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yoosmekihyun · 1 year ago

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Conversations in the Dark (pt. 2)

Summary: After a series of major personal events, you decide to move to New York (in part) so you can have a relationship with your newly discovered half-sister, Karen Page. Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson become additional important figures in your life as you navigate new relationships and figure out how to live your life.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (eventually), we run the spectrum of emotions here

Warnings: mention of death, grief, anxiety, drinking, pining (so much pining), self-deprecation, chapters with sexual content will be marked with their own warnings, violence or attempted violence (i.e. Daredevil related)

Word Count: 2.2k

Part Two

Standing outside Josie’s you took a deep breath to steady yourself. After embarrassing yourself in front of Karen, Foggy, and (oh God) Matt you knew you needed get it together to avoid a repeat of the afternoon. You were going to be living in this city and, most likely, spending a lot of time with Matt and Foggy based on how much Karen talked about them so you needed to start acting normal around them, the sooner, the better.

You scrambled to complete the introductions earlier that day and bolted out of the office as fast as you politely could. Karen, holding back the commentary you knew she was dying to give, told you the address and time to meet them that evening so you could go back to your hotel and regroup. It had been a long time since anyone had made you react like that upon first meeting. It didn’t help that you could hear your mother’s voice in your head, “Oh honey, the two of you would make me some beautiful grandbabies.”

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door and stepped inside. Josie’s was grungy and dirty and just perfect. You weren’t lying when you told Karen that you liked dive bars. Something about them stripped away pretense and allowed you to be yourself and see others for who they were too. There were no ridiculously named cocktails with too little alcohol and too much sugar at places like these. You valued the simplicity.

You ventured a bit further and saw Karen moving chairs to a table and made your way towards her. “Hey, we the first ones?”

Turning, Karen smiled and gave you a quick hug. “Yeah, but they’re right behind me, just wrapping up. I told them I’d secure our table and meet you.”

“You know,” you started, “you could have warned me that one of your friends looked like that.”

Karen laughed as she sat, and you took the chair next to her. “Honestly, I kind of forget about it since I see him every day. I didn’t think the first meeting would have you reacting that way.”

“Kareeeennnn,” you whined, “you know my dry spell is basically breaking records and then one of the first men you introduce me to is not only your friend and co-worker but the hottest man I have ever seen. I’m a puddle over here!”

“He’s smart and kind too,” Karen replied as she patted your hand. “And, most importantly, single.”

You dropped your head in your hands as you groaned, “Don’t tell me that! If you add smart and kind into that equation, I’m doomed! A hot guy who can keep up an intelligent conversation and not be a total asshole about it? Dear lord, it’s my kryptonite!”

“Kryptonite? You a comic book fan?”

You whipped your head around to see Matt, smirking again, with a cane in one hand, two beers in the other standing next to the table with Foggy a couple steps behind with the remaining beers.

“Something like that,” you quietly replied while shooting a glare at Karen for not warning you. For her part, she was trying very hard not to laugh behind her hand while giving you a thumbs up with the other and a wink.

Matt settled into the seat next to you while Foggy took the remaining empty one across from you, apparently oblivious to your current flustered state. Matt slid one of the beers he was holding over to you, “I hope this is okay to start. We didn’t really know what you like.”

“Beer is good. Always a solid choice,” you answered with a sip. Not your favorite but also not the disgusting cheap kind you drank in college.

“Now that we’re all here and off work, a toast!” proclaimed Foggy, holding his beer up. “To friends, the new resident of Hell’s Kitchen, and beer!” Laughing you all clinked your beers together and you drank a bit more from your bottle.

“Thanks for the warm welcome; it’s nice coming into a new place and meeting people so fast,” you replied.

“I’m sure you have a lot of items on your to-do list now that you’re here,” Matt started, “but Karen never said if you had a job, or something lined up? Or if you need us to keep the ear to the ground for places that are hiring, we could do that too.”

“Well, um, I don’t really need to find a job. I’m a writer. My biggest task after finding somewhere to live is places to write when I need a change of scenery.”

“So, are you a writer like a journalist?” asked Foggy.

“Actually, I write both historical non-fiction and historical fiction. Occasionally, I write or edit for textbooks. I know it seems a little dry, but I love it and it’s paid the bills so far.”

Matt spoke up, “How do you get into something like that? It’s pretty specific.”

You took a swallow of your beer and considered him and his question, “Do you want the long answer or the short answer?”

Foggy chuckled, “We’re lawyers. We want both!”

With everyone laughing, Matt signaled to Josie for another round of beers knowing it would take her a few minutes. He turned to fully face you with his undivided attention. You became overwhelmed at the intensity of his smile and focus, and you could feel your heart start to race again. “Start with the short answer and then give us the context,” Matt encouraged.

“Well, the short answer is that I sold my doctoral thesis to my university press, and I was able to maintain interest in my work after.

“Wow,” said Foggy. “That thesis must have been good to be picked up and published like that. Did they contract for more?”

Smiling, you answered, “They did. It actually was pretty successful, and not just with professors and history students. They ended up selling it for mass printing to another publisher, so I was able to get interest in a second book. It sold well too.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” started Matt. “Are you saying you’ve contracted and sold multiple successful history books? To the point where you can write full time?”

“I am saying exactly that,” you responded with a chuckle. You felt pride looking at the impressed looks on Matt and Foggy’s faces. You had worked hard to get where you are and didn’t brag about it, but it always felt validating when you got such positive reactions to your work.

“Give them the slightly longer story,” Karen encouraged as she sipped her beer and leaned back.

“Well, essentially, I got a full ride to a local university that had a decent history program for my B.A. I didn’t know what I wanted to do at the time, so I wasn’t trying for the best programs then. Once I took a couple of the required history classes, I was hooked. I was able to get into a really good competitive graduate program. A couple of the professors liked my writing and research skills and they advocated for me and my thesis to the university press. One of them wanted to use it as required reading for a course he was due to teach.”

You paused and took a swallow of your beer and assessed the others. Matt and Foggy didn’t seem bored with your story and Karen, while already knowing this, was paying attention as well. Reassured, you continued, “The crazy part of it was that one of the main editors took a copy of my book home and his husband saw it and read a few pages. He got really into it, apparently, and finished it in just a couple days. After, he called me and asked if he could publish it at his company too because they had widespread distribution. We hashed out the details and they got it into bookstores, and it did really well. That led to more book deals and here we are.”

Matt whistled softly and looked impressed.

“What was the title of the first one? Do you think we would have heard of it?” asked Foggy.

“Maybe,” you replied and gave him the title.

“Goddamn! My mom read that! She went on and on about how fascinating it was and that it was written so anyone could understand.” Foggy added.

“Told you guys she was smart,” added Karen as she sipped her beer.

You laughed, “Tell your mom ‘Thanks’ for reading it. That book was such a labor of love.”

“I’ve heard of it but haven’t read it. Is it on audiobook?” asked Matt.

“It is! I was actually able to do the recording for it which was such a cool experience.”

“I’ll definitely be giving it a shot since I know the author now,” Matt replied and the grin he gave you would have made your knees give out if you had been standing. “But I have another question. You said you also write historical fiction?”

At his question you blushed a little since you were hoping the focus would stay on your non-fiction work for now. “Um, yes, I do. I get really into the research for my non-fiction, and it often involves a lot of first-person accounts. I started asking myself ‘what-if’ and imagining a different path for some of the people I was reading about. Or how I would handle certain scenarios and then started writing bits and pieces for myself, sort of like a wish fulfillment. Before I realized it, I had a fairly historically accurate novel on my hands, so I passed it along to my second editor and he loved that too. I’ve written two so far and they’ve done pretty well. I do publish those under a pseudonym though, to keep the work separate.”

Foggy downed the rest of his beer and blew out a big breath. “Karen, you kind of undersold your sister to us.”

Karen laughed loudly at this while you chuckled, “It’s more impressive with minimal hype. She brings the thunder all on her own.”

You waved away the compliment as you added, “I’m seriously just lucky. I was encouraged to follow my passion and then had some really supportive mentors. Timing plus luck and all that.”

“No, Karen’s right,” Matt interrupted with a grin. “You definitely bring the thunder. Are you writing a book right now? Or have ideas for your next one?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you took in Matt’s smile and attention, “I submitted my last one around the beginning of the year and I finished up the last edits before moving so I think it’s going to the printers soon. After…everything…I was kind of stuck and none of the ideas I had made me motivated. Once I decided to move here though, I started researching the city and I have a couple ideas I’m excited about, but I need to do more preliminary research first to make sure there’s enough source material.”

“Don’t leave us in suspense!” encouraged Foggy, making you laugh.

“Well, Hell’s Kitchen has a really interesting history with different immigrant populations. I’d love to be able to write something focusing on the journey through the lives of a handful of people, or maybe follow the genealogy and talk to families who are still in the neighborhood, or at least on Manhattan. I’m still brainstorming the approach.”

“I don’t think you’ll have any problems finding what you need for something like that,” said Matt. “There’s a lot of pride in the neighborhood so if the information is out there, people will want to share it if it means stories of Hell’s Kitchen get told to a wider audience.” Matt reached out and placed his hand on your arm and continued, “Foggy and I know a lot of people and places that have a deep history so we can always point you in the right direction.”

“Absolutely!” exclaimed Foggy. “So, if you’re going to be writing and researching in Hell’s Kitchen, I’m assuming you’ll want to live nearby? Is there anywhere in particular you know you want to live? You don’t need our help on the job front but maybe we can help give pointers on where to check out.”

You only met Foggy that day, but he was clearly eager to help you with this transition in your life. It was another bittersweet reminder of your mother, and you felt touched by his insistence.

“Well,” you started as you fidgeted with the label on your beer, “I have a meeting with a broker tomorrow to start looking at places. You’re right, I do want to be in Hell’s Kitchen and also walking distance from Karen. I’d like to be closer to the top floor of the building with good windows for some natural light. I only need one bedroom so hopefully it won’t be too difficult to find something quickly. If there’s anywhere you guys know of that would be good, send it to me so I can take a look.”

Matt made a humming sound as he tilted his head towards you as if he were considering something. You noticed Foggy and Karen had exchanged glances and then looked over at Matt as if he could see their stares. Unsure of this sudden shift, you sat quietly and observed while finishing the remainder of your beer.

“It’s quite the coincidence,” Matt started, “but my neighbor recently moved, and I don’t believe they’ve found a new tenant for her apartment. If I’m not mistaken, I think her floorplan is like mine and might be what you’re looking for.”

Oh shit.

#matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock series #daredevil fic #daredevil x female reader #matthew murdock #daredevil #conversations in the dark #miss pearl writes #yoosmekihyun

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honeystwiggypeach · 2 years ago

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Imagine kuroo and reader being in a perfect and popular realationship (school sweethearts) but out of nowhere reader Starts ignoring him strongly (because of personal reasons he doesnt know about)

Bestie??? I’m going to sob this is such a good idea like you’re so smart for this?? Like maybe reader is feeling a little insecure in the relationship but is nervous to tell Kuroo. Anywho! Tysm for requesting very sorry I could reply until later!!

Tw- angst to fluff, self deprecation, bullies, rude remarks, highschool drama, reader thinks lowly of themselves, self esteem issues, cursing, be cautious if you’re sensitive to any self deprecation pls! Let me know if I missed anything!!

You and Kuroo were the epitome of high school sweethearts, the couple everyone thinks is going to break up in a month that ends up being together until the end.

However, some people were taking that to the extreme going as far as threatening you because they felt you weren’t Kuroo’s type, which in itself was weird because, obviously you were his type if he decided to peruse you?

Either way even if you weren’t his type, that was between the two of you definitely not the group of girls who’d sit down beside you at lunch and whisper mean things about your relationship.

At first their little sneers didn’t get to you but when they started to point out things you where a bit insecure about, it started to fuck with you.

So as a result you began to slowly distance yourself from Kuroo because maybe they were right and you should leave him because he deserved better, so you were preparing yourself for the hurt that would come with a breakup.

Of course Kuroo noticed and finally when he’d gotten an opurtunity to talk to you, you were walking home, he had to practically run after you, he skipped practice to make sure he’d catch you, lately you hadn’t been staying with him during practice instead opting to go home after school.

“Y/n” he practically shouts.

You give him a little smile, “we need to talk” his voice isn’t angry and with everything going on in your mind you can’t seem to pick out the emotions in his voice but you’re certain that there is a specific emotion present in the tone.

So after some time you’re both sat down on your bed, you nervously pick at the loose threads of your comforter.

“Why’re you being distant?” His voice is sad, he sounds betrayed as his voice rings out through the silence of your empty house.

“It’s nothing” the smile looks as out of place as it feels, and the wrinkle in his brows tells you that he knows you’re lying before the flash of hurt even passes his features.

“It’s just some girls said that maybe you’d be better with someone else, and you know maybe they’re right” he gasps.

“You believed them?” You don’t know what to believe because while in one ear Kuroo whispers all words of love and sings praise, the stupid girls from school yell words and phrases of malice as they tell you, you aren’t enough for someone who chose to be with you out of everyone.

Inevitably you can’t help but cry whole Kuroo holds you close, “you know I’d never be this happy with anyone” he kisses the top of your head fondly and you nod while sniffling, he was right, no matter the circumstances he’d be glad to at least have you by his side and he’s never felt that way for anyone else and he doesn’t think he ever will.

Anywho let me know if you guys want to see more or anything else because I love requests so much😭😭

#anons #requests #reader insert #x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyu x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo testuro #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo x y/n

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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

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Good Little Helper

Pairing: Season 5! Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader gets assigned to be Spencer’s personal assistant of sorts after he gets shot in the knee. Category: SMUT(18+) Content Warnings: fingering (female receiving), blowjob, praise kink, dirty talk, blink and you’ll miss it cumplay Word Count: 4.7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: So, remember yesterday when I posted about how I wished new ideas would stop distracting me from everything I’m currently working on? Yeah. This wouldn’t leave me alone, and I couldn’t work on anything until I got it out of my head, so here! Have a fic! (It was supposed to be a blurb, but I got a little long-winded so now it’s too long to be a blurb oops 😙✌) Also, I apologize for any editing mistakes, I just wrote this out in one go, so hopefully it’s alright!

***

Being assigned to assist Dr. Reid with practically his every need after he was shot in the knee wasn't exactly how I expected to spend the past few months.

And that's, like... a huge understatement.

In fact, when Agent Hotchner came up to me in the break room and said he'd like me to do the job, I dropped my coffee and shattered a mug. I could tell he was a little impatient with me, even through his kind reassurances that it was quite all right as he helped me clean it up and waited for an answer.

In the end I'd said yes to the job, though the more I thought about it the more I wondered how much lust and naivete had clouded my judgement when I did.

Because there was absolutely no way I was going to be able to survive weeks, possibly months, as Spencer Reid's assistant. Not only because he was intimidatingly intelligent and there was almost nothing I could offer him in decent conversation, but also—and more prominently—the fact that I was pretty sure I was in love with him.

Maybe that was a stretch. I definitely had a stupid major crush on him that felt more like we were in middle school, but I could barely look at him without going warm all over. In fact, I think we had only ever made eye contact once and I averted my gaze immediately, afraid I'd give myself away. If I'd have held it any longer, I was positive I'd have burst into flames.

He'd tried talking to me once, a few months after I started working at the Bureau, and it was only to ask if I'd send some files over to their tech analyst, Penelope Garcia, but when I tried answering, I stumbled over my words and ended up only getting out a squeaked, "Uh huh," before taking the files from him and scurrying off.

I almost cried that day.

Basically every time I was in his presence, I was a total wreck. Even more so than I was on any other given day.

Being his assistant did get fairly easy pretty early on, though. I mostly just stayed out of his way while he worked, and if he need anything that he could've gotten himself if not for the injury, it was my job to get it for him. I worked on my own paperwork most of the time, and he was always busy working on geographical profiles and whatever else, we only ever really had to talk when he asked for something. And that only required a, "Sure," on my end, so I could just get up, get what he needed, and then go back to work.

Still, it didn't help that sometimes I'd get distracted.

He was very distracting.

I usually waited until I was sure he was so busy in work that I wouldn't get caught. And that's when I'd peek over my computer or hide behind a book and stare at him. I know that sounds creepier than it is, but if you had to spend almost every hour of the day with him, you'd have done the same. Even though for months he was put on rest from the field, he always showed up looking more like a college professor than an FBI agent. Which, I suppose suited him more anyway. Regardless, it was a damn fine look. His hair was decently long and extremely pretty, and when he got the cane?

I was a goner.

It was at that point, though, when I started to realize that he probably wouldn't need my help anymore. He'd been allowed back into the filed by then, and even when I went with them on cases it still felt like I was more out of place than usual. Sure, I'd picked up on some minor skills that aided in profiling and otherwise, but at the end of the day I was still only a desk clerk. Sooner or later, I knew there would be a time where Agent Hotchner would inevitably tell me that I'd done a good job and could return to my menial day job.

So, even though Dr. Reid and I had gotten into a pretty regular, non-awkward rhythm, I was being a little more squirrely than usual.

And of course, he noticed.

"Y/N, are you doing alright?" he asked, looking up from his stack of paperwork. That was another thing we'd ended up doing— late into the night after everyone had gone home, we stayed late in the conference room and quietly filled out paperwork.

I barely looked him in the eye when I answered. "O—Oh, mhm. I'm fine."

"Oh... You just seem... a little different today."

On any other day I would have freaked out on the inside like a teenager, excited that he'd noticed me at all enough to notice a difference in my behavior. But that was his job after all.

"Actually, you seem rather... sad."

I did look up at him this time, and the soft glow of the table lamp lit up his features— features that looked me over with concern. I could feel my face grow warmer with every second I looked at him, until I quickly looked back down at my paper and shook my head.

"N—No, I'm okay. Promise. Just a little tired, that's all."

Usually he would have left it at that, given we didn't ever really have longer conversations than that that didn't pertain to whatever case the BAU was working on. But he pushed further, and I swallowed.

"Are you sure? Because... You can tell me if there's something wrong. I'm a good listener..."

Did I dare tell him what was really plaguing me? That I was scared I wasn't going to be able to spend time with him every day, thus most likely giving away my crush? That is, if he hadn't already figured it out by this point... Truthfully it wouldn't have surprised me.

The thought made me go warm again, and still, I kept my head down.

"I'm sure..."

And then I did something I probably shouldn't have. I looked back up at him, just a quick glance, but under his intense gaze I crumbled, flitting my eyes back down and playing with my hands.

"Is it... because of me?"

Afraid suddenly that I'd made him feel bad, I straightened a little. "No! No, not at all I... Um... I—I guess I'm just... A little sad that I'm probably... not going to be of any help to you anymore. You know, now that you're healing up."

A small smile flashed over his face, and I inwardly melted.

"Oh... In that case I... I guess I'm sad, too."

"Really?" I asked softly, my heart jumping.

"Mhm," he answered back in earnest. His features were softer than they'd ever been, eyes wide and kind, smile inviting... "You've been a great help. And you're fun to be around."

I couldn't help but smile shyly at his confession, completely bewildered that he'd think of me as someone he'd enjoyed being around, though I'd offered just about nothing interesting to any conversation we'd had. "Y—You don't mean that..."

"I do."

"C'mon, really? I... I—mean... coming from you that's... that's too generous."

He laughed a little. "How do you mean?"

"I... Well, y—you're you... I mean, you're... smart, and nice, and cu— uh,... n—nice..." I stumbled hard on that last one, squeezing my eyes shut at the thought of almost calling him cute to his face... And then I realized I'd called him nice two times... in a row.

I hadn't even realized he'd gotten up and walked over to me until I felt his cane gently tap my leg. I jumped, looking up at him and almost crumbled again right then and there. He stood over me, tall and clearly amused, and I wanted to just curl up and hide where no one would ever find me.

I also didn't want to be craning my neck so far up to see him, so I stood up, sending my chair rolling back a foot or two. The added height was better, but he was still fiarly taller than me, and with the way were standing so close to each other?

Maybe I'd made a mistake...

"I—I'm sorry," I stammered.

Still amused, Spencer tilted his head a small amount. "What for?"

"I... I don't know, m—making this awkward?"

"It's not awkward."

"It... It's not?"

He shook his head, quiet for a few beats before he nearly whispered. "What were you going to say?"

I paused. "I... What?"

"Before... You said I was smart. And nice... And... What else?"

It sounded like he was trying to get me to confess something, and quite honestly I couldn't tell if it was for humiliation or amusement or clarification purposes. I mean, it was probably safe to assume he wouldn't go out of his way to humiliate me, but... it still made me nervous.

"I—I didn't... I..."

"Y/N... Tell me?"

I'd been cornered. Quite literally, too, as my lower back hit the edge of the table. My hands shook anxiously at my sides as I contemplated what to say. The truth? Embarrassing for me. A lie? I was no good at telling lies, and I'd still end up embarrassed, because he'd be able to tell.

So, after a very long silence in which he waited on me to answer, I blurted out, as quietly as possible, "Cute."

The word sounded juvenile coming from my mouth. Right now, standing under Dr. Reid's intense scrutiny, it didn't even feel like the right word to describe him. Not that it wasn't true... But it just wasn't an elegant enough descriptor for him.

And that alone probably proved just how different we were. How out of my league he was...

"That's what I thought you were going to say," he mused, slightly breaking me out of my self-deprecation.

I would have asked him something then, anything to keep myself from looking like even more of a fool with a childish schoolgirl crush, but all words escaped me entirely. All I could do was look up at him, slowly growing warm under the intensity of his eyes and praying he wouldn't think of me as silly.

Though, it wouldn't have mattered, because he kept talking anyway, his body taking up even more space around me as his arms came around to well and truly trap me against the table.

"You're right, you know... I'm almost completely healed, and pretty soon I think I won't need an assistant anymore."

I was scared that maybe I was wrong before, and he'd actually humiliate me now, though the look in his eyes suggested otherwise. I wasn't sure what to make of all of it. SO I just stood there, trying to breath steadily as Spencer studied my face.

"And I meant it... That makes me sad. You know why?"

I shook my head, afraid to make a sound.

His head dipped lower, close enough that I could feel his breath on my mouth as he spoke. "I probably won't get to see you every day."

"Y—you want to see me?" I couldn't help but ask.

He scanned my eyes, amusement and something else lingering there as he did. "Yes."

And then he kissed me.

It was a short distance, but it felt like we went far. And I hadn't even registered that I whimpered into his mouth until he returned it with a low groan that boiled my insides and absolutely melted me. I was helpless against him as he pressed himself further against me and used his hands to keep my back steady.

The whole time my mind was swimming with dizziness. It felt like my body was covered in butterflies from head to toe, particularly strong where his hands pressed into me and his cane rested firmly along the inside of my thigh.

I leaned forward when he pulled away, because I was afraid that he was saying goodbye. But one of his hands came up to my face and my eyes fluttered open, immediately taking notice of how messy his hair was now that I'd had my fingers in it.

I must have looked scared, because suddenly his eyes changed, and he removed his hands away from me altogether, putting distance in between us. "I—I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you without asking..."

The relief that rushed through my body must have gotten to my head, because I breathed out a demand I'd never have had the courage to get out before.

"Do it again."

One second I was staring at him, admittedly afraid that he'd regretted all of it, and the next I was seeing stars as he came forward and kissed me again. His hands cradled my face as he did so, coming on to me with gentle care while still maintaining that hunger that surprised and excited me.

I hadn't realized how much I missed his touch until he'd given it back to me, my body once again melting into him and allowing him to do whatever it is that pleased him.

Apparently that was lifting my leg off the ground and making me sit on the table.

My body went along with it easily, and I was glad for it because my brain was nothing but mush, unable to process fully how he'd decided that I was worth kissing. All I really knew was that I wanted him. Anything he wanted from me, I was willing to give. And that must have come across very clearly, because when he pulled away and spoke to me, I whimpered at his words.

"Y/N... You've been such a good girl, helping me with whatever I needed these past few months..." Meanwhile his hand danced along the hem of my skirt, the tiny brushes of his skin against mine sending me into a mess of shivers.

"I think it's about time I've thanked you for all your help, don't you think?"

The implications in his tone made me whine again, and I pressed my forehead into his, our noses brushing as I answered. "Please."

I was so taken by the way he groaned as his lips connected with mine once more that I almost didn't realize that his hand was now fully up my skirt, his fingers drawing gentle lines over my panties and practically making me melt again. His hungry kisses contradicted the softness he took to my clothed cunt, a fact that warmed me to my core and made me want him more than ever.

When he slipped the fabric aside and ran the pad of his finger through me, I whined hard against his mouth, something that must have excited him— He nipped at my bottom lip and took a deep breath.

"How long have you wanted this, Princess?"

If not for the kissing and the finger slowly sliding up through my arousal, the nickname would have done me in. By now I was an utter wreck, but I somehow still managed to answer, even through a little stammering. "F—Forever."

It was the best I could come up with.

He breathed a laugh as his finger circled my clit. "That's a long time..."

"Uh huh," was all I could manage in response. My body and my brain were too focused on the things his finger was doing to my body, involuntarily rolling my hips forward for more. I needed more.

Thankfully he picked up on my urgency and reciprocated with slipping his middle finger inside me, one knuckle, then two...

I cried out as my head lurched forward, connecting our mouths once again. My hands clutched around his neck and my fingers tugged at his hair to keep myself from falling, because the slow, searing pace at which he fingered me made me wonder how I'd still been able to breathe.

He added another finger soon enough, picking up the pace and rendering me practically useless in his embrace. Meanwhile I registered the sound of his own little whines, still deeper than mine but little enough to tip me off that he was enjoying this just as much as I was, and that alone helped get me further along in pleasure.

I pulled my mouth from his reluctantly, squeezing my eyes shut as I allowed my forehead to rest against his. "D—Doctor, I'm c... I'm so close."

"His honorific falling breathlessly from my mouth seemed to do something sinister to him, because his fingers sped up and his breathing got heavier.

"Yeah? You gonna come for me, Princess?"

My stomach tightened and I nodded as best as I could, relishing in the sounds coming from below us, wet and downright filthy.

"Go ahead...Be a good girl and come for me... You deserve it..."

Each little sentence was punctuated with a slightly faster pace, each one bringing me closer and closer until I squeaked into his mouth and shook violently around his fingers, my vision going white. My legs had been open wide since he'd started teasing under my skirt, but now they threatened to clamp shut from the intensity. But I wanted nothing more than to be good for him, to make this as easy as possible, so I held out and kept them open as wide as I could stand as my orgasm rocked through me.

Spencer whispered praises into my skin as his hand slowed and his mouth trailed down to my neck. And even though it was more than nice feeling him lick and bite over my skin, I felt rather sad when he removed his fingers from me.

That sadness didn't last long though, not when he pulled back and studied me for a moment, eyes lust-blown and purely ravenous before he brought his glistening fingers up to my mouth.

I didn't even have to think. I brought my tongue out and let him slip his fingers over it, closing my mouth around them and sighing as I sucked them clean. This only seemed to excite him more, his features displaying all sorts of desperation until he couldn't take it anymore.

He kissed me again, bringing both his hands to rest at my waist. And with his hands so low I wondered if maybe he'd take to ridding himself of his own pants, but it never happened. Rather, he pulled away after minutes of more kissing, and sighed quite sadly as his upper body pressed firmly into mine.

Something else pressed firmly against me as well—right along the inside of my thigh—and I gasped, mind running wild through all the possible outcomes of the night.

But Spencer only stood there, occasionally nudging his nose against mine while his hands gently kneaded my sides.

"D—Do you want to stop?" I asked softly, afraid he'd regret what we did.

He proved me wrong. "God, no... It's... It's just that I'm still not cleared enough for any... strenuous activity on my leg, and I don't..."

I didn't want to push him, obviously, but I thought I could make the mood a little lighter. "O—Oh, well on the bright side... I could stay your assistant for a while longer."

The laugh that rumbled in his throat made me smile, though from the way he stood there, I knew he wouldn't risk it.

"Um... Raincheck?" he whispered.

On the one hand, that meant he definitely wanted to see me again, and I was more than happy with that. But also, that meant our fun for the night was done...

Yet... Maybe not...

"Sure," I answered, pecking his lips once more. Then I brought my hand to his chest and slid it down until I reached his belt, and I leaned back to look him in the eye, a boldness I never imagined coming from me in a million years.

"But I can still help you..."

I watched the desperation and disappointment in his features slowly dissolve into a newfound hunger—and an amusement—that grew my confidence tenfold.

"Oh?" Spencer mused. "How do you suppose you can help me this time?"

He wanted me to say it. So, without second guessing myself anymore, I grazed my finger over his erection. "I'm very good with my mouth, Dr. Reid."

He grabbed me by the hand then, dragging me along to the chair I'd kicked back before and sat himself down, one of his hands still gripping the cane. Matched with the desire in his eyes and the swollenness of his lips and the tousled strands of his hair, the sight was truly something to behold. It was something that only ever existed in my dreams, nd now it was real.

Not wanting to waste any time, I sunk to my knees and nestled myself in between his legs. He reached out and caressed my cheek before lifting my chin with his middle finger.

"You like being my good little helper?" he drawled.

I tried to nod, but he clicked his tongue and held my chin in place. "Words, Princess."

"Yes. I—I'd do anything you asked. Anything you want, it's yours..."

He hummed then, removing his hand from my face and moving to undo his belt swiftly with only one hand. The action, the sound, everything... it was enough to make me wet again, and I subtly ground down onto the heel of my foot as I watched him pull himself free from the confines of his pants.

I didn't have time to marvel at him before I was drawn forward like a magnet, my hands crawling up his legs and my eyes batting up at him, ready and eager to please him however he wanted.

"Eager, are we?" he mused once more, gently stroking himself with his hand.

"Yes, Doctor," I breathed, inching closer and kissing the outside of his hand.

His movement stopped then, and it didn't take longer than a second for him to decide to let me work on my own.

"Then have at it, Princess..."

I started by kissing my way up the length of him, taking my time to gauge his reactions as I did so, occasionally darting my tongue out to taste him. Once I reached the tip, I sucked on it gently, using my tongue to swirl around it until I could taste the saltiness of his precum.

And then I started taking him slowly into my mouth, watching above me as Spencer's eyes started to shut, obviously debating whether or not to lay back and enjoy this or watch me intently.

Either way, I was more than happy to keep it up, finally getting him to the back of my throat. I flexed my tongue and held him there as long as I could, promptly gagging over him and blinking tears from my eyes as he let out a loudest sound I'd heard from him yet. His head flew back and his tongue quivered along his bottom lip as he cursed my name.

The act made me proud, so I retreated for air, sucked at his tip again for a few seconds, and then repeated it, taking him down my throat again and watching through teary eyes as he visibly swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're so... Such a good fucking girl..."

The praise caused my insides to burn hot, and I ground down onto my heel again, lifting my mouth to start bobbing up and down.

His eyes opened then, and he looked down at me, using his hand to brush stray hair from my face and the other to grip onto his cane for dear life. I looked up at him the whole time, making sure to convey through not only my actions but also my eyes that I loved this. I thrived off of his praise, I enjoyed the feel of his dick gliding over my tongue and hitting the back of my throat, and I longed to feel him coat the inside of my mouth with his release.

I was so entirely into him in every capacity, it wasn't even funny.

I was so glad he could tell, a smile grazing his features as his hand gently gripped some of my hair. "So eager to please, Princess... And so fucking good at delivering..."

I whined onto his dick as he held me down, rendering me immobile. The only thing I could do was look up at him and choke, and of course, I was more than happy to do it. In turn, I was met with a deep groan and a tug of the hair.

"Hold it, hold it... Atta girl..."

My cunt throbbed at his words, and my throat continued to burn, tears falling down my face at ten-speed until finally, he let up and pulled me off of him.

I coughed a little and blinked away tears as I caught my breath, Spencer's fingers combing hair from my face as he smiled proudly.

He didn't even need to say anything then. I wanted to give him more. So I leaned down again and took him in my mouth, quickly making work of his tip while my hand came up and stroked the rest of him.

"Fuck, Princess, just like that... Make me come just like that..."

Rather than just continuing, I offered him a high whine and a wide gaze, hoping to exceed expectations.

I guess it worked, because he came right then, his dick pulsing over my tongue and in my hand as his warm release shot down my throat and over my tongue. I hummed around him, fluttering my eyes closed at the taste and the feeling, probably enjoying the fact that I'd done this to him more than I should have.

It was worth it to see the look on his face, though, after he'd given me all he had and I purposely spit some of it out onto the tip of his dick so I could lick it up and give him just a little more stimulation after the fact. His mouth hung open, eyes heavy and unwilling to leave me, even as I finished and sat back to wipe the tears and saliva from my face with a satisfied smile.

Though, the longer he looked at me, the more shy I became. Funny when I'd just had his dick down my throat, but I'd never been good with people staring at me for long periods of time.

"Was that... Was that okay?" I asked, suddenly worried I hadn't done something to his standards. "I know I don't do this a lot, so I'm sorry if it wasn't that g—"

"Y/N..."

I blinked up at him, still on my knees and unwilling to move. Not that I wanted to, but I couldn't even if I had.

"That was fucking perfect... I meant it, you're... so good."

I knew he was capable of better words, but after having the life sucked out of you, I could imagine 'better words' were hard to come by. Still, I laughed a little, playing with the hem of my skirt. "Good. I'm... glad I could help."

He smiled at me, readjusting his pants and then moving to help me off the ground.

"Hey, uh... Even when you go back to your regular job after I get better, I... I hope you know you're always welcome to come visit me if we're not busy."

The words warmed me in a different way, my heart swelling as well. "You... You mean that?"

Spencer nodded, grabbing my hand and dragging his thumb over my wrist. "Of course. I mean, you're more than just a good helper, you know. You're also kind, and smart, and cute..."

I laughed at his emphasis on cute, heat warming my face. "Ha-ha..."

"I really mean it, though," he said softly, removing his hand from mind and bringing it up to lift my chin, so I'd meet his eyes. They were swimming with sincerity, the epitome of warmth and comfort and kindness— the kind that always drew me to him in the first place. "And... If you'd want to maybe ditch the paperwork one day and grab a coffee or something, maybe—"

"Yes," I interrupted without thinking. My heartbeat picked up upon seeing the look in his eyes when I agreed, a mixture of amusement and relief. "Y—Yes, I'd love to."

"Good. Then it's a date?"

"Definitely."

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds smut

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juneknight · 2 years ago

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I’m obsessed with virgin!Steven.

I want him shy and unused to desire. You met him at an after hours event at the museum on the cultural significance of Egyptian art through the Roman era. You have matching interests, and there’s just something about you, about the earnest way you listen to him, angling your body towards him while he rambles on about ancient art techniques, asking pertinent questions, making noises at all the right moments. He’s never felt so heard before. Never so seen. There are a few friendly coffee dates in your future and the conversation is always incredible. Lively, stimulating. It’s clear you respect his intellect, and he respects your own.

The absolutely adolescent attraction and arousal he feels at the very sight of you—at even the sight of your name popping up on his phone when you text—now that’s new. And Steven really hasn’t the faintest clue what to do about it, besides jerk off at nights when he drags himself into bed and isn’t too exhausted to keep his eyes open. Besides hide it from you with every instinct he has.

(Of course he would be blind to every sign that his feelings are reciprocated. Every hint you drop is one he stumbles over and shyly explains away in that self-deprecating manner of his.)

I’m obsessed with all the UST as the friendship blossoms over time, as you draw Steven out of his shell. When he stops by your flat unexpectedly and catches you dressed up and on your way out to meet the girls for drinks, your dress short and form fitting, legs long and bare. The shoes look impractical, but he hardly minds, not when every blink of his eyes there rests a picture of you in that godforsaken dress. Right handy that picture is when he makes it back to his flat and his bed and his hand and his imagination.

I imagine it would come to a head on a night you invite him over, when you open the door to your flat and he sees you in sweats and a white tee thin enough that he can see you aren’t wearing a bra, the soft curve of your breasts visible, the imprint of your nipples through the fabric. Your silhouette lit up by the white-blue glow of the television makes you look ethereal and like the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

I want him to cup your face with a shaking hand and give you his first kiss, tasting you with frustrating chastity at first and then growing fervor, addicted to the warmth of your mouth, the puff of your breaths against his cheek, your hands tangling in the curls at the nape of his neck. And when you maneuver him onto his back and cover him with your body, there’s going to be no hiding his erection, the inhaling gasp he gives, the muttered ‘Gods, I’m so sorry’

But you hardly mind, not when he’s warm and hard and exactly where you need him. It seems appropriate to let your body move the way it craves, dragging your cunt across the denim bulge of his cock and soaking up the full-body jerk he gives at the sensation.

That’s when the doubts would start up like a track on repeat in his head. It’s clear you like him, even he isn’t silly enough to think otherwise when you’re pulling his clenched hands towards your hips, your mouth red and wet and swollen from his kisses. He’s in unexplored territory, and it feels dishonest to let himself be pulled along like a dance partner who’s forgotten half the steps.

He wants to savor this, too. You. He’s never had something worth savoring before.

When he tells you, red faced, that he’s never done this before, he mistakes your shock for horror. You don’t see Steven the way he sees himself. He’s a catch—handsome, thoughtful, funny, smart. It’s impossible to imagine him as anything less than a thoughtful, passionate lover. When you tell him so, his face would soften, fingers creeping underneath your shirt to your burning skin.

“I’d like to be,” he says. “Your lover, I mean.”

And what, like you’ll say no?

#steven grant #virgin!steven grant #fem!oc #steven grant x oc #steven grant x reader #fem!reader

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mystic-sky · 4 years ago

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|✨Part 1✨| |✨Part 2 ✨| of the Friends with Benefits Series.

Your relationship with Suguru started off somewhat unexpectedly. A new semester romance, however it was unwanted after dealing with Satoru Gojo just last year. You tried not to blame yourself for the situation unraveling the way it did. You did your best to make Satoru comfortable with you- at least you thought you did.

He cut you off as soon as you made your feelings apparent. You wondered if he somehow did it for your own good, or maybe there was something deeper that went along with it. No matter, you remained optimistic. You were young, and bound to make mistakes. This was just a story to tell your children about in the future if you ever felt it was necessary.

But back to Suguru, who had wiggled his way into your life somehow. He wasn’t a random guy actually. More like a familiar face you’d seen in a few of your classes because you both were in the same major. Just so recently, he decided to talk to you.

You weren’t expecting to hit it off with him so easily. He was sort of scary looking, which led you not to engage with him in the first place. He never tried talking to you before 5 months ago. And neither did you, considering you thought he was so handsome he’d break your heart too somehow.

His arms were sleeved with tattoos that would bridge at his chest. The tattoos would sometimes peak out of his wide collared shirts if he chose to wear one that day. He had a thing for wearing these huge ear gauges that had his favorite anime on them. Though, you never noticed until you sat close enough to him to see the designs. It was a rainy day, and both of you ended up sitting beside each other in your sociology course in the back of the classroom. You were both late, having come in just after the other.

It was weird seeing him this close. He never did come late to any class you’d ever been in with him. Even if you wanted to sit with him, like Satoru, he never had any available seats beside him. He didn’t disturb you until the lecture ended, commenting on one of your anime themed mechanical pencils. That sparked your first conversation with him, and he wasn’t shy to ask you out for coffee right after.

He’s been keen on you since, and you just barely give him the time of day in the beginning. You were just cautious, after the whole Satoru situation. Suguru was fine with whatever you wanted the situation between you both to be. But you will admit, the conversations he’d keep you up with at night made it hard to not fall in love with him.

He’d take you out to dinner, study with you, and sleep with you from time to time since the sexual attraction between you was hard to deny. You think your favorite thing about messing around with Suguru was how he’d always pick your brain after sex with manga theories and better endings than the canonically debuted ones. He was a really good cook, and you often challenged him to make your favorite dishes. They were excuses to invite you over to his place, so he gladly took each one with merit. It was friends with benefits but with far much more substance to hold onto.

He never poked you about getting serious. Whatever you both had was still young at barely 5 months. He could tell you’d been going through something mostly because of how you sexed him. Sometimes you were the dominant one- you’d throw him on the bed and bounce yourself on his length until your knees were far too tired to go on. Other times, he’d steal the show from you, showing you just exactly what he was capable of.

He spread you onto the desk in his bedroom, face deep into your folds. He also loved to spoil you, like Satoru, but you did your best not to think of him when you both were together. Suguru had so much more hair to grab, considering his tongue work was so good it scared you.

“Be a good kitten and cum for me.” He said between sucks on your clit. You often couldn’t think, and that was a good thing. He numbed you in plenty of ways, he knew he had been helping you get over something. He had been doing the same thing but you could care less.

“Actually, I changed my mind.” He tore his mouth from your steaming sex, wiping his chin. You gasp as he lifts you up off the desk, holding your body without leaning against anything for support. You felt weightless, feeling his length prod at your entrance. You tried to hold back a giggle as he smiled smugly at you.

“You ready?” His eyes were sincere, asking for your consent again as he was aching to sink you onto himself.

You nod, feeling a bit nervous. “Stuff like this is about balance. Start flailing around again and I’ll drop you.” He teased. Your hands found some of his hair again, tugging on it a bit.

“Just fuck me.” You roll your eyes as he slams his length into you, making you cry out and clutch your arms around him. His large hands firmly grasp underneath your thighs, using the way your ass recoiled against his thighs to keep a steady rhythm. He’s immersed in the way your broken moans pour into his ear, fueling his stamina. He’s a stickler for teasing you the entire time, praising you for taking his length so well.

“Such a good kitten, you’re taking it so well.”

It was the third time he’d ever held you up to fuck you. After letting go of the fear of him dropping you it became incredibly easy to focus on the pleasure.

“You’re gonna cum aren’t you? Don’t worry about the carpet baby, make a mess for me.”

He knew how to mix things up the way you needed. On your rough days he’d sex you slowly, more passionately and generously. If you were happy and feeling frisky he’d fuck you accordingly. He was pretty good at reading your body just after the first few fucks you had. You hated comparing the two men, but it did happen from time to time when you were in solitude, plagued by your own self-deprecating thoughts every now and then.

It was weird how they emanated each other’s personalities in certain ways. And then you found out that they used to be good friends in high school until something happened. You never poked Suguru about it, since he’d seem to get irritated when you were around groups of friends and Satoru’s name was mentioned. You did your best to be satisfied with what you had. He was handsome, smart, and possibly wanted to be your boyfriend in due time.

But you couldn’t help but think about Satoru. Not only was your experience with him a wild one, but he was fucking everywhere. It’s always like this for you. It’s not until you’re trying to avoid someone do you begin seeing them absolutely everywhere.

You stared at Satoru over Suguru’s shoulder, poking your cheek with your tongue. The audacity he had, showing up in the cafe where you both first met while you and Suguru were on a routine study date. Well, it was a hotspot for a lot of students, so who are you to say he can’t come in here.

“I think I’m overworking myself today, we can go eat now.” Your mood change was evident to Suguru, but he couldn’t put his finger on why at first. He watched you get up and pack your things before shortly following.

As you tossed your bag over your shoulders, he took hold of one of your hands, squeezing firmly. He pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze.

“Is it something I can cheer you up from when we get back to my place?” Suguru was a bit smug about it, and also painfully intuitive about your emotions even though you’d been close for such a short time. Your cheeks went red, eyes burning holes through the floor.

“It’s nothing, really. Let’s just get out of here.” You manage to look back at him, just barely glancing at Satoru who probably had been looking in this direction. Suguru pressed another kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arm around you and leading you out the cafe. He nearly touched shoulders with Satoru and his own dame, smirking just loudly enough for him to hear.

Suguru wasn’t dumb, finally having noticed your energy change just a few moments after Satoru Gojo entered the cafe. This was your favorite place, and he hated how someone could ever ruin that for you. He felt urged to do something about it- with or without your consent. He doesn’t poke you about it until you’re in the car.

“Random question, but do you know Satoru Gojo?”

The question like a pin in your spine, making you visibly un-slouch in the drivers seat. He doesn’t look at you, feeling that would make it easier for you to talk. You take this the wrong way, and feel even more tense.

“I do, we were a thing at one point.” You manage not to stutter. You had no idea why you felt scared or touchy about the subject- you shouldn’t be. His entire vibe had changed, and he didn’t have his usual grin peaking at the corners of his lips.

“Oh,” he says simply. The longest ten seconds of silence reign throughout the vehicle. You’re anxious to turn on the radio, anything to rid the first bit of awkwardness the two of you had ever shared.

“He’s an asshole, isn’t he?” He randomly chuckles heartily, somewhat calming you.

“Yeah,” you’re exhaling properly now, “he really is.”

“We were best friends for about four years. I know him like the back of my hand. Granted, he’s probably changed a lot since high school.”

“But you’re both so-

“Different?” He chuckled. “Yeah, I know.”

“If he was an asshole then, he’s multiplied tenfold.” You roll your eyes. “You both don’t talk anymore?”

You knew they didn’t, but you took the opportunity to ask anyway.

“Nah, he’s a slimy bastard. I hope karma turns him rotten.” You’d never seen Suguru scowl before. He must really hate him, you thought. Still, what a small world; first Satoru and now his ex best friend.

“You still talk to him?” He pokes again. His tone is just barely playful. God, you changed your mind. You didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“No, we don’t talk anymore. It ended pretty badly.” You say simply. You also decided not tell Suguru that the both of you messed around just before you started messing with him.

“Sorry about that. If we were friends sooner I’d have told you about him.” Suguru is apologizing for something you weren’t entirely ignorant about in the first place. You knew what you were getting into.

Satoru never tried to convince you the situation was anything other than what it was— until the end. The sweet things he started saying to you during those final months often echoed in your head- like he meant all of it.

The sex developed into something that it shouldn’t have. Sex that passionate should be forbidden if you aren’t already in love. And the things he said to you the last time he dropped you off didn’t make it any better. You wanted to slap his stupid, pretty face.

“I’m over it now.”

Suguru pans his gaze to watch you nonchalantly staring out the window. He knew better than to ask anymore. He was more elated that you didn’t interact with him at all. He didn’t need Satoru painting a picture about him in your head before he could first.

What sucks the most about dating people you go to school with is how often you’d see them. Satoru was fucking everywhere. The local restaurants, the library, the cafe, and he’d registered for two of your classes this semester. He didn’t speak to you at all, but he was always just there. Perhaps he’d always been around but since you’d been involved with him you were more aware of his presence.

You were standing in line in the library, attempting to return some books. He entered the space, and walked up behind you, standing on the line and giving your space. You turn your body slightly, peering up at him. You thought to leave, but just because you resented him didn’t mean you were going to cower every time you had to be around him for a while. You let out a sigh as you tip toed to peer in front of yourself; at least the line was moving.

Both of you had made it to the front, talking to separate librarians beside one another. When they both got up from their seats to head towards the back, he spoke directly to you, without actually looking at you.

“(Name), word of advice— I’d steer clear of Getou Suguru if I were you.”

Anger poured over you; you did your best to keep your voice low and eyes forward when saying this.

“That’s the first thing you say to me after almost a year? Go fuck yourself.”

He bites back a witty response, poking his cheek with his tongue. “Whatever. Find out the hard way.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve. Why the fuck are you telling me this?” You’re whisper-shouting, considering it’s a library.

“Because,” he turns to look at you, “I care about you.”

“What a load of shit.”

Satoru Gojo doesn’t care about anyone, you learned that the hard way.

He let out a sigh. He knew he had no right, but even if he couldn’t get you back, he wanted you to know what kind of guy you were seeing. He couldn’t say anything, he knew you wouldn’t listen. Not like this anyway. Both librarians returned, and gave you back your borrowing passes. You quickly departed, refusing to give Satoru another opportunity to speak to you. His words stuck with you on the way home. You didn’t have any reason to be afraid of Suguru, right?

Two months had passed since Satoru had “warned” you about Suguru. And nothing has happened to lead you to be cautious of him. Satoru hasn’t spoken to you either.

You’re sitting in the guidance counselor’s office as it’s the end of the semester once again. You typed away on your phone, telling Suguru you’d see him for dinner in a bit before throwing your head back and shutting your eyes. The heaviest sigh left your lungs, you were thankful the semester was nearing its end. You had quite enough of studying and needed to unwind.

You feel a presence on the end of your bench, making you open one eye. You see white tresses, and you catch the scent of familiar cologne.

Satoru doesn’t look at you, but he’s quite aware that he’s sitting beside you as well. You almost scoff, only crossing your arms and legs. Noticing the undone laces of your boots, you lean forward to tie it. Your loose bag on your shoulder which unfortunately wasn’t zipped, spilled small notebooks and pencils all over the floor. Spare change rolled across the walk way along with other items.

“Fuck...” you muttered. His head snapped towards you as you let out a sigh and bent down to pick up your things. Your phone that was your on your lap hit the ground as well. You saw his hand in the corner of your eye reaching down to help.

“I got it.” You say sternly, and shamelessly picking up your things. He retracts his hand, and instead gets up to pick up the items that were further away from you, ignoring your request not to help.

He sits back beside you, handful of change and pens. He holds it up towards you quietly while you attempt to fix your bag back to the way it was. You turn to look at him for what feels like the first time in forever, blue eyes pouring into your own (eye color) ones.

“I didn’t need you to do that.” You say, taking your things. You initially thought to take your things from him without a word. He went back to staring in front of himself, waiting to be called. You shifted uncomfortably, and fidgeted with your fingernails. You forced yourself into to pay attention to the soft music playing from the back of the office until he spoke.

“How have you been?”

For some odd reason though, you wanted him to say something to you. You had a lot of things to let off your chest considering the way things ended. You thought of giving him a piece of your mind right there in front of all the staff members, but you restrained yourself.

Instead, you found yourself saying “I’m doing great.”

“That’s good.” He says nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. He didn’t even sound sure of his own response. A few minutes of silence resumes after. You’re a bit startled when speaks again.

“I’m definitely out of line right now, but I’ve been wanting to talk to you about some things.”

“What could we possibly have to talk about?” A lot. You were bubbling over.

“There’s a lot of things, at least for me, that I’ve never really told you.” He’s looking at you now. “Can we talk somewhere quieter? Whenever you’ve got the free time, and only if you want to.”

He was offering closure to you a bit too late. Or maybe all this time you’d convinced yourself you’d moved on. You often found yourself replaying the morning he brought you home and all the things you should’ve said in that moment.

That’s not exactly moving on. Unfortunately, you also found yourself comparing him to Suguru more often then not. That’s not moving on either.

“Okay,” you said. “Later on today. Round 8pm.”

He looks thankful. Just as he spoke, your counselor called out to you to come into their office. You stand up, looking down at him.

“Cafe then?” He suggests.

“That’s fine. See you.” You shrugged. You didn’t care that much for the place. You heard him say goodbye as the door shut behind you.

You had half a mind to never speak to him ever again. Though both of you were using each other, he knowingly crossed a line, making you feel things for him in a situation where feelings weren’t supposed to be involved. And he never gave you a chance to truly address the situation. Now, almost a year later, he’s ready to speak to you on his own terms. You’d be sure to tell him you had no intentions of making amends with him. If you personally didn’t have interest in what he had to say, you wouldn’t bother gracing him with the ability to explain anything to you.

You would’ve made him suffer. He’s lucky you’re still a bit distraught about the situation. Any longer into your situation-ship with Suguru and Satoru wouldn’t even have the slightest chance at something like this.

Dinner with Suguru was transparent. He could tell something was on your mind but he didn’t pry much after his first attempt. The last time you both talked about Satoru he turned into a different person, and it didn’t sit right with you. You did your best to brush it off, assuming he was just protective over you. But Satoru’s warning in the library echoed in your subconscious more and more. Just what happened between them, and would it be okay for you to ask Suguru about it?

He wasn’t your boyfriend either, but you suppose he wanted to be? You hadn’t brought up the dating conversation in while and you probably wouldn’t until you situated the Satoru thing.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Suguru’s holding your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes. His smile is incredibly gentle and you feel guilty for keeping this from him.

Perhaps you should hold Suguru accountable too, for being so sweet to you like this. He informed you he wouldn’t up and leave unless you wanted him to and that he’d never say anything he didn’t mean. But after dealing with trauma from past relationships, affection like this was always perceived cautiously.

“I know,” you say, feeling his lips press against your forehead again. “It’s just not easy to talk about right now.”

“That’s alright,” he assures you. “I’m here whenever you’re ready.”

His lips connect with yours while his hands slide down your back. He feels you relax a bit, and that makes him smile. How could he possibly be a bad person?

“I’ll call you when I get home, okay?”

You nod, watching him part from you and get into his car. You never did come to understand how he could afford it; a black Mercedes Benz-Coupe. You assumed that and his nice apartment were inherited wealth from his parents.

You wave at him before going into the station. Luckily he had things to attend to, and you didn’t have to bother making up anything about tonight. It was just barely any of his business, right?

You had an idea of what to expect from Satoru when you got there. You were rehearsing things you wanted to say in your head, some of them incredibly mean. You wanted to hurt his feelings too, if you had it in you. It didn’t take you long to get to the cafe, and you’d arrived early, already finding Satoru in the very back, furthest away from people. You gripped your bag strap, before sitting across from him.

“Hey, you’re early.” He says surprised, looking up at you from his phone.

“You’re the early one.” You say, not even cracking a smile.

“How are you?”

“Same as earlier. What did you want to talk about?”

He’s visibly gulping, and you’ve never seen him this nervous. He places his phone face down on the table, turning the sound off. You cross your arms.

“Right,” he lets out a heavy sigh. “Where should I start?” He attempts to gather his thoughts, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans.

“I’m not the kind of guy who really addresses his feelings, if you couldn’t already tell at the time we, you know... I’ve been fucked over a lot. I don’t have a lot of actual friends, and I’m constantly aware that people cling to me for my money or looks.”

He never acted like his entourages bothered him per se, but you did notice that he never bothered being around people anymore when the two of you were a thing. You prompt him to continue with your eyes.

“The only best friend I’ve ever had used me until I realized what was going on and cut him off. The first girl I ever really loved chose him instead of me shortly afterwards. Obviously, it’s not a legitimate excuse to have treated you the way that I did, but I guess what I’m saying is that I’m cautious of people and have been for a long time now.”

“But I never tried to use you,” you interjected. You felt a bit insensitive for spitting it out like that, but he really did hurt you.

“I know, and I realized that a bit too late.” He sighs. “But more importantly, I realized that I didn’t talk about or convey my feelings correctly. I know I confused you a lot, and you didn’t deserve that at all.” He tried to keep eye contact with you when he spoke, but your lion like force was pretty strong.

“And when I dropped you off— I shouldn’t have said those things to you. You were so much more than a warm body to me. You were the first real friend I’ve had in a long time. Things got so cloudy for me since we were sleeping together. I didn’t know how to address it, and it freaked me out when you told me you wanted more. I should’ve been elated, but I suppose I didn’t want my heart broken again either.”

“So basically...” He breathed out, “I’m really sorry. I’ve got some messy emotions, things I’m gradually learning to deal with. I’m not making excuses for myself. It’s just I never did talk about myself much when we were a thing, so I wanted to tell you something at least, and apologize. I hated the way I left things. I know it’s long overdue for an apology but...”

“But?”

“I still have feelings for you. I never stopped. The more time passed, the harder it made it for me to apologize and tell you how I feel. And then I noticed you were going out with... him, so I thought it was too late. But I still wanted to try, I guess.”

He looked so awkward, you almost laughed. Apologies were definitely foreign to him. You could tell he meant it, but even so, he wouldn’t be getting a relationship out of you, if that’s want he wanted.

You let out a large sigh. For some weird reason all the angry things you wanted to say wouldn’t come out. You wanted to be angry at him but you just couldn’t. And your heart was swelling at the idea of him still having feelings for you. Did he really mean that?

“We’re not together. Not yet anyway— it’s complicated.” You crossed your legs and leant back in your seat. Suguru probably would’ve been your boyfriend already if you weren’t so stuck on Satoru.

“Oh,” he said quietly. You’d never seen him look so small, it was definitely out of character for him.

“I forgive you,” you lean forward, holding your head in your hands. All this time and you still had soft spot for him.

“Really?” He’s surprised. Your friends will be too after you tell them this story.

“You want me to take it back?” You’re pinching the bridge of your nose.

He chuckles nervously. “No ma’am.”

“Are you... doing okay though?” He probes after noticing the stress in your brows.

“I can’t stay mad at you. And I want to so bad. It’d make my life simpler. Now I’m conflicted.” You drag your fingers under your eyes, before smooshing your own face, stressfully so. He thought you were cute, but he felt bad being the source of your distraught-ness.

“So I take it you still have feelings for me?” His voice is regular now, and just barely his normal cocky tone.

You won’t even look at him. “I mean...”

How do you explain to him that the only reason you’re messing with someone right now, who just so happens to be his ex-best friend, is because you were trying to forget about him in the first place?

“I get it if you don’t.” He says. “It’s been a while.”

“I do.” It’s almost instinct for you to correct him. “That’s the problem.”

“Ah, I see.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck again. You wished you could start over with a clean slate. School and dating shouldn’t be this difficult.

Satoru thought to warn you again about Suguru in that moment, but he held his tongue. He didn’t want to make it seem as if he was badmouthing him so you could favor him more, he wanted you to lean towards him naturally, if possible.

Silence reigned throughout your little booth in the cafe. The sound of rain hitting the window screen made it easy not to talk so much. It also made it hard to see a certain black, long-haired male in his Mercedes Benz, parked just across the street.

Suguru threw his cigarette out the driver’s window, continuing to watch the both of you inside. He shook his head disappointedly before starting his car.

“And that reminds me,” you say, making Satoru swallow hard and shift in his seat.

“What was that nonsense two months prior, about Geto Suguru?”

#gojo satoru #geto suguru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #geto smut #geto suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo sensei #getou fluff #a lot of it

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mazuwii · 3 years ago

Text

Zeke SFW Alphabet

Flying monke

Hey bestie, I see you like Mr Monke😏

No shame! No shame!😤 I am writing the chapters everyone has requested but I got asked to do a Zeke alphabet first so here it is

—A (Affection. How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

•Not very physically affectionate in public, he tends to give you stares that gives you the same warm feeling you get from being hugged tightly.

•When you crash into him for a hug, he's so shocked and confused, his heart is dancing at the feeling of your warm little body right against his, affectionately rubbing his back. Before he knows it, he's silently crying, holding your face to his chest so that you don't see.

•Zeke never knew hugs felt so nice and now whenever he's feeling down or whenever you both have nothing to do, he randomly opens his arms up and waits for you to run into them. If you take too long all he does is twitch his hands slightly, which is funny and cute.

•I can see him being way more affectionate in the nighttime, where you're sleeping on him and you mumble under your breath, he kisses your head and strokes your cheek, lovingly gazing at you.

—B (Bestfriend, how would he be like as a best friend, how would the friendship start?)

•Zeke would be the bestest friend ever, sure he isn't the most affectionate or upfront friend but he is incredibly reliable!

•Always defending you behind your back. He insults you but then compliments and uplifts you behind your back to other people. Basically your lawyer.

•I will never stop saying this, Zeke Jaegar is intelligent as fuck and hates small talk so his conversations are so delicious, so full of flavour. His intelligence turns you on so hard, he is so fun to talk to because A, he makes fair points and teaches you things, B, he has a good sense of humour, C, he genuinely listens. He wants your opinion and understands your point of view on the subject.

—C (Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

•Before getting into a relationship, he always thought hugs would be stiff and horrible, especially in bed but he discovered that he was wrong.

•When you were spooning him, he couldn't nearly think straight from the appreciation he felt. Your arm was so secure around his waist and your body was warm against him, it was a feeling that made him wish he was immortal and experience this FOREVER!

•He likes it when you bring yourself to him, automatically. He finds it cute and always compliments you when you do. It isn't a full-of-shit-flattery compliment, he means it.

•"Why- on this gruesome green earth, are you so cute?" He kisses your head as you nestle yourself on his chest. "Mind telling me? Hm?" He pecks your head again and tightens his arm around you.

•One thing he will die to protect is you, he wants to hide you away from all the horrors of the world and treasures you so much and one way to do it is to tightly hold you right against him, melting at the sound of your giggle.

—D (Domestic. Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

•Zeke wants to live in a cottage with you, secluded from other humans. All the serenity of it relaxes him, it's one thing he'd never stop thinking about.

•Sure he wants to settle down but he'd never want to have kids. He sees himself as a failure to all and can see his little ones hating his guts, having to hear them exclaim how much they hate their papa (even if it's just his imagination) terrifies him.

•He felt like everyone hated him, but you and his grandparents and Mr Ksaver. Children would be too much stress

•As for cooking and cleaning, I don't think he's good with cooking or cleaning. He doesn't really make a mess so it's okay that he isn't good at cleaning

•However he isn't bothered with cooking actual food, he'd always just have fruit or instant noodles when he's hungry. So you'd have to be a good cook because my mans has no motivation for that stuff

—F (Fiance(e) How would they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

•Like I said before, Zeke isn't good on relationships so if you both last more than a year and he realises you've helped him as a person and he has helped you, he secures it.

•But proposing would be difficult, he's shy, scared, worried you may laugh and blow him off.

•Eventually he gives in and asks, a heavyweight washing off his shoulders when you said yes, even getting butterflies when he realised you were crying.

—G (Gentle. How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

•His inner child is bruised, you can see a little boy in him anytime he smiles properly, it makes your heart shatter to know that he never experienced his childhood properly and is currently a little boy in an old man's body

•He is gentle, he tries so hard to be soft with you and touches you like you're made of glass. H o w e v e r, my man does not hold back when it comes to baseball.

•Zeke is so happy when he's playing baseball with you that he doesn't realise he may have thrown too hard and only realises it when you grunt at the impact it made with your collarbone, dropping everything and running to check on you.

—H (Hugs. Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

•He hesitates at first when your smaller body collides with his, he had let out a small yelp but couldn't help smiling when your arms get tighter in desperation.

•Slowly and gently, he'd embrace you back and smell your hair.

•Zeke's hugs are warm, secure and surprisingly cuddly. He's too shy to hug you first, you'd have to hug him first and he'd not hesitate anymore. Sometimes, when he's missed you so much, he'd hug so tight that your legs float off the floor, completely powerless in his embrace.

—I (I love you. How fast do they say the L-word)

•Zeke thinks a lot so admitting that he loves you would be an epiphany, even years into the relationship. He genuinely can't believe someone loves him and stayed with him.

•He'd say it with a kiss to your forehead, small freckles of tears glistening in his eyes when he stares longingly at you.

—J (Jealousy. How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous)

•Very jealous but he keeps it to himself. Especially when it comes to the opposite sex. He realises anytime a man talks to you and you smile around them, he can feel himself shrink. He's all dramatic in his head, wondering if he'd ever been enough for you or if you finally realised you deserved a better guy than him.

•All of those thoughts would disappear when you take his hand or talk to him with the tone you always use with him, a cheerful and appreciative one.

—K (What are his kisses like? Where does he like to kiss you? Where does he like to be kissed?)

•Zeke's kisses are hesitant and full of pauses. Sometimes you do most of the work, bringing him closer and all that while he's questioning if he deserves you.

•When Zeke tries to be affectionate, he likes to kiss your forehead, crown of your head, cheek, lips in private. It's reassuring and he loves his little lady more than anything. This small kiss passes on so much serotonin through your skull.

•Zeke doesn't have a specific preference but when you pepper his face with kisses it makes him so happy and fireworks go off in his tummy. With your hands gently cupping his face and your lips pressing every area on his face he softly holds onto you with a flustered smile.

—L (Little ones. How are they around children)

•Lol, he's like their older bro but a lil more distant

Let's move on...

—M (Morning. How are mornings spent with them?)

•Zeke's life is full of duties and priorities but he wishes with his full heart that he could spend the rest of his life lazily holding you with you peacefully laying by his side

•To his dismay, he must leave you to sleep. He has to get up earlier and doesn't bother waking up his sleeping angel, getting ready for work and leaving- not without kissing your cheek. Even if you're fast asleep, Zeke tucks you in and pecks your cheek, admiring you for a few seconds before heading on with his day.

•I'd say on good days, you make an effort to wake up with him and make breakfast so that he doesn't go to work and smoke ciggerates on an empty stomach. Fucking idiot, sorry but don't do that 🙄 even to my readers, don't smoke bestie💜

—N (Night. How are nights spent with them?)

•He does sleep at a reasonable time, sometimes at ten PM, sometimes at eight PM..

•Before bed he'd watch a documentary with you while having dinner and probably tire himself out by sucking in all that knowledge (the TV voice makes him sleepy, so you can see his eyelids drooping when he lies about how he isn't tired... it's cute)

•When it's time for bed he does the usual routine and gets into bed after smoking... which is pretty painful for you to watch but you won't scold him, you'll bring him closer to you and kiss his nose, massaging his scalp and becoming limp when his hand is soft at your waist, caressing patterns with his slender fingers until you fall asleep.

—O (Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

•Zeke thinks he is the scum of the Earth and wouldn't be surprised if you thought so too. It'd be difficult for him to mention any of his trauma so it all comes out through his humour.

•Daddy issues jokes, mommy issues jokes, self-deprecating jokes and you go through so many until you realise the man is traumatised. I can say with full confidence that he once tried making a joke for the millionth time and ended up crying instead of laughing. Of course, you were reassuring and comforted him in every way he needed.

—P (Patience. How easily angered are they?)

•Very patient when it comes to his S/O, he doesn't force anything out of you and slowly, gently speaks.

•Zeke doesn't become angry easily, honestly, he's so smart and open-minded that it becomes a problem because he understands so many things, unable to use his emotions to his advantage.

•Again, emotions pass and are useless to him, they just come and go so he doesn't like feeling too vividly. Especially anger, he thinks there's no use in it.

—Q (Quizzes. How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?)

•Like I keep saying, Zeke is a smart, attentive person even when he doesn't mean to be. He pays attention to small details by accident and remembers subconsciously. He memorises a lot of your habits, bad and good and makes notes of when and where they mostly happen, adapting to your lifestyle without realising.

•Someone is asking what to get for your birthday and tries to get a type of chocolate flavour he remembers you despise and he gives away your full interests and a list of what you like, dumping an essay of your public info to one of your best friends and they're just like °_°...?

•It's cute, he just doesn't know his brain sucks everything about you in

—R (Remember. What is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

•When you took him out to dance and the music suddenly switched from formal dancing to just 'go crazy' and he watched you GO OFF. You were shaking your hip and hopping around energetically, glaring at him for laughing his ass off over the loud music.

•You forced him to dance with you, both of you whipping your hair back and forth, your movements less stiff but nonetheless, in sync. He's never had so much fun. No one he knew was there, it was all strangers but he felt like only you and he were there, dancing freely to the music, he'd just follow your lead confidently

—S (Security. How protective are they? How would they like to be protected?)

•Zeke is so protective, paranoid but never expressing it, knowing he'd sound insane:

-"Angel, I have to go out with you because what'll happen if you suddenly get run over?!"

-"No you can't use the phone while it's in charge, what if it explodes in your face?!"

-"Cookie dough, don't try handstanding, you could snap your neck!"

-"No, I won't let you go up these faulty escalators, they could suddenly break open and swallow you, here let me hold your hand up the normal stairs."

-"Don't lean against the balcony, you could fall over!"

•So instead he does it sneakily. Like small solutions, in order, he'd: offering to help you shop when you go out, making you put your phone down to massage him, scaring you into stopping your handstands, holding your waist securely when you're both on the balcony.

•To feel protected, Zeke needs constant reassurance from you. Physically and emotionally. A small kiss on his cheek and a little "Don't overthink, I'm here, let it all out, I'll listen to your thoughts."

—T (Try. How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

•I think Zeke is more of a private person but his dates can be fun too. For anniversaries, you'd both have turns. For his half of the day, it would be spent playing baseball, going to the arcade, taking you out to dinner and then he'd warmly hold your hands in his, asking you what you want to do now.

•His gifts are so thoughtful but he tries to be cool when he gives it to you, lips straight and eyes avoiding you like a shy schoolboy. He can't keep his cool since you have to attack his face with kisses🙄 Jees Y/n stop it, he totally doesn't go insane when you do that to him, totally isn't in love

—U (Ugly. What are some bad habits of theirs?)

•I'd say the damn smoking. Zeke chose an unhealthy coping mechanism and needs guidance out of it, so you do just that.

•Taking his cigarettes and helping him get the nicotine out of his body through skipping rope, taking him to the sauna and even massaging his scalp when he has a headache.

•If course it'd be such a shock to him when he realises how nice he feels after his addiction is over, it's amazing what getting rid of one bad habit can do to your life.

—V (Vanity. How concerned are they with their looks?)

•Zeke trimmed his beard shorter and did his hair when he realised he had seemed to be ageing faster but... for the sake of my selfishness this is a modern au

•Surprisingly, he actually has good skin, a nice beard and a good haircut. Zeke is beautiful.

•Only once, has he ever shaved fully and my guy looked 10 years younger and was lowkey getting cocky but he rathered the beard and let it grow out... not too long though

—W (Whole. Would they feel incomplete without you?)

•Zeke is like the moon, it's a bit dark but it's still useful, however, it needs the sun to give it a boost? So what I'm trying to say is you're the sun to him, life wouldn't feel the same now that you've made your mark

—X (Xtra. A random headcanon for them.)

•I don't care what you say, he can do the entire dance for boy with luv by BTS. He doesn't know why he knows it so well, he's only seen the dance rehearsal once (yes he memorizes pretty fast)

•extra but, by the way, Monke man can figure out a Rubix cube faster than a War breaking out in AOT so... haha very fast👁👁

—Y (Yuck. What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

•He doesn't like a controlling partner, not everything has to go your way babe, life is always going to steer you in a different direction and it sometimes is in a better direction than the one you had first intended.

•So there's that

—Z (Zzz. What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

•This is funny to me for some reason? But once he lets go of your cuddle, he subconsciously sprawls his body out, and he does it for the entire night even when you're on top of him, his clothes are somehow half-off. The pillows are everywhere, the blanket is under his heavy thighs so you're freezing on him :")

#zeke #zeke jaegar #zeke yaeger x reader #zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #zeke sfw #zeke sfw alphabet

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pigeonp0st · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!! Can you possibly write a head cannon where y/n is kurts twin and is dating Quinn? Sorry if this isn’t specific any storyline is ok.

Quinn Fabray x Reader #3

Words: 2,024

Warnings: Mention of Car Crash, Hospital

Notes:

I was reading a story that involved a car crash and just...sort of took inspiration from that for more direction. I hope this is what you were looking for, thank you for requesting (and sorry for spelling mistakes)

———

You got into a car crash.

It wasn’t really your fault, it’s not as if you could have known that some dude driving a truck wanted to push you off a cliff…well, you’re sure he didn’t exactly want to; but that’s not the point, you think.

The point is that you got into a car crash. A car crash (or truck crashing, really) that you should have died from, but you didn’t. A car crash that should have presented lifetime injuries, but it didn’t.

And you’re lucky. That’s the magic word that keeps going around. You’re lucky.

Yeah, fuck that.

You don’t feel very lucky, laying down in your hospital bed and feeling so much pain everywhere, laying down in your hospital bed and not even being able to go to the bathroom by yourself... this doesn’t feel lucky. This feels miserable and shitty and—

Quinn. Quinn is here.

Quinn is sitting in the corner of the hospital room, reading a book with red rimmed eyes and shaky hands.

Quinn she— she wasn’t here yesterday. You wonder for a moment how she could have found out, and then you realize…

Kurt.

Kurt went to school today. You figure he must have relayed the news to the Glee club. If you had been awake yesterday, or even the day before—the night you got into the crash—you would have told him not to tell her.

Quinn doesn’t deserve to find out about this the way she probably found out about this. Quinn doesn’t deserve the worry she’s probably feeling...you know it would have been better for you to text her yourself so she knew immediately that you were fine. So you would be able to downplay the injuries.

Kurt likes being dramatic, and Quinn likes to panic.

“Quinn, you can’t be here,” you rasp out, your throat dry from lack of use. Her green eyes immediately snap up towards you.

“Y/N,” Quinn breathes out, voice full of relief as she sets her book down and moves towards the side of your bed to cup your cheek. “They said you woke up earlier but I had to see it to believe it.”

You give her a weak smile, not able to resist nuzzling your face into her hands. Her eyes watering with more tears almost makes you regret it. “Baby,” you whisper, “Kurt...my dad...what if they see? Where are they?”

Quinn’s face morphs into something guilty and apprehensive. “They both... sort of know about our relationship now…” she rushes to continue when she sees your wide eyes, “they were shocked, but they seem to be doing fine with the news.”

You blink at her, once, twice, and then drop your eyes closed with a wince. “Kurt’s gonna bother me so much about this,” you mumble. “How did they find out?”

You feel Quinn tense before you manage to open your eyes to see it.

“Me yelling at the nice lady up front to let me see my girlfriend probably told them as much,” Quinn says slowly, as if she expects an angry reaction. You don’t feel much anger. You haven’t really cared about them knowing for a while now…

In the beginning it just made sense to keep it a secret from them. Now, not so much.

Plus, nearly dying put some things into perspective for you.

“Does Finn know?”

Now it’s Quinn’s turn to wince. “I’m not sure,” she admits quietly, then adds, “i’m sorry if i’ve made things awkward for you.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, a laugh that turns into a coughing fit, and then turns into a whole bunch of growling while you grit your teeth in pain. “Fuck, fuck, that really hurt.”

Quinn’s hand is trembling again. “Do you want me to get the doctors?” She asks, with no small amount of panic. She’s terrified, and has been terrified since the moment Kurt told her you were in an accident.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you assure her, ignoring the pull of stitches that feel like they’re everywhere, and the hurt in your ribs. “I’m sure Finn will get over it eventually, when he finds out.”

“It’s not as if you two were siblings when I dated him,” Quinn jokes, though her eyebrows are furrowed with her worry.

You give her a smile that you hope is reassuring and try to relax into the hospital bed. Your eyes are heavy with tiredness, and you feel extremely drugged (yet at the same time not drugged enough), but you want to stay awake for Quinn.

Quinn has other plans.

She kisses your forehead, then promises against the skin there, “i’ll be here when you wake up.”

And right before you drift off into the dream world, you hear her say; “please don’t do this to me again,” in a voice that’s so weak and scared that you want to open your eyes again and reassure her.

You fall asleep instead.

——-

Quinn is there when you wake up again, but so is Kurt.

They’re talking. About you, you realize bitterly. About the crash, and the physical therapy you’re going to need to go through for your shoulder.

They’re talking quietly, as if to not disturb you, and it’s weird hearing the two most important people in your life talk. Especially since you know that just a day ago Kurt was terrified of Quinn.

Maybe not terrified...he was intimidated. Everyone is of Quinn.

(Quinn admitted to you once that sometimes she thrives in their fear, and other times she just feels alone. She told you that she doesn’t want to hurt people anymore just because she’s hurting, and that she’s trying to make people comfortable around her again.

The intimidation used to be from fear, now it’s from awe, so you suppose her plan hasn’t really worked. People worship the ground she walks on.

You worship the ground she walks on.)

Quinn is more deep than you expected though, and more deep than you’re sure everyone else expects. She’s more funny, more smart, more self-deprecating, more hurt, more nerdy, more goofy—than you ever realized.

She’s just a person full of surprises.

“Y/N?”

You jump in the hospital bed in alarm, your side and shoulder aching in protest. Yep. Quinn is full of surprises.

“Are you okay?” Quinn asks, giving you a sad smile. “Sorry for shocking you.”

Kurt pokes his head over her shoulder (it’s weird seeing them so close), “you don’t look so good,” he points out, as if you hadn’t already figured that out. The glare you send him has him shrugging.

“I’m fine, babe.” You ignore Kurt’s smirk at the nickname. “Could one of you just ask the doctors for about twenty pills for the pain?”

“And a hairbrush,” Kurt jokes, though his eyes are lined with the worry he thinks he’s hiding well, “got it.”

“You try getting pushed off a small cliff by a truck, see how you look afterwards!” You yell at Kurt’s retreating back.

There’s a tense silence the second Kurt is out of the room. Quinn’s eyes are focused on a spot on the hospital sheets, and she doesn’t look at you, even as she tries to make a joke for some levity;

“Twenty pills is a definite overdose. I hope Kurt isn’t actually asking for that amount.”

You snort, shaking your head. “They wouldn’t give it to him even if he asked.” Then, quietly, you ask; “Quinn, are you alright?”

She shakes her head. “You almost died,” Quinn mumbles, and she says it like an explanation, you suppose it is one.

It was terrifying, those moments when the truck hit, and those long moments after when you were still conscious.

“I keep thinking about what would have happened if you weren’t even a bit as lucky as you were,” she admits, closing her eyes. “You almost died. The only reason you're here now is because you were lucky.”

“Quinn—”

“You can’t die,” Quinn says, her eyes desperate when they snap open to look into yours. “You don’t get to leave me. That can’t be an option.”

But it is, because nothing is really guaranteed in life. Quinn knows this, has known this since a very young age, you imagine.

“I’m sorry,” is the only thing you can manage to say in the face of Quinn’s sadness.

Quinn seems to get a hold of herself after your apology. She just shakes her head and runs a hand through her hair and she’s Quinn again. “It’s not your fault. Just work hard at getting better soon so you can help me get through the school days.”

You nod, then hesitate. “Will you love me if I never drive again?” It’s meant to be a joke but it comes out more seriously than you intend. Quinn’s eyes immediately go soft and loving.

“Yes. I’d love you even if you didn’t even want to sit in a car again,” she says, and you believe her. You believe her.

“Then you’d have to walk everywhere with me,” you laugh, even as tears fall down your cheek. Quinn immediately bends down to kiss them away.

“The more calories burned, the more junk food I can have,” Quinn reassures, and you love her.

You love her so damn much.

——

Kurt is eyeing you and Quinn with something like wonderments in his eyes later that day.

Quinn can’t bring herself to care much though. What he thinks about her relationship with you in the least of her concerns right now. The only thing she really cares about right now is you.

She cares about you looking at her the way you’re looking at her right now, with a dopey drug induced smile. She cares about the fact that you’re looking at her at all. You’re looking at her right now because you’re alive.

You’re alive, Quinn reminds herself. The what if’s don’t matter.

“Quinn, will you marry me?” You ask, words slurred together. It brings Quinn straight out of her thoughts and into the real world.

She blinks at you for a couple of seconds and then nods uncertainty. You won’t remember this anyways, Quinn assures herself, but as she looks over her shoulder at Kurt’s wide eyes she realizes that he will.

Welp.

“One day,” Quinn continues, for appearance sake. Kurt snorts behind her.

She can’t be whipped enough for her girlfriend that she accepts a proposal this young. (She is though. She hates to admit that she’s incapable of saying no to a question like that from you, but it’s the truth.)

“I wanna get married now,” You protest, and Quinn doesn’t really know what to say to that.

“Y/N you can’t force the girl to marry you. Have some respect,” Kurt says, laughter in his voice. Quinn’s thankful for his intervention, though she won’t show it.

You pout at Kurt, and then at Quinn, “Fine. Just tell me when you’re ready, okay?” You ask, and Quinn loves desperately. She loves.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Not even Kurt’s rambling about ‘the disgustingness of love’ keeps her from the lightness in her chest at seeing you smile at her the way you are now.

You’re going to be okay.

The both of you will be, Quinn realizes, when Kurt cuts off his complaints to start planning for your wedding.

“We won’t be getting married for a while,” Quinn reminds the both of them. She gets blissfully ignored after a side glance from Kurt and another pout from you.

She’ll be okay, and even—Quinn realizes—Kurt will be. She wasn’t paying attention to how devastated he seemed earlier today, but in the face of his relief and happiness the differences between his behavior now seem obvious now.

He was devastated, but he’s okay now, because you’re awake. Quinn’s okay now because you're awake.

“Quinn, will you wear a suit for the wedding?” You ask, bringing Quinn out of her thoughts for probably the fifth time today.

Kurt snickers at Quinn’s resounding grimace, and his amusement only raises when Quinn mumbles, hesitantly, “we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“That sounds like a no, dear sister.”

#quinn fabray x reader #glee x reader #glee imagine #x fem!reader #fem reader #quinn fabray imagine #quinn fabray #fanfic

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years ago

Text

You’re not my type [Hotch x Reader]

Summary: Reader is the new press liaison to the elite Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. A stray comment from her leads to a lot of questions from her teammates, especially her unit chief, Aaron Hotchner. When they’re thrown together on a case that hits close to home for Reader, will that comment tear them apart? Or will it bring them closer together?

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner / (Female) Reader

Rating: Mature

Category: Angst then smut, with plenty of fluff sprinkled throughout.

Word Count: 8.4k

Content Warning: This gets pretty angst heavy in places. The team is chasing an Unsub that’s a serial r*pist/mu*derer. Mentions of an attempted a*sault to someone Reader cares about. Providing comfort to victims of the unsub. It’s dark in places, but if you can stick with me, I promise I will mend the angst and take you to the land of smut and fluff. Because there is plenty of smut.

A/n: Have you ever had a story that just grabbed hold of you and refused to let go? This story was supposed to be half this length and pure fluff. Reader and Hotch dug their claws into me and made me tell their own story. I’m not mad at it, and if you give it a chance, I hope you love it as much as I do. masterlist

y/n = your name. y/l/n = your last name. italicized text = reader’s thoughts

--“You’re not my type” --

The clock was moving so slowly, I couldn't help but think it was moving backward.

Come on, hurry up. I wanna go home.

I sighed, resigning myself to the fact that it was going to be 4:30 pm for the rest of my life. I still had some files to hand out to the team; I usually do that part of my very glamorous job in the mornings, but since I had nothing but time now, I thought why not.

I had been a “sort of” member of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit for 5 months. Jennifer- wait, JJ, had the job as media liaison before me; she was the last person to officially hold the position. When she left the unit chief of the BAU, Aaron Hotchner, and the technical analyst, Penelope Garcia, had split the roll. That is until Chief Strauss had decided that she wanted the BAU to run more efficiently. Meaning that Hotch got less paperwork, Garcia got a break from talking about mutilated bodies, and I got shuffled around from the public relations office.

Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed working with the team, I really did, but I couldn't help but feel excluded sometimes. They're all practically a family. I didn't really have any sort of family anymore, just a best friend that has always felt more like a sister.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I made my way towards the bullpen, shoving the doors open to see the team sitting on various desks talking to each other. Loudly.

“Shut UP, man!” Derek Morgan’s voice was loud, but amusement was clear on his face. Actually, everyone seemed sort of amused. Rossi and Hotch were leaning on the railing near their respective offices, watching the events unfold with smiles on their faces.

Hotch smiles? Huh. Weird.

I quickly tried to make my way around them, hoping none of them would notice me.

“Okay, I know how we can settle this. Y/n!” Shit. No such luck. I turned to look at Emily Prentiss, with her long dark hair and angular face. Why is everybody here so fucking pretty?

I cleared my throat, trying to compose my face. “Yes?”

“Answer something for us.” Everyone seemed very eager for me to be a part of this now, which I didn’t think was a good sign.

“I’ll do my best.”

She smiled at me like she was sensing her victory. "If Morgan asked you on a date, what would you say?"

Oh, they couldn’t have picked a worse person to play this game.

I chuckled awkwardly, trying to appear calm. “Um…I’d probably say no.” Morgan took a dramatically loud breath before slapping his hand to his chest. “No offense,” I quickly added.

Morgan wasn’t giving up his dramatics that easily. “Damn, girl! You’re gonna cut me down just like that?”

“I’m sorry,” I said with an awkward laugh. “You’re just not my type.”

Garcia’s eyebrows hit her hairline. “Excuse me? He’s not your type? Tall, dark, and extremely well-muscled isn’t your type?” She scoffed like I was insane; I mean, maybe I was. Jury’s out. “What about that is unappealing to you?”

I couldn’t think of a believable lie, so I went with the truth. “The tall and extremely well-muscled part.” I shifted from foot to foot anxiously.

Emily blinked. “O-okay. Fair enough,” she laughed, looking at me like she’d never seen me before.

I was preparing to turn and make a very quick escape, but JJ had other plans. "Woah, woah, woah," the blonde hopped off the desk, walking a bit closer to me. "If Morgan isn't your type…who is?"

Fuck me running. “Um…” I trailed off. “I don’t think I really have a type, to be honest.”

"Do you like men," Morgan chimed in. "No judgment, little mama."

Not for the first time, I wished I was a lesbian. “I am sadly mostly heterosexual.” I was convinced no one could be completely heterosexual, it just didn’t seem natural.

Emily chuckled at that. “Okay then,” her hand moved up to adjust her dark bangs, something she did when she was thinking. “What if Hotch asked you out?”

“Okay, okay, don’t drag me into this,” the Unit Chef boomed out, much to Rossi’s amusement.

“…Um.” Why couldn’t I just die? “Sorry, boss, but no.”

Morgan crossed his arms over his chest. “Is Hotch also too tall and well-muscled.”

“Probably,” I answered without much thought. “I can’t comment on the state of his muscles. But he’s very…big. And he intimidates me.” I didn’t let my eyes stray to my boss; I simply couldn’t.

"Ah-ha. There it is!" Morgan slapped his hands together like he had solved some big puzzle. "You don't like men that intimidate you. So, if pretty boy over here asked you out, you'd say yes."

I didn't know a person's ears could blush until that moment when my eyes drifted over to Dr. Spencer Reid. The tips of his ears were bright pink and he was looking anywhere but at me.

I answered honestly again, I figured they’d know if I lied. Fucking profilers. “Yeah, I would say yes. But only if I didn’t know him.” Spencer’s eyes finally shifted over towards me. “You’re easily one of the most brilliant people in the world. You’d be bored to tears on a date with me,” I said, my gaze meeting his wide eyes.

The boy genius’s head tilted ever so slightly to the side, his lips moving like he muttered something under his breath.

Is it 5 yet?

JJ wasn’t totally prepared to let this go, because she asked, “Okay, so a yes to Spence, a no to Hotch and Morgan.” She tapped her chin with her index finger. “What about Will? You’ve met my husband, right?”

I had indeed met her husband with his Princess and The Frog accent. I couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I met him the other day when he brought your son by. And…I don’t know, maybe him. He doesn’t give off an air of intimidation.” Which was the nicest way I could say ‘your husband doesn’t scare the shit out of me.’

I glanced down at my watch, seeing it was finally 4:55 pm. “Sorry guys, I need to get these files out before I go home.” With an overly bright smile, I darted away as fast as my uncomfortable shoes would let me.

My final stop was Hotch’s office, and I was so relieved that he wasn’t in it for once. I placed the file on his desk, looking at the pictures of a little boy, his son, I assumed, on his desk.

“I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

I'm not sure what I was more embarrassed by, the tiny yelp that escaped my lips or how I smacked my hand over my chest in such a dramatic fashion that I could have given Derek Morgan a run for his money. "Jesus fucking Christ, Hotch! You scared the shit out of me!"

His lips twitched in poorly concealed amusement, either at my reaction or my swearing at him. “Sorry, y/n. I didn’t know I needed to knock before I entered my office. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Oh, this guy has jokes now too.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at his dry humor. “I’m sorry. I startle easily. I didn’t mean to swear at you.”

“Y/n, I’ve been with the bureau for almost 20 years. Trust me, I’ve heard worse.”

I bet he has.

“Well,” I cleared my throat awkwardly. “Alright then. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.”

“Of course,” he stepped out of the doorway so I could exit. “Y/n?” He said it like it was an afterthought. “Do you really find me intimidating?”

My eyes were wide as I looked all the way up at him. Really, what was the point in being that tall? "Oh, absolutely, sir." Then I hurried out the door, not wanting to see his reaction or lack thereof.

After stopping by my office, I was waiting for the elevator when I felt someone behind me; turning I saw the pretty boy himself standing awkwardly off to my side. I offered him a small smile before shifting my attention back to the bank of elevators in front of me.

The middle one opened first, Spencer waved me in first before he entered and hit the button for the ground floor.

He was clearly working up his nerves to say something, you didn’t have to be a profiler to see that. “Hey, um, y/n?” I turned my head in his direction, waiting for him to continue. “What you said back there…that you’d go on a date with me if I asked, did you mean that?”

There was that blush again, he really was adorable. “Of course, I meant it, Spencer.” He didn’t look convinced. “I mean, why would I lie? I turned Morgan down right away. And Hotch, who is my boss.”

Spencer let out a small laugh at that, unable to argue against my point. “I guess that’s true.” The elevator doors opened, he waved me out first, again, before exiting himself. “Do you really think that I’d be bored on a date with you?”

"I mean, you have 3 Ph.D.'s and a super high IQ." I waved my free hand around, gesturing to myself like it would help me prove my point. "And look at me. I'm smart, but I'm not that smart. I couldn't put you through a date like that."

He didn’t seem to appreciate my self-deprecating humor. I headed for the doors without giving him a chance to respond. “Have a good night, Dr. Reid!” I offered a small wave before I all but sprinted out the doors towards the parking garage.

Why? Just why?

“We have to catch him before this turns into a spree,” Hotch’s voice was grave, his face the same stern mask it always was. “Wheels up in 30.”

Taking that as a dismissal, the team rose from the table, hurrying towards their respective desks to get their go-bags. That was the part of this job that took the longest to get used to. I never traveled much in public relations; now I'm on a plane several times a week. That in itself wouldn't be so bad…if I didn't still get terrible motion sickness. I don’t know why I hadn’t gotten used to it yet, but I had to keep some non-drowsy motion sickness pills in my go-bag at all times. I tried to take them before I boarded the jet; it was probably silly, but I didn’t really want the team to know. They were all superheroes in my eyes; superheroes don’t get motion sickness.

I was the last one to board the jet today. I was usually one of the first onboard, but I got held up on my way here speaking to someone from my old office. When I came through the plane's doors there rest of the team was spread out. Dr. Reid was laying on the couch, book propped open in his lap. Emily and JJ were on one side of the table with Morgan and Rossi on the other. The only seats available were towards the back of the plane; I could have sat by myself…or I could sit in the seat across from Hotch.

I always get anxiety about things other people find silly. I’m a grown woman, I should be more confident; I’m a fucking FBI agent for god’s sake. Yet here I was, nervously trying to decide where to sit. It would be weird to not sit near him, I reasoned. Offering Hotch a tight smile before I stored my go-bag, I sat down across the aisle from him.

I fastened my seatbelt over my lap, taking deep breaths through my nose. I had taken my medicine, but take off always got me a little bit, no matter what. I never took a window seat either, sometimes I’d look out and see how fast the world was passing by underneath us and…I shuddered just thinking about it.

"Hey," the voice beside me called, his voice was so quiet I don't think any of the others could hear it. I opened my eyes and turned to face him. His dark eyes looked oddly soft like he was concerned about me. "Are you alright?"

I offered him a tight smile. “Yeah, I’m okay, Hotch.”

"Did you take your medicine?" At my puzzled expression, he clarified. "For motion sickness."

What in the- “How did you know I get motion sickness?”

The corners of his mouth quirked up. “I’m a profiler, y/n, and I’ve been one for a long time.”

A little chuckle left my lips at that, right as the plane started moving forward, gaining speed for takeoff. I closed my eyes, telling myself that it was the impending take off that was causing my stomach to flutter, not the fact that my boss, who I thought was always indifferent to me, noticed me more than I thought he did.

Cases with kids were the hardest, there was no question about it. For me, the second hardest cases were women who were assaulted. It filled my gut with such a heavy, boiling rage whenever I thought about it. These women were just living their lives, unaware of the danger that was hunting them. Some fucking monster decided that being a man in our society didn’t offer him enough power; he had to hurt women, try to take their power so that he could feel more powerful.

I had heard stories about Elle Greenaway, the agent that resigned under suspicion that she shot a rapist in cold blood. I never commented on it, but I can’t say as I blame her. That attitude is probably why I don’t comment on it, I thought dryly.

The unsub the team was hunting in Northern Texas was a serial rapist and murderer. He had claimed 3 victims in the past 2 weeks; the locals were concerned that his pattern and level of violence were escalating too rapidly. The BAU agreed.

They started piecing this monster together through the clues he left behind. A white male, mid 30's, has a high-power job, won't be able to have stable relationships with women. They were tracking his comfort zone, interviewing families, and canvassing for information.

My job was to warn the women of this small town that there was a monster lurking in the shadows.

The team was sitting around in a small room in the center of the police station that was crammed with evidence boards. Emily was leaned back in her chair, JJ's head resting on her shoulder. Dr. Reid was facing the map of the county like if he stared at it long enough and answer would just pop into his head. Morgan's head was in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Rossi and Hotch were talking in the corner, glancing around the room every so often.

Eventually, our leader cleared his throat. "Okay, lets head back to the hotel." At the groans of a few team members, he pressed on. "I know, I want to find this guy too. But we all need rest. We'll come back tomorrow with fresh eyes."

With that, we all headed to the black SUVs parked outside, ready to head to whatever hotel the bureau put us in for the night. The drive was quick, we all stood in the lobby while Hotch spoke to whoever was at the front desk. The conversation seemed to take longer than I needed to.

He walked back over, looking mildly uncomfortable. “There aren’t enough open rooms,” he said at last. “We’ll have to double up.” He held out his hand which contained 3 key cards.

…Wait a minute. “There are 7 of us.”

Hotch nodded. “Therein lies the problem. One room will have to have 3 people.”

I turned towards Emily and JJ, assuming I’d just room with them when Rossi interrupted. “No offense, guys. But…I’m old,” he laughed, his whole face lighting up. “I need my beauty sleep. I’m not sharing a room. I’ll go get my own.”

"They don't have any rooms, Dave."

Rossi looked at Hotch with a patronizing little smile that would have been extremely offensive coming from anyone else. “They don’t have any rooms for you," he clarified. "Not only am I old, but I'm also rich."

Sure enough, he walked over to the desk and spoke to the clerk for less than a minute before he was handed a keycard.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Morgan said with a laugh.

Rossi turned to us then, his eyes filled with poorly hidden mirth. “Sogni d’oro!” And with that, he walked towards the elevators.

“Huh?” JJ asked, her voice scratchy.

“Sweet dreams,” Reid and Prentiss supplied at the same time.

“Right.” Morgan shook his head. “Come on pretty Ricky.”

It hit me right then. Oh hell.

Hotch seemed to realize it at the same time Prentiss did. “Y/n, you room with JJ, I’ll stay with Hotch.”

Somehow this was more embarrassing than the conversation in the bullpen. “No,” I said quickly. “No, you guys go. I’ll room with Hotch.” I put a smile on my face, hoping I was convincing.

“Y/l/n, you just said that I intimidated you.”

Again, why couldn’t the earth just swallow me up? My laugh was forced, but hopefully, they hadn't heard my real laugh enough to know the difference. "Intimidated to go on a date with, Hotch. This isn't like that." Right? “C’mon! I’m sleepy.”

With that display of false bravado, I grabbed a key and made my way towards the elevators. I felt his presence behind me as we walked down the hall towards our rooms. I tried to control my heartbeat, calm my breathing the closer we got to the room. This is ridiculous, y/n. I had shared a room with Morgan before, no problem. I was comfortable around the team, I really was. Not for the first time, I wish I had the sense to not open my big mouth.

I reached for the door right when Hotch cleared his throat; I busied myself with getting into the room, ignoring him. Was it cowardly? Yes. Did I care? Not at that moment.

Until I walked into the room…and saw that there was one bed. Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me. “What is this, a rom-com?” I apparently didn’t mumble that part as quietly as I thought I had given the soft laugh I heard come from the man behind me.

“Y/n,” he said, his hand coming to my shoulder. “I didn’t realize there would only be one bed. Come on, let’s go down to Prentiss and JJ’s room.”

I let out a groan. “Hoooootch,” I whined. “All of this is just making me more embarrassed. This wouldn’t even be an issue if I hadn’t been a dumbass and opened my big mouth. This isn’t a big deal but going to talk to them will make it a big deal.”

He didn't look convinced, but I was so tired. I reached out and grabbed his arm before I could think better of it. "Aaron," my voice was soft, barely a whisper, but it was like he'd been struck by lightning. His eyes snapped up to mine, his lips parted slightly. It was then I realized I'd never called him by his first name before. "I trust you with my life. You'd intimidate me if I didn't know you. But I do know you, Aaron." My gaze never wavered from his.

“Okay.”

I laid in bed for 30 minutes pretending to be asleep. I listened to his breathing even out and I kept my back to him the entire time. I had tried to keep my bedtime routine brief, taking a quick shower and changing into my sleep shorts and a baggy shirt I’d had since college. My hair was pulled back so I wouldn’t get it wet in the shower.

The weirdest thing was seeing Hotch in normal clothes. In all the months I’d worked with him, I had never seen him not in a suit. He had a pair of flannel pajama pants on, a gray t-shirt stretched over his broad chest. He has really nice arms, I thought.

When I was sure he was asleep, I rolled over onto my back. My eyes had long since adjusted to the dark, allowing me to just stare at the ceiling.

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

I let out a squeak while my whole body jerked. "Goddamnit, Hotch!” That asshole had the nerve to chuckle. “Stop scaring me!”

“I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding even slightly sorry.

“I thought you were asleep.”

He rolled onto his back; I felt his eyes on my face. “I know,” was all he said.

I sighed, wondering how I had gotten myself into such a situation. “You really don’t intimidate me.” He made a noise which caused me to amend my statement. “Alright, alright. You do intimidate me. You’re just so…stern. And you’re so tall. What is the purpose of being that tall? It’s excessive. And I feel like your eyes can see through every single thing about me. I didn’t know you had muscles until today, but I always assumed you did. They’re very nice muscles-“ I cut myself off. Fuck.

That was the first time I ever heard Aaron Hotchner laugh. Not chuckle, not snicker quietly. He actually laughed. His laugh was a higher pitch than his speaking voice; it boomed out of him and transformed the whole mood in the room. That laugh warmed a part of my heart that I wasn’t comfortable thinking about. A huge grin broke out on my face. I made him laugh, and I was oddly proud of it.

“Thanks, y/n,” his voice was still filled with amusement. “I hadn’t known you were curious about the state of my muscles. You should have just said something.”

My head snapped to the side so my eyes could meet his. He was teasing me. SSA Aaron Hotchner, BAU unit Chief, was teasing me. I lifted my hand to his arm, giving him a shove. His bicep feels like granite. “Shut up.”

That asshat just kept laughing at me.

“Anyway, you do intimidate me,” my voice was soft again. “But I’m not afraid of you.”

Aaron regarded me thoughtfully. “So, it’s not that you’re not attracted to intimidating men,” he surmised. “You’re afraid of men.”

“Not all men,” I countered. “I’m afraid of men like you. Not you, but ones like you. You overwhelm me.”

He was quiet for a few moments. “Y/n…did someone hurt you?”

It was a natural question, a normal thought process; I should have expected the question. I felt tears prick the corner of my eyes. “Yes,” I whispered, feeling safe in the darkness of the room, safe but still so alone. “But not in the way you think.” I filled my lungs with a deep breath, hoping I would find some courage. It wasn’t until I felt his hand brush over mine, his calloused fingers brushing over the back of my hand, that I finally found it. I flipped my palm up and laced my fingers through his. He gave me a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ve had the same best friend all my life,” I began. “She’s marvelous. We’ve always been together; her mom said we were like peanut butter and jelly. I love her like she’s a part of me, Aaron.” I knew he would understand; I just knew it. “We were in college when it happened. We went to this frat party because I had a crush on some guy.” My voice was filled with venom and bitterness. “He was overwhelming, so tall, and so handsome. There was a darkness in him, but I was too young to see it. She did; my best friend could see he was a monster. I didn’t listen.” My breath was shuddering through me. “I didn’t listen to her, Hotch.”

He didn't say anything. He just shifted in the bed and pulled me to him, nestling me into his side, wrapping his arms around me while I laid my head on his chest. "I was so mad at her. So mad." The shame from all those years ago was still so fresh. "She took my drink and threw it on the floor. I told her she was embarrassing me… So, I went outside to get some air."

His arm tightened around me, his free hand coming up to stroke my hair. “You don’t have to-“

“I do,” I said, refusing to let another sob escape. “I came back inside and couldn’t find either of them. I thought maybe she was going to hook up with some guy…but she isn’t like that. She’s never been like that.” My stomach rolled at the thought; sometimes when I closed my eyes I could still smell the beer in the air, I could still feel the wood of the banister under my fingers. “I found them in a room upstairs. He had her pinned on the bed, he was-he-he was trying to take her pants off.” I didn’t deserve the comfort Aaron offered me in that moment, but I clung to him, grateful for it. “I screamed, and I guess I scared him. She kneed him and was able to push him off. We ran all the way home.”

“You saved her, y/n,” Aaron’s voice was so sure, so reassuring, no matter how hard I shook my head ‘no’. “You did. You could have just left; you were mad at her, but you still went back for her.”

I wiped my eyes. “You make it sound so simple.”

His lips pressed softly against my forehead, his hand stroking up and down my back. “That’s because it is.”

Things felt different in the harsh light of the police station than they had last night. Aaron was already in the shower when I woke up this morning. I fell asleep in his arms after I told him one of my darkest secrets. He didn't judge me; he didn't tell me I was a terrible person. He just held me; he offered me comfort and made me feel deserving of that comfort.

I dressed quickly and headed downstairs before he got out of the bathroom. My feelings were already swirling around in my head. It wasn’t that I wanted to be away from him, not at all. I just didn’t think it would help my feelings settle down to be confronted by a wet, hot, well-muscled Aaron Hotchner. It was an act of self-preservation if you think about it, I reasoned.

The next time I saw him was when the team was piling back into the SUVs to head to the police station. He offered me a small smile, and I think his eyes may have twinkled a little bit when I smiled back at him a little too brightly.

Profilers.

The team was as refreshed as they could be. Dr. Reid was looking at access and service roads on the map, trying to determine the route the unsub took to dispose of his victims. JJ and Morgan were out canvassing the women's neighborhoods. Rossi was with Prentiss in the sheriff's office speaking with the family of the most recent victim, Bethany Mooreland.

This was the hardest part of my job. I wasn’t a profiler. I felt like I had nothing to offer. I was fielding calls from the media, trying to organize a targeted strategy. The team thought that if the unsub saw that he was being mocked in the press, or his masculinity was called into question in any way, that he would act out more viciously. While acting out might cause him to make a mistake, we couldn’t risk another woman’s life.

The conference room doors burst open, Hotch storming inside with Morgan and JJ hot on his heels. “There’s been another attack.”

I felt my stomach drop. “Fuck.”

“Y/n, she’s alive.”

“…What?!”

The dark-haired man that held me in his arms last night only nodded. “She’s at the hospital. I want you to come with JJ and me to interview her.”

…Me?

Summer Webb was 25 years old; she was a customer service rep at a call center just outside of town. She lived alone, had a cat named Pringles, and was close with her family.

I held her hand while JJ and Hotch put her through a cognitive interview. I rubbed her back while she recounted how the unsub only left her because he thought she was dead. Tears ran down my cheeks when she described what he did to her.

Steel and ice ran through my veins when I looked her in the eyes and promised that we would get this monster.

I’d kill him myself if I had to.

Once her mother arrived at the hospital, we left, promising to call with any updates; uniformed officers were stationed outside her hospital door. Hotch spoke to Garcia, then to Rossi, then to Reid, then Garcia again on our ride back. JJ read over Summer’s statement, occasionally jotting down notes.

I was quiet.

Almost. Almost there. I walked into the station without really seeing it. I navigated my way down the hall on instinct. I pushed the door to the bathroom open, looked around to confirm I was alone…then I broke. I placed my hands on the countertop that housed 3 separate sinks, my tears ran down my cheeks and splashed on the fake granite.

I don’t know how long I had been there when I thought I heard a knock on the door. That didn’t make any sense, the door didn’t have a lock; there were multiple stalls in this bathroom.

But I had heard a knock. The door swung open and someone walked inside. I heard him whisper my name, the tone of his voice was so soft, so fucking sad, that it only made me cry harder. Aaron put his hands on my shoulders, turning me around to face him, then letting me collapse against him.

He murmured words I couldn’t understand against the top of my head, he wrapped his arms tight around me; I was sure I would have fallen completely apart if he wasn’t holding me together.

“You must think I’m so weak,” I muttered when my tears had finally slowed.

He stiffened, though his hands never stopped moving, stroking my hair and my back. "Just the opposite, y/n." I pulled back to meet his eyes; I saw nothing but honesty swirling in those dark brown pools. His eyes appeared so dark from far away, almost black. From this close, I could see the subtle shift between various shades of brown. They weren't cold like I had always suspected; Aaron Hotchner's eyes were warm and understanding. They were the eyes of a man who had seen far too much evil for one lifetime but refused to yield his fight for even a second.

I could fall in love with those eyes.

“You’re the furthest thing from weak I’ve ever seen,” he continued. “Your heart is so big that it aches for a woman you don’t even know. It’s alright to cry right now, it’s alright to let yourself fall down for a moment. But I know you, y/n,” he was repeating my words from last night back to me. “You’re going to pull yourself back together. And then you’re going to help us find that son of a bitch before he hurts anyone else.”

Maybe I could fall in love with more than just his eyes.

There are certain moments in my life that I will look back on and remember with perfect clarity. That night when I almost lost my best friend, the day I graduated from the academy, the first night I spent in Aaron Hotchner’s arms were just a few.

I would also remember when the call came in from Garcia; how Morgan and Reid ran into the room. How Hotch’s eyes shot to mine when we found out the monster’s name. I didn’t have to ask; he nodded at me, those warm brown eyes were hidden now, hardened by pure ice-cold rage.

I strapped on my vest and road in the back seat in the SUV Morgan drove.

Summer’s monster was named Jeremy Carpenter. Her monster was a white man with brown hair, brown eyes, with a scar on the back of his right hand.

None of us were sure how he knew we were coming, but he had already barricaded himself inside his house. We heard a scream when the first gunshot was fired. I wanted more than anything to bring Summer's monster in alive; I wanted to offer her the chance to face him if she wanted to.

Aaron didn’t ask if I wanted to go to the hospital once everything was over; he really did know me. He took me to see her, he kept his hand on my back while I told Summer and her mother what happened. What I will remember most of all is how her mother hugged me when I told her the monster was gone, that he would never harm anyone ever again. I hit him in his leg; he was in pain before our unit chief put a bullet between his eyes.

We had come to the hospital alone; the rest of the team went back to the station to finish up paperwork. I held his hand on the way back to the hotel; I held his hand while we walked to our room.

I offered him a small smile before I made my way into the bathroom, determined to wash the events of the day off of my skin.

He was gone when I came back out.

It goes without saying that I had doubted most men in my life, especially since that night all those years ago.

I never once doubted Aaron Hotchner.

I was sitting on the bed when he came back, staring at the TV without seeing.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I thought you’d still be in the shower.” He set two bags down on the only table in our room. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast. I thought-“

“Hotch,” he looked at me then, his eyes locking onto mine. “Thank you.” I didn’t need to specify for what. He knows.

He pulled our food out while I made my way to the table. I couldn’t hold in my chuckle. “You know I get motion sickness; you know my favorite foods…just how closely do you pay attention to me, Agent Hotchner?”

He didn’t look the least bit embarrassed. “More closely than I should.”

We sat together and ate in comfortable silence. The next time he spoke was to answer a phone call from Jack. I tried to hide my smile while I listened to his conversation. Unlike the rest of his team, I hadn’t gotten to see Aaron Hotchner, the father. What is it about men being good father’s that is so attractive, I mused. Is it biological? I made a note to ask Dr. Reid.

After we ate, he went to shower while I stretched out on our bed, scrolling through my phone. When Hotch emerged from the bathroom he was in another pair of flannel pants paired with a black t-shirt. I pursed my lips in both amusement and disappointment.

“What?” His eyebrow was raised quizzically. Why are his eyebrows hot?

I giggled. "Nothing." At his incredulous look, I amended, "it's nothing interesting."

He sat down beside me on the right side of the bed, his back resting against the headboard. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Hooootch,” I whined, covering my face with my hands. “I’ve already embarrassed myself in front of you enough for one lifetime.”

His hand came up to grab mine, pulling them down from my face. Any attempts I made to wiggle away from him were in vain. Apparently, those muscles aren’t all show and no go. My body had shifted down the bed during my halfhearted struggles, meaning Aaron was now propped up on his elbow, his body angled over mine. “Embarrassed? I don’t remember any embarrassing times,” he pretended to give this some thought. “Unless you’re referring to last night when you mentioned how much you think about my muscles?”

I tried to jerk my arms out of his hands, but he held fast, laughing openly while my face turned red. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you not talking about that?” He pushed my arms back onto the bed, rising to his knees, positioning his body over me, his face hovering over mine. “Then it must have been when you lied to the whole team a few days ago.”

I squeaked in outrage. “I didn’t lie about anything!”

He was so beautiful when that scowl left his face. “Yes, you did!” he insisted. “You said you wouldn’t say ‘yes’ if I asked you out. And, based on the evidence, I have to say I don’t believe that to be true.”

“Oh, I forgot I was dealing with a former prosecutor.” He nodded gravely, earning another giggle from me. “Okay, counselor. What’s the evidence?”

“The most glaring piece of evidence is you won’t tell me what you were thinking when you were looking at me when I came out of the shower.”

I let out a whine, accepting my fate. He’s literally on top of you, dumbass. Something tells me he’s gonna be receptive. “Okay, okay. I may have…hurried out of the room this morning while you were in the shower.”

Hotch quirked an eyebrow. “I know. Go on.”

“Asshole,” I muttered, delighted when he laughed. Hearing his laugh was one thing, but seeing it too? My insides were basically liquid. “I may have ran as an act of self-preservation. I was…worried that you’d come out of the bathroom in a towel. And you’d be wet, and hot, and I would…make an idiot out of myself, much like I am now.”

Aaron was delighted by how bright red my face turned; he made no attempt to hide his amusement. “So, just now, you were disappointed that I came out fully clothed?”

“Hotch,” I moaned out in embarrassment. He wasn’t making this easy on me.

My eyes were shut tight, my head turned away from him like this would somehow prevent him from seeing me. His left hand lifted from my wrist, his fingers coming to rest on my chin, turning my face towards him. "If you're going to moan my name while we're in bed, y/n, I'd prefer if you called me Aaron." My eyes snapped open. His eyes were still warm, teasing, but there was a certain heat in them I hadn’t seen before that made my lower belly flutter. He leaned closer to my face. “It would be hard for me to focus at work if you every time you said ‘Hotch’ I thought about you like this.”

I waited for a few moments for him to act before I realized Aaron couldn’t cross the line first. He wouldn’t be mean if I rejected him; that wasn’t the type of man he was. But the choice was mine; it had always been mine.

I lifted my free hand up to cup the side of his face, urging him closer to me. The first brush of my lips over his was so soft I wasn't sure it was even happening. It was so hesitant but so pure that it made me ache. Aaron pulled back to look at me; he was breathing hard like he had been running instead of just kissing me.

“Y/n…”

“Don’t profile me, Aaron.” I lifted my head, my teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “I want this. I want you.”

His posture shifted, he released my left arm to brace himself above me with his arms caging me in; he moved his legs, wedging one of his thighs in between mine. “I’m not profiling you. I can see how much you want this.” No need to sound so arrogant. “But I need to be sure…I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.”

My hands moved up to touch him, one hand feeling the soft hair at the nape of his neck that was still a little damp from the shower; my other hand gripped his bicep. “Then touch me, Aaron. Please.”

I wasn’t ready for the full force of Aaron Hotchner. He was the most intense man I had ever known, and that intensity didn’t stop in the bedroom. Aaron didn’t kiss me, he tried to consume me. His mouth moved over mine with a carnal hunger that made me throb, shifting against his firm thigh that was rested against me. I was desperate for any friction. I felt his hand move down from where it was cupping my face to rest on my collarbone, his thumb tracing over the base of my throat.

His lips moved off of mine to blaze a path down my jaw, his teeth nipping at the skin there before he moved back to my lips. “Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He pushed his thigh against the seam of my body, causing a whimper to escape from my throat. I didn’t even mind the smirk that covered his mouth. “We’ll get there. Just let me make you feel good.”

I opened my mouth to him; his tongue swirled around mine while the hand that wasn’t bracing him up moved to my hip. His fingers ran over the skin of my stomach that was exposed from my shirt riding up. I placed my hand over his, guiding it further up my stomach; how was I supposed to take my mouth away from his to tell him what I wanted?

Of course, Aaron knew what I needed; I was beginning to learn that he always did. His fingers trailed up my body until he got to the underside of my breast; the callouses that roughened his fingertips were heaven on my overly sensitive skin. My mouth broke away from his in a guttural cry when those fingers finally found my nipple. Aaron moved his kisses down to the side of my throat. I felt his breath against my throat when he murmured, “you’re so sexy, y/n.”

Raising up on his knees, he started tugging my shirt up; I lifted my upper body so I could slide my shirt off quickly. I heard Aaron groan when my chest was revealed to him, but I was on a mission of my own. Once I had his shirt pulled up over his abdomen, Aaron reached behind his back and pulled his shirt off at the neck.

My nails raked down the skin that covered his chest, reveling in the groan that left his mouth. He leaned over me again, his lips wasting no time before they covered my nipple. My hands tried to grip the short hair at the back of his head.

“Aaron,” I gasped out. “I need…more. Please.”

He started kissing his way to my other breast. “What do you need, sweetheart? Do you want to grind against my thigh? Do you need to use me to get off?” His tongue flicked over my nipple. “Or do you want me to use my hand? Is that what you need, Angel?” My heart stuttered at the sweet nickname just as much as it did at his filthy words. “Do you need me to put my fingers in your pussy?”

My thighs were shifting restlessly. “Yes, yes, please Aaron.”

When his mouth closed around my nipple, I felt his left-hand slide down into my shorts, then into my panties. He shifted his wrist, allowing his hand to cup me. He groaned against my skin. "I haven't even put a finger inside of you and I can already feel how wet you are. Your little cunt is just dripping for me.”

I didn’t have a chance to respond before he parted my lips, his finger ghosting over my clit, causing my back to arch off the bed. He smirked but didn’t tease me further; he slid his fingers down to my opening before pushing his middle and ring finger inside of me, using the heel of his hand to grind against my clit. I moved my hand to my mouth, having to bite on my skin to silence the scream that his actions brought forward.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He leaned back, never pausing the movement of his fingers. “Are you trying to be quiet? Do you not want everyone in this hotel to know how wet you are? How desperate you are to have my fingers inside of you?” All I could do was nod. “It’s all right, baby. Once we get home, I’ll hear you scream for me. But for now; be a good girl and try to be quiet. I’m the only one that gets to hear what you sound like when you cum for me.”

I was grinding against him, working my hips desperately, matching his rhythm. I was so close. “Aaron, NO!” was all I could say when he removed his fingers from inside me. The man just smiled at me, looking me straight in my eyes when he put his fingers in his mouth, licking me off of them.

He grabbed my shorts and panties at my hips, roughly jerking them off my body. “When we get home,” he said as he slowly started to push his own pajama pants down. “The first thing I’m going to do is lay on my back and make you put this pussy on my mouth. You taste so good, angel.” His cock sprang free; he was so much thicker than I expected. I was transfixed, just watching his fist pump up and down his hard length. “Will you do that for me? Will you ride my face?”

“Yes,” I was so desperate I would agree to anything in that moment. “I’ll do anything. Just please fuck me, Aaron.”

He used the fingers of his free hand to part my pussy lips again, rubbing over my clit. “I don’t have a condom, sweetheart, but-“

“I’m on the pill,” I reach out to grip his shoulders, pulling him on top of me. “I trust you. I trust you with everything. I need you inside me, Aaron.”

He shoved my thighs open, running the head of his cock up and down my pussy, coating himself in my arousal. He looked up at me again, giving me another moment to back out, before he slowly started to push inside of me. He stroked in and out of me, going a little bit deeper each time until he bottomed out. Aaron’s head fell to the dip of my shoulder. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re so fucking tight.” He started moving then. Slowly pulling out before he shoved himself back inside me. My hands were on his back, my nails digging into his skin. I wrapped my legs around his back, trying to draw him deeper inside me.

“You feel so good,” I whisper, biting his shoulder to keep my moans quiet.

Aaron raised up on straight arms, changing the tempo of his thrusts. “You’re not doing a very good job of being quiet, baby.” I whimpered; I couldn’t help it. “I think we might have to do something about that. He quickly pulled out of me; I didn’t have time to complain before he flipped me over, gripping my hips and lifting me up on to my knees. His hand palmed my ass cheek while he leaned over me, his breath hot on my ear. “This is how you need to be fucked.”

Raising up, he lined himself up and slammed inside of me. I bit my lip so hard that I could taste blood; Aaron tangled his hands in the back of my hair, pulling my head up while he set a brutal pace. "Quiet, baby. You don't want everyone to know what a dirty girl you are. Screaming for my cock, so wet that you're dripping down your thighs." His pace didn't slow down; I felt my orgasm rising up inside me. "Touch your clit for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you cum on my cock."

My fingers began circling my clit in a frenzy, causing my pussy to flutter around him. “That’s a good girl. Such a good girl for me. Can you be quiet when you cum? Or do I need to shove your face down in the mattress while I fuck you?” He gave a dark chuckle at my needy whine. “That’s what I thought.”

In the way that he knew everything, Aaron knew when my orgasm was peaking. He pushed my head down, never too hard, but hard enough. I bit the comforter in an attempt to silence my scream. I felt myself clamp down around his thick cock. My orgasm broke inside me so quickly. I screamed his name while I came; the comforter silenced some of it, but he heard it. That scream along with my pussy cumming on him was ultimately his undoing. He gave a few final thrusts before he went all the way, holding himself inside me as deep as he could, filling me with his cum.

I collapsed after that. I had never felt anything like this before. Aaron was there, knowing what I needed even when I didn’t. He held me for a moment until I caught my breath. Then he went into the bathroom, coming back with a damp washcloth to clean me up. He was so tender with my sensitive flesh; he didn’t say anything, he just focused on his task.

Once he was satisfied, he laid down beside me, drawing me into his side just as he’d done the night before. I couldn’t help the dry chuckle that left my exhausted body. Aaron made a ‘hmm’ noise. “I was just thinking about last night,” I said quietly, my voice raw from the screaming I had just done. “You held me like this last night. It was just 24 hours ago, but the whole world feels different.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat that I took as an agreement. After a beat, he said, "well, maybe you won't run out on me in the morning this time."

I looked into his eyes, raising up to press a kiss against his stubbly jaw. “I’ll never run again.”

And I meant it. I could face any monster, as long as Aaron Hotchner was beside me.

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h0rnyshakespeare · 3 years ago

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Midnight Mochi

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Ochako Uraraka

Genre: Fluff, comfort

Word Count: 1310

Warnings: Minor swearing (if I missed out on anything let me know)

A/N: If you don’t like Kacchako (as I know most of the BNHA fandom do) ignore this one, and don’t forget to send in requests!! I’m currently in season 2 of Haikyuu and I’m wondering if I should start writing for it, so feel free to send Haikyuu requests too!

“Dammit…” was all that was going through Bakugou’s mind as he made his way back to the dorms. It was late, well later than his usual bedtime, although he could really care less at that moment. “That damn Deku.”

Bakugou hated feeling like this, it was so foreign to him, and it was pissing him off. He felt exposed, vulnerable and weak despite what All Might had said to him back at the grounds. “If only I were freaking better at this. I’m so freaking stupid.” Whatever ‘this’ meant. If he was being honest, Bakugou was not sure either. All his life, he had been told how powerful his quirk was, how smart he was, how good he was at practically everything he did. All it had given him was a cocky attitude and high expectations of himself, which was not necessarily a bad thing, but also caused him to be hard on himself. All he wanted now was to get back to his room without any more distractions so he could finally have time to clear his head without anyone disturbing him or feeling even more exposed to everyone around him.

Ochako could not sleep. She expected to pass out as soon as her head hit her pillow as training had been tough today, yet so many thoughts were running through her head. Unable to toss and turn around in bed anymore, she decided to go downstairs for a warm cup of tea and maybe a leftover mochi or two from the batch Sato had made for the whole class earlier. In her defense, mochi was her favourite food, and with how much she worked today she felt that she had earned a midnight snack.

As she made her way downstairs into the kitchen, she heard someone’s footsteps and froze. A villain?

Then she saw the familiar ash-blonde hair which she knew could only belong to one person. “Bakugou-kun? What’re you still doing up past curfew? I thought you went to sleep around eight thir-”

“Uraraka. Could ask the same of you.” Ochako stopped at his voice. Uraraka? What happened to Round Face and Pink Cheeks? It was rare that Bakugou ever called someone by their actual name, if he bothered to remember it at all. It was then that Ochako got a good look at the state of him, his spiky locks all messed up, dark circles under his ruby eyes, his usual tank top in tatters, his body bruised. “I, uh, couldn’t sleep, was making some tea. Um, would you like me to make a cup for y-?” “Don’t bother yourself,” Bakugou snapped back, although his voice was devoid of his usual annoyed tone. He sounded tired, which was beginning to worry Ochako. She knew Bakugou would hate being pressed, so instead of saying anything, Ochako went back to boiling some water. When Bakugou did not leave, however, she grabbed another mug and set it next to hers.

“The hell you doing, Round Face?”

There it was. Ochako chuckled internally at the nickname. “Making tea,” she replied, not glancing his way. “I told you not to make some for me.” “Yet you didn’t leave, it would’ve been rude to make one all to myself while you just stood there.” “Tch.” Bakugou muttered under his breath but did not object, leaning onto the kitchen counter as Ochako added the teabags. He watched as she rummaged through the fridge a bit, only to bring out a box of mochi and hold it out to him. “Mochi?” “Like hell I’d be caught eating that sugary shit.” “Okay, your loss,” Ochako giggled. “Tomorrow everyone’s gonna find out that the great Bakugou Katsuki can’t handle a cute little mochi-” “Gimme that,” he said, cutting her off as he swiped the box out of her hands. “Hey, you gotta leave me some! Those are my favourite!” “Yeah, I can see the resemblance,” Bakugou replied, causing her face to turn red. “That’s… that’s pretty rude, Bakugou-kun.” “Whatever.”

They ate in silence, not that Ochako minded. She could tell that Bakugou had something on his mind and decided not to ask unless he wanted to talk about it.

“So, you couldn’t sleep, huh?”

“Yeah, haha… I think I’m turning into some sort of insomniac,” Ochako joked, although Bakugou did not seem to find it funny. “Sleep is important, dumbass. You need it. How else are ya gonna achieve your goals. hah?” “I could say the same for you,” Ochako replied. “Were you training or something at 3 a.m.? You’re all bruised and tired.” “Like hell I am, I’m fine pink cheeks, geez.” “Alright, but if you need to, I don’t know, talk to anyone, I’m here. I may not be the best person though, just letting you know.” “You need to stop doing that.” Bakugou said firmly. Ochako was confused. Had she done something wrong? “Huh? What’re you talking about, Bakugou-kun?” “I’m talking about how you always seem to degrade yourself,” he replied curtly, a slight frown on his face. Ochako’s heartbeat slightly sped up in… nervousness of being caught of her self-deprecation, but there was something else too. Whatever it was, Ochako pushed it down. He noticed?

“Whether you’re joking around or not, talking down about yourself is never healthy, you idiot. You’re worth a lot more than you give yourself credit for.” “Th-thank you, same goes for you too, you know?” “Tch, of course I freaking know, I’m the best,” he said, although Ochako noticed a slight crack in his voice. “Um, Bakugou-kun, I may be overstepping my boundaries a bit here but… are you sure you’re alright?” The silence that followed was nearly unbearable, and Ochako feared she had only made things worse. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, I’ll be going now.” As she made her way to leave, she felt him grasp her wrist. “Bakugou-kun-” “Stay,” was all he said as he slightly tugged on her wrist, causing her to fall onto him accidentally as she was not expecting him to do so. “I-I’m sorry! It was an accide-” “Just… let’s just stay like this for a while,” Ochako barely heard him mutter, the usual roughness in his voice replaced with an almost… lonely tone. Ochako had no idea what to do, so she just let him hug her, her own arms slowly making their way around his body before Bakugou suddenly seemed to realize what he was doing and quickly let go of her. “Shit, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that without asking-” Ochako hugged him again, cutting him off. He slowly wrapped his arms around her waist and seeing that she made no movement to pull away, buried his face in the crook of her neck. “Tch, I’m so freaking pathetic.” He said it so quietly that Ochako would have missed it if his lips were not right next to her ear. She moved one hand upwards to stroke his hair softly.

“You’re not pathetic,” she said, gently. “I may not know what happened, but I do know you’re a great person, Bakugou-kun. You’re the best, remember?” she chuckled. “You work so hard; I just know that one day you’ll be the best hero out there. So, take your own advice and never talk down on yourself. You’re so much more than that.” Silence engulfed the small kitchen as they stayed in that position for a while, until Bakugou pulled away. “This never freaking happened, ya hear me?” he said, not a hint of malice in his words. Ochako saw a faint pink dusting his cheeks and giggled. “I won’t.” “I’ll see you around then, Round Face,” he said, making his way to leave before pausing at the doorway. “And, uh, thanks or whatever.” “Try not to get caught by Iida-kun, Bakugou-kun.” Ochako smiled back at him as she walked in the opposite direction to her dorm.

#anime #anime fanfic #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bnha #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #uraraka ochako #ochako urakara #ochako x bakugou #bakuraka #bakugou x uraraka #kacchako

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ladyfogg · 4 years ago

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First Date

Fic Summary: The time has come for you and Colin to finally have your first official date. Love Exists Masterpost. The Evans Fics Masterpost.

Fic Rating: M

Pairing: Colin Zabel/Female Reader

Warnings: Language & some making out/suggestive language

Last week when you flirted with Colin and followed him to his hotel room, it had been a quick, spontaneous decision. While it hadn’t worked out quite how you wanted it to, you got your chance a few days later when he slept over at your place.

You didn’t expect to spend the following day in bed with him, nor did you expect to feel so goddamn horny for the man the second he left. Even the quickie in your car wasn’t enough. You want more of Detective Colin Zabel and it’s driving you crazy.

You’ve never wanted someone this bad before. But your stomach is a jumble of nerves for an entirely different reason. Because tonight, you and Colin are having your first official date and you have no idea how to act.

Dating is new territory for you. It’s been a long time since you’ve been in a relationship and even then it wasn’t serious. When Colin asked you to join him for dinner at his friend’s restaurant, you said yes before you could overthink. Of course, now that means your anxiety has been building.

The case Colin and Mare are working has kept them busy over the last few days so you haven’t been able to spend much time with your…friend? You don’t know what to call him. Boyfriend sounds too formal. Lover is a weird word that never settles quite right. Potential romantic partner? Booty call? Really close friend?

See, this is why you never date. It gets too confusing and messy.

At least, that’s how you used to feel. Now, you’re not so sure. Because every time Colin catches your eye and smiles at you, those old thoughts aren’t as loud as they used to be.

You keep telling yourself to relax and go with the flow, but it’s easier said than done. Which is why you find yourself running around your room trying to find something to wear.

Currently, most of your clothes are piled up on your bed. Digging through them, you reject everything you see, almost to the point of tears. It’s not until you sit yourself down and take a few deep breaths that you realize just how nervous you are.

“It’s okay,” you tell yourself. “It’s Colin. You know him. You like him. And he likes you. He’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met and he’s not going to care what you wear as long as you have a great time.”

Bullshit. Dress to impress. Knock him dead. Take the beath out of him.

After several long minutes of internal debate, you manage to find something relatively dressy that fits and looks good on you. Shoving all your clothes back in the closet, you try to make your room mostly presentable on the off chance you and Colin end up back there after dinner. You’d like to assume you will but are trying not to put any pressure on him or yourself.

You just finish getting ready when there’s a knock on the door. Checking yourself over in the mirror one last time, you take a deep breath, before going to greet Colin.

Dear GOD, he looks amazing. While Colin tends to dress very well for work, it’s different seeing him in a suit jacket and tie.

“You look beautiful,” he says, eyes taking you in with appreciation. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yup. Just lead the way.”

Colin offers you his arm in an endearingly formal way and you can help but accept, letting him lead you to his car. The sweet man even opens the door for you. With a quiet word of thanks, you climb in, your heart fluttering with nervous energy.

As he drives away, you sense the nervous tension between you two.

“So…” Colin says. “I know I suggested my friend’s restaurant but if you’d rather go somewhere else that’s good too.”

“No, no, your friend’s place is fine.”

Colin nods, flipping on the radio to help fill the awkward silence. You don’t know what to do with your hands and find yourself fidgeting with your coat, seatbelt, purse, and whatever you can.

“How was your afternoon?” Colin asks. “You were gone by the time we got back from canvasing…”

“It was fine. Made some coffee runs and filed a bunch of stuff.”

“Cool...”

More silence. As Colin pulls into a parking space at the restaurant, you feel the need to clear the air.

“I’m sorry I’m not very good company tonight,” you say. “The truth is, I’m really nervous.”

Colin smiles and puts the car in park. “Honestly, me too.”

You both laugh, partly from relief and partly by amusement. “Look, I don’t have any expectations,” Colin continues. “I asked you out because I really like you and I’ve never connected with someone like I’ve connected with you.”

“We have connected very well,” you tease.

Colin’s cheeks turn red and he ducks his head as he tries to hide his smile. “I meant emotionally but yeah, physically too.”

“I also meant emotionally,” you say. “Mostly.”

He laughs and looks at you again. “I’m really happy to hear you say that. Glad it’s not all in my head.”

Hearing the self-deprecation in his voice, you slide your hand into his hair and pull him into a kiss. He responds instantly, melting into your touch and kissing back with equal intensity. When he draws back, his eyes are hooded.

“It’s not all in your head,” you assure him. “There is something here. Why wouldn’t I feel something for you? You’re smart, considerate, fucking adorable as hell…” He smiles and blushes harder. “You’re a great guy, Colin.”

He kisses you gently one more time. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I do,” you tease. “Now can we go eat?”

“Absolutely.”

Feeling lighter and less nervous, the two of you get out of the car. Colin takes your hand as he meets you on your side of the car. Heading inside, you can’t help but focus on the feeling of his hand in yours. It was solid and warm, just like the rest of him.

You’re seated right away and Colin let’s your hand go so he can hold your chair our for you. The atmosphere is calm and quiet, the low lighting set the right mood. Colin looks even more dashing than he did on your front porch.

The waiter takes your drink orders and you pick up your menu, trying to figure out what to have. Colin does the same.

“This is a nice place,” you comment, glancing around. “I’m not used to going out like this.”

“Stick with me and I’ll take you to all the nice places.”

“What? The backseat of my car isn’t nice enough?”

His ears turn red this time and he chuckles. “I didn’t say that. It has its merits.”

The waiter arrives with your drinks and takes your orders, before leaving once more.

“So, Detective Colin Zabel,” you say, resting your elbows on the table. “What’s a big shot like you doing in a place like Easttown?”

He clears his throat and shifts in his seat. “I’m no big shot,” he says shaking his head. “I’m just a guy trying to do the right thing.”

“It makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?” you realize. “Talking about that big case.”

“Can we not talk about that case?” he asks. “I’m not…I’d rather talk about something else.”

“No problem. Sorry I brought it up.”

“It’s okay. What about you? I never asked what it was like for you starting out. You know, after the academy.”

He seems relieved that you are willing drop the subject and as the conversation starts to flow, both of you get more comfortable. Wanting to take his mind off things, you decide to tell him about your more memorable moments as a young trainee.

“Oh, and THEN! Then Mare arrives right as I’m trying to detain this guy,” you say, hands moving wildly as you talk. “And she just gives me that stern, unamused look that she always has…”

“Yup, I know that look.”

“And when I finally get him into the back of the car she goes, ‘Hey, kid, I think you’re forgetting something’.”

“Oh god, no…”

“Yeah, the guy’s dog. He came tearing out of the house and I chased me around the car while Mare just fucking laughed.”

Colin throws his head back and laughs, a sight that makes your own grin widen. You’ve never seen him so jovial, well without alcohol, and you vow to think of more stories that’ll make him laugh that hard.

“Didn’t you go there because of the reports of his dog being loud and aggressive?”

“Sure did. Then promptly forgot when I noticed the stolen merchandise from the theft. Needless to say, I got a little too excited and, whelp, got chased by the dog.”

Colin is still laughing, shaking his head while he does. “Wow. Just…just wow.”

“I am so glad you enjoyed my embarrassment.”

“I absolutely did.”

His face is bright and you want to reach across the table and kiss him.

You wonder why you were even nervous to begin with. Once the food arrives, Colin lifts his wine in a toast. You follow his lead with your drink and you both smile as you clink glasses.

“Any particular plans after dinner?” you ask as you both start to eat.

Colin shakes his head. “Not in particular. What do you have in mind?”

“There’s a soft bed that’s been missing you.”

His pupils dilate and you see his breathing pick up. “I…yeah, that sounds great. I kind of hoped you’d say that but I didn’t want to assume anything.”

Under the table, you run the tip of your shoe up the back of his calf and he jumps in surprise, almost dropping his fork. You smirk as he gets flustered.

“You have my complete permission to assume all you’d like,” you say in a low voice.

The evening takes on a very different energy after that. Heated looks are exchanged as you both eat as quickly as you can while still being polite.

“Are we thinking dessert?” the waiters asks when he gathers your empty plates.

You shoot Colin a raised eyebrow.

“I think just the check will be fine,” Colin says.

The drive back to your place is different than the drive to the restaurant had been. Colin’s hand rests on your knee, and just the pressure of it is enough to get your body going.

He barely puts the car in park before you reach for him, yanking him into a searing kiss. Colin is just as eager, hands fumbling to turn off the car before he can get them on you.

“We should go inside,” he pants between kisses.

“Yes, please.”

You stop just long enough to get out of the car. Coming around to the front, you both meet in the middle, Colin cupping your cheek while snaking his arm around your waist. God the way his mouth slots over yours is just so perfect.

The ringing of his cellphone cuts through the quiet night.

You groan in frustration. “Noooooo.,” you whine.

Colin huffs in annoyance, pulling back. “I’m so sorry,” he says taking the phone out of his pocket. “Shit, it’s Mare. I should take this.”

Sighing but understanding, you motion for him to go ahead.

Colin answers the phone. “Zabel, here. Yeah, hey, Mare…”

You know work has interrupted your date and you probably won’t be getting to the best part anytime soon. Colin’s face is somber as he listens to his partner.

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he says, giving you an apologetic look. “Bye.”

He hangs up.

“Duty calls?” you ask.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “She wants me to meet her in an hour. There’s a club we need to check out.”

“An hour, huh?” you ask, lips curling into a smile.

“Yeah. It’s across town so it’s going to take me a—what are you doing?”

You push him so his back bumps into the hood of the car. “You have plenty of time to get there. I want to at least make out a little.”

Colin gives you that lopsided smile before pulling you into another heated kiss. You slide your arms around his neck as his go around your waist, crushing you against his chest. It’s filled with promises and silent wants. Neither of you wants him to go, both of you would love to go inside and pick up where you left off the other day.

But work is work, and you won’t make him feel guilty for doing his job.

Your tongue finds his, deepening the kiss as your fingers dig into the collar of his coat. Colin draws back just enough for his nose to brush yours as he lays several pecks on your lips.

“If I’m not done too late, can I come back?” he asks, voice filled with hope.

“You better.”

His smile widens and he gives you one final, sweeping kiss before gently pushing you back so he’s not pressed against the car.

“I’ll text you,” he promises.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Colin watches you walk up to your door but doesn’t get into his car until you’re safely inside. You wave to him from the door, hoping he’ll come back sooner rather than later. In the meantime, you are going to find the sexiest underwear you own and wait.

---

Series Taglist: @lejardinfleur @spidergirlmcu @anonymushhy @samsassinparvismagna @kitwalker64 @tatestripedsweater @xmaximoffic @marshmallow--3 @stellarbound @kais-messiahbaby @margaretboothsear @slightlyvicked @nia-s-not-so-secret-diary @liandav @billyhxrgrove @TheOriginalDoll87

#colin zabel #colin zabel x reader #colin zabel x you #evan peters #love exists

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symphonicmetal101 · 4 years ago

Text

OM As Interactions I've Had With My Siblings Family Part 3

You guys seem to like these, that's all I'm saying.

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Lucifer: Oh no

Lucifer: It didn't work?

Lucifer: That's what happens when you don't listen to me.

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Mammon: If I do laundry for you, and your wallet happens to be in the pocket of your pants, I get to keep it.

Mammon: Whadd'ya mean "no"? Fine. Any loose change is mine then.

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Levi: Do you ever look in the mirror and feel bad for everyone that's ever had to witness you?

Lucifer: No. Are you ok?

Levi: Oops, didn't mean to self-deprecate out loud lol.

Lucifer: Levi, you didn't answer m-

Levi: I know. *walks away*

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Satan: Why are some people not smart?

Satan: *sighs* like the person in this book- (he proceeds to tell you everything said person did wrong)

(Blurb: my sister does this all the time, but she's 8 so it's really funny, especially because she's critiquing books I gave her from when I was younger)

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Asmo: I can't go

Lucifer: What do you mean you can't go?

Asmo: I have too many outfits! I can't choose between these three sets!!

Lucifer: ....

Lucifer: We're going grocery shopping and your wearing a coat that covers most of your outfit anyways. Just wear what you have on now!

Asmo: *offended gasp* This? To a grocery store? You know what? I don't want to go anymore. I'm going to go chose my comfy clothes now. Bye!

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Beel: Are you going to eat that? (As in item on plate)

MC: .... I just sat down

Beel: .... but are you goi-

MC: Ok fine you can have it.

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Belphie: AHHHHHHHHHH

Belphie:....

Belphie:.....can I go to sleep now?

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Diavolo: Sometimes I worry that I don't express my affection clearly

Diavolo: Especially seeing as I've resorted to just kind of flopping on people as a way to show my love

Diavolo: But no one has told me to stop so I assume they understand

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Barbatos: .....

Barbatos: .....*sigh*

Barbatos: Why are the floors sticky....for the fourth time today?

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(I know I usually separate the angels, but Idk who else would fit here)

Simeon: I love photosynthesis

Luke: Yeah, I love seeing animals work together

Simeon:...sorry?

Luke: Photosynthesis is so cool because animals work together to make it work.

Simeon: ....I think you're thinking of symbiosis

Luke: .....oh

Solomon: yeah, and not all symbiotic relationships are benficial, like parasi-

Simeon: *clears throat because Luke looks upset* we don't need to talk about that.

Luke: (has a very distraught face).....then

...then what's photosynthesis?

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Luke: all I really want is chocolate

Luke: actually I want chocolate and a safe to put it in so nobody touches it without my permission.

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Solomon:....I'm about to do something dumb

Solomon: and if I exercised self control I'd be fine

Solomon: but I don't have that muscle, so here we go anyways.

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Sorry if this was a little crappier than the other ones. I've got a headache and a big day tomorrow. Also, my sense of humor is kind of broken, so i thought some of these were hilarious in my sleep-deprived brain.

I hope y'all were still able to enjoy it!

Requests are open!

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me incorrect quotes #obey me thoughts

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thatsassyhufflepuff · 4 years ago

Text

Hello!

It is currently past midnight. I decided to make a post where I’d put all my favorite Dramione quotes so I can look back on them and squeal. That’s all.

✨✨✨

1. “You love fighting with me just as I love fighting with you, that’s why we do it so well.” He smirked down at her and pressed a kiss to her lips. “This house is just as much yours as it is mine, I’m sorry I made you feel anything less than that.” His thumb traced the edges of her lips before she reached up and took his hand in hers.”

2. “Hey, hey, none of that.” He gently admonished, “Granger, I can’t tell you whether or not we moved in too soon. I can say that this feels right, waking up with you, going to bed with you, even cleaning up all the hair you shed in the shower- how are you not bald? I am convinced your hair has magical properties all on its own-'' He grunted when she smacked him in the side. “What I mean is Granger, I want you for a long time, longer than I’ve ever wanted anyone else if I’m being honest. I’d have been kidding myself if I thought falling in love with a swotty pain in the arse Gryffindor would’ve been easy.”

Transformation

happy_valley

—

1. “Expecting a challenge--some tired but emphatic refusal to take Muggle medicine--I braced myself for the inevitable argument. He turned his head to my hand resting on his shoulder, kissed a knuckle, and went back to sleep.

I didn't stop shaking until I reached the Boots.”

2. “and given how I feel about you, you'd think I'd do everything in my power to ruin your marriage. Having him believe it was you acting on his behalf, seizing an opportunity that was tailor-made for him will not get me what I want. Sadly, the opposite is also true. I know you don't believe me, but I actually thought making him happy would make you happy.”

3. “I am not most women," I pointed out. "Hence the slapping."

"No, I admit they broke the mold when they made you. That's why I'm absolutely madly in love with you. Head over heels. Dizzy with desire. Crazy--”

4. “He shrugged and his mouth flattened into a line. "It's been a grim few months. I'm only human. Have I told you that I love it when you're stern with me? Your mouth gets all prissy and adorable. Like you've eaten a sweet lemon. A silly metaphor but somehow apt." He pursed his lips”

5. “Someday I hope you'll look at me, and I won't see that half-second of disgust with which your gaze always greets me. Anyway, it's not true. I want you because I love you.”

6. “He kissed me on the forehead and then despite his previous admission, he wrapped me in an embrace, his breath hot against my ear. "I love you. I know you don't believe me, but I do. And aside from the fact you are beautiful and smart and articulate and sexy, most importantly, you're the only person I know who has the guts and determination to stop me from becoming my father."

The Politician's Wife

pir8fancier

—

1. “After what felt like a lifetime and at the same time a split second, they parted, gazing into one another’s eyes with the passion they both felt. Hermione’s eyes implored him to say what she wanted him to say – that this wasn’t the end, that they would have another chance, that he wouldn’t give up – but he couldn’t lie to her. He would never lie to her.”

2. “Hermione just stared at the floor, biting her lip and feeling as though every dream she had ever had had been crushed. Maybe it had. “I wanted to save you,” she whispered, finally meeting his gaze. “I wanted to save you.”

Draco stepped forward, taking one moment more to touch her face with the back of his hand and memorize the deep brown of her eyes. “You did,” he said simply.

And there was no more to be said”

3. “Draco didn’t let her finish. His hands cradled her head as he kissed her, softly as first just like the night before, and then harder, with more passion and intensity. She returned the kiss with everything in her might, trying to say what she wanted to say – “I love you” – without words”

4. “She wasn’t going to give up though. Hope was in front of her now, and she had almost been afraid that such a thing was lost to her forever. Draco may have given up on saving himself, but Hermione wasn’t about to do the same. She loved him – that she knew for sure – and she was going to make sure Draco got his second chance.

She’d die before she let anything tell her otherwise.”

5. “I’m not leaving without you,” she said firmly. He didn’t reply, just set his mouth in a firm line. She wished she could make him feel what she felt – a certainty that this wasn’t the end for him, that she was going to fight until her last breath to give him the freedom he had suffered for. She wanted to reach out and hold him, to cradle his face in her hands and tell him that they would make it to the end together.

“This is your time, Hermione,” he said, reaching out and taking one of her hands in both of his. “This is what you’ve been waiting for.”

“It’s your time, too,” she said, and she hoped she sounded as confident as she felt. “This is your second chance.”

6. “Draco gave her an imploring look, gripping her upper arms and forcing her to look right into his eyes. “Hermione, you know how I feel. I’ve never told you, but you must know. So when I tell you that dying for you and your cause and my cause is the closest I’ll ever get to being whole again, believe me.” He paused, reaching his hand up to push the straggling bangs out of Hermione’s eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Hermione Granger, and I can never thank you enough. So just let me help you in the only way I know how.”

7. “Hermione could feel tears forming in her eyes, and she quickly reached up to pull Draco into her arms. He held onto her tightly, trying to memorize every detail of her for the last time. When they pulled away, Draco swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked into her warm brown eyes. There’s never enough time for us.”

8. “You may not have forgiven yourself,” Hermione whispered to him, laying her face against his shoulder as he shook with sobs. “But we already have. One day, you’ll learn to see yourself the way we do.”

Bittersweet and Strange

UndiscoveredQueen19

—

“Hermione, I love you." She didn't smile, she didn't say anything back either. She just kept looking up at him. He wondered she even heard him. He knew it was wrong to say it in this moment, but he didn't know if either of them would survive. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you until now. But I love you. So much." He kissed her forehead.”

A Future Uncertain

LightsWrites

—

“Suddenly, Draco laughed, a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? Well, I guess it’s the least I owe you.”

He leaned closer to her, looking straight into her eyes, and she suddenly felt the urge to draw back and run away. She made herself sit still.

“I love you, Hermione. I think I have for a long time,”

Seven Years and a Day

Dark Rose

—

“She was half expecting him to just walk through the door but Draco surprised her when he suddenly turned around and returned to her side. She lifted an eyebrow but before she could say anything, Draco drew her into a hug.

“Goodnight.” His whisper tickled her ear.

She could barely return his hug when Draco pulled away with an impish grin. She knew he knew she was going to think of him for the rest of the night. ‘Darn it. Bloody Draco Malfoy.”

A cornucopia of noncoincidences

muffin_reverie

—

“Draco..." She felt a little uneasy.

"I love you." He had said it before, but the words had never sounded so fierce. "I won't let him hurt you.”

Alternate History

Furare

—

“You’re beautiful and compassionate and funny and… I know you probably hear it all the time but you’re brilliant and I plan on telling you that every bloody day. You make me want to buy a shop and sell potions and make my own way in this world doing something I love and something I excel at, but it’s more than that it’s… it’s…”

She waited him out.

“It’s bells on a hill with you, Granger.”

Bells on a Hill

HeyJude19

—

1. “Draco opened the door the rest of the way and pulled her into his arms; he held her tightly as if he would never let her go, as if he could push all the hurt away. She could feel his heart beating and its constant rhythm soothed her, as did the steady rise and fall of his chest. Gradually her sobs slowed, then stopped. She pulled away from him, wiping her eyes.

"Do you want us to stay?" he asked quietly. She shook her head, and he tilted her chin so their gaze met. "Hermione, will you be okay today? Tell me the truth. I hate that we're leaving you alone today."

She looked into his eyes and saw deep concern and worry. "Yes," she said weakly. "Thank you."

Draco wrapped her in his arms again, then released her and leaned down and kissed her forehead. "See you soon." He turned and left her standing there before he lost the ability and the resolve to leave.”

2. “Harry scrunched his nose in distaste. "How can you watch that rubbish?"

"It's actually really good, Potter."

"Whatever." Harry studied Hermione. She looked so peaceful that it hurt him to think of what was ahead for her, for all of them, really. "She's beautiful."

Draco looked at her as well, and without thinking about what he was doing, said, "Yeah, she is.”

3. “Hermione scowled and continued to hit him, but stopped yelling. Draco carried her into the house, up the stairs, and into her room. He set her down on the bed. She tried to get up; he grabbed her wrists and held her down.

She struggled, but when she looked into Draco's eyes, she saw they were wet. She lay still, holding his gaze.

"Don't make me Immobilize you."

She nodded. He released her wrists and took one of her hands in his. "I promise to come back, if you promise to stay," he said softly.”

4. “He kissed her with everything he had, all the fear, longing, pain, and joy he felt. He kissed her because he was scared to die, and he too wanted to see where this would go. He kissed her because of the secrets he kept from her, willing her to trust him, to believe him, to know that he would tell her. He told her he loved her, he would do anything for her, would die for her, would even try to live for her.”

We Learned the Sea

floorcoaster

—

1. “You are mine, Hermione, I don’t want anyone mistaking you for single again or even thinking of trying to coax you away from me.” He laid his hand on her cheek, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Granger…Hermione…I love you.”

2. “The look of shock on her face matched his own. He hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t even realized that he had those feelings for her, that he would recognize them as such. He was in unfamiliar waters and suddenly scared to death. He meant them, he loved her, and it terrified him because he had never loved anyone before.”

Something In the Way She Moves

Snapes_Godess

—

“Draco leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together and nuzzled her nose.

“Take it. Take my heart, and take the remainder of my soul as well. You can even filet my heart and crush my soul if you wish. It doesn’t matter, since in actuality, they’ve probably been already yours to break for a very long time.”

5 am, waking up

mysterious_intentions

—

“The deflated bits of his countenance inflated with her admission, until he felt as though he would float through the air. Moving his hands along the curves of her sides, he pulled her flush against his chest. "I love you, Hermione."

The admission left him in a single breath, causing Hermione to arch her back so that she could look him in the eye. She searched his depths, seemingly inspecting for any sign of deception. Finding none, a smile spread across her face. "I love you, too.”

I Carry Your Heart

TheMourningMadam

—

#draco malfoy #harry potter #draco fluff #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction #dramione #draco x hermione

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primergon · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! I’m so glad you decided to take scenarios and matchups ☺️ Could I get a matchup for a pseudo-parent please?

I’m a non-binary ace lesbian, but I can’t tell my family. I’m an INFJ who deals with anxiety and derealization issues. At first appearance, I’m told I come off as cute and unassuming but I’m scary as hell when angry.

I plan to go into biology (ecology, specifically) and work in helping ecosystems hurt by the climate crisis. Science has always been a bit of a guilty pleasure for me, but I don’t say it much because it makes me feel like a smart kid stereotype. Speaking of, I’m a very good student and have a record of straight A’s.

In the past I used to be very shy around other people, but I’ve been working on it and I’m simply just very quiet now. I’ve also been trying to work on my confidence, and one of my proudest moments was when I seperated from a toxic friend.

I used to suffer from some eating problems, but I’ve gotten through the worst of it. I’ve always been thick, and am starting to feel good in my own skin for the first time. Because of this, I’m getting interested in fashion and such. I like oversized sweaters and sweatshirts and I swear I’m about to break my combat boots from how much I wear them.

When I’m familiar enough with someone, I tend to have a dry, anti-joke sense of humor with a hint of self-deprication. Almost every friend I’ve ever had has said that they were surprised at how loud and outspoken I was when we got closer.

I’m very stressed almost all of the time and have a tendency to people-please, but if I get annoyed enough with someone I won’t hesitate to speak my mind. I also am extremely tired during the school year because I need more sleep than school allows me.

This is probably WAYYYYY too long, so I’m sorry in advance 😅 hope you have a good day!

+ additional details you wanted me to add: I completely love music. Like, I think I’d die if I couldn’t listen to music for more than ten hours. I love all kinds of music, and I’m involved with my school’s band. Marching, concert, pep, jazz, anything. I’m also a field commander for the marching band this year.

A/N: Hello Anon! No worries, as a fellow INFJ I understand that we tend to put in a lot of details and I enjoy that too so don't worry :) This will be my first time in making a (pseudo) parent matchup so I hope I don't ruin it, but I think idw Ratchet would make a wonderful parent figure for you.

1. As an INFJ, Ratchet understands you in the sense that he sees himself in you. You remind him of his early days in the academy: all the sleepless nights spent on studying and preparing himself for a future that once seemed uncertain. Ratchet started becoming protective of you when he heard you talk about school with First Aid. He catches on to the fact that even if you're a brilliant student, it doesn't mean you didn't struggle with anxiety. With a major like yours, it's hard for the medic to not feel proud and worried at the same time. While Ratchet was happy that you aim to make the world a better place with your major, he knows the kind of pressure that comes along with it: so one night he just sits next to you with an Energon cube in his hand and said ' talk.'

2. Eventually, the two of you fell into deep conversation, from your accomplishment as this year's marching band's field commander to your journey in parting ways with a toxic friend. It was nice to hear Ratchet tell you he's proud you made the right choice knowing it wasn't easy. He gave several sarcastic remarks here and there but you knew hidden underneath was a word of advice: cleverly concealed by someone who has a hard time expressing his emotions ( not that you mind. ) He left with " keep up the good work" and you knew from that moment on that he cares.

3. The thing about Ratchet is that he shows his support subtly. He knows about your interest in fashion - even if he, a Cybertronian, can’t fully grasp the appeal, Ratchet makes an effort in trying. So he sends Swerve and Brainstorm to your habesuite - “ C’mon, it can’t be any different from designing an avatar right ?” “Swerve the eighties called I think they want their fashion trends back.”

4. When you walked into the medbay, the old medic would compliment you. “Hold the test tubes properly, you don’t want to stain that nice sweater.” “Don’t let First Aid soil those boots of yours with the chemicals, it’ll be a shame.”

5. Every time you fall asleep in the med bay or Brainstorm’s lab, you would always wake up to a blanket around you. Whenever you ask either Velocity or Perceptor, they would smile and shrug at you as if to say ‘ you can thank Ratchet for that.’ Sometimes, others would wake you up, urging you to go back to your room to rest. “ Ratchet wouldn’t want you to hurt your back so he sent me to wake you.” You always return the blanket after, but every time you fall into a quick nap, you will never wake without it.

6. If not in the medbay or the lab, Ratchet would find you at Swerves. Either laughing with the minobot over a shared deprecating sense of humor or putting Getaway back in his place when he gets a little too disrespectful towards the other patrons. He would sometimes join you, staying to drink for a while before going back to work, all the while ignoring stories of him being a ‘party ambulance’ back in medical school. If he stays long enough, you find the courage to give him some advice regarding Drift, and the old mech would deny everything even if he made a mental note to every word you said. “ Gifts? Pft, you’re a sap.” “ Trust me, Ratchet! “

7. One time on shore leave, you were separated from your group, pulled away from them by the crowd passing through the markets. The local authorities you bumped into had asked for identification, but you knew as an Earth citizen, you didn’t have the proper permits. Before the officer could drag you away, Ratchet had stepped in, one hand shielding you - “ And what is your relation to the Earthling ?” “I’m their Sire. I have a permit to be here.”

8. The officer took one glance at Ratchet’s credentials before leaving. He didn’t bother to ask whether Ratchet was actually your parent or not ( which obviously was questionable ) instead you were free to go with no trouble. The whole time Ratchet was scolding you for going astray, you were smiling at the thought that he chose to lie as your parent, even if he could have lied about anything else. He could have called you his apprentice, the ship’s liaison, heck, he could’ve lied and said you were a prisoner. Yet, in the moment of danger, his first instinct was to protect you as his own. You had hugged him right there and then, stopping him in the middle of the bustling crowd. Hidden by the swarm of people, Ratchet finally caved in and returned the gesture.His worry was evident from the way he held you close.

9. After that, everyone on the ship treated Ratchet as your pseudo-father, and Ratchet went along with it. If someone wants to find either of you, they know where to look. All they need to do is follow the music playing from the med bay, your laughter should follow not far behind.

A/N : I hope this was accurate Anon ! i hope you like it, i’m sorry it took quite a while <3

#ratchet #idw ratchet #ratchet idw #pseudo parent #pseudo parent matchup #Matchups #fandom matchups #reader insert #reader inserts #transformers imagines #tf imagine #imagines #idw imagines #idw imagine #mtmte #maccadam

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apparitionism · 4 years ago

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Why 3

Nearer and nearer this story creeps to its conclusion, and thus to that not-so-distant future day when @mysensitiveside will have received a complete present! Previously, in part 1 of this AU, a Myka Bering adopted a dog. That dog, unfortunately or fortunately, in fact already belonged to a Helena Wells. Myka and Helena, initially strangers to each other, have been walking the dog together, growing intermittently closer in the process, and they are at last, following the events of part 2, about to take a step toward something beyond the pedestrian. Let’s see how that goes.

Why 3

Later, in the parking lot, “You’re sure this is okay?” Myka asked as they began exchanging tangible, traceable information: numbers, addresses. They lived closer to each other than Myka had imagined, which made what Sam had done seem even more brazen... even more terrible. “I don’t want to make you feel like you—”

Helena looked up from her phone. “What exactly will convince you?”

“Convince me of what?” A stupid question; she knew it the minute she said the words.

But Helena again took pity on her. She put her phone in her pocket, and she moved close to Myka, then closer. “I’m not confused,” she said. Their coats were touching. “Are you?”

“Honestly? Yes.”

In response to that, Helena just looked. Did she blink? She leaned up still closer, a delicate, careful movement of body, accompanied by a turn of her head not quite against the collar of Myka’s coat.

Not a kiss, but the potential shiver of one... a “lean down and you’ll find out” feeling...

Myka was still high on the first kiss, not quite ready to dilute it with a second. “Tuesday?” she asked, and “Tuesday,” Helena affirmed, remaining near.

“I like this,” Myka said, and it might have been a warning—to herself and to Helena.

“I’m glad,” Helena said, a comfort against the caution.

I will see them three days from now, Myka told herself as Helena drove away, her dog buckled safely into his harness in the back seat. Myka had a similar harness, limp and empty, in the back seat of her own car.

I know what it’s like to see him without a week having passed. I have no idea what it’s like to see her.

How long could three days feel?

Long enough to make her tell herself, on Sunday, “You should cancel.” Because she hadn’t slept. Instead she spent open-eyed hours retreading her limited romantic past: college boyfriend, who lasted all of one semester; grad school girlfriend, who lasted longer, but only because they rarely saw each other, and when they did, they were too exhausted from long, long lab days and nights to do much of anything but share a cheap meal and go to bed. Nevertheless their breakup blindsided Myka, who expected reasons but received nothing more from her suddenly ex-girlfriend than “I was into it; now I’m not.”

Since then, the occasional night with another lonely chemist at a conference had been the extent of it. That was what Myka figured she would always be most comfortable with: no entanglements, no consequences. No nerve-wracking anticipations.

Tuesday was consequential, with accompanying nerve-wracking anticipation. Hence, “You should cancel.”

Entanglements. Leuko had been one, but he at least had been very clear. Food, walks, baths. Obviously Myka’s emotions had been involved, but it wasn’t as if Leuko was going to do anything to blindside her.

Except bark at someone.

In his defense, she conceded, he had a pretty compelling reason.

So what about cancelling? Myka knew why she wanted to. Why didn’t she want to?

I like walking with her in the park.

Everything she says about herself makes me want to know more.

She is physically more attractive than anyone I’ve ever seen in my life.

Kissing her one time made me wish I had keys to a castle, so I could give them to her.

On a parallel track, there was Leuko. Monty. The idea of interacting with him in his real home felt wrong—but the kind of wrong that could one day become right. Like seeing his leash in Helena’s hand.

Would I have been willing to keep walking in the park if she hadn’t been the one walking him?

Impossible to know. Traitorous to consider an answer of no.

And would I have felt that I could walk in a park with her in the absence of him?

Also impossible to know. Not traitorous to consider an answer of no, but surely cowardly.

So in the interest of at least a facsimile of courage, Myka spent some time pondering yet another question: What do you wear to watch a dog show with your ex-dog and his person, who might be your... well, who could say? Certainly not Myka. She landed on “clothes.” Just wear clothes. Because her ex-dog wouldn’t care, and if his person did—well, that would tell her something, wouldn’t it?

Knocking on a door on Tuesday night, clothed in clothes, she was a mixture of trepidation and, yes, hope.

“Come in!” Helena called, so Myka did. To her surprise, she was received into the house by Montgomery Clift. She’d found, over her days of thinking, that it was easier to call him that in her head; its length and formality kept her from slipping and thinking “Leuko.” Mr. Clift then escorted her down a hallway and into a large living space. “Are you a butler now?” she asked him.

He blinked. It meant either “Of course not” or “I am the most perfect butler who ever buttled,” and Myka said, “You’re right,” in answer to both.

Helena appeared a second later, and Myka held out the gifts she’d brought: wine in one hand, a paper bag in the other. They had cost her far less pondering-time than the clothes had, though she hadn’t realized that at the time, and that probably meant something, though Myka could not think it through now, not with Helena standing right there in front of her. Myka could barely think at all. Instead, she tried to explain: “I thought at first I should bring you something related to writing—a pretty pen?—but then I figured a writer wouldn’t be any less picky about equipment than a chemist, and I’d hate it if some well-meaning person gave me for example a pipettor I’d never use. Nobody would do that, because they’re insanely expensive, but that’s why you’re getting a boring bottle of wine. I brought this”—she extended the bag—“for Monty.”

Helena had gazed at her throughout that recitation, and Myka had in turn felt herself prolonging it, to keep those attentive eyes on her. Now Helena said, “You’ve gifted him...” She took the bag, looked in it. “Several corn tortillas?”

“Fresh ones. He likes them.”

“I didn’t know it.”

Which, Myka had to acknowledge, made her happy. But it was a selfish happiness, so she said, “I didn’t intend to know something you don’t. It was an accident: he was hungry, and that was what I had. And then when I bought fresh, they turned out to be his favorite.”

Helena said, to Montgomery Clift, “More favorite than cheese?”

He failed to respond, most likely due to his laser focus on the now-open tortilla bag. Myka offered, “Probably depends on the cheese.”

“It’s true he is discerning.” Helena paused. “So am I.”

Myka’s nerves, which had ebbed, returned—not fully, but as a vague itch of discomfort. “You don’t need to...” she started.

“What don’t I need to?”

“Try? Like that. Like any way at all.” For it was when Helena tried—as she had in the park, with her “so are you” about prettiness—that Myka lost her bearings.

“I don’t know where you are,” Helena said. Such a reasonable justification: of course she would try, if she wanted to move Myka to some particular place, some place she felt Myka was not.

“Here,” Myka said, but it was a yearn—to get closer to where Helena might have imagined she, and they, could be—rather than the truth. She needed to tell the truth, though: “Or at least I’m trying to be.”

“You don’t need to try either,” Helena said, her tone a balm. “Let’s start by getting to know each other better. I hope that’s what this evening is for.”

“I hope too.” Myka had never said anything more true. “I don’t like that I know your dog better than I know you. I regret it.” But, “Sorry,” she said to the soft butler-or-not who looked up at her, blinking wounded eyes. Or more likely, he was blinking tortilla-wanting eyes.

“We need to remedy that. Or rather, I want to remedy that, and I think you do as well. As I said, I’m not confused.”

“As I said, I am.” Important to be clear about that.

“Tell me why.”

Oh, the invitation. How could she respond? Weighing ideas of entanglements, consequences, anticipations...

Helena, blessedly, went on, “Because I feel that if I hadn’t told you I wasn’t, you wouldn’t be.”

That was indeed the entirety of it, so... “I like that you’re smart,” Myka said. “I like it so much.”

“I like that you are as well, chemist. Sit down. I have food to cook. On that topic, I regret I didn’t ask about allergies, so tell me now. I don’t want to inadvertently attempt to murder you.”

“You can’t. I’m basically insensitive.”

“Ridiculous. Monty knows better, and so do I.”

She delivered that perfectly, not trying, but rather as if she had a doctorate in quashing self-deprecation, and it made Myka smile. “If I were allergic to anything, leukotrienes would be involved,” she said.

“Do you want to explain them to me now?” Helena asked.

It was even more perfect, as an invitation, but Myka turned it down: “You’re busy. Food to cook. Can I help?”

“Sit. You look tired. Is that an awful thing to say? I don’t mean that you look in any way bad. You’ve most likely had a long day.” She stopped, her expression devolving into a sheepish wince. “I’m digging a hole.”

“It’s okay,” Myka said to banish that wince, charming as it was. “You’re right about the day.”

She hadn’t improved much on her Saturday sleep in the subsequent nights, but at least last night had been anticipatory rather than self-castigating. During the day, her concentration at work had been... not ideal. She broke some glass—dropped from nervous fingers—and Abigail asked her if she was intending to go on a rampage. She’d had to redo more than one assay. It really was a miracle she’d been able to get here on time.

So she sat, as instructed, and she found herself pondering various miracles: Helena was cooking food, and Myka, on the sofa, had Leuko—no, Montgomery Clift—beside her, as he used to be, and she wished she were a poet, so as to put into words what suffused her heart. “Does he sit like this with you?” she felt compelled to ask.

“He does,” Helena said. Weeks ago, Myka would have felt that as a knife. Now it was confirmation of all-encompassing comfort. “With me,” Helena went on, “and now with you. I’ve never seen him do so with anyone else.”

“Have you, though?” Myka asked him.

Of course he blinked those dark, beautiful, secret eyes. “Did she teach you to do that?” Myka asked him, and she dared a glance at Helena.

“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about,” Helena said. “All I personally taught him was that he should shake hands. And clearly that is not what is occurring.”

“Shake?” Myka suggested to him.

Montgomery Clift sat up immediately and held out his right front paw.

“Impressive,” Myka told him—told Helena—after a convivial shake had occurred. In all her time with him, she hadn’t thought to see whether he would do that. She hadn’t thought about training at all. He was so quiet and sweet. What else would she have wanted him to do? How often would they really have needed to shake hands? “How often?” she asked, softly, and she took his blink to mean “Not very.”

Helena said from the kitchen, “It’s starting in not very long, and I’d like to let Monty out. Will you watch him in the yard?”

“You’re going to watch me watch him, aren’t you?

Helena smiled. “Honestly, yes. But not for the reason you fear.”

“I’m not sure you have a true handle on the extent of my fears.”

“Educate me.”

“What do you write about? Or I guess I mean, what did you write about?” Myka asked. The question had come to her that instant, fully formed—not a fear, not as such, but rather a gray gap in her knowledge.

“Hm,” Helena said. “Let’s talk about that when you come back indoors.”

Montgomery Clift enjoyed his time in the yard. “Sorry we can’t walk,” she told him, but he was cavorting, sniffing, investigating, and didn’t seem to care. It made her sad that she’d had no space for him to do that, untethered.

They came back indoors, so: “So, writing,” Myka said. “I didn’t Google you. So I don’t know.”

“That is both slightly insulting and exceedingly considerate.”

Myka, flustered, said, “Point being I don’t know.”

“It begins with my having been a rather unusual sort of child.”

“That isn’t hard to believe,” Myka said, then cringed. “That’s probably also slightly insulting.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s exceedingly complimentary. Don’t we all want to be unusual? I do now, and did then... I would fix my attention on a thing that struck me as interesting, and I would not rest until I became expert in it. The smaller and stranger the better. An arcane slice of history, some esoteric gadgetry, a figure of obscure influence. As it happened, I could write about such things in a readable way.”

“Showing off what an expert you’d become?” Myka asked. She hoped that wasn’t insulting at all.

Helena smiled in affirmation. “It began like that, yes. One tried to become less insufferable when it was for wider publication. In any case, I sought such topics out for years—the rarities, the curiosities. I made a reasonable amount of money doing so, which is better than many can say.”

“So why stop?”

“I had it in my head to write a novel. Something with that same depth, but also breadth.”

“Do you still have it in your head?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Mainly in my head. Not on paper.”

“Should I not ask why?”

“Monty’s disappearance... derailed me.”

“Are you un-derailed now?”

“Not precisely.”

“Should I not ask why?”

“I’ve found myself distracted.”

“Should I not ask why?”

“You should know why.”

Was that trying again? It felt softer, not quite as discomfiting. “When does this dog show start, anyway?” Myka said.

“Very soon,” Helena said, and the way she spoke those very simple words reminded Myka, viscerally, of why she wanted to be here—Helena’s eyes were bright, her voice low but engaged. An edge of something like hunger crept around the periphery of Myka’s awareness.

The show itself was astounding. Myka had known she had very little knowledge of dogs as animals, certainly prior to her brief ownership experience. But she had not known that she had not known how vast the world of dogs, as rankable, judgeable animals, really was. An entire additional universe was folded into the one Myka thought she knew. The idea of breeds, okay, she got that. But groups? Handlers? Stacking?

“Can he do that?” Myka asked, about the stacking, that stance seemingly required for the judging of... dogness?

“Oh, watch. Monty, sit,” Helena said to the dog who was curled between them. She raised her hand as she said it, and just like that, up he sat. She pulled her hand forward then and said, “Stand.” He stood, his entire self on display, just like the dogs on the television. After a second, Helena said, “I should have cheese in my hand. Or one of your tortillas. He hates when there’s no reward. You see how the handlers hold the treats in their mouths, when they’re in the ring. Often they use liver.”

“In their mouths...” Myka shuddered.

Helena offered a sympathetic echo of the movement. “It’s apparently quite compelling as an incentive, and they can’t hold the brush or the lead that way. But it’s certainly among the many reasons I myself wouldn’t have been able to show him.”

“I don’t understand why being pretty doesn’t count,” Myka said.

“Shapes and sizes matter more than anything, and he’s slightly too small for a male.” Montgomery Clift turned away from her, seemingly intentionally. Helena laughed and told him, “You’re exquisite and you know it.”

“Why did you even want a Mittelspitz anyway?” Myka asked. “No offense, Montgomery Clift.” After trying it out loud, she realized it didn’t work nearly as well that way as it did in her head. “Monty,” she amended, and now he reoriented himself toward Myka, as if he were pleased. She was probably attributing far too much intentionality to him.

Helena said, “I didn’t want one.” Did Montgomery Clift turn even further toward Myka? “As I told you, there was a novel in my head, but I was too busy investigating those curiosities. Then I began to imagine that I might find time for it if I settled into a more routine everyday life.”

“So you got a dog?” Myka asked, recalling her own Leuko-routines.

“Accidentally. While looking into teaching positions, I was finishing up one of my last pieces, on the insular, sectarian cultures around rare breeds of dog. I met Monty’s breeder, and she happened to note that having a dog would certainly create routines... I scoffed, but then I met Monty himself, as a wee puppy, and there was no longer any question.”

“I can’t even imagine.”

Helena showed Myka several photos of that wee puppy.

“Oh my god,” Myka said. It was the only logical response.

“He didn’t seem real,” Helena affirmed.

And yet there the real Montgomery Clift was, clearly the grown-up version of those photos, blinking back and forth at both of them. A curiosity.

“You’re coming back tomorrow night?” Helena asked later, as Myka prepared to leave.

What a confounding question. “I... am I?” Myka staggered out.

“The show. It’s two nights. I thought you knew.”

That had probably been conveyed at some point, but Myka hadn’t paid sufficient attention. She had lost her purchase on the unfamiliar new dog-parade production-number world unfurling itself for her perusal on the television, as she was far more interested in the equally new world composed of one disconcerting woman and one unreal dog. What did it say that the latter outranked the former?

Right... as if that were a mystery. “I think if this evening has demonstrated anything, it’s that I know absolutely nothing,” she lied.

“Not nothing,” Helena said, mindreading. Then she read some more: “Surely you know that I want to kiss you goodnight.”

“I want to know it,” Myka told her.

“Then do.” She moved close to Myka, a sidle not dissimilar to her move in the parking lot, and this time Myka did lean down, did find out. It was not confusing at all, but rather like good clear water, bracing and inundating, roaring, silent, everything. If this was the first night, what would the second entail?

The next day in the lab, Myka allowed to Abigail, “Maybe she’s my girlfriend.” Tempting fate, probably, but fate was certainly doing some tempting of its own...

Abigail crossed her arms. Never a good sign. “Why do you always have to lie first?”

“Why... what?”

“You lie about having a dog,” Abigail said. “You lie about having a girlfriend. What’s next? Your side job for the CIA?”

“Very funny.”

“If you deny it, I’ll know it’s true.”

“Fine. My side job is CIA. What do you know about dog shows?”

“Are you going undercover at one?” Abigail countered.

“My maybe girlfriend knows a lot about them.”

“Then ask her, not me. People like to talk about what they know a lot about. Except you, but you’re weird like that.”

Valid advice, and an accurate description. Myka thanked Abigail for them both.

“And you’d lie anyway,” Abigail continued.

Myka didn’t thank her for that.

As she prepared to leave for Helena’s that evening, she found herself thinking on clarity. That she might at last have some.

Her phone buzzed—a text. She never got texts.

The text was from Helena.

It said: Don’t come.

TBC

P.S. Only a bit left to go, I swear. Poor Myka’s heart can’t take much more, anyway, and my goal in life, or rather in narrative, really isn’t to make her suffer.

#bering and wells #Warehouse 13 #fanfic #Why #part 3 #B&W Holiday Gift Exchange #bering and wells gift exchange #bering and wells exchange #mysensitiveside

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ezekielbhandarivalleros · 4 years ago

Text

Addicted to Weed - Chapter 1

Characters: Jake Tweneboah (MC), Sienna Trinh, Jackie Varma (Mentioned) Ethan Ramsey (Mentioned)

Summary: Sienna finds out about Jake’s weed problem

Rated - M

Taglist: @princess-geek @gamechoices-player @secretaryunpaid @arnikki-2406 @choicesficwriterscreations @riana-drarry @treasure-seeking-elf @lisha1valecha @yourresidentplayer @schnitzelbutterfingers

Also thanks for @secretaryunpaid for helping me make the necessary changes and editsl

Jake let out a sigh of relief as he stepped through into his apartment. Quickly he locked and dead bolted the door, and slid the security chain into place. After nearly three years at the hospital he never entered his apartment without immediately doing those three things. He turned on several lights and moved to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee brewing before dropping himself onto the couch.

Jake retrieved a cup of coffee and settled himself into the couch. He kicked off his shoes to display his mismatched socks as he loosened his tie. He was very glad to be home, but at the same time it increased his anxiety. While he was an introvert and did enjoy spending time alone with Jackie, the last few months had been hard. Lately when he was alone he turned to Weed, but for the past two weeks he had been trying to avoid using it. He hadn't been very successful. He had tried to wean himself off slowly, but once he had taken a small dose he usually got to the point that he didn't care and ended up taking more. Already, though he had only just gotten home, he felt his eyes drifting to the bathroom where he kept the drug hidden. He gripped his coffee cup tightly, trying to fight off the urge to use.

He thought briefly about calling one of the team to see if they wanted to go out for something to eat, but quickly decided against it, deciding he needed the rest of the evening to relax. Jake sighed and put his cup on the coffee table. He rubbed his face and again his eyes drifted to the bathroom. He was so tired, but he knew that he probably wouldn't be able to sleep without some help. He groaned and leaned back on the couch, and tried to distract himself by watching random videos on Youtube.

Abruptly he stood and crossed to the bathroom. He tore open the medicine cabinet and pulled the last of the weed out of its hiding spot in a box meant to hold cough syrup. Not that he really ever had anyone over to his place besides his old roommates, but he still wasn't careless enough to leave it out in the open. He tossed the box aside and unscrewed the top of the bottle. He held it wavering in his hand. He wanted desperately to just tip the bottle to empty the contents into the sink and be done with it. He had had this battle with himself many times before. Two times he had even succeeded, but then found himself calling his dealer only hours later to gain more.

Jake ran into his and Jackie’s bedroom and pulled out pieces of rolling paper and made blunts. Jackie was the only person who knew that he still smoked as he told the others that he quit a few weeks ago. He remained on the floor for quite some time, feeling no desire to move back to the living room with the tv still on.. He was perfectly content where he sat, enjoying the feeling of nothingness and after a while he dozed a bit. He didn't know how much time had passed before he heard a knock at the door. It had probably hadn't been more than an hour or two. He tried to ignore it, but whoever it was knocking was persistent.

Groaning, he rolled to his knees then used the edge of the bed to pull himself to his feet. He legs felt rubbery, so he stood there for a moment to steady himself. He looked at his reflection and stifled a giggle. At the moment he found looking in the mirror incredibly funny, but he wasn't entirely sure why. It felt somewhat surreal, looking at himself. The knocking at the door became more persistent. He sighed. It was probably was one of his friends. No one else ever came to his home this late.

He cringed as his door was pounded on, and this time was accompanied by a voice. "Come on, I know you're home. Please open the door." Jake sighed heavily. Sienna. Of course it was her. Anyone else would probably have given up, but she would be there until two in the morning, still knocking if he thought that was home. Jake shook his head and made his way down the hallway slowly. He hadn't even made it halfway when Sienna knocked again, louder.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Jake called out. He made it to the door and fumbled with the locks, struggling with the security chain. It took several tries for him to be able to slide it free. He swung the door open. "What are you doing here, Sienna?" he asked, not bothering to try to hide his irritation. "Hey, grumpy much?" Sienna smirked and raised her hands. Jake didn't respond except to glare and gave a roll of his eyes. "Aren't you going to invite me in?" "You've never been out this late before. Why did you decide to just show up in the middle of the night?"

"Somebody's cranky when his beauty sleep gets interrupted." Sienna pushed past Jake into the apartment without his invitation. He held up a brown paper bag. "I left the office about an hour after you did and I thought I'd stop and grab some Chinese at that really good restaurant and then realized how close I was to your place so I figured I pick some up for you and Jackie and bring it over here, but as she’s asleep you can have hers”

"That restaurant is almost seven miles from here, Sienna," Jake said.

Sienna didn't seem fazed as he walked into the kitchen and rummaged through the cupboards for paper plates not caring if she woke Jackie up. "I got those egg rolls that you like." "Okay, I see we're just going to pretend that you showing up here is normal," Jake grumbled. He followed Sienna as he brought the plates to the dining room.

Sienna looked around the luxury apartment, taking in the well-used but comfortable looking furniture and the many shelves housing hundreds of books and the one shelf that contained dozens of science fiction DVDs. " I can definitely tell that you live here and It shows that mostly everything belongs to you."

"It's my apartment, Sienna. Was it supposed to look like someone different lived here?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You usually reserve this level of hostility for occasions."

Jake blushed and looked away. "Sorry. I'm just tired."

Sienna shrugged. "Sit down and eat."

"I'm not really hun—"

"Sit," Sienna interrupted. "Eat." She ordered.

Jake dropped into the chair, looking a bit like a child who had been reprimanded for something. He grabbed one of the egg rolls and took a small bite.

"I'm fine," Jake said quickly.

"How often have you been using the drugs?" Sienna asked conversationally.

Jake looked up, the expression on his face giving the impression of him being a deer caught in the headlights. "What are you talking about?" he asked, voice a little higher than usual.

Sienna pushed his plate of food away and leaned forward, elbows on the table, and his face suddenly deadly serious. "You're high right now, aren't you?”

“Hey, I was still eating that” Jake screamed.

Jake laughed, the sound slightly hysterical. "Sienna, you- you're confused. I-I'm not-… I don't-…" he sputtered, trying to keep the smile on his face. "That's crazy," he finally managed to finish.

Sienna's face was still locked in that serious look. "I'm sorry, kid. I knew something was going on with you, we all did. I thought maybe it was PTSD. But we all left you to deal with it on your own. We should have been there for you. I should have been there. I should have seen. I'm sorry."

The faux smile fell of Jake’s face as she spoke. He dropped his eyes to the table, seeming to struggle with himself to find the words. It looked as though he was trying to decide if he wanted to admit to the drug use or to continue to try to deny it. The internal battle waged for nearly a minute before he looked back up. "Pretty stupid thing to do for someone who's supposed to be a genius isn't it?" he smiled, but it was bitter and self-deprecating.

"Not stupid. Not really smart either," Sienna sighed, looking at Jake his dark eyes troubled. "It's Weed, isn't it?" “Jackie has been telling me.”

Jake nodded, almost imperceptibly, avoiding eye contact. Morgan wasn't reacting to this in a way he had expected. There was no yelling, or threatening. No accusations or anger, only a weary acceptance. "I stole it from one of they younger interns after their first week and got hooked, not even my brother whose a year above me knows. After I ran out I bought my own. I t-… I tried to stop. I really did. I threw it out twice. But I always-… I always got more afterwards." He ran a trembling hand through his hair.

"How often do you take it?"

"Usually only once a day, but I don't take it at all if we're working a case," he elaborated, shooting a quick glance at Sienna.

"Why do you only take it when you're home?" She asked him. She was still acting much to calm for Jake to understand, and things that Jake didn't understand made him nervous.

Jake shook his head. "If the other know, for sure Ethan might have to report it, and you'll be fired. I won't tell him as long as you stop."

Jake looked desperate. "I've tried before, Sienna. I don't think I can do it." He looked so hopeless that it almost made Sienna want to cry.

But she didn't. Instead she leaned forward and put his hand on the older man's shoulder. "Yes, you can, and you will. You've only tried by yourself before. Now you've got help. You don't have to be alone anymore."

#playchoices #choices #oc #sienna trinh #open heart #jake tweneboah

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