#it’s like do it or don’t. the ass cheeks cop out always feels so weird to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

captain-jordy · 1 year ago

Text

Play No Games

Pairing: RE2! Leon x Black! Reader

Summary: After the perfect first date Leon finds himself entranced with you…

Content: just pure fluff I think, obsessive behavior on Leon’s part (?), pizza and ice skating lmfaoaoao

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 (coming soon)!!!

WC: 2.4k

Notes: it’s my first fanfic girlies so don’t be too harsh❤️ besides that there’s chapters to this fic actually and like…I just felt like it was too long to have it’s own thing + this was not proofread💀

Leon was a mess.

Just one date with you; just one fucking date and he’s obsessed. It was a simple one too. Casual clothing, possibly health-hazardous pizza joint—it was nice inside, at least—but a simple place for a first date. Leon wasn’t too sure how you two decided on that lame-ass pizza joint, but shit, everything you did that night made him forget the poor choice in environment…and food. He barely knew you too, due to finding each other on a shitty dating app, so he isn’t too sure how he got so whipped, that night with you just kept replaying over and over in his mind.

You were scanning the menu of Del Gino’s. The pizza selections were quite strange; ranging from a classic pepperoni to…cold fish. “How are you liking the selections?” Leon questioned. It was an attempt at small talk. Being a cop forced him to be charismatic and social, yet this woman he just met made him tense. You looked up from the menu and threw a small smile his way. “It’s strange, but I’m not surprised. Cities like Raccoon City always have weird pizza joints, right?”

“Yeah,” Leon placed the menu down and slid it towards the middle of the table, “we should probably play it safe and get a pepperoni.”

You immediately shook your head. Leon was a nice guy but he wasn’t impressive so far. Maybe he needed a little push, you thought. “Let’s choose something crazy too. To make this date memorable.” Your booted feet nudged Leon playfully under the table, encouraging him to get out of his comfort zone. “Let’s try caramelized onions, apples, and goat cheese pizza. Sounds dangerous.” You joked. Your voice was softer than usual talking to Leon. It might’ve not been obvious, but you were nervous too. Hands clammy and face warm, who wouldn’t be? Leon was an attractive man; he had a pair of plump pink lips, a nice jawline, and a smooth voice, he was desirable in all the right ways..

But you weren’t completely feeling him for some odd reason.

He seemed…hesitant. Yeah, the guy was a bit awkward, but anyone would be on a first date. Leon stared ahead and was seemingly lost in thought. “Leon?” You questioned. His eyes widened once he realized that he was zoning out. With a small sigh, he shook his head as a blush crept up his cheeks. “Yeah? Sorry about that.” He mumbled. “You’re a risk taker, huh? Cute.”

The more he looked at you, the more enamored he became. Braided hair sitting perfectly under the dim lighting of the pizza joint, same with your warm skin and glossy lips. If anything you looked like a goddess among the cracked red cushions of the booth he had chosen. He nudged your feet back. His nerves were slowly coming down from their high and finally easing up.

“You think that’s cute?” You leaned forward a bit, clearly entertained with the conversation happening between you two. “You seem like a charmer, Officer Kennedy.” Leon’s face grew warmer at the mention of his job. Being called that title off-field always gave him butterflies, unfortunately…fortunate for you though. “I like to think I am.” He responded.

“You are. It’s in the works as we speak.”

“Oh?”

The blonde looked down at his hands for a second; he was overwhelmed by your gaze. Leon has always had a bit of a timid nature, especially around pretty women, but it didn’t stop him from being talkative. “What do you do outside of…” he threw his hands around, “this?” He cringed at his words. He felt as if it was intrusive but that’s what dates were all about, asking questions.

“I tend to write a lot, considering I’m a journalist.”

Journalist? That’s an interesting career. That is not surprising considering they live in a big city. She seemed like she was just trying to sustain her career among the daily lives of others, asking questions and writing about it. It’s a career where you intrude on others for a living. He could respect that since he wasn’t that extroverted.

Before Leon could answer her a waiter came up to serve their table. Leon winced at the sight of the young teenage boy, who seemed stressed. He seemed like he was a newbie when it came to night shifts. “Welcome to Del Ginos. I’m Mark and I’ll be your waiter today. Anything you two would like to drink?” Holy shit, this kid was a professional. You and Leon shared a look of amusement before turning back to the teen.

“Uh–thank you, I’d like a strawberry lemonade and he’d likeee,” You trailed off with your words and looked at Leon, waiting for him to answer. “Another strawberry lemonade,” Leon answered. You nodded in approval at his choice. It was simple but safe. After discussing your order you and Leon were finally left alone again. There was a brief silence but it was clear you two were giggling over the teen. “He was professional,” Leon muttered. You immediately burst into small laughs at Leon’s comment. The kid was oddly formal about everything so it was a bit silly. What was a simple joke for you was something entirely different for Leon. He wouldn’t consider himself to be a lovesick person, yet around a woman, he was so easily flustered and amazed. Like you, your laugh sounded melodic and sang a harmony that pulled him in. First, it was good looks, but now it was good looks and a laugh. “Very professional.” You chimed.

Just moments later full of small talk, the two pizzas came. Your eyes widened with anticipation at the sight of the pies. Both had a fluffy crust but the normal pizza had the perfect cheese to pepperoni ratio. With a pull of yours and Leon’s slices, it stretched out and revealed how gooey the pizza truly was. But the other…the other was strange. It had crumbled goat cheese with caramelized onions and apples. The odd combination probably went great together but it was still strange to put it on a pizza.

“I’m not even gonna lie…I’m a bit hesitant to try this pizza.”

Leon feigned a glare, “I told you we should’ve played it safe.” He muttered. You rolled your eyes playfully and smiled. “You’re gonna eat this pizza.” Leon wasn’t serious with his words, as told by the small smile perking up. It was cute with how teasing he was. Small smile and was unable to hold eye contact yet he kept teasing. You kicked his feet again.

“Since you’re lowkey a pussy I’ll try it first.”

Leon tried not to laugh at your words, but he let a chuckle or two escape. He watched you scoop the goat cheese pizza in your mouth and anticipated your reaction. There was the tang of the goat cheese, which hit your tastebuds immediately, then the slow-cooked savory taste of the apples—which added some sweetness to the tart, yet savory. But the onions…the onions were perfect. Carmelized and adding to the palette of flavors. It was a strange combination, but he saw how you enjoyed it.

“Is it good?”

“Try it yourself, Leon.”

Leon took a bite and immediately gagged. In his opinion, it was fucking bad. He glared at you again and immediately placed the slice down. “I’m never taking your lead when it comes to choosing again.” He chided. He was a picky eater, got it. A playful grin came to your lips as he gulped down his drink. Leon loved how playful you were about everything. Subtle flirts and jokes on him. On some level, it seemed you were comfortable already and he enjoyed that.

“You will.”

“What?”

Leon watched your pretty eyes twinkle with mischief and your smile grow wider. “You’re gonna let me choose our next date. I bet on it.” Taking a woman’s lead? He always would.

So for him to be outside in the winter cold with you minutes later was predictable. He didn’t want this date to end yet, the both of them didn’t. The two of you walked side by side, hip to hip to protect each other from the bitter cold. Dancing white snowflakes slowly dropped from the sky along with its cool breeze going north. Raccoon City was the prettiest when hit with snow. Christmas decorations up, glistening snow, couples walking hand in hand with children running around. It was a time of joy and Leon was happy he met you. Growing an attachment now was a bit early, clearly, but he couldn’t stop the attraction from growing. He couldn’t stop the fondness either. His eyes kept glancing towards you and checking you out. You were just such a pretty girl that he couldn’t help himself. This time his stare lingered, watching you pull out a tube of lipgloss and apply it to your chapped ombre brown lips. With a few swipes, you popped your lips together puckering them out. Now here they were, glossy and kissable like every part of you. The sight was too alluring so he looked away once again.

“Whatcha gonna do when you get home?” You asked. The blonde turned his attention back to you instead of the Christmas environment of Raccoon City. Your pretty browns stared at him with a state of wonder. Leon looked great in the cold. He had a thick black wooly scarf around his neck, somewhat covering his rose-tinted lips. His nice, firm hands were shoved deep in his coat, he seemed to be one to forget gloves. Your eyes continued to check him out and finally landed on his reddish ears. “Your ears are cold?”

Before Leon could respond you placed your white earmuffs on his ears. “Hey, you don't have to–uh.” He was quickly cut off by your words of affection. “I don’t want my date cold. And I got all these braids to protect my ears. I’m fine.” Leon didn’t try to argue with you. He appreciated the moment too much to go against your words.

“I–okay…thank you.” He breathed out. Leon’s breath hitched at the feeling of your arm hooking around his, pulling him even closer. Were you always this bold? You gave him a cheeky look in response and made an excuse along the lines of, “You looked cold.” Now not only was he enthralled, but he was excited too. Those feelings of excitement were unwanted though, too soon he thought. “To answer your question, I was gonna crash out once I got home. I got a morning shift, unfortunately. You?”

“Sleep. I love sleeping.”

What a simple woman. At this point, they were just walking around aimlessly in the city. It wasn’t a bad sight at all and it was clear you two wanted the date to last longer. Leon was stuck to his thoughts until he saw an ice rink. There were a few people scattered about on it but not many, so he tapped you and pointed towards it. “You wanna try?” He smiled at the sight of your eyes lighting up with excitement. “Of course! You know how to skate!?”

“No.”

Leon’s heart pounded wildly at the feel of your gloved hands on his. The both of you were giggling as you two slowly glided on the ice. His legs shook while yours stayed steady on ice. It was clear that one of you two had experience.

“It’s like rollerskating, you’ve ever been rollerskating?” Leon shook his head no. He refused to speak with the fear of squeaking or some other embarrassing sound he could muster out. Your hands were just really nice to hold. “Jeez, no experience in the skating department I see. I think I can figure it out, just watch.”

You let go of Leon’s hands much to his dismay, but he watched. He kept his eyes on your hips as they swayed back in forth with every subtle push of the blades. His eyes then trailed up to your face to see the slightly nervous look grow into one of confidence. Ice skating wasn’t hard for you due to your experience with rollerskating.

“You’re doing good!” He exclaimed. A small cheer for your victory. A small smile graced your lips as you glided back to him, except, it was fast, too fast. “I think you need to slow down!”

“I don’t know how to!”

That look of confidence soon turned into fear and that’s when Leon knew to brace for impact. “Shit,” he muttered to himself. He knew he couldn’t catch your ass without falling because he could barely stand. With a scream from you, your body slammed into Leon’s, and the both of you fell. He landed right on his ass and you in his arms. Leon shook his head in mock disapprovement. So much for being good at skating. “You can skate but you can’t brake?” He teased. You sat on your knees and glared up at him.

“I least I know how to stand.” Leon released the most boyish laugh ever, making your face heat up in embarrassment. He had a nice laugh. Deep from his chest and genuine. And to think it was all for you. You used Leon to slowly stand up from the ice. It was too cold and too wet to sit on forever. “Come on. We’re done skating.” He looked at the gloved hand you held out, smiling before grabbing its warmth.

