottir @aoirohi @defunctcherrybomb

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @moonlightprime

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daughterofluthien · 4 years ago

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Fictober - Day 4

Prompt number: 4. “that didn’t stop you before” Fandom: Teen Wolf Rating: T Characters/Relationships: Alan Deaton & Scott McCall Word Count: 1563 Warnings/Tags: grief, angst with a happy ending A/N: Deaton character study, pre-series through 1x11 Formality.

Sometimes, the worst part about the world shattering is that everything remains the same.

Deaton learns about the fire on the local news, and by that time, the only thing left is smoldering ruins. The newscaster labels it a tragic accident, but given the way tensions had been building between the hunters and the Hales over the past two years, he knows that’s extremely unlikely.

The news reports say that search and rescue teams have pulled multiple bodies out of the house, but no further information is given. He calls both Talia and Laura multiple times, but there’s no response, so he opens the clinic at nine in the morning like he always does, in case someone shows up needing help.

He doesn’t really think anyone will, however, because the Argents know about him. He’s been threatened by Gerard’s thugs in the past, and he expects the clinic is being watched. His help might just end up getting even more people killed.

So instead, he waits.

And nothing happens.

The day after the fire, the Sheriff brings in a search and rescue dog to be treated for minor smoke inhalation. Deaton asks a few pointed questions under the guise of curiosity and casual conversation.

He learns that a single survivor was pulled from the house, but his burns were so severe that paramedics were shocked that he was even still alive. Most of the bodies had been identified, but three of the Hale children were still unaccounted for.

He doesn’t plan to ask the next question. He asks it anyway. “The bodies that you found-- I understand if this is part of an ongoing investigation and therefore privileged information, but I have to ask. Was Talia Hale…?”

“Yeah, she was. Did you know her?”

Deaton nods. He isn’t surprised, but he needed the confirmation. “I did. She was a dear friend.” ______________

The Argents pack up and move within a month.

He makes a few inquiries and learns that Laura and Derek fled across the country and moved to New York. He keeps an eye on them from afar as best he can, and assumes that she will get in touch with him if she needs anything.

He doesn’t hear from her.

Years pass, and Beacon Hills is quiet. Nothing out of the ordinary, no mysterious deaths. Nothing that would indicate that a few short years before, the town had been the epicenter of a years-long cold war between supernaturals and hunters.

A war that had ignited in an instant, and once it burned hot was over nearly as soon as it started.

He was supposed to keep the balance.

He had failed.

He failed, and the world didn’t end, because the natural world always comes back to its own equilibrium. It found its own balance, and it wasn’t the one he wanted, but his opinion and interference were neither requested nor needed.

In his failure, he became fundamentally unnecessary. ___________________

He builds a life for himself outside the supernatural. He focuses on his clinic, which sees a fair amount of business, as it’s the only veterinary practice in town.

It’s not really something that someone focused on keeping the balance would do, he thinks. After all, death is natural, and healing is outside interference in the natural order. Each animal saved is a small upset to the equilibrium into which all things inevitably fall.

Each one feels like a small victory.

As the practice grows, and the amount of work starts to become unwieldy for a single individual, he hires an assistant. At 16, Scott McCall is young for a veterinary assistant, and Deaton mainly hires him to assist with clerical work and to help care for the animals. But the teenager is sharp and eager to learn, and soon Deaton starts to teach him about the business and assign him other, more complicated tasks.

He finds he enjoys teaching, and Scott is an excellent student.

If their conversations stray to topics that allow him to dispense a little wisdom and advice-- Well, that was once a very important part of his life. Some old habits are harder to break than others. ____________________

Months pass, and he learns that Scott is not just intelligent and hard-working, but he is remarkable for a second reason: he cares. The teenager cares deeply about every single animal that passes through the doors of the clinic, and he wants to help them because it’s the right thing to do.

Working alongside Scott, Deaton starts to remember that healing is its own reward. Any petty revenge enacted on the universe with each animal saved is just a side benefit. ___________________

Unfortunately, balance cannot last forever. Six years after the fire, events start to cascade again, just as quickly as they did last time.

A deer with the symbol for revenge carved into its side is left in a place where it would be easily found, and Laura contacts him for the first time since the fire.

He tells her he wishes he could help, but he doesn’t know anything more about it than she does. It’s the truth, but there are other truths as well, and he realizes he is afraid to get involved. Afraid to make things worse in a misguided attempt to keep the balance.

She thanks him for his time, and leaves the clinic.

That evening, when Scott shows up for work, Deaton tells him they should make sure that the gate at reception stays closed. He tells him that it looks more professional that way, and he thinks Scott buys the excuse.

A couple days later, the Argents move back into town.

A couple days after that, he wakes up to a news report stating that the partial body of a young woman was found in the woods.

That afternoon, at around the time Scott is scheduled to show up for work, the front door to the clinic opens, but no-one immediately comes into the back. He walks to the front, expecting a client, but instead finds Scott hesitating at the gate.

He opens it, watching Scott carefully, but his heart sinks. If this is the natural equilibrium, it strikes him as distinctly unfair.

For the first time in six years, he starts to think what exactly he can do about it.

He leaves the gate open. ______________________

At first, all he can offer is advice and a sympathetic ear. He keeps an eye on Scott from afar, just as he still does with Derek, but part of him dreads what he assumes will be the inevitable day when Scott stops showing up for work.

He doesn’t know whether it will be because Scott’s dead, or because he’s joined the Alpha.

But the full moons come and go, and while Scott misses a few shifts here and there, he keeps coming back. He stays in contact.

One night, while they’re closing up the clinic and talking about Scott’s plans to enroll in a pre-veterinary program after graduation, Deaton asks Scott why he wants to be a vet.

Scott shrugs and shakes his head. “Well, for one, I just really like animals. But also…” He trails off, thinking. “It’s like, we see so many animals that need help, right? They’re sick, or injured. Or they need protected. And we can help them. And I guess I just feel like, if nobody else is going to do it... Then maybe I need to.”

He’s not just talking about veterinary medicine any more, and Deaton smiles. But he doesn’t forget the conversation. __________________________

A few nights later, a group of hunters led by Kate Argent attacks the Hale house.

Deaton doesn’t hear about it on the news the next morning, because this time, he’s there. He can’t stop them from taking Derek, but he watches as Scott escapes and runs into the woods, weakened by the poison coursing through his veins.

He catches up when Scott collapses, barely able to breathe, a smoking bullet wound in his side.

He doesn’t know what this is going to do to the balance, but if he’s completely honest with himself, he no longer cares. Scott is injured and desperately needs protecting, and for the first time in a long time, Deaton knows exactly what it is he needs to do.

He picks Scott up. Carries him to his car.

“You’re going to be all right.” ________________________

Six years ago, the world shattered, but it didn’t end.

For the longest time, he thought it was unfair that the world kept spinning without taking the time to put itself back together. It took him years to realize that he needed to put himself back together first.

After rescuing Scott and confronting the new Alpha, he knew it wouldn’t be long before word began to spread that his retirement was over. So he isn’t surprised when Marin pays him a visit.

He might not approve of her current affiliations, but it’s good to see her.

“After all these years,” she asks, “why now?”

He shrugs. “They needed my help.”

She fixes him with a look, and if they were still children he can’t help but think she would’ve rolled her eyes. “People always need help, Alan. That didn’t stop you before.”

He concedes the point with a nod, and gives her a small smile. “Maybe I just found something to believe in.”

#fictober20 #teen wolf #alan deaton #scott mccall #okay so like #i really really like the concept for this one #not fully sure if the execution lives up to it #my fic

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grapefruitsketches · 4 years ago

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A Grumpy Cat, a Stuffed Bunny, and an Unexpected Date

My first fill for the Songxiao Reverse Itty Bitty Bang 2020. Inspired by @JeanieChibi’s art on twitter at JeanieChibi/status/1307471339025035268 (hyperlink in reblog to make sure this shows up in the tags; please go look - you will not regret the adorableness!)

Event hosted by @touchmycoat

Also for fytheuntamed’s Untamed Fall Fest Day 2: Family

Rated G, 1,937 words

Songxiao Family, Domestic Fluff, Dating

Also available on AO3 (See link in reblog)

The doorbell rang.

Xiao Xingchen frowned, setting down his cup of tea.

Now who could that…

“Gege!” A-Qing’s voice rang out from the front hall, “Song-gege is here to steal you again!”

Zichen was here? Why was Zichen…

Oh. Oh no.

Suddenly it all came back. Song Lan had mentioned wanting to see some movie or other. Xiao Xingchen didn’t really know what it was, some sort of psychological, horror, action, something, but Zichen had seemed excited about it. Xingchen had casually mentioned that he hadn’t been to the movies in ages, that maybe they should go when it came out. Zichen had eagerly and instantly taken him up on it.

XIngchen usually didn’t go anywhere on weekdays, choosing instead to make sure a-Qing got to bed on time on a school night. But Zichen had been able to get them opening night tickets, had even gone to the trouble of calling the theatre to make sure that they had the capacity to provide described services.

But opening night was on the 16th. And the 16th was on a Thursday. And today was a Thursday. They were supposed to go out today. Right now.

Xiao Xingchen started, almost knocking his cup of tea over in the process, as this clicked into place. How had he forgotten?

He wasn’t ready. Was wearing his loungiest of loungewear – sweatpants and an old tee, his apron still tied loosely around his waist, not having bothered to pull it off while the soup bubbled on the stove, forgotten about it by the time he pulled the pot off and spooned out the servings.

As he dashed out of the kitchen, the apron was of course the first to go. Then he was on his phone, finding Yanli’s name and tapping it perhaps harder than necessary.

The doorbell rang again.

This wasn’t how he had wanted them to meet but… He chewed his lip. He couldn’t very well leave Song Lan standing out in the chilly autumn air...

“A-Qing! Answer the door!” He shouted, as he ran upstairs, T-shirt already hoisted over his head, taking two steps at a time. Yanli’s phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. He was in his bedroom as the rings switched to voicemail. He heard the door unlatch. Heard a-Qing’s childish voice shout “Come in!”

He heard a gentle muttering. The tones of the man’s low voice made him blush even as he rooted through his closet, frantically searching for something, anything, passable.

He strained his ears as he listened, trying to catch any of the words being exchanged downstairs. Had he hurried out of the room because he thought at least it was better for them to meet without his interference? Or was he simply being a coward, leaving the defining moments to others?

This would be the first time a-Qing or Zichen saw more than a photo of the other. Xingchen and Song Lan had gone out on just enough dates for Xiao Xingchen to acknowledge them as dates, but not enough that he thought it necessary to introduce him to his family yet.

Each time he and Song Lan had gone out, Xiao Xingchen had made sure to have a babysitter lined up. A-Qing would already be occupied with whichever aunt, uncle, or grandparent was free by the time Song Lan was meant to pick him up. Xingchen would wait on the porch, or if the weather was bad, by the window, peering out until he saw the lights of Zichen’s car pull up.

He had had a plan. He was going to first have a more serious conversation about “dating” with a-Qing. He would set her expectations, be sure she understood both why Xingchen was bringing a stranger into their little household, and also explain that dating might not be something permanent – that he was introducing her to Zichen in part to check how well he got along with a-Qing. He wanted her to know that no matter the butterflies in his stomach, no matter the easy comfort he felt with Song Lan, no matter how long he could sit quietly with the other, hands intertwined, no matter how well he could see building his life with this man, he needed a-Qing to know that ultimately, she came first. And if a-Qing didn’t like Zichen, didn’t see him as a positive addition to her life, Xingchen would, no matter his personal feelings, always choose her over anyone else.

But he had not yet had that talk with her.

And now he had left Song Lan – who dealt with nervousness through the veil of a cold demeanour – alone with a-Qing – whose seven-year-old mind judged easily and never changed a first opinion.

The phone had now clicked to Jiang Cheng’s voicemail as well.

Xingchen pulled his softest long sleeve shirt over his head, now hastily dialing his mother, who would certainly not pick up, but hoping anyway. Only by the time he was almost done combing his hair did someone finally pick up, answering Wei Wuxian’s phone.

“Mnm.”

“Wangji!” Xiao Xingchen said breathlessly into the phone, relieved, “I’m sorry this is so last minute but… I have a huge favour to ask…”

He was on the stairs minutes later, trying to hide that he was panting, still trying to hear what was going on. At the lack of exuberant shouting, of a coerced game of tag or hide and go seek, he worried that a-Qing might have already rejected him. He worried that Song Lan might, ever an honest man, confess that he couldn’t do this. That actually, after meeting a-Qing, he realized he didn’t like children. Xiao Xingchen shuddered even at the thought.

Zichen just felt so right. He desperately wanted this to work out. But a-Qing was his life. Her misery would always outweigh his own.

He breathed deep, trying to settle into an at least arguably calm state.

He avoided looking too hard in the direction of the only sound in the room. He was afraid that even his deteriorating eyesight would see something he wouldn’t life, that he’d lose this moment of possibility, where there was at least the chance that this would go well.

He adjusted his hair, checking the bun neatly wrapped at the back of his head, “Ah, I’m so sorry, Zichen! I completely forgot we wanted to go out tonight!” he confessed, “the babysitter should be here any minute now, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting for too…”

He turned towards the dining room, the sounds of previously inaudible voices suddenly discernible. He cut himself off.

“Do you want some more water, Song-gege?” A-Qing had apparently taken her role as host seriously. Xingchen saw the flash of her unmistakeable bright blue plastic teapot, which she pouted gently into the nodding Song Lan’s little cup. Zichen’s serious expression indicated that he, too, was taking his role as a guest deadly serious.

The two were set up by a-Qing’s play table – Xingchen able to make out the colourful chairs, the stuffed toys, and an unusually patient a-Yang (likely bribed with a promise of the good cat food) all seated around.

Xiao Xingchen chuckled at the scene. He tried to stifle it, but he had already caught their attention.

“Song-gege!” A-Qing groaned, pouring water all over the table as Song Lan inadvertently turned his whole body towards Xingchen, cup alongside him.

His eyes widened, “S-sorry…” he said, lifting the hem of his jacket and using it to mop up the mess.

“Pfft,” Xingchen finally. His relief to find, not a brawl, not a tantrum, but a tea party making the whole scenario seem even more hilarious than it probably actually was. His laughs grew deeper as he clutched his side, knowing full well that he was asking for a cramp, hoping he could avoid the ordeal hiccups would bring.

“Mrrow!” a-Yang leapt off his chair and ran towards Xingchen, who was now using the railing to support him as he laughed.

“S-stop it a-Yang!” Xingchen giggled as the cat wrapped himself around his legs, making it impossible for Xingchen to proceed down the stairs without tripping on the cat.

Song Lan still sat silently, a gentle flush working its way up his cheeks.

“Song-gege wanted to have a tea party!” A-Qing explained gleefully.

Xingchen nodded, grin stretching from ear to ear as he carefully stepped around the cat, scratching him behind the ears briefly in an attempt to fulfill his bid for attention, “I can tell.”

Zichen nodded, “I was glad to be invited.”

“Any time!” a-Qing beamed, “You’re a much better guest than a-Yang,” she frowned in the direction of the cat, who hissed and dodged behind Xingchen’s legs, “He’s always jumping on the table or leaving without saying goodbye.” She stuck her tongue out at the cat, who ignored her in favour of a bath, “Song-gege would never do that!”

She paused. Xingchen could feel the quick calculations passing through her head, “Will Song-gege be allowed to visit again?”

“Any time.” Xingchen repeated gently, reaching the dining room and holding out an arm to Zichen, “Can we still make it?” he asked worriedly.

Song Lan smiled, glancing quickly at his watch, and smiled at the other man, ”We’ll even have time to get popcorn if we leave soon.”

“And Twizzlers?” Xiao Xingchen asked, glancing sideways at his date.

“And Twizzlers.” Song Lan agreed.

“I changed my mind!” A-Qing shouted, inserting herself between the two and looking up at them both, pushing them apart lightly, "You’re just as gross as Xian-shushu and Lan-gege.”

Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen exchanged a quick glance, before both falling into laughter again.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang once again. They were just in time.

Soon, a-Qing was curled up happily on the couch, listening as the aforementioned “gross” Lan-gege read her favourite story aloud. Xian-shushu, leaning back in a cozy armchair, feet rested on the low coffee table, brought a finger to his lips and motioned to Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen that they could leave, could escape before a-Qing had quite registered that their goodbyes had actually meant they were leaving.

Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen complied, slipping away towards Song Lan’s car.

“So… what did you think of a-Qing?” Xingchen asked nervously, scratching lightly at his pant leg as Song Lan engaged the ignition and backed out of the driveway.

Song Lan was silent for a few agonizing moments before answering, “She takes after you,” he smiled lightly to himself, but Xingchen greedily accepted it for himself, “In all the best ways.”

“Zichen?” Xingchen said after a beat more of silence.

“Mnm?” came the answer.

“What did I ever do to deserve you coming into my life?”

A pause as Song Lan’s face, ever focused on the road, reddened from chin to brow, “Agree to go to psychological thriller premieres that will definitely be full of pretentious and obnoxious film majors and might give you nightmares?”

Xingchen leaned back, comfortable enough to close his eyes as he smiled, “Oh yeah. That.”

It was early days still. Xingchen couldn’t risk making promises. Not to himself. Not to Zichen. Not to a-Qing. But that image – the image of Song Lan patiently awaiting his turn for carefully poured water, waiting until after the stuffed bunny and grumpy cat had had theirs, served by the energetic a-Qing? As much as Xingchen thought it smarter, more cautious, more in line with everything his mother had told him, to try convince himself that he couldn’t be sure, he couldn’t help the only word that came to mind at the thought of the tea party:

Family.

#sxreverseibb #untamed fall fest #songxiao #songxiao fam #xiao xingchen #song lan #a qing #cql #the untamed #mdzs #my writing

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demivampirew · 4 years ago

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Keep Calm and Go to London Chapter 26

Synopsis: This is the story of (y/n), a successful actress, musician, musical producer and songwriter. After battling depression and breaking up a long relationship, she seeks for a change of air, escaping LA for a while going to visit some friends in London and there she meets Henry. -Disclaimer: some chapters are mostly smut.

Previous Chapters in the masterlist

Triggers: Jealousy; talking about sex (not smut, just conversation about sex - including conversation about losing virginity); cursing; talking about a horror movie (includes some spoilers - the movie is The House of the Witch); talking about kids; and fluffy.

Tag list: Here’s the incredible people who showed me support (thank you so much for that) and people who asked me to tag them too ☺️ (I think I will write a few chapters of this story, if you want me to tag you, tell me ☺️ ) @cavillanche @mary-ann84 @henry-owns-these-tatas @yespolkadotkitty @dancingwendigo constip8merm8 penwieldingdreamer iloveyouyen littlefreya wondersofdreaming alyxkbrl solariumss sweetybuzz25 @thethirstyarchive @agniavateira @honeyloverogers @hell1129-blog @lunedelorient @michelle-1185 @madbaddic7ed @summersong69

-Good morning, babe.- Henry greeted you as you walk into the kitchen. Like almost every morning, he got up before you woke up to prepare you breakfast. This time he made you pancakes with berries and natural strawberry jam, your favourite. After giving him a huge kiss, you put one of the tall chairs next to the kitchen island and started to eat the delicious food cooked for you. Henry joined you, sitting close to you, as he drank a coffee with his pancakes - this was cheating day for him. You weren't as strict with your diet as he was, but in his case was because he needed special food to give him the necessary energy to work out with all those heavy training machines. -So, did you enjoy it last night? Doing you know what?-he said winking and giggling like a fifteen-year-old who had sex for the first time. You chuckle.- Did you like it? I heard it hurts the first time but it becomes more enjoyable with practice, but of course, we don't have to do it again if you don't want to. - Yeah, I know. I like doing that. It's not something I'd like doing always, but it's fun to do it every now and then to spice things up.- you admitted. Henry looked at you while frowning. - What do you mean? Are you telling me that you have done that before? - he asked you could hear the jealousy in his voice. You remained silent and took a sip of your coffee.- Fucker!- he said angrily and took a bite of his pancakes, crewing a bit too hard. - Excuse me? - you questioned him offended. - I don't mean you, baby, I mean the freaking joke that used to be your boyfriend. That son of a bitch took all your firsts. There's nothing special for me to do for the first time with you. - First, his mother is lovely, so in any case, you should borrow my insult and call him "son of a lovely woman". Second, you were my first oral sitting on your shoulders, that counts, right? - Of course, I'm the first to do that with you, he couldn't hold you even if he wanted to.- he replied in a "bitch, please" manner. - Are you trying to say that I'm too heavy- you asked frowning and pouting. - No, I mean that he doesn't have the body strength to lift any woman as that.-he replied shrugging. - Oh, the shade!- you told him while you chuckled. - I despise him. He'll always be your first in everything. I hate that- he pointed out, sighing angrily. - Oh, common! There are still things that I haven't done with him! - you tried to ease his mood, kissing him on the cheek. - Oh yeah? Give me an example.- he requested - Well... I haven't had a threesome, for example. Although that's not in the table, I couldn't share you with anyone else and I don't want other person fucking me either.- you said rethinking your answer. You took a moment to think and then excitedly continue- I've never done the famous sixty-nine.- you said smirking. He gave you a look like saying "really" and you nodded.- See? I still have fists with you too! By the way, it felt so much better doing that -and everything- with you than with him.- you confessed and winked. He tried to act angry but could see him smirk. - And, to be honest, I don't know why you are acting all jealous. I only had one lover beside you, you had multiple girlfriends and sexual partners in your life. I bet that there's nothing for me to be the first.- you said pouting. - Well, the part of having you against the wall was my first time doing that. It was something that came to me at that moment. - he admitted. - So you weren't sure if I would fall or not? - you reproached him - I was sure that I wasn't going to let you get hurt. If you fall, I'll always catch you, baby.- he replied and winked. You rolled your eyes. - But like I say, you were complaining about my ex "taking all my firsts" but you have done all those things before as well with other women.- after your reply, he sighed in a sign of defeat. - You're right. I'm sorry for acting like a jealous asshole. I was...well, jealous.- he acknowledged. - I'm not judging you or anything. Before knowing that you lost your virginity with him, I didn't even think about you having sex before and was ok with whatever was your number. But, things were different after your confession. Knowing that you only had two lovers, me being one of them, made me feel special, but in the same time it hurts to know that there is someone even more special for you.- he said sadly. You moved your chair right beside him and then put your head on his shoulder while you grabbed his strong arm. - There's no one more special for me that you, baby. And he might have been my first in lots of things, but you were the first that showed me what true love looks like; you were the first to teach me that you can be in a relationship in which your voice and opinions matter and that could be more laughter and smiles and good feelings rather than tears, sadness and feeling empty and lonely.- You looked at him and he gave you a sweet kiss. - I love you, my queen.- he spoke softly with his deep voice. - I love you too, baby boy. - you reply, smiling from ear to ear. After finishing the pancakes and coffee, you took him into the living room and picked up your guitar. You told him that wanted to play a song that belonged to your friend Taylor. She wrote that song for her boyfriend and now you could finally relate to that feeling.

My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in Everyone looked worse in the light There are so many lines that I've crossed, unforgiven I'll tell you truth, but never, "Goodbye" I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you I've been sleepin' so long in a twenty-year dark night And now I see daylight, I only see daylight Luck of the draw only draws the unlucky And so I became the butt of the joke I wounded the good and I trusted the wicked Clearin' the air, I breathed in the smoke Maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down Maybe I've stormed out of every single room in this town Threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it's morning now It's brighter now, now I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you (I can never look away) I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you (Things will never be the same) I've been sleepin' so long in a twenty-year dark night (Now I'm wide awake) And now I see daylight (daylight) I only see daylight (daylight) I only see daylight, daylight, daylight, daylight I only see daylight, daylight, daylight, daylight And I can still see it all (in my mind) All of you, all of me (intertwined) I once believed love would be (black and white) But it's golden (golden) And I can still see it all (in my head) Back and forth from New York (sneakin' in your bed) I once believed love would be (burnin' red) But it's golden Like daylight Like daylight Like daylight Daylight I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you (I can never look away) I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you (Things will never be the same) I've been sleepin' so long in a twenty-year dark night (Now I'm wide awake) And now I see daylight (I see daylight) I only see daylight (oh) I only see daylight, daylight, daylight, daylight I only see daylight, daylight, daylight, daylight I only see daylight, daylight, daylight, daylight (and I can still see it all) (Back and forth from New York) I only see daylight, daylight, daylight, daylight (I once believed love would be burnin' red) Like daylight It's golden Like daylight You gotta step into the daylight and let it go Just let it go Let it go

Later that day, you were watching a movie online. The movie was The House of the Witch. It was quite entertaining but you keep laughing about how in a movie about witches, the fact that an abandoned house still having electricity was the most irrational thing "Who the hell pays the electricity bills?" you joked; or giggle when a girl who lost her finger hours later could still run like anything happened without receiving medical attention "in the real world, she would have died of haemorrhage," you pointed out, making your boyfriend laugh about that and how much attention to details you put into movies. You were sitting on top of him, resting your head on his shoulder, while he hugged you from behind. You were not scared by movies easily, so the scariest thing was your boyfriend's sudden and unexpected kisses on your neck. After the movie ended, he gave you an Eskimo kiss and then stroke your face. You turned around, still sitting on his lap, but with your legs to the side and putting both of your arms around his neck. Henry kissed you and starred at you for a moment, while you smiled at him. - I never want to see you walk away from me, unless that the reason is that you don't truly don't want to be with me anymore.- he confessed. You looked at him confused. - What are you saying this? - you questioned surprised by the odd statement. - You said to me that you would think about having kids and if you realised that you didn't want to have children, that you would walk away to allow me to find another person who wanted to be a mother.- he reminded you- Well, I still want you to take your time and think about it, but in the case that you reach that conclusion, I still want to be with you. - he assured you. You were speechless. - Are you sure? Henry, that'd be a huge thing to give up.- you emphasized the importance of that decision and what it would mean. - Absolutely. Babe, I always wanted a family, but I don't want to have kids unless it is with the right woman. You are the one, I know it in my heart. I always want kids if you want them too, but if you don't, I still would feel like I have a family. You complete me. Kids would be amazing bonuses. But, if we don't have them, it's ok. We'll have four paws kids and I have my nephews and niece. I still have a source of little ones to give love to. - he explained and smiled at you. There were no words on your mouth. You eyes were filled with tears. You never felt so loved in your entire life.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #demivampirew

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babeyvenus · 4 years ago

Text

Revival(BNHA OC)

Chapter 5: Sports Festival?

Keeping herself hidden from her villainous father, and studying to be a hero for the sake of her and her deceased mother, Sunako Homura pushes her way through countless challenges in her highschool years. Will she lose it all, or lose herself?

Story Genre: Fluff, Angst, Romance, Family/Comfort

Tags/Trigger Warnings: Gore/Blood, Suicidal attempts, Alcohol, Language, Panic Attacks

_______________________________________________

After dinner, there was an awkward vibe between Shura and I. Neither her or I have said anything to each other even after she came home.

"You didn't tell me you were going on a trip.", Shura suddenly speaks up.

"My bad?", I say and she smacks me on my head. "Uh...OW!?"

Tatsuo hisses in sympathy.

"You earned that! You had me worried!", she says looking back at the sink. "All Might called home and I was worried sick. You're lucky I was stuck at work, or I'd have been there to strangle you."

I sweatdropped. "Please don't."

She sighs and shakes her head. "Just be careful. This is your first time fighting a villain and you almost died...."

"I didn't get anywhere close to dying, Shura.", I say, crossing my arms.

"To me, you did. I shouldn't have to get a phone call home about you being in danger or hurt, or worse.", she says, sullen and walking to her room.

"I know.", I say, looking down at my lap, not wanting to make it worse.

"She's only looking out for you, Sunako.", Tomohiro says.

I know.

_______________________________________________

After two days of resting, I went outside only to see Bakugou already ahead.

“So, you weren’t gonna wait?”, I joked, catching up to him.

“Tch.”, he rolled his eyes. “You take too long. Shouldn’t take you 30 years to put on some pants.”

“You’re exaggerating and a drama queen,” I say.

He glared at me and I just laughed as we got to the entrance.

“Hey, Sunako!”, I hear Mina call me.

Before I could turn around, I was tugged somewhere into the girls changing room.

“What’s going on!?”, I exclaimed, seeing Yaoyorozu, Tsuyu and Uraraka trailing behind her.

“It’s about time you got out of those pants, don’t you think…?”, Ashido smiles sinisterly, along with the other trio.

“And that’s my cue to leave.”, Tomohiro says, disappearing.

You ass! Don’t leave me!!

I backed up into a wall. “What’re you trying to do….?”

Tsuyu wrapped me up with her tongue as Yaoyorozu sized me up, making a skirt, black thigh highs, a black bra in my size.

“Don’t even think about putting that on me!”, I yelled.

“Would you rather do it yourself?”, Ashido asked.

“I’d rather die!”, I deadpanned.

They looked at me with straight faces and neared me again.

“You can beat me or whatever, but I ain't putting it on!”, I exclaim.

"Oh, c'mon! It's not that bad.", Mina says, making me raise both of my eyebrows in disbelief.

_______________________________________________

“Hey, you guys!!”, Ashido calls.

I felt myself being dragged inside the classroom, hearing a bunch of voices going around and then it gets quiet.

“We got something to show ya! Meet the new Homura Sunako!”, she announces, ripping a cover off of me.

I look around the room to see the rest of the class’s wide eyes and some of their cheeks dusted pink.

“Isn’t she cute??”, Uraraka asks.

“Very.”, Kaminari grins.

“I didn't need your opinion!”, I yell and Mina giggles, wrapping her arms around me.

I glanced toward the rest of the room. “What’re you guys staring at!? Quit gawkin’!!”, I growled.

“Aw, c'mon Sunako-chan…you don’t look bad. You’re super cute!”, Hagakure says.

“I’m not cute!”, I argue.

“She’s right, though!”, Kaminari says and grins at Kirishima. "Don't you think so, bro?" Kirishima rubs behind his neck. "C'mon, don't make her uncomfortable."

I groaned out loud turning to Mina. “Why’d you make me put this on?”

“To get in touch with your inner femininity.”, she says, shrugging.

What kinda answer is that….?

“She’s right, you know.”, Tomohiro says. "It doesn't hurt to do so every now and then."

Your opinion is invalid. You didn't help me.

The door slid open to show a wrapped up mummy.

“Who-?”, I started, but was cut off by threatening, but mumbled voice.

“Why are you all still up…? Sit. Down.”, a familiar voice says.

“Mr. Aizawa….!?”

“You’re back!!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be resting??”

“My well being isn’t of importance right now. I just need to let you all know that your battle isn’t finished.”, he says, walking over to the podium.

“What…?”

“More villains….?”, I whispered.

“The sports festival is coming up.”, he says.

Everyone sighs in relief. Asshole…

“I forget this is a school.”, Kaminari says.

“Everyone…I’m gonna do my best!”, Uraraka exclaims.

Everyone fist pumps the air. “Yeah!!”

“I said I’m gonna do my best!!”, Uraraka yells aggressively.

“Y-yeah….”

The class went by just as fast as it came and everyone clambered to leave.

“I’m so tired…”, I say, yawning. I glanced Uraraka as she trembles, facing the door.

“W-what the-!?”

“What’s going on!?”, Midoriya exclaims.

The door was blocked by various and many students from other classes.

“What now…?”, I say, walking up to group.

“What’re they here for!?”, Mineta yelled looking confused.

Bakugou brushes past me. “They know about USJ, you idiots. They’re scoping out the competition.”

Mineta points at him and looks at Midoriya as he reassures him.

Bakugou walks up to the door. “Now that we got that out the way, you idiots have no business looking in here. Now, get outta my way, extras!”

“H-hey! Bakugou!”

“You can’t just call people extras because you don’t know who they are!”, Iida yells.

I walked up to the door, but paused as a bored looking, lavender haired student walked up. “I heard you guys were impressive, but you just sound like an ass. I’m sad to find that you guys aren’t nothing but egotistical maniacs.”

“Hah!?”, Bakugou sneered.

I frowned. “Now, wait just a minute-”

The guy starts rambling and I sigh, tuning out.

This is a waste of time…

“Bakugou, where are you going? It’s your fault they’re in our grill!”, I hear Kirishima exclaim.

“None of that shit matters. When you rise to the top, none of these shitheads will matter.”, Bakugou says leaving.

"That guy moves to the beat of his own drum.", I say, rubbing my temple. "I kinda like him. He doesn't take shit from no one.", Tatsuo says, smirking.

You two might just get along then cause you're both annoying.

I sighed, walking out of the school after the day.

“I never understood what all that was about. They saw who they were up against, why provoke us?”, I grumble lowly.

“They want to see who was really a challenge. Considering this is a popular school.", Tomohiro says.

“Maybe they’re scared.", Tatsuo says and I roll my eyes. "Scared of what? We haven't done much."

"They'll be seeing soon enough but for now, just worry about training.", Tomohiro warns.

I walked inside my house and paused seeing my aunt drop her remote.

“You…you’re wearing a skirt….and you look ADORABLE!!”, she gets up and squishes my cheeks.

“Told you, it’s not bad. It’s a good change.”, Tomohiro grins.

“Yeah, yeah.", I grumble, pushing her off. "I haven't seen you wear a skirt in so long," she pauses. "Who put you up to it?"

I shook my head. "Just a couple of girls from my class." She raised her eyebrows. "You told your class? I mean, it's obvious but how did they take it?"

"They were shocked…. confused?", I shrug. "They accepted it fairly quickly for some reason but there's no need to dwell on it." She nods. "Well it's good that they're looking out for you too. Make sure you make a lot of friends, yeah?"

I nod. "Okay."

She claps suddenly. "Speaking of friends, guess who's back?"

I tilted my head in confusion and walked around the stairs to get to the kitchen, where she had this mystery guest hidden.

“X-xen!? Ushio!?”

Ushio Suki and Xen Yamato, my childhood friends. We met at an Aikido tournament after I'd beaten Xen. Ushio rushed at his side in seconds so she's had a crush on him for the longest.

Ushio came up to me and hugged me. “How’ve you been? I missed you!”

He shrugged and smiled. “We saw each other at the store and thought to drop by and see how you were doing.”

I frown. Now, of all times….?

“Give them a chance. They’ve missed you.”, Tomohiro says from the island.

“It’s been a year, you guys.”, I say.

Xen scratches his cheek and chuckles nervously. “Yeah…it has.”

“Yeah, sorry. I went to America for a while. I had to deal with my grandma remember?”, she asks.

“Oh, that’s right. At least somebody bothered to tell me something.”, I say, pointedly at Xen.

An awkward silence ruled out in the air.

“I’ll leave you guys alone.”, Shura said, leaving the kitchen.

I crossed my arms. “So…”

“How’re you doing after the USJ incident…?”, he asks.

How’d he know about that….?

“How'd you know I was there…?”, I asked.

“You can’t answer my question with a question.”, he says.

Yeah, I meant to come see you but it was this redhead standing outside the nurse's office.”, she says, scratching her neck.

Kirishima...

I shook my head. “You’re in my house. Answer mine.”, I say, looking at Xen.

“I’m in 1-B.”, he says.

“I’m in the Support department.”, Ushio says.

My eyes widen. “You two are at UA….? I haven’t seen you there.”

“I could barely recognize you either until I saw your face.”, he says.

“Same.”

I sighed. “Well I’m doing fine, as you can see. I just came back.”

“Yeah, I see.”, he says, looking me up and down. Ushio smiled widely, doing the same. "This look is cute.", she says.

I sigh. “Well, if that’s all you’re here for, you can have any snack and leave. I’m gonna go wash up.”, I say.

“Damn, you’re throwing us out already?”, he joked.

“Yes, get out.”, Tatsuo orders and Tomohiro pats his shoulder.

I rolled my eyes with a smile. “I’m pretty sure you got other things to do.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”, he says going through my pantry.

“Yup, gotta get back home. I didn’t even tell my mom I was coming to visit you.”, she says.

“Don’t touch my pockies, I’ll murder you both in your sleep.”, I say, walking away.

“I believe it.”, he says, still rummaging.

“We won’t!”, Ushio exclaims.

My phone binged as soon as I walked out of my bathroom,catching my attention.

{XXX-XXX-XX23}

Hey, grl!

Uh…what…?

{Dxmonix}

Who’s this…?

{XXX-XXX-XX23}

It’s Mina! Srry, I went through your phone when you were changing (¯∇¯٥)

{Dxmonix}

No worries (ーωー)

{Alien Queen}

Gotta add you to the Bakusquad now

{Dxmonix}

The what now?

{Alien Queen}

Mweheheh

{Dxmonix}

You're creeping me out Mina.

{Alien Queen}

Don't worryyyy

Alien Queen placed you in BakuSquad!

What the hell.

{Sparky}

Hey, Sunako chan!(≧▽≦)/

{Sticky}

What’s up?(*¯∀¯)ノ

{Sharkyboi}

Hewwo(≧▽≦)/

{Dxmonix}

Hey guys(￣▽￣)ノ

Alien Queen added Lord Explosion Murder!

{Dxmonix}

Uh…..wut…?

{Lord Explosion Murder}

Tf is this?

{Dxmonix}

Uh Mina…?

{Alien Queen}

So! Now that we have everyone here, it’s time for questions

{Lord Explosion Murder}

Hell no. Take me out of this shit

{Sticky}

Lmaooo

{Dxmonix}

Relax Explosion Boy

{Lord Explosion Murder}

Fuck off

And get me out of this chat!

{Alien Queen}

Not until we talk

{Dxmonix}

We're talking tho

{Lord Explosion Murder}

I'm going to sleep.

{Dxmonix}

Felt that

{Alien Queen}

Nuuuu

{Sparky}

Awwww lame

{Sharkyboi}

I smell fail

{Lord Explosion Murder}

If you’re fuckin finished, can I leave now

{Alien Queen}

Nope!

I shook my head, lurking through the messages and saved everyone's contact before slowly falling asleep.

Within the next few days of training for the festival, things weren’t getting any better. Everyone was bustling about getting themselves pumped up and prepared or some were just completely out of it and unprepared.

Me, on the other hand, I was a little bit of both.

“All of Japan will be watching, huh…?”, I asked Uraraka.

“Don’t remind me!”, she whines.

“It can’t be too bad…”, Yaoyozoru says trembling.

“Yaomomo, you’re shaking.”, Mina pointed out.

“Is everyone ready?”, Iida pops back in the room.

We all nod and get up until Todoroki calls Midoriya out.

I looked at him in confusion.

“Now, that we’re here for this festival…I just want you to know that I’m stronger than you.”, he says.

Midoriya just meekly nods.

“You’ve got All Might waiting for you on the sidelines. I won’t ask why, but I will beat you.”, he says.

He turns to me.

“The same goes for you, Homura. I don’t know exactly what your quirk is like, but I’ll beat you too.”

The hell did I do?

_______________________________________________

#bnha oc #bakugou katsuki #bnha #bnha todoroki #sunako homura #my oc #bnha kirishima #mha kirishima #bakugou #poc oc #my art #my hero academia #bnha recs #bnha fanfic recs #fanfics

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iezzern-ao3 · 4 years ago

Text

Something Like Love

Read on AO3

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas

Relationship: Aedion Ashryver/Dorian Havilliard

Characters: Aedion Ashryver, Dorian Havilliard

Additional Tags: Dirty Talk, Loss of Virginity, First Time, Coming of Age, smut in chapter 2, Feminization

Language: English

At the very adult age of nine, Dorian considered himself poised and clever. He was mature and proper, able to look at things with an objective view and did not let his emotions get the better of him. That was until he’d met Prince Aedion Ashryver.

(Smut doesn't start before Dorian is 17)

Chapter 1 under the cut

Dorian always told himself he was a sensible child.

At the very adult age of nine, Dorian considered himself poised and clever; far above the expertise of other nine-year-olds. He was mature and proper, able to look at things with an objective view and did not let his emotions get the better of him. That was until he’d met Prince Aedion Ashryver.

The Prince was an infuriating piece of work, teasing and taunting at every turn, as if he’d never learned proper manners. He was thirteen, the same age as Chaol, and that was even more infuriating. Mainly due to the fact that Aedion liked to lord his age over Dorian like Dorian was less proper because of his young age.

The worst part of it was the fact that Dorian never could think straight when Aedion teased him. He’d have a sarcastic reply on his tongue and then his voice would die, a furious blush replacing it. Usually, Chaol would be around to throw an insult back, but when Dorian was on his own, he usually got treated to Aedion’s smug smirk.

Even with all of Aedion’s bad points, Dorian could never stop himself from anticipating every visit he would have. There was a certain feeling he got whenever the Prince was close by, a kind of rush through his head and a burning through his body.

It was what made it impossible to answer the arrogant prick.

“You lost your tongue, Princeling?” Aedion would laugh and Dorian would blush and stutter until Chaol came to rescue him. Aedion would throw a smile over his shoulder when he left, stirring something in Dorian’s chest.

And then there’s one month until Aedion is coming to Rifthold next and Dorian has set himself a goal to actually talk to him without stuttering, He’s paced his room for hours now, practicing comebacks and lines. He’d outgrown the embarrassment of talking to himself days ago.

Then the maid had opened the door, carefully, and told him that his father was preparing to go out on a campaign. Two weeks later the news had come. Terrasen had fallen to Adarlan forces. The King and Queen were dead, along with their young daughter Aelin. Dorian felt a short flash of pain at that. Even if she’d been borderline annoying, the young princess had taken a special place in his heart.

Instead of expressing this, though, he just asks “What about Aedion?”

The maid draws her lips in a thin line, and Dorian shrinks at her disapproval. “Lost on the front lines, they say,” she answers, short and clipped. Dorian blinks, wringing his hands. “Oh,” he says, voice weak. He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels so heavy. He quickly puts on a mask, knows that the maid will report to his father.

“Fetch me Chaol,” he says, “I want to go out riding”

Chaol doesn’t comment as they ride across the fields but puts his hand on Dorian’s shoulder when they come back from the stables. Dorian doesn’t understand why he feels so comforted by it; why he’s so upset.

Three years pass. Dorian grows up as much as he can.

He’s twelve when he witnesses his first execution. His mother had protested it loudly enough that Father had sent her away for the last few days. Dorian tries to not make up his thoughts about it; knows that his father will act if he shows any distaste. Dorian lowers his eyes as fast as he can, tries to show respect to the woman’s sobbing husband.

“Drag the filth away,” his father’s rough voice echoes through the hall. The man is dragged away, crying out for his wife. Dorian starts to forge a plan, doesn’t want to stand on the side and watch while is father commits cruelties.

“Is there anyone else who wants to bring matters to the king?” Chaol asks, and Dorian knows he’s the only one who can hear the strain in his voice. To present the King’s matters is a huge honour, of course, but Chaol sounds more like he doesn’t even want that honour.

The Captain of Adarlan’s main army steps forward, cloak dragging on the floor behind him. Callum Selrion, Dorian remembers after a few seconds, that’s his name. He’s greying, his body lagging with age. Father will replace him soon, Dorian knows.

“The raids up North have been more successful, my King,” the old man says, “And we have a few men to thank for it, I would like for them to get the acknowledgment”

Some of the Court people laugh and titter at that. In their opinion, lowly men of the army don’t deserve acknowledgment from the King himself. Why should the King bother with men who haven’t washed in days and will live the rest of their lives surrounded by stinking tents and horse-shit?

None of them have seen even a glimpse of war.

And yet they brag about its profits.

Dorian wants to tell the Guard to shut them up. Father needs to please them, however, and can’t shoot them down. Dorian opens his mouth before Father can even think of what to say.

“Of course, Captain Selrion,” he says, and almost cringes at how thin and plain young his voice sounds compared to the men’s, “My father would love to acknowledge the brave men who fight to keep us proud and safe”

The court grows silent and ashamed at Dorian’s words. Captain Selrion smiles, tipping his head in thanks. Dorian’s father rights himself in his throne, clearing his throat. “Bring forth the soldiers then,” he says, voice hard. Dorian’s blood runs cold. Father never gives in this easily and when he does, it's with an air of amusement. There’s something he’s not seeing. Something Father is holding over him. Dorian’s actions might just backfire on him.

The Captain flicks his hand and some soldiers step forward. Dorian’s breath stops in his throat. His hand tightens in the material of the cape it’s resting on. Father is looking at him, searching for a reaction. Dorian tries to stay passive.

He’s gotten taller, and bigger; his muscles grown larger. His hair is still a glowing golden, windswept down to his shoulders, stark against his winter-sun-darkened skin. His eyes scan over Dorian and his father with such intensity, such confidence. Dorian rakes his brain. Aedion is about sixteen now.

And now, with his slightly older body and mind, Dorian suddenly understands his previous reactions to Aedion. He squirms slightly, blush dusting his cheeks. Father snorts, leaning back in his throne. Dorian shifts and averts his eyes, trying to ignore Father.

Dorian’s eyes connect with Chaol and his friend arches an eyebrow, nodding towards Aedion. Dorian blushes even harder. It’s a relief that only Chaol knows him well enough to understand what his reaction means. He’s been around Dorian enough when he’s stuttered flatterings to pretty girls.

Aedion catches his eye again. He’s knelt down, bowing his head to Father, hair tumbling over his shoulder and catching shine from the light. Dorian wants to run his fingers through it.

The Court murmurs around them and Dorian just hopes it’s not about him and his embarrassing display. Father gives his acknowledgments and the soldiers accept them, Aedion a bit more forced than the others, Dorian notes. “Son, would you be so kind and show the soldiers to their chambers?” Father asks. Payback for making him give them acknowledgments.

Dorian gives him a curt nod, masking his anger, and rises from his throne. One of the young ladies leans over and whispers something to her friends behind her hand as he passes. Captain Selrion shakes his hand as he approaches. It makes Dorian beam with pride until he hears his father’s half-concealed laughter behind him.

Dorian lowers his head, tears burning in his eyes, and quickly walks out of the hall, the soldiers rising to follow him.

Halfway out the door, Chaol catches up with him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t let it affect you,” he murmurs, and Dorian takes what little comfort he can find in it. His hand, however, is knocked away by Aedion’s—as the soldier wraps his arm around Dorian’s shoulder. Chaol’s eyes immediately go cold.

“How’s life at court been treating you, Princeling?”

Aedion’s voice hits his eardrum hard and sends a ringing noise echoing through his head. Dorian jerks back, glaring. He begs the gods that Aedion hadn’t seen the tears. He never would’ve been able to live down the shame of it.

“Certainly better than those years in war camps has treated you,” he answers with a hiss. Aedion looks shocked for a small, euphoric moment and then he throws his head back and laughs. His friends follow. Dorian’s cheeks redden again.

“You’ve built quite the spine then, Princeling?” Aedion teases, arching an eyebrow at his friends and inviting them to tease. Dorian quickly shrugs him off, but his boot catches in Aedion’s cape and he, with as much grace as he can muster, stumbles backwards into Chaol’s chest.

Chaol’s hands immediately come out to steady him, but the damage is already done. Aedion and his friends are laughing and Dorian’s cheeks are flaring. Dorian turns on his heels and drags Chaol with him, steps as determined as he can get them. The bastards can find their rooms on their own.

Aedion calls out his name from behind, but Dorian can’t bring himself to turn around. Chaol’s hand slips to the small of his back, comforting. Dorian leans back into it, fisting his hands. It takes him three turns and two flights of stairs to finally calm down. His cheeks return to their normal colour and heat. The tremors stop going through his hands.

He breathes out.

And in.

And out

again.

“That,” Chaol comments, “was a disaster”

Dorian breathes a laugh but doesn’t comment on it further. He leans heavily against the wall, running a hand through his hair.

Father is going to be furious with him, but he can’t bring himself to actually care. It wasn’t only the complete and utter humiliation at embarrassing himself in front of the Terrasen prince, it was the fact that it was the Terrasen prince. Dorian knew, deep down, that his thundering heart wasn’t only due to the embarrassment, either, but he was willing to keep that knowledge to the utter bottom as long as it was required.

Chaol quirks an eyebrow but stays mercifully silent. That stare, though, is enough to make Dorian squirm. “Shut up,” he hisses, without any true malice. “Didn’t say anything,” Chaol teases, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth.

Dorian groans and readies himself to slide down along the wall and curl up into a ball on the floor. Chaol grabs him by the waist and pulls him up again. Dorian immediately slumps forward to rest his head on Chaol’s shoulder. Chaol stiffens for two seconds while he checks if anyone is there to see.

It’s only Dorian that is allowed to act like this towards Chaol. Anyone else gets turned away with either a snarl or mild distaste. Dorian cherishes the fact, even though he really shouldn’t.

“We can’t just leave them to their own devices,” Chaol sighs after a considerable amount of time. Dorian whines low in his throat. “I know,” Chaol answers, a hand coming up to stroke through Dorian’s windswept curls, “But you have to”

Only Chaol.

With a determined huff, Dorian shoves himself off his friend and starts a confident walk down the hallway. “Good luck,” Chaol calls out from behind him.

The gods know he’ll need it.

Read Chapter 2 HERE

#Throne of glass #tog #dorian havilliard #aedion ashryver #aedion x dorian #throne of glass fanfic

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