After returning your skates and warming up from said events, Leon held the two of your hands as just before. Maybe you were feeling him after all. There was a streetlight right above you two. It had warm lighting, generating some sort of ambiance that Leon knew he’d crave again. The warm lighting was pretty on your brown skin and made you stand out just a bit more. If anything you were the definition of warmth. His pretty eyes met yours and you guys sheepishly looked away. He tried to meet your gaze again and there it was, she was staring him right in the eyes.

“Hi,” Leon whispered.

“Hi.”

“Look, I just wanted you to know I had a great time with you and–could we stay in contact?” It took Leon lots of courage to get that out. He’s surprised he didn’t stutter on his words at least once. Those thoughts are soon rushed away at the sight of your bashful face. From the small bold lines you kept giving him earlier, why were you so shy now? “Please?” He begged.

“Of course…of course we can. I like you a lot. So take me serious, no games Leon.”

He planned on it. Leon planned on playing no games with her.

#leon x reader #leon x you #leon x y/n #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #re2 leon

29 notes · View notes

scuttling · 4 years ago

Text

(Not So) Casual Friday

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 4,456 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Dad Bod Hotch (it's not a main component but he very much has the tummy here), Pining, Accidentally admitting attraction, Embarrassment, A little angst, Oral sex, Protected sex Summary: Your best friend Derek finds out about your feelings for Hotch and teases you mercilessly. You can manage it, though, until the first ever Casual Friday, when Hotch shows up to work in a black polo and jeans and you kind of ruin everything. Or maybe you don't? *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Okay, girlie, today’s the day,” Derek says when you set your bag and coffee cup on your desk on Monday morning. You shoot your best friend a tired smile and wonder for the—you’ve worked at the BAU for almost two years, so it’s probably the 500th time—for the 500th time why he has to be such a morning person when you would prefer not to have a conversation until at least 10 AM.

“Today’s the day for what?” you sigh, asking out of obligation, because it’s obvious that’s what he’s waiting for; he smiles, picks up your coffee and hands it to you, which must mean you sound bitchy. You take a grateful sip, close your eyes and exhale through your nose.

“For you to admit to me that you’re in love with Hotch.”

You spit out your coffee—only all over yourself, which is great, wouldn’t want to inconvenience Derek at all—and then cough so hard he has to thump on your back to help clear your airway.

It draws some attention; Hotch comes out of his office, takes a look at the two of you and probably regrets hiring the both of you, then walks down the stairs to make sure you’re okay.

“What happened? You’re wet,” he says a bit gruffly, looking at the coffee all over your chest and sleeves. You glare over at Derek, who’s clearly trying not to laugh.

“Derek made me spill my coffee.” You grab a handful of tissues off your desk and pat at the wet spot, trying to soak up the worst of it, but it’s not salvageable. You’ll have to change your shirt.

“And then you… choked on it?” Hotch asks, to clarify. Derek does laugh at that; the things Hotch is saying happen to have dual meanings, slightly sexual, and now that Derek knows—thinks he knows—about your thing for Hotch, it’s clear he finds it all so hilarious. He’s a twelve year old boy in a grown man’s body.

“Okay, I didn’t spill, I spit,” you correct, looking up at them, and Derek makes an exaggerated face of disapproval.

“Should have swallowed,” he says, trying to sound serious, and you shoot him an irritated look and reach out to slap him in the chest. Asshole.

“Do you need help getting cleaned up?” Hotch’s expression is kind, sweet, but you’d sooner die than have him blot coffee off of your boobs. It would be mortifying, especially in front of Derek.

“No, no, I think I’m okay. Thanks,” you add with a soft smile, and then you reach up and pull your sweater over your head, unzip your go bag, and search for another top.

For some reason, Hotch has a coughing fit scarily similar to the one you just had, and you turn to pat his back like Derek did for you.

“Are you alright?” you ask, looking up into his face, and he nods despite his watering eyes.

“Fine,” he croaks, and he leaves as quickly as he came. You sigh, because it’s not even nine and your day has already been so weird.

You’re wearing a tank top, and thankfully the coffee didn’t get through to that layer, so it’s quick and easy to throw another lightweight sweater over top of it; you ball up the wet one, shove it in the dirty clothes portion of your bag, zip it up and stash it under your desk. Derek looks like he’s having the best day of his life.

“You realize you just undressed in front of Hotch,” he says with a tone you don’t appreciate. You roll your eyes.

“I did not. I had a tank top on underneath.” You almost always wear an undershirt, because you’ve been a cop long enough to know that sometimes your clothes get torn or messed up in the line of duty, and you’re not trying to offer a free show while taking down an unsub. Derek wiggles his eyebrows, points at your chest.

“Yeah, one that put those little boobies on display. His eyes bulged out of his head like a cartoon character.” This time, you punch him in the arm, hard. It’s too goddamn early for this.

“Can you please shut up already? I don’t have a thing for Hotch.”

“Ah, I didn’t say you had a thing, I said you’re in love with him. And I have evidence; lots of it.” You tip your head back, groan, wondering what you did to deserve a best friend who is also such a pain in the ass, and it’s that moment that Hotch chooses to rejoin you; he looks a little flushed, probably from the coughing earlier.

“Uh. We have a case; I know not everyone is here yet, but you can head up to the briefing room, I’ll grab the others when they arrive.”

“Sure thing, sir,” you say easily, grabbing your tablet and what’s left of your coffee; you gesture for Derek and he follows, laughing and shaking his head. “Okay, what is it now? I’m so glad you find me entertaining today.”

“‘Sure thing, sir,’” he says with a high, breathy voice you assume is supposed to mimic yours. “You want his dick so bad.” You narrow your eyes at him as you head upstairs.

“Uh, because I was being respectful? I know that’s a foreign concept for you, the world’s biggest asshole, but you don’t have to read anything into it.” You take your usual seats at the table, pull up the note-taking app on your tablet, and Derek sits back, crosses his arms behind his head.

“Well you’re not calling me ‘sir’, and I’m the sexiest piece in the office, so it’s hard not to read into it.” You look over at him, elbow on the table, chin in the palm of your hand.

“Sexy is subjective, and you don’t do it for me, sorry to break it to you.” He scoffs, laughs, and you laugh too because you both know you see each other as brother and sister, buddies, and fellow former cops, and absolutely nothing else.

“Yeah, I get it, only Hotch does it for you; he’s not my type, but I can see how a young lady like yourself could be drawn to his brooding exterior.”

“I’m not drawn to his exterior!” you practically growl, and then you’re joined by Spencer and JJ.

“Good morning. What’s going on with you two?” JJ asks, loading up the monitors for the debriefing, her eyebrows raised.

“She’s in love with Hotch,” Derek says completely nonchalantly, and you rest your head on the table, on top of your forearms, and sigh.

“She’s what?” JJ’s whole face lights up, and you seriously regret everything.

“I’m not in love with anybody!” you mumble against your arms, and then you sit up, because you’re clearly going to have to defend yourself. “And I’d appreciate it if you quit saying that I am.”

“I told you I have evidence,” Derek reminds you, leaning back in his chair a little. One swift kick would have him toppling ass over tea kettle, but you’re too nice, even when he’s actively trying to ruin your life. “Shall I go over it while we wait?”

“I’ll be an objective third party,” Spencer says with a brief smile, and you sigh, wave your hand toward Derek.

“Alright, let’s hear it. I’m sure I have a perfectly reasonable explanation for whatever evidence you might think you have.” He grins like this is the moment he’s been waiting for, and you feel a little stupid for encouraging this.

“For one, you always look at him. When I’m delivering a profile, I notice you watching the locals, making sure they understand what we’re going over, since you're the queen of analyzing the micro expressions. But when Hotch is delivering a profile, your eyes are on him the whole time. Same goes for discussing theories on the jet; anyone else, and you’ve got your face in your tablet, scribbling notes, but you always look at him when he speaks.”

Your cheeks get hot. He’s a captivating speaker, is all, with that deep, velvety voice, and you can learn a lot from him, so you pay attention. That’s just being smart.

“Second, you tense when he gets close to you: not like you don’t want him to touch you, but like you’re halfway to jumping him already and trying to control it. I could probably put my hand in your pocket and you wouldn't even flinch, but if he leans over you to point at something you look like you’re about to cream your pants.”

“I have seen that, actually,” JJ offers, and you look over at her, betrayed. Sure, you get a whiff of his clean, crisp cologne, or feel the heat of him at your back, and your body reacts, reminds you that this is your boss and you’re at work and you can’t get turned on by the way he smells, but that’s actually a good thing, not an indicator of feelings or anything.

“Third, there’s something up with you and the gray suits. I can literally tell that he’s wearing one before I even see him, all because of the look on your face. It’s like you’re drunk on the gray suit.”

“Okay, that’s not true,” you say with a roll of your eyes—the gray suits are god tier, but there’s no way you’re that obvious—but it’s Spencer who speaks up, this time.

“You know, I have noticed that. Your pupils tend to be more dilated when his suit is gray or blue than when it’s black.” Fuck. You sigh.

“He barely ever wears the blue. It looks so good on him,” you murmur, and then you snap your eyes shut, cover your face with your hands. “Fuck. This is so embarrassing.”

“To be fair, we are profilers,” Derek says, leaning in to pat your back. “But also to be fair, he’s been a profiler longer than any of us, so if we know, he definitely knows.”

“Not helping, Derek,” you grind out, and then you’re joined by the rest of the team. Penelope takes the seat next to you, leans in with a worried tone of voice.

“Is everything okay?”

“She’s having a small crisis, but she’ll be fine,” JJ says with a smile, and you don’t miss the way Hotch looks you over when she says it, concern in his eyes. “Alright, so we’re headed to Arkansas…”

Later that morning, when you’ve been given your instructions—yours are heading to the crime scene with Emily and Derek—Hotch pulls you out into the hall, rests a gentle hand on your arm.

“Are you alright? JJ mentioned you were having a crisis earlier. This is the first time I’ve been able to get you alone, and I wanted to check on you.” You take a deep breath, look up at him, so handsome in a black suit, white shirt, green tie—he almost never wears a green tie, and you absently think it brings out the more golden tones of his eyes—and smile softly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s really nothing. Personal stuff, and I’m dealing with it.” If by ‘dealing with it’ you mean you’ve been repressing it, shoving it down day in and day out until your feelings are choking you, then yeah, you’re dealing with it. “Thanks for checking, though, that’s kind of you.”

“Of course. I’m here to help in any way I can, if you need me.” Good god, do you need him, emotionally, physically, but that’s fantasy, and this, what he’s offering, is rooted in reality. Good things do happen, but not to you.

“Thanks.” Your voice is weak to your own ears, and he swallows, nods; you see Derek hovering by the door, waiting for you, and you pull away to join him, plastering a smile on your face. You don’t talk about it again until Friday, and at that point it’s extremely unavoidable.

It’s Casual Friday, newly implemented by the bureau as a way to boost morale, and while it doesn’t really excite you, because you’re fairly casual anyway, others take full advantage of it. Others, including Hotch.

He shows up to work wearing a black polo and dark jeans, his usual watch. It’s easily the most simplistic, basic outfit a man could decide to wear on Casual Friday, but this isn’t just a man, it’s Aaron fucking Hotchner, and so naturally, you lose your damn mind.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the damn polo didn’t fit him perfectly, tight across his shoulders and chest and the little tummy he has that makes you want to be under him so badly, your stomachs pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly, his strong thighs working against yours…

“Hello, are you alive in there?” Emily asks, waving her hand in front of your face; the two of you, along with Derek, are in Penelope’s office for lunch while Rossi, Reid, and JJ are out of the office for a seminar. You blink, shake away your thoughts and hope and pray they don’t come back—but they’ll come back, they always do.

“She’s just short circuiting because of Hotch’s Casual Friday look,” Morgan says with a wink, sitting backward in his seat. “She’s been drooling so much I’ve had to follow her around with a mop to clean up after her.” You push your wheeled chair away from them with a groan, needing space and air and, potentially, a brain transplant. You’ve gotten nothing done all day long.

“Can you blame me? The man comes in here everyday, buttoned up tight, looking incredible in a suit and tie, and then he shows up in that black polo, all snug and hot and delicious, and you expect me not to freak out? You guys are lucky I didn’t pass out.” You’re met with silence, and you blink, confused, at your friends, but they’re all just kind of staring with looks of barely concealed humor. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret that I want to climb him like a tree.”

“Pretty sure it was a secret to him,” Penelope says, looking shocked, and you whip around in your chair to see Hotch standing in the doorway, wide-eyed and a little flushed.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I, uh—” He raises a hand, waves you off.

“It’s okay. No harm done; thank you, for the, uh. Compliment.” He steps forward, hands a manila folder to Penelope. “Thanks for taking care of these,” he says softly, and then, unsurprisingly, he gets the hell out of there. You wish you could disappear off the face of the Earth.

“Fuck, holy fuck,” you mutter when he’s gone, leaning forward with your head in your hands. “That’s it, I’m quitting. It’s been nice knowing you guys.”

“Okay, don’t be dramatic,” Derek says, and you look up to glare at him; he’s the one that started all this in the first place. You were fine, feelings tamped down and suppressed, until he brought it up and then told everyone you know.

“Don’t tell me not to be dramatic, Derek! This is all your fault. You never respect my boundaries, you never know when to just let me be, you always have to pick and pick until you wear me down. Maybe I had a reason for wanting to keep my feelings private, did you ever think of that?”

“I know you're upset,” Emily begins softly, because there’s some pretty thick tension between you and Derek now, but you stand up, push your chair across the room, and shake your head.

“I’m not upset, I’m fucking humiliated. I’m going home; let him know I’m sick, will you?” You exhale deeply, storm upstairs and grab your stuff and drive home with tears in your eyes. You’ve never been so embarrassed in your life, and add that to the absolute heartbreak you’re feeling? You’re just happy you make it to your apartment, so you can break down with cheesecake and a sappy, romantic comedy with a happy ending: those perfect, fictional worlds are pretty much the only place one is guaranteed. You are, as planned, hunkered down on the sofa in your softest pajamas, watching You’ve Got Mail and eating the center out of an entire cheesecake with a spoon when there’s a knock at your door. You groan, pick up your cheesecake tin, and walk over to it, fully expecting it to be Derek come to beg for forgiveness for ruining your life, so it’s no surprise you drop your dessert on the floor when it’s actually Hotch on the other side.

He looks down at the tin, then up at your face, cracks the barest hint of a smile.

“I thought you were sick; I brought soup,” he says, holding up a paper bag, and your heart thumps in your chest. You wipe a hand over your face, because you haven’t been exactly neat in your heartache cheesecake consumption, and then you kick the tin across the floor and invite him in, closing the door behind him.

“I thought it was obvious that I wasn’t actually sick, just… really embarrassed,” you say when he turns back to look at you. “I can’t believe you heard all that stuff I said… I’m really sorry I made you uncomfortable.” You take the bag from his hand and invite him to follow you into the kitchen, where you set it on the counter, lean against it. He comes close, but not so close you can’t function, which is good; your comfy pajamas are shorts and a loose tank top, so you feel a little exposed already.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he says softly, and you frown, must have heard him wrong. He presses his fingertips against the counter, as if for support. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. It was… unexpected,” he explains, “very unexpected, but I’m not uncomfortable.”

You flush hot, and you can feel the bad decision part of your brain switching on, warning bells ringing in your head.

Whatever you do next has the potential to be extremely stupid, and you would like to avoid that at all costs; you love your job, after all, despite how physically and emotionally exhausting it can be, and you love your team. Time to think with your upstairs brain only.

“That makes me feel a little better,” you say truthfully, and despite the pep talk you just gave yourself, you move closer to him like there’s an invisible magnetic force between you; you would imagine a guy like Hotch would step back, keep his distance, but he only cranes his neck a little so he can look down at you more easily.

God, he’s tall. And he smells good, and his face is perfect, and that goddamn polo...

“Good, I’m glad. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. I’m not uncomfortable, it’s not… it’s not unwanted.” You swallow audibly, looking up at him, wondering if he knows what he’s saying, what it sounds like.

“It’s not?” you ask, and it comes out breathy; he takes a small step closer to you, brushes his fingers over your arm, peers into your eyes.

“No, it’s not. I’ve been thinking of you, too; I know you know you’re beautiful, but you’re also so smart, and strong-willed, and a force to be reckoned with. I’m proud to have you on my team, and I’d be proud… to have you climb me like a tree.” He smiles again, just the barest hint of one, and you put your arms around him and pull him closer for a kiss.

One long, slow, perfect kiss turns into another, then another, and he presses your back against the counter, his hands on your face and your hands on his thick waist; you hum into the kiss, revel in the feel of his lips on yours, his tongue sweeping past them, and when you pull back for air it feels like there’s only one question that needs to be asked.

“Bedroom?” you breathe, and he nods, and you take his hand and pull him in that direction, pausing to kiss him several times before you get there. “You don’t happen to have a condom, do you?” you ask, breathless, guiding him to the bed, and he frowns, shakes his head.

“I didn’t want to seem presumptuous.” You grin at that, lean forward and kiss him, your fingers in his hair.

“I find it so hot that you even say presumptuous. I might have one here somewhere.” You open your nightstand, move around books and toys until you find a couple; you flip them over, checking to see if they’re expired, and offer him a couple options. “They’re still good, surprisingly. You can, uh. Choose the one that would work best.”

He looks them over, picks one and hands back the rest, and you throw them back in the drawer and slide into his lap, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says, holding your waist as you look down at him, completely in awe that this is happening. “But I want to clarify: if you’re looking for something casual, I don’t think we should go any further.” You inhale softly, surprised by his straightforwardness, and you lean in, kiss him slowly.

“I don’t want casual. I want to be with you.” His eyes are so brilliant, dark in the dim light of your bedroom, and he nods, presses his lips to yours and slides his hands beneath your top, guides it over your head. Then they move to your shorts, slipping them gently off your hips, and you stand so he can push them to the ground.

You’re both breathing heavily, a little rough, and you step between his legs, kiss him again, run your hands down his chest, closing your eyes with a sigh because you finally get to feel him after a year of just imagining what it would be like. After a beat, you open your eyes, look into his, smile.

“Really grateful for Casual Friday,” you whisper. “Otherwise you might never have found out I’m kind of in love with you.” You ease the polo over his head, drop it on the ground and encourage him to stand so you can take off his pants; he does, but before you can drop to your knees as planned, he takes your face in his hands, presses one soft kiss against your mouth.

“I’m more than kind of in love with you.” Oh, if that isn’t the greatest sentence your ears have ever heard… You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss a little more, forgetting that you planned to finish undressing him; when you remember, you make quick work of it, then have him lay back against the bed and settle between his legs.

You put your mouth on him because you want to, more than anything, and his hand drops to your hair, caressing you while you suck slowly, deeply, holding him with one hand and pressing against his stomach with the other. His moans are soft and gorgeous, his body tense beneath your hand, and you’d do this all night, but he murmurs your name, coaxes you up, puts his hands on your back as you settle against him.

“You’re so incredible. I never would have imagined I’d get this, get you,” he breathes, skimming his hands over your sides and hips, and you kiss softly, steamy and sweet.

“Me neither.” You lean up, make space for him to roll on the condom, and then press him inside; your breath hitches, and so does his, and you lay on top of him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, arms around each other tightly while you move. “Hmm. Aaron,” you sigh, hair falling around him, and he groans, digs his fingertips into your hips.

“Sounds so perfect coming out of your mouth.” You smile, but it slips away when he surges up to kiss you, leans up so he’s sitting with you in his lap. He slides a broad hand up your back, wraps it around the nape of your neck, and pumps his hips up as you sink down, eliciting a series of soft, eager moans from the both of you.

“Feels like I’ve waited so long; I’ve never wanted someone as badly as I wanted you,” you tell him, chest heaving, and he brings you to him for a kiss, something a little rougher, less refined. He’s getting close.

“Never. You make me feel so much.” You reach back against his leg for support, work harder to bring him off, and when he comes he crushes his mouth against yours, delicious and more uncontrolled than you’ve ever seen him. He chants your name, so soft and sweet rolling off of his tongue, and then gets you on your back so he can press deeply inside.

You feel so incredibly full, panting beneath him, your hands on his waist and your feet on the backs of his thighs; his perfect face is inches from yours, all shallow breaths and decadent, passionate kisses, and when you climax you pull him closer, sigh, unravel completely in his embrace.

Maybe good things do happen after all. You hold each other and talk for a while, after a quick pitstop to the restroom, and then your stomach growls—understandably, since the only thing to fill it since lunch was that stupid cheesecake—and Hotch orders takeout on his phone from bed; god bless technology.

There’s a knock at the door twenty minutes later, and you know that’s quick for your favorite Thai place, but you’re not complaining because you’re officially starving. He offers to grab it, throws on his boxers and heads for the living room; after a few minutes, you wonder what’s taking so long, pull on your robe and go to check on him.

Hotch is talking to Derek, who is standing in your living room with a piece of cheesecake and a shit eating grin.

“I came with a peace offering, but now I think I’ll wait for a, ‘Thank you, Derek,’” he says, and you roll your eyes, stalk over and take the cheesecake out of his hands. You give it to Hotch, lean up to kiss Derek on the cheek, and push him toward the door.

“Thank you, Derek. Go away, Derek,” you say with a smile of your own, and he raises his palms and retreats down the hall, laughing as he goes.

This is just one more thing he’ll tease you mercilessly about, but this time the benefits outweigh the costs. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner

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

656 notes · View notes

beewithknee · 4 years ago

Text

the whole world in my arms

ukai x male reader

you're stressed, tired and over it all. all you want is some long cuddles with your husband, Keishin Ukai, but of course, he's at work & there's some random criminal in your house.

God it had been a long day. Your whole body ached, your head felt like it was being split in half and now you were soaked head to toe from having to walk in the rain. Suffice to say, you were a little annoyed.

Slamming the door to your house shut, you kicked off your shoes and let out a deep, bone tired sigh. Your day had been shit and all you wanted was a little bit of TLC™, but of course, your husband was at work. You didn't blame Keishin, in fact, you were glad he got to teach his volleyballers but some days (like today) you just wanted to come home and curl up in the arms of the man you loved with your whole heart.

A strange noise brought you out of your little pity-party. You internally cursed, either you had left a window open and stuff was now everywhere OR there was a criminal in your house. Sadly, you knew it had to be the latter as you also meticulously checked windows before you felt for work. Quite frankly, you didn’t have the energy to deal with this. “Look, if someone’s there, I'm tired and if you leave right now I won't chase you or call the cops.” You called out, the rattling became quieter and you reached up to pull your tie off. “Look, my husband will be home soon and he’s gonna be a whole lot less tolerate about you being here and I really don’t wanna have deal with a lecturing husband so you’ve got 2 minutes to get your ass out of my house before I call the cops and an ambulance for all the broken bones i'm gonna give you.” Your voice once again floated through the house and anyone with ears could tell that you weren’t fucking around. You could feel your hand clenched into fists, slightly shaking with fear despite your scarily calm (angry) exterior. Footsteps echoed through your mind as the uninvited guest came and stood behind you. All the hairs on your body stood to attention as you tried to sense any of their movements. “...baby” wait… you knew that voice. Whipping around your jaw dropped at the sight “Keishin?!” Obviously it was a dumb reaction, but your mind was still playing catch up with the fact that it was your husband standing there, not some random robber.

“Mhm, practice was cancelled and I wanted to surprise. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, love.” He smiled gently taking in your slightly trembling form. You huffed a laugh, shoulders dropping and stress mildly leaving your body. “It’s okay. This is our home, you're allowed to be here.” “I know but thank you, my incredible husband.” The dyed blond always said cheesy things like that and it always made you do the weird fluttery thing. “Now, can I show you your surprise?” Ukai whispered before placing a feather light kiss to your cheek. You nodded as the adrenaline left you and the exhaustion finally caught up with your whole body. Hands laced together and giggling like the lovesick teenagers you once were, you two ventured deeper unto the house before arriving at your destination. “Oh Kei, I don’t know what to say.” You gasped, awestruck by the roses and stunning bathroom. Ukai cheeks gained a bright pink shade as he kissed you ever so delicately. “I know you’ve been having a hard time at work and been doing a lot for me, so tonight I'm gonna take care of you.” Your husband shyly explained, eyes averting with the fear that you'd hate it. Fingers snuck under his chin and brought his lips to yours with a kiss that assured him of your gratitude and love. Slowly the two of you got undressed, sharing innocent pecks with every item removed. “Step in, my love, I'm gonna get in behind you.” The words were soft, neither of you dared to break the calm that had settled in the rose and candle filled room. Doing as instructed, you slipped into warm water, Keishin putting his legs on the other side of you and pulling you into his chest. You felt safe, warm and comfortable, you could practically feel the stress and anger melting with each touch your lover pressed to your skin. “Thank you so much Kei. I don’t know what I'd do without you.” You breathed calmly. The rain added to the quiet, peaceful atmosphere that made it seem like the world only consisted of you two.

You didn't know when your eyes slipped close, but you did notice when the vibrations of the blond humming began to flow through your body and the melody floated through the air. You’d recognize that sound anywhere. “Our wedding song.” You hummed, a smile pulled at his lips and an affirmation was given (not that it was needed) Hands crept their way on your hair, silently asking for permission to wash the strands. You tilted your head back into his calloused yet gentle fingers, relishing in the affection and letting your emotions settle for a bit. Lying there, calm water lapping at your skin, your husband's steady hands washing your hair and his warm body pressed against yours, you felt peaceful. You felt loved and cared for. And like, for the first time in a long while, that you could let go and let someone else take over for a while. “Tilt your head back a bit darling.” He instructed sweetly, a smile clear in his voice. You did as told and felt the water rush over your head, rinsing it clean. That repeated a couple of times until his hands vanished entirely and were replaced by a soapy cloth. “You don’t have to do this, you know.” You breathed out as the cloth left suds in its path. “I know.” He agreed just as quietly. This time around, your sigh was one of gratitude and happiness, the chaos of earlier completely forgotten. Affectionate words were exchanged in the candle-light all while delicate hands traced your body in the softest, most addicting way. “You are the most gorgeous man I have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes upon.” Keishin murmured against your neck, sweetly talking to you so nicely. “And you are the best man I have ever gotten the honour of being with.” You chuckled, equally as sappy but neither of you cared honestly. Ever so lovingly, you were turned around to face your husband and more smiley kisses were exchanged. Placing your head on top of his, you wrapped your arms round his back and laughed at a particular thought that became apparent. “What's so funny?” he questioned, confused. Giggling some more, you replied lovingly. “Well right now, I have the whole world in my arms, Keishin Ukai.” You both smiled (somewhat shyly) before he wrapped a slim arm around your waist. “As do I, [Name] Ukai. As do I.”

#ukai x reader #ukai x male reader #ukai fluff #domestic fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu x reader #husband reader #haikyuu fluff #x male reader #married husbands #he deserves love #I love him your honour

300 notes · View notes

spidercakes · 4 years ago

Photo

A/B/O somnophilia AU in which alpha!Tony absolutely rails omega!Peter.

Warnings: age difference (Peter is in his early 20′s and Tony is in his late 30′3/ early 40′s- imagine whatever you like lol), dub con (somnophilia), rough sex, A/B/O, Very Strong Dom/sub vibes, fem!Peter.

Tony wakes up with Peter curled up in front of him, his back against Tony’s chest. In his sleep he’d leaned in, face buried in the crook of Peter’s neck where it connects with his shoulder and he kisses it lightly as he stretches out some, careful not to disturb Peter. The dorm room bed is awful, but its exam week and Peter is sort of tethered to campus at the moment, and Tony’s not an ass, its not like he’ll die in this bed. He’ll just feel like he wants to in the morning.

Peter makes a soft noise in his sleep, wiggling his ass directly into Tony’s dick. He chokes on his gasp, hand grabbing Peter’s hip as he presses his forehead to Peter’s bare shoulder, exposed by his shirt slipping down. It wouldn’t be so bad, he thinks, if not for the fact that Peter had admitted, rather shyly, that he’s always been curious about sleep sex and Tony never would have guessed that Peter would share that particular kink. To be fair Peter seemed surprised that he was so into it, but somnophilia happens to be at the top of the list of things he’s into.

Its more of a bad habit he’s developed, sliding his hand up Peter’s thigh and under the too big sleep shirt he’s wearing, but this is the first time he’s found what he was looking for. He moans softly into Peter’s shoulder, considering the possibility that this is some kind of fluke, but they’ve discussed it before. Several times. But then its Peter’s normal habit to sleep without underwear anyway, the fact that he’s slept with them on is weird and- he’s overthinking it. Peter isn’t stupid, and he might be stressed but he’s never really been forgetful- he highly doubts Peter just forgot the time he’d mentioned the easiest consent mechanism for somnophilia. Underwear, no. No underwear, yes.

“Fuck,” he whispers, kissing Peter’s shoulder, continuing his path until his teeth are grazing his neck. Peter makes another small, soft noise in his sleep and Tony can feel his cock twitch, getting hard fast now that he knows what Peter is offering. “Bet you’re already wet for me,” Tony murmurs, reaching down and feeling himself through his flannel pajama pants for a moment before he reaches out and slides Peter’s shirt up over his hips. His ass is gorgeous, and when Tony shifts Peter’s leg to the side to give him better access to his hole Peter cooperates, moving a little and resettling himself with one leg hitched up, hips and ass still pointed in Tony’s direction.

So fucking perfect, just like always. He slides his hand over Peter’s ass, gripping one cheek and spreading him open, cock twitching again when he finds exactly what he thought it would. He lets go of Peter’s ass, leaning in and scenting him as he grabs his hip, rutting his mostly hard cock along his ass and moaning when he smells how fucking hot Peter must be for it. Arousal is practically falling off him in waves, even asleep, and Tony can’t hold back anymore. He doesn’t bother taking his pants off, he just pulls the waistband under his cock and balls before leaning back in and rubbing himself against Peter without anything in the way.

Peter, ever so cooperative, tilts his hips back into Tony’s. He laughs softly, “that’s right baby, give me that pretty little hole,” he murmurs, feeling at Peter’s wet hole for a moment before he pulls back to jerk himself off. Peter looks fucking delicious laid out in front of him, horny and wet for Tony and he isn’t even awake. The small, desperate noise he lets out as rubs his cock between Peter’s cheeks, catching the rim of his wet hole really can’t be helped. He feels so fucking good against Tony’s cock, slick already starting to get messy as Tony uses his cock to play with Peter’s hole.

It sucks his head in greedily, gripping him tightly and Tony lets out a choked moan as he pulls himself back out, rubbing his cock against Peter’s hole for a moment before sliding back in. His moan is louder this time, nose buried in Peter’s neck as he scents him, sliding himself in deeper as he begins to move slowly at first, but his patience doesn’t last very long. He’s wanted Peter to let him do this since the moment they met, and he brought it up over a month ago. Its been fucking torture knowing Peter wants this as much as he does, and he can’t help the way he buries himself inside Peter.

The sound of Peter’s slick makes him harder as he moves, grabbing Peter’s hip as he settles himself between his legs, pinning him down as he fucks into him enthusiastically. It doesn’t take long for Peter to wake up moaning, hand flying back and settling over Tony’s on his hip as he grinds his ass back onto his cock. “That’s it baby, show me how much you like my cock,” Tony tells him roughly, teeth harshly biting at Peter’s neck.

“Fuck,” Peter all but yells, back arching as he grinds himself back onto Tony again, wiggling his ass as he pants loudly. “Oh my god Tony please,” he says desperately, gasping as Tony pulls his hand out from under Peter’s, grabbing his wrist and pinning it above his head.

“Fucking take it,” Tony basically growls, “you make my cock feel so fucking good,” he adds, biting at Peter’s shoulder roughly.

The sharp yelp Peter lets out as his hips involuntarily tip up to take Tony in further encourages him, grip on Peter’s wrist tight as he takes what he wants. Peter is so good, so fucking good as Tony fucks him hard and rough, bed shaking enough that Tony might wonder about its structural integrity if he were in the right state of mind.

“Please, Tony,” Peter begs, voice high and desperate with arousal, moaning loudly when Tony lets go of his wrist and wraps his hand around the back of Peter’s neck instead, pushing him hard into the mattress as he fucks into Peter deep. Tony watches his cock move in and out of Peter’s hole, slick dripping down his thighs he’s so wet and he knows he has to knot him.

He smacks Peter’s ass hard with his free hand, moaning as potent scent of horny omega drives him closer to the edge. “Gunna knot that pretty little ass of yours, make sure you know who owns it,” he tells Peter, fucking into him fast.

“Yes,” Peter breathes out softly, “need it Tony, please,” he adds between all these hot little noises he keeps making.

“Mmm not gunna last much longer, sluttly little hole is so god damn tight on me baby, make me want you so fucking bad,” Tony tells him, leaning in and biting at Peter’s shoulder before resting his head against it as he pumps himself in and out of Peter’s hole, mouth dropped open in pleasure because this might be the best Peter has ever felt.

The way Peter feels when he wiggles underneath him is divine, “oh my god I’m cumming, I’m cumming Tony ah-” Peter’s voice is muffled due to being pressed into his pillow and Tony can fucking hold back knowing Peter came on nothing but his cock.

“Fuck yes, baby, s’what you’re fucking made for,” Tony tells him, knot swelling in Peter’s ass, helped along by Peter grinding back onto it panting like he can’t get enough even after cumming. It takes a few minutes of him rocking gently into Peter for him to calm down enough to let Peter up, scenting at his neck immediately and making a pleased noise when Peter immediately tilts his head to the side for him.

“Mm, thanks,” Peter murmurs, moaning softly as Tony’s teeth graze his neck.

Tony laughs, nipping at Peter’s neck again just because it feels so damn good when Peter’s muscles clench down on his knot, “my pleasure.” Like it’s a hardship to fuck Peter on the best of days let alone when he’s been handed his favorite kink on a platter. As a reward he sucks lightly at the sensitive skin on Peter’s neck, biting at the spot before sucking at it again, intent on leaving a mark.

The soft noises Peter makes as Tony continues to stuck marks into his skin encourage him, making him moan as he rocks into Peter. The knock on the door, however, does not.

He sits with his head in his hand, embarrassed. “I can’t believe i had the campus cops called on me,” Tony says.

Rhodey doesn’t even look up from his newspaper, flipping the page casually even though Tony damn well knows he’s not reading it. He’s just a dramatic bitch. “That’s what you get for cradle robbing,” he says, shrugging.

He sputters, betrayed by Rhodey so he turns to Nat, who grins. “I don’t feel bad for you either but only because its funny,” she says.

“Someone thought I assaulted Peter, that is so not funny,” he tells her. In their defense, when he’d played that back over without knowledge of what was going on he guesses that whole thing did sound pretty suspect but still.

He looks to Pepper, his last resort and he knows he’s going to get dropped on his ass but he’s still got hope. “Don’t even,” Rhodey tells him, still not looking up from the paper he isn’t reading. “She has common sense so she’s on my side.”

Tony turns back to Pepper, who pauses long enough for Rhodey to look up at her, giving her a suspicious look. “To be fair, Tony and I had that happen once when we were together and it was awful I’m so sorry you managed to do that twice,” Pepper tells him.

Vindicated he stands up, “ha!” he says to Rhodey, who is staring between him and Pepper like he’s just been told that they’re aliens, and they know because bees.

“Wait, what the fuck am I missing you two had what happen to you?” he asks.

“To be fair,” Tony says, “i completely forgot about the time I got the campus cops called on me with Pepper.”

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #starker fanfiction #abo starker #somnophilia starker #somnophilia tw #consensual somnophilia

200 notes · View notes

soldrawss · 4 years ago

Note

Sol i need headcanons for the brothers, please im begging you

BRUH I GOT YOU

I’m currently working on some little fics for them BUT I CAN GIVE YOU SOME DETAILS BECAUSE I’M DYING TO SHARE

(Warning, gets a little dark towards the middle, but overall fine. Sorry for the long read. I went for a DEEP dive on the Age Gap Au)

Ace was put into foster care 4 hours after his birth. His father died before he was born and his mother died during childbirth. Ace had nothing to his name but physical traits of the dead (Like his father's sharp eyes and his mother’s freckles) He grew up with a need to prove himself and to gain something that truly belonged to him all on his own.

Sabo was placed in foster care when he was 5 because of an altercation with his abusive and possesive parents, involving him having broken ribs and running away.

Ace and Sabo met in a halfway home for troubled youths when they were 6. (They both had issues with authority and past placements in foster homes, so they quickly bonded over that, and decided to stick together ever since)

Their bond was so strong that ‘honorary’ brothers didn’t really fit them. They were brothers. And they stuck together and stood up for one another like it was them against the world (which sometimes it was)

They would often run away from the halfway home they were at, trying to earn a living on their own on the streets, and often commit petty thefts in order to survive.

These little runaway trips wouldn’t last long though, because they were always caught by Officer Garp, a police officer that happened to have a knack for catching little runaways.

However tough Garp acted though, he had an incredibly big soft spot for these two little brats that were only trying to make their lives better. These two kids, barely 8 years old, who had so much hatred for the world because of adults in their lives that failed them. Adults that hurt them, giving them scars and bruises on their hearts just as easily as the scars and bruises on the little frames.

After a particular runaway incident, Ace breaks down and confesses about all the horrible placements he and Sabo had been in before. How social services always judge Ace’s sharp eyes and label in a problem child, how Sabo’s quick wit always get him in trouble with the adults, how they both have scars and bruises from past foster homes they were placed in, and that's why Ace and Sabo runaway. They’re tired of getting placed in bad homes. They’re tired of having adults try to separate them. Ace is all Sabo has and vice versa because that's the only person in the whole world who they trust to not hurt them. And Garp thinks that’s the last fucking straw.

Garp, much to Ace and Sabo’s but nobody else’s surprise, adopts both the boys, and takes them into his own home. Because dammit, if they’re just gonna runaway, they might as well stay with someone who will at least love them enough to always look for them and bring them back to a good home when they do.

And it’s weird at first, because Garp is the rough and loud and nosey officer that used to grab them by the scruffs of their shirts and drag them back to that awful halfway home kicking and screaming. But then it gets better. Because he still yells at them, but it’s with a tempered and fiercely protective love it when he does. He still grabs them, but it’s just to pull them into a rough bear hug that they fervently pretend they don’t like. And every dinner is spent with tears of laughter in their eyes and cheeks warm with delight at the stories he tells them. (They call him old man with affection and he’s their father figure even though they treat him like their grandpa.)

Sabo joins his school’s baseball team! Which is so freaking cool! He’s a really strong batter, can weild a bat like it’s an extension of his own arm, and Ace and Garp are always the loudest cheers on the bleachers every home run hit Sabo makes.

Garp makes Ace take up boxing, because the kid’s got a lot of pent-up rage and aggression, and he figures it’s a good constructive sort of therapy for the rowdy brat.

The two still get up to mischief every now and again, though. Nothing illegal, but Garp is still having to wrangle up his two little idiots before they do something stupid. (They get into a lot of fights with local gangs because they have smart mouths and are still a little reckless)

Garp has a biological son that Ace and Sabo never met due to Garp’s and Dragon’s strained relationship. Garp had always bad-mouthed him whenever his son was brought up, but it was always with words that had no heat behind them, and Sabo and Ace could tell there was a sadness behind his eyes whenever he looked at the picture of his son in his wallet.

The boys were 10 when they got the news of Dragon’s death a week after it happened. Garp had gotten the phone call when he and the boys were watching some late-night trash tv on the weekend, and he had all but strangled the phone in a grip that turned his knuckles white. He didn’t say what had killed his son, (he never did), but he had told the boys he needed to take care of something, told them to pack up some of their things, dropped them off at his friend Newgate’s house, and got the quickest flight out that night.

He came back 3 days later, and when he did, he had a tiny little baby with him.

Ace and Sabo were no strangers to babies. There was always some snot-nosed kid that would get dropped off at the halfway home (and then adopted that week, because everybody loved babies), and they were pretty sure this baby wasn’t gonna be any different. Because babies were loud and gross and never stopped crying, and Ace and Sabo were prepared for the absolute worse.

But then they stood over the baby’s crib to get a good look at him, and the baby looked back.

And smiled the biggest and happiest smile Ace and Sabo had ever seen.

And Garp had said “His name is Luffy,” and Ace and Sabo had been hooked around his little finger ever since.

Luffy was barely 6 months old, and was a bundle of chubby cheeks and contagious giggles. With big brown chocolate colored eyes that melted all the sharp corners and edges of Ace’s and Sabo’s hearts.

Because Sabo and Ace were the same age, and neither one of them felt like the older or younger brother. They were equals in every way. But it was different with Luffy. Because Luffy was tiny, and soft and could barely wrap all 5 of his little fingers around one of theirs, and it hit Sabo and Ace like a bullet train because oh.

Oh this is what it was like to be an older brother. This was what it was like to have a little brother. And Sabo and Ace have always looked out for each other, of course. But Luffy was something they had to protect fully and with their entire being. His smile, his laughter, his heart. All of it. Sabo and Ace knew all the horrible things in the world, knew all the hatred and fear and heartbreak the world could throw at you and it was like a silent promise to each other they never verbalized, that Luffy should and would never have to go through the things they went through. He would never feel unloved. He would never feel unwanted. He would never feel like he had to prove his worth or reason for existing. (He was worth more than any price anyone could give anyway)

Sabo and Ace stopped getting into trouble. They got good grades, excelled in their respective clubs, and didn’t give Garp any reason to chase them down in his old cop car and bring them home. (They were always at home anyway, giving Luffy piggyback rides and teaching him how to ride a bike and do one-handed handstands and cartwheels, and basking in the warmth that was Luffy’s endless love) And they lived in peace like that for 5 years.

Then the fire happened.

Garp was a good police officer and an even better Deputy Chief, and for almost 40 years, he served on the Foosha County Police Department. He had put away a lot of bad guys and saved a lot of people in the process and was an honored and highly respected man. However, this also made him a big target and earned him quite a few enemies. He was 3 weeks away from retirement and spending most of those weeks staying at home, playing with Luffy, and ingnoring the last of his paperwork left on his office desk.

When the fire broke out, Ace and Sabo had just turned the corner from the bus stop on their way home from school. They had seen the smoke, but didn’t know where it was coming from till they saw the towering blaze of fire that used to be their 2 story home and the group of neighbors surrounding the outside.

They managed to push their way to the front, hands shaking and eyes wide and absolutely breathless, because that was their house! That was their house that was one fire and where was gramps?! Where was Luffy?!

The only thing Ace heard Sabo whisper among the roar of the fire and the loud murmur of people around them was “Do you hear that? That... crying?” Before Sabo surged forward.

Ace didn’t have time to reach out and stop him, and by the time he could, Sabo had already disappeared into the open front door, which was covered in flames. He had screamed out, tried to race in and follow his brother into the flames, but the neighbors around him were quicker than he was and pulled him back.

Edward Newgate, one of their neighbors and close personal friend of Garp’s was in the crowd, and he was holding Ace to his chest with an arm like an iron bar, as he was on the phone with the local fire department. (Newgate was also the Foosha County fire chief, and was shouting at his lieutenants to “get your asses out here now!’) But Ace didn’t hear a word he was saying. All he could do was struggle to get out of the older man’s grip, reach out for his brother and best friend, and scream his lungs out.

What felt like hours went by, and Ace felt like his heart was shattering into a million piece, the glass shards falling around him, as he sobbed into Newgate's chest, thinking he had lost everything. His home. His family. His only purpose and reason for living.

And then some of the neighbors were shouting again, only this time in surprised alarm and Ace looked up with hazy eyes blurred by tears, to see something was coming out of the front door.

And it could only be Sabo. Ace knew it was him before he could even register it, and bolted out of Newgate's grips that had slacked at the surprise and towards his brother.

Ace met Sabo only a few feet from the door, Sabo collapsing into his arms, and Ace had to pull him the extra few feet away because the flames were still too much to bear even at that distance.

And Sabo’s skin was hot and red and covered in smoke and ash alike. There was a giant welting red burn against the side of Sabo’s face that looked like it would leave a scar forever, but Ace was having a hard time focusing on it because he was too bust focusing on the bundle of blankets that Sabo was desperately trying to push into Ace’s arms.

And Ace was already crying before, but he began crying even harder when he removed the fold of blankets to reveal a muffled Luffy, covered in ash but unharmed, crying his eyes out.

Sabo had a coughing fit that rocked his whole body, and burns that looked like they'd hurt forever, but he was smiling when Ace broke into a sob, clutching both Sabo and Luffy into his chest.

The firefighters and paramedics came a few minutes later, and they had to physically pull Sabo and Luffy from Ace’s arms to check and treat them. Luffy only ended up with a few mild burns and cuts on his arms and legs and some burning of his throat from inhaling so much smoke, but Sabo had to be taken to the hospital immediately for his burns, especially for the one on his face. Ace pleaded to let them all ride in the same ambulence on the way to the hosipital, and held on to Sabo’s shirt sleeve with a grip that would take the end of the world and then some for him to let go.

Sabo had to get some surgery and treatment to save his left eye, but he was all in all ok, and Ace and Luffy were allowed to visit his hospital room for as long as they needed.

When Ace finally confronted Sabo on why he had ran into the house in the first place, it was on the first night of their hospital stay. Sabo had a giant white gauze wrapping half of his head, and he looked at Ace with tired blue eyes that looked a little fuzy, still a little drugged from all the medication he was on to ease the pain.

And Ace felt bad about it, he really did, because Sabo didn’t derserve to be grilled on the matter. Not after he had sacrificed himself and saved Luffy. Their little brother. Their little brother who they wouldn’t even have anymore if it weren’t for Sabo.

But Ace had to know. He was so mad and heartbroken and scared out of his mind when Sabo had rushed in without word or warning. Because they had lost Garp. They had almost lost Luffy. And Ace could have almost lost Sabo too.

But Luffy was tucked underneath Sabo’s arm on the hospital bed, and Sabo just smiled at Ace with a patience that only Ace and Luffy could pull out of him, and patted the other side for Ace to join them. Ace climbed onto the bed beside him, and even with the two 15-year-olds and one little 5 year old, the bed didn’t feel too small at all.

Sabo explained that he could hear crying from the door and he just moved. Knowing it was Luffy before his mind could really think about the implications behind that. He confessed how the flames hurt at first. Hurt so bad, and it was so hot, and everything, from the floor to the ceiling, was on fire and he could barely see anything through the smoke. But he could hear Luffy’s little rough and horse scream, coming from one of the back rooms that used to be Garp's office, and suddenly all Sabo could afford to think about was Luffy’s crying.

Sabo would tell a watered-down version of this story to the cops in the morning, because they were Garp's friend and companions, and they only really needed the broad details for their report anyway.

He’ll tell a heroic version of this story, lacking any horrific graphics, to an older Luffy whenever the eternally curious kid wonders and asks about it.

But he only ever told the whole story right then on that night, one arm tight around his baby brother in a toothed and protective love, while the other one gripped his best friend's hands with shaking and bandaged fingers hard enough to leave bruising.

Garp was long dead when Sabo found him. The smell of his skin burning off is something that will haunt Sabo for the rest of his life. (Sometimes certain smells will set him off. Uncooked bacon is not allowed in the house anymore after one traumatic morning when Luffy is six. Campfires are viewed and enjoyed from a distance.)

He was lying on his stomach, clutching something to his chest. Sabo knew it was Luffy by the cries, bundled up in a few quilts and one of this office rugs, and Sabo knew he had to get them out of there before the smoke killed them off like it had a personal agenda against them.

The heat was unbearable, Sabo had confessed, but it was nothing compared to having to drag Luffy from underneath Garp’s grip. The old man was built like a brick house, sure, but even in death, his grip on Luffy, protecting Luffy, like he was daring the world to take anything away from him, was steadfast and almost unbbreakable.

It was the hardest thing Sabo had ever had to make himself do.

He didn’t look at Garp’s face. His body was burned black and bloody and raw, and Sabo couldn’t live with himself if his memory of Garp’s face was replaced by anything other than with the one of his scruffy beard and the shit-eating grin that he always wore.

When he pulled Luffy out, he didn’t look back, and raced out of the house as fast as he could. Something along the way fell and smacked him in the face, knocking him down at one point, but Sabo couldn’t pay it much mind. He got back up, and continued towards the door. He could barely see, barely breathe, with all the smoke and the ash, and the pain from the fire was almost numbing against his skin, but he didn’t stop.

All he could think about was Luffy, still struggling and crying against the blankets wrapped tightly around him. Next thing he knew, he was outside, and looking up at Ace’s snot-covered face.

Ace had never seen Sabo cry for the almost 10 years he knew him. He didn’t cry when he was 7, and the Anderson family had called him a freak and had sent him back after a failed foster home placement. He didn’t cry when he was 9, and broke his arm falling out of the tree in their backyard that Garp had told him not to climb, so of course he had to climb it. And he didn’t even cry earlier that day, at 15, when he was off medication and feeling the full extent of his painful burns.

So when tears started pooling out of Sabo’s pale blue eyes, falling down his cheeks and staining the cotton white blanket he was under as he told his story, Ace pretended not to notice, wrapped an arm around Sabo’s shoulders, and held him like it was the only lifeline in the world.

Garp’s funeral was held the following week. Closed casket. All the police departments in the county, and even some outside of it, showed up to give him a full send-off. Ace cried for both Sabo and himself. Sabo spoke a few words for the both of them. And Luffy stood between them, holding both their hands. They explained the night before that gramps was gone, but they don’t think the notion of death really got through to Luffy. He was crying, but only because Ace was crying, and when he asked ‘can gramps come out of the box to give me a hug before he goes away?’ everyone has to clench their teeth and hold their breaths to stop their hearts from breaking. Sabo kneeled down to wrap Luffy in a tight hug. Ace covered his face with his arm and cried harder

(They never bother asking Luffy about how the fire started, or what happened that day. Luffy doesn’t remember, and they don’t push it further. The truth isn’t as important as Luffy’s mentality is, but Garp’s old squad promises that they won’t rest until they get to the bottom of it. And as much as Ace and Sabo want justice and revenge, they have Luffy to think about, so they leave it up to the police)

Sabo and Ace are almost 16, and they suddenly have no parental figure, no home, no anything, and suddenly they’re faced with the horrible notion that even more can be taken from them when a blast from their past threatens to take Luffy away from them too.

They’re no stranger to the foster care system, so when social services show up at the motel they were renting with Garp’s savings, they feel their hearts drop to their stomach for fear of the very real possibility that Luffy will be placed in immediate foster care, and possibly, so would they.

Ace and Sabo jump into action then, because no way, no fucking way, were they gonna lose Luffy. They had lost everything else. They almost did lose Luffy. They weren’t gonna risk that chance again.

Ace was only a few weeks older than Sabo. Sabo hadn’t paused a second to jump into the fire, risking life and limb, to protect what little they had. It was Ace’s turn to be the heroic older brother. And on the day he turned 16, Ace petitioned legal guardianship and parental rights for Sabo and Luffy.

And it was hard, because of course the courts felt sorry for him, the grandson of one of the best police chiefs in the county’s history, begging the courts to let him keep what little family he had left together. The courts wanted to give it to him, wanted to help him. But Luffy was a child. And Ace and Sabo were practically still kids themselves. Asking kids to raise themselves was something no one should ask them to do.

But Ace and Sabo fought for it. Ace was 16, and Sabo would be 16 soon enough. They could get GED’s, no problem. They’d get jobs, get a little apartment near Luffy’s school, attend any parenting and child service meeting required of them. They’d buy all the necessities over again and they’d love Luffy where no other foster family could even compare. They’d do everything, everything and anything, to keep Luffy. To let them stay together.

With a couple of vouchers from Garp’s old police squad, including one from an overly enthusiastic Edward Newgate and one from the boy’s homeroom teacher, Makino, the courts ruled in Ace’s and Sabo’s favor, and Luffy was officially theirs until they proved that Luffy was better off somewhere else.

Ace and Sabo were never gonna let that happen.

They got a little 2 bedroom apartment a couple blocks from Luffy’s elementary. They quit school, and worked extra hard to earn their GED’s within the following months. (With the help of their old teachers and a few of their overly enthusiastic neighbors)

Ace got a job at the local fire department, as a rookie in training under Newgate.

Sabo got a job at the local news station, writing reports on top of his interning duties.

Ace eventually got a motorcycle that same year, which scared Sabo half to death and delighted Luffy to no end. It was cheaper than a car, and easier to travel to and from work on, and no matter how hard Sabo tried, he couldn’t come up with a valid reason why Ace shouldn’t use it to their advantage. So Sabo made Ace promise to always wear a helmet when riding it, and that Luffy wasn’t allowed to ride it until he was much older. (Which Luffy pouted about to no end)

And it’s hard at times, both of them working overtime just to make enough to support themselves and keep them afloat, but it’s good, and it’s theirs.

Luffy makes a friend on his first day of first grade named Zoro Roronoa, another kid that lives just across the street from them, and when Ace and Sabo know they’re gonna be late in getting home, Luffy goes over there and hangs out until they can pick him up (Which is totally fine with Zoro’s father Koushirou, a kendo teacher and single father of 6-year-old Zoro and 9-year-old Kuina. Zoro has a bit of a personality problem and often has trouble making friends (because the child doesn’t see a need to) so when little bright-eyed and endlessly joyful Luffy pops into their life, Kushirou jumps at the chance to have him over as much as possible, because the two small children seem to bring out the best in each other, and are best friends attached at the hip) Sabo and Ace are eternally grateful to the kind man)

A few years go by, and Luffy is 8. Ace is still working at the fire station and is now legally allowed to join them on calls and emergencies. (Fire used to make Ace nervous, because he almost lost everything to it. Now he has a personal agenda with it, to make sure it doesn’t take anything from anyone else)

Sabo has moved up the ranks now, and when he turns 18, confronts Ace with a rare job opportunity he was offered.

“It’s a year-long internship for this really cool company that reports and delivers high-class diplomatic information around,” Sabo starts, rubbing the back of his head like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. “I’d be working as like, a cool undercover spy with diplomatic immunity and a messenger bag. It’s not dangerous at all, and pays almost triple my paycheck now, which would really help us out. But it’s overseas, and I’d be gone for a whole year. You’d be raising Luffy all by yourself, birthdays and holidays and skinned knees, with just the two of you, so say the word, and I’ll totally turn this job down on the spot.”

And it’s scary to Ace. Because he hasn’t been alone since he was 6 years old, and he can’t possibly remember a time when Sabo hadn’t been by his side. His best friend and brother. It was always the two of them. Two little runaways that found a home, lost that home, and then built a new home all on their own despite it all. And neither of them had ever been away from Luffy for longer than a weekend, so Ace was sure it would kill Sabo to be away from them for so long.

But he also knew that Sabo was only playing this off like it wasn’t a big deal, when in fact it was the job opportunity of a lifetime for someone like Sabo, a kid who breathed adventure and freedom with every breath. And that when he talked about it, his eyes sparkled with a joy that Ace would hate himself forever for taking it away.

Sabo was giving Ace the choice, and Ace knew that Sabo would go along with whatever Ace decided without a second thought or complaint. But Ace knew that Sabo would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't go, so he slugged Sabo in the arm, gave him his best shit-eating, confident grin, (the kind he used to give him right before they were about to steal some food as kids, or about to get into a fight when they were teens) and said, “You let me have a motorcycle. The least I can do is let you go road tripping abroad.”

Because Ace and Luffy would be fine. They’d miss Sabo like crazy, and Ace was pretty sure Sabo was like, 90% of his impulse control, but they’d survive. Sabo had the burn marks to prove how far he was willing to go for their family, and Ace had never thanked him for that. Ace was never gonna live that down, and was going to spend the rest of his life making it up to both Sabo AND Luffy, and prove just how good of an older brother he could be. This was the least he could do for them.

#my work #one piece #monkey d. luffy #Portgas D. Ace #sabo #asl brothers #age gap au #oh ho look at me #my fics all start after this moment when sabo is overseas #so this is just context for that.#enjoy please and sorry in advance #i've thought too much about this au #it lives rent free in my head always

359 notes · View notes

dreamingmanip · 4 years ago

Text

“MADNESS LOVE” PART 2

*GIF NOT MINE*

You can find part 1 here.

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Warnings: None (if I need one let me know in my ask!)

Prompt: NONE

Word Count: 2,026

A/N: Hi guys! Like I said before, this is part 2 of 3 for this imagine. I loved this fic so much I could’t stop writing. I hope you liked it, like always if you like this, please like it and reblog it. This would be pin on my page so you can find it without problems.

The tears kept rolling down your face all the way home, you didn't bother to wipe them away when you met your neighbor in the lobby, asking you if you were okay. You weren't, you were holding yourself to not break down in the middle of the hallway, making a scene.

Your keys jingled while you opened the front door, your hands trembling; you shut the door behind you. There was some light coming from outside the window but mostly it was dark,and that's how you felt, as if somebody took the light inside you leaving you blind. You leaned you back on the door, your body sliding down to the cold floor, sitting there looking at nothing. A cell phone started ringing in the distance but you didn't want to move. Your eyes fluttered trying to focus in the dark, searching in your jacket for it, the screen on the phone glowed and illuminated your face, Jay's name showed up, and the killing pain came back to your chest just looking at his name, so you decided to turn it off.

God knows how long you were there until you decided to stand up and go to your room to take a shower, put on some pajamas and grabbed the bottle of wine that was in the back of your fridge taking it to your room. Jay's words echoing in your head, over and over again.

Did he commit to his job, to his Unit, that he was fine letting you go? His words were etched in your mind. Of course you understood the full situation, he was right; you were the new still, not a detective, but that wasn't what was hurting you, it was realizing how he believed you both could never say anything because your jobs were more important.

Somehow you fell asleep before finishing the bottle of wine. The clock on your nightstand began to chime, it seemed that you had barely fallen asleep. Your room was still dark thanks to the curtains but some rays of sun could creep in. You stretched out your hand to turn off the alarm, and at the same time, your cell phone began to ring, you probably turned it on again in the middle of the night, you were a cop and sometimes you did stuff automatically; you raised it a little to be able to answer.

"Hello?"

“Hey Y/N, please don’t tell me you were still in bed.”

Your voice was a little croaky when you spoke.

“Uhm, no I wasn’t. My throat feels weird this morning, so… yeah.”

Kim’s voice was joyful even on the phone, you turned to see the clock, in a bright green color it said “8:15 AM”. You sat up immediately, moving the soft sheets wrapped on your body away while Kim was still talking.

“...So I called Kevin and we decided to bring you some donuts and your favorite coffee before the event. We’re 10 minutes away.”

“Fuck”.

You murmured getting in the bathroom. Kim looked at Kevin a little concerned.

“Sorry Kim, I spilled some water on the table but, uhm, yeah. See you in 10”.

Ending the call, you got in the shower, didn’t even wait for the warm water so you screamed a little feeling the coldness on your skin. The fastest shower you ever took in your life, leaving you with only five minutes to get dressed up and do your hair.

You were in the final touches of your makeup when a few small knocks on the front door warned you of the arrival of Burgess and Atwater. Taking one last look at the mirror to put a smile on your face before one of them would notice something, you felt anxious and devastated and trying to hide it from officers and detectives required a lot of self control.

Both of your friends smiled when you opened the door, Kim was holding a little box with cartoon drawings of donuts on the top while Kevin was offering you a cup of your favorite coffee. All of you wearing uniforms.

“Thanks guys, I barely ate something this morning”.

You took the coffee from Kevin’s hand, taking a little sip before walking out of your apartment, closing the door behind you. The three of you were talking about random stuff all the way to the car and to the downtown, well, Kim was the one talking with Kevin, you were mentally preparing yourself to see Jay, it wasn’t working at all.

“So Y/N, Jay called me last night, which was a little weird if I have to admit, he asked me about you”.

Kim was looking at you through the view rear mirror, you blinked a couple of times without saying anything. Why did Jay call Kim to ask her for you? You had no idea and that's exactly what you said.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I was at home last night. He’s weird sometimes you know that.”

“I know, right? He asked me if you were with me last night but we were at Molly’s. Adam, Hailey, Kevin and I, we miss you by the way.”

Kevin looked at you, knowing something went wrong between you and Jay.

“We invited Halstead to celebrate but he said he was busy filling some forms for Trudy after shift.”.

“Well, I don’t know him so well. I think he prefers to be alone. Look, the press is here too”.

You passed some news cars, reporters were setting their cameras to get a better view. Jay hated this, he wasn’t comfortable seeing his face on the paper just for doing his job and also Voight taught them that when his unit was formed, and everyone did almost the same.

You got out of the car after Kevin parked near the place. Hailey was the first who noticed you, she raised her hand and started to wave it. You smiled, Kim was doing the same and started walking towards her, Kevin patted your shoulder making you go slowly.

“What happened last night? Jay called me too, he said he was worried about you”.

“Well, he doesn't have to do that anymore. We’re done”.

“Wait, what?”

Kevin stopped for a moment, that news caught him by surprise.

“Y/N, are you sure of this? Don’t get me wrong, I’ll support any decision you make, all the way, but I know your feelings. Working together could get harder.”

You nodded your head, you knew it. It was going to get hard in every possible way, seeing him every morning not able to steal a kiss from each other at the coffee room or staying up watching a movie with your head on his chest; suddenly a bunch of memories came back to your mind, you shook your head slowly, you gave him a side smile.

“Kev, I got this. I’m gonna be fine. C’mon”.

You bumped his arm with yours while you reached out to Hailey and Kim, for a moment Hailey looked at you and nodded, Jay talked to her too. You nodded back to her.

A few moments later, Voight and Trudy joined you. In the place there were a small, but considerable, number of people but no matter how much you searched with your eyes, you could not find Jay. The coordinators asked you to take your seats, for obvious reasons the Intelligence Unit was in the front row, it wasn't until that moment that you could see Jay in his uniform, you had always liked the way he looked in it. However, he didn't seem very happy, he seemed calm but you noticed the pressure on his jaw, his straight shoulders and his gaze in front of him, but he wasn't looking at you.

He was sitting next to some superiors in the platform in front of you. The Superintendent stepped up to the microphone to start his speech, some photographers started to point their cameras to the people and then to the "big hero".

The ceremony wasn't too long, you all met in the back while reporters were asking now questions to some people. Voight was smiling, which was rare, while Jay was walking towards the group.

Adam was the first to talk, and like always, started to make some jokes.

"There he is, the super cop Jay Halstead. The man of the year!"

He padded Jay's shoulder, he had a shy smile on his lips. Uncomfortable by all the attention he was receiving.

"Thanks Ruzek, I think the cartel in Mexico didn't hear you".

Everybody laughed, including you. Jay looked at you for a moment, actually felt more like 2 seconds.

"Alright, let's go back to the district and back to work. We can celebrate later at Molly's".

Voight spoke and all dismissed to the cars, you went with Kevin again, this time Kim decided to ride with Ruzek, the awkward sensation was still there so she didn't want it to push it further and make you uncomfortable. Once inside the car, you kept quiet all the way, Kevin knew you were lying but he also knew how you dealt with a broken heart.

You went to the locker room and just arrived at the district, it was too damn warm to keep it all day, also it was used just for events like this. When you got to the door you spotted Hailey, she was putting her badge on her belt. You kept your head down, trying to avoid her, you greet her with a quiet voice.

"Uhm Y/N, can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Yeah, sure."

Hailey closed the door and crossed her arms on her chest, her cautious blue eyes looking back at you.

"Look, when Jay told me he was dating you, I told him it was stupid. Not worth it if your careers could be over just for a romance that could last just a few months".

You knew Hailey, she was a bad ass woman and probably didn't say it to her so often but you admire her. She was serious, she didn't like to play games when it comes to her friends.

"I'm sorry for telling you this, but that was before seeing how good you are together as partners and as a couple. I was scared for both of you because I love you and I care about you. I'm not on Jay's side or your side, left me out that but Y/N, it's not easy to Jay open his heart like he did with you. He doesn't want to lose you and I guess the only way he can control that feeling it's not letting anybody know about it. Forgive me if I was a little obtrusive".

You didn't notice there were a few tears on your cheek, cleared your throat to be available to speak but you failed at finding the right words, it took you a few seconds to speak.

"It's okay Hailey, but what about me? What about my feelings? I know Jay is right, we could lose our jobs but, why make me feel like his dirty secret?"

Hailey took a few steps closer, her blue eyes now looking sad.

"Of course your feelings are valid. Don't get me wrong, I have been in that position before and it's not easy. All I'm saying is, you shouldn't leave things unspoken, this stuff gets heavy later."

She hugged you tight, rubbing your back. You held her too, she knew what she was talking about, you never asked before 'cause she was very private but you believed her at anything she said.

After changing your clothes, you came back to the bullpen, nobody was talking, you sat at your chair and looked around; it seemed like everybody was tense for no reason. Voight was in his office and the unit was on some paperwork. You felt someone looking at you, directly. There was no need to look up, you knew Jay was looking at you from time to time. You haven’t talked to each other yet, you needed to, but that wasn’t the right place.

Tagged some beautiful people ✨:

@itsdesiree86 @mrspeacem1nusone @anotherfan07 @thestarrynightslover

#madness love #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x you #jay halstead #fanfic #chicago pd imagine #Adam Ruzek #hailey upton #kim burgess #hank voight #trudy platt #molly's bar

230 notes · View notes

unbridgeabledistances · 4 years ago

Text

hi y’all<3 here’s a new section of the gallavich as seen from alternate POVs fic, this time featuring lip!!!! (i wanted to wait til after the ✨lickey drama✨ in the new ep before posting, but then i decided against it bc i didn’t want to re-write this lol)

i started to have way too many feelings while writing this so it’s a little lengthy and contemplative, but rest assured it features some domestic fluff/ian and mickey being disgustingly in love- i hope u enjoy<3

Lip shuffled into the kitchen of the Gallagher house, opening the fridge door and reaching past the clanging beer bottles to grab a metal soda can on the way back of the shelf, hearing a faint fizz escape as he popped the tab. It was late, the moonlight streaming in across the kitchen through the worn curtains and pooling on the kitchen floor— after Tami had crashed in their bed at the apartment after a long day at work and Freddie was sleeping soundly in his crib, Lip had come by the Gallagher house, without really knowing why. He just needed to clear his head, to get some distance from Tami and all her relentless nagging about moving and apartment hunting and his colossally obvious fuck-up with the bikes— he just needed some space, some less stifling air to breathe outside of their half-packed apartment crammed with boxes lining the walls.

It was funny; no matter how much energy Lip had poured into he and Tami’s first apartment, into painting the walls and agonizing over their kitchen backsplash like it was his first-born son, whenever Lip thought about home, whenever he felt that pit of uneasiness growing in his stomach and he just needed a place where he could lie back on a couch and loosen the knots in his shoulders and breathe in familiar air that would fill him up, instead of the too-clean smell of Tami’s flowery potpourri that she’d placed on the expensive coffee table in their living room— Lip always found his feet leading him across the slabs of sidewalk and past the chain link fences towards the Gallagher house, no matter the time of night. He had only been in the house for a few minutes before he felt the tight-knit something in his chest begin to unfurl— he didn’t even want to start to think about what was lodged there. This had been a crazy fucking couple of months, and he wasn’t going to start getting sappy about selling the house now, not when they were so close. He’d dug a hole too deep this time, and he needed the money. He couldn’t fuck up again— not with Freddie to take care of. No matter what it cost him.

So that’s how Lip ended up sitting at the Gallagher kitchen table at 2 a.m. on a Thursday night, sipping at an overly-sugary pop that was no substitute for what he really wanted to be drinking right now—he could imagine how it would warm the insides of his stomach, how it would cushion whatever weird fucking ache was in his chest right now. But— no. Fuck no. He wasn’t going to do that now. Everything about selling the house, about moving on, was about getting his shit straight— about leaving the bad parts of this sagging roof and these stained floorboards behind him.

Lip slouched in the wooden kitchen chair, scrolling on his phone and finally letting out a breath he didn’t really know he had been holding in all day, when he heard a creaking of footsteps padding at the top of the stairs— too heavy to be Liam or Debbie, too careful and unfumbling to be Frank dragging himself through the house. Lip flickered a glance up from where he was sitting and met Ian’s eyes as he turned the corner of the stairs, his skin looking translucent and overly pale in the moonlight like the ginger motherfucker he was.

Ian nodded his head towards Lip in acknowledgement, like he wasn’t surprised in the slightest that his older brother with a whole ass family and apartment of his own was decidedly squatting in the kitchen of his childhood home, drinking a pathetic-looking can of Dr. Pepper. Ian slid open the fridge door, grabbing a beer and swiftly popping the cap off by knocking the bottle on the side of the counter—and then in an instant it became one of those quiet, familiar nights when it was just Lip and Ian in the kitchen, sometimes letting easy conversations flow between them, but other times, just like this— just sinking into each other’s presence in the silence. Ian’s shadow mingling with the moonlight on the kitchen floor immediately snapped the atmosphere from lonely and self-pitying and stale to something lighter, something familiar—like the worn, buttery leather of a baseball glove that fits just right.

Instantly Lip was brought back to so many nights before this, of he and Ian orbiting each other in the kitchen at night— when they were kids and would creep down the stairs and eat fistfuls of junk food that Fiona had forbidden, or steal warm sips of the open beers Frank had left on the counter. This was where they’d processed Monica’s return, late at night while they passed a cigarette between them and Ian hadn’t tried to hide the tears that were freely rolling down his freckled cheeks, back when they were both just confused kids who clung to each other— this was where they’d processed Frank’s alcoholic meltdowns, too many to count, and all the love and loss and confusion that had passed between these walls, all the collateral damage of living in this fucking neighborhood. And Lip felt a sudden pang in his gut, sharp and present, when he realized that it might be one of the last nights that he and Ian got to spend in the kitchen like this.

Lip immediately shoved the thought down with all his might, a hydraulic press squeezing out any sentimentality. He had to do this— for Freddie, for Tami. He had to man up and move on, even if it meant physically wounding the crumbling walls to ease the pain of the parallel jagged wounds somewhere deep in his chest, or screaming and shouting until veins popped in his neck, so loud that he knew he was radiating his pain outwards like a fucking atomic bomb.

But tonight, Lip had no more fight left to give. He just wanted to let these four walls hold him one last time, without even realizing that was what he had needed until this moment. Ian slid a chair out from the kitchen table and sat beside him, leaning back and dragging out a slow, sleepy breath.

Lip cleared his throat, softly. “Where’s Mick?”

“Passed out upstairs.” Ian scrubbed a hand over his face. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Lip raised his eyebrow, almost involuntarily, and Ian immediately jutted his chin up in a half-nod, an affirmation, as he leaned back even farther and took the first sip of his beer. No, he wasn’t manic and yes, he was fine. After all the years that had passed since Ian was still figuring this shit out, Lip sometimes forgot that checking in on him wasn’t really his job, not anymore.

Lip took another sip from his soda can, a movement to fill the easy silence. “How was your guys’ night?”

Ian shrugged non-committally, his shoulders still slumped back in the chair, his lips puckered around the mouth of the bottle as he stared off into the distance at the peeling kitchen wallpaper. “Eh. It was fine. I dragged Mickey out to try and make more gay friends. Ended up being a mistake.”

Lip held back a laugh, taking a sip from his own drink to mask his smirk. He had ample auditory evidence that Mickey was plenty as gay as Ian, but it was still hard to imagine Mickey leaning into all of this shit— Ian used to wear golden underwear and frequent gay clubs and go to social justice brunches, but none of that really seemed like it was Mickey’s scene.

“Oh yeah? Mickey not the easiest person to befriend?” Lip said it with his eyebrows raised, like the joke was obvious.

Ian looked up at him, like he’d been snapped out of a sleepy train of thought, staring earnestly like Lip’s jab had flown right over his head. “Actually, it was kind of my fault. I was the one who made us leave this dinner party thing we got invited to. They were all talking shit about the Southside, about how they hated their families, and I couldn’t really… connect with them, I guess.”

Lip pondered that, taking a breath and stretching his arms above his head. God, he was sore— he hadn’t even been fucking working, aside from hauling those bikes from place to place to avoid the cops, but all the pent up stress and tension was starting to linger in his bones.

“Yeah, it was the same for me. In college, or whatever. Joaquin was the only person I really talked to, because he got all the shit I was always going through.”

Ian nodded contemplatively—but he was staring off into space again, almost like he was half asleep. Lip took another sip of his soda. He could bring up the house shit again right now—it was all that they’d been talking about for the past few weeks—but for some reason it felt too raw, too intense to bring up right now, like it would cut through this peaceful moment, this island in the vast sea of uncertainty Lip knew he was bringing down on all of their heads. So in this moment, he opted for smoother waters.

“Why’d you guys go looking for new friends, anyways?”

Ian finally broke out of whatever drowsy, pensive trance he’d been in, his lips sloping into a smile. “Mickey kept giving me shit for always doing what you do, after breakfast today. I figured… I don’t know, I just got all pissy and tried to prove him wrong.”

Lip felt the corner of his mouth tick upward at that. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

Ian grinned, and held out his beer bottle, stretching his arm across the table. Lip tapped it with his soda can with a light “Cheers,” then took the final sip. He crushed the can to a disk on the table, pressing it down firmly with the heel of his palm and watching the sides compress. Ian’s eyes were cast downward at the table, watching his movements.

“How’s stuff with you and Tami going, all the packing and shit?”

Lip turned the flattened can on its side, contemplatively spinning it like a top on the table and fidgeting with it between his fingers.

“Honestly? I’m fucking exhausted.”

He could hear the breathiness as he said it, how deflated his own voice sounded. And Lip knew could make himself say more— he knew if anyone would get it, Ian would.

“It’s just… fuck, man.”

He looked up and Ian was staring directly at him now, his expression unguarded— listening. Listening like he always did in these moments. Lip let out a low chuckle, trying to shield his own vulnerability.

“How’d we get so fucking old? How is this… it, y’know? Finally leaving the fucking nest, or whatever.”

Ian smiled, placing his beer on the table. “I think you already left the nest when you had a baby and moved into an apartment with your girlfriend.”

Lip shrugged, fiddling with the crushed can again between his fingertips. “Yeah. Guess you’re right.”

“And you are the one making us do this, for the record.”

If Ian’s tone wasn’t as playful or as tentative as it was, Lip would have worried that he was upset— but judging by Ian’s still-comfortable slouch and his steady expression, Lip knew he was fine— he was weathering the storm, just like Lip was.

Ian leaned forward.

“Hey. Mickey was giving me shit—but it is true. You’re my best friend, even though you can be a fucking asshole sometimes.” Ian’s lips curved into a crooked smile. “Nothing’s gonna change that.”

Ian’s eyes flickered around the kitchen as he spoke, and Lip heard everything that was unsaid. Even though you’re kicking us out of the house. Even though you’re changing everything. Even though there isn’t a focal point to our lives anymore.

You’re my best friend.

And Lip felt that pang in his gut again, sharp like a dagger.

He’d said it before, and he’d had no problem saying it over and over again in Mickey’s absence, up until the months before the wedding— Ian did always go a little bit “loco” when Mickey was around.

Which, fuck him, I guess, for caring about his little brother with an undiagnosed mental illness who was off living in the Milkovich House of Horrors slash meth lab with Mickey fucking Milkovich, the bully with greasy hair who Lip wrote papers for in high school and who now was a literal, actual, godforsaken pimp. Lip had seen a teenage Ian bruised and drunk and curled into himself crying over Mickey too many times to ever think that this shit was a good idea— and years later, when Ian almost threw away everything, almost threw away stability and sanity and his fucking family to follow Mickey Milkovich across the Mexican border, Lip knew he had to say something, even though it was an unspoken rule that he and Ian didn’t really critique each other’s love lives since the Mandy-and-Karen fiascos of years past.

So he’d said it, that day in the kitchen, after Ian had returned on a Greyhound bus and they were still processing the dull pain of Monica’s loss— and Ian had taken the feedback with a closed-lip smile, like his head was somewhere else, as he picked at the corner of the beer bottle label with his thumb.

And then less than a year later Mickey was released anyways, and ended up standing in a tank top and boxers in the middle of the Gallagher living room, when the house was crawling with strangers and Freddie was barely two weeks old— and Lip had taken in a sharp breath, a bundle of hesitant nerves sprouting for whatever the fuck this situation was going to become; but not one that he could really give attention to, with all the other bullshit that was pulling at his focus, like the desperate screeching of his newborn kid and the mascara running down Tami’s face.

Later that night, when he’d had a spare moment to breathe and Tami was finally calmed down and sleeping in their cramped bedroom, he’d run into Ian in the moonlit hallway as he was stumbling his way out of the bathroom, drowsily rubbing his eyes with his hair sticking up. And Lip had stopped him with a whisper, placing a hand to tap Ian’s shoulder as Ian blinked the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey. So uh… I see Mickey’s out.”

He’d seen the defenses immediately raise in Ian’s eyes, like he knew what Lip was going to say next.

“Yeah.” Ian had said it soft, quietly, like he was afraid of someone waking.

You sure that’s a good idea? Lip could feel the words itching on the tip of his tongue, and he was aching to say them again, all these years later— and yes, maybe his head was so wrapped up in his own shit that he didn’t really have the authority to be doling out relationship advice to his little brother right now, but so much of this reminded him of things that had happened in the past, of Mickey Milkovich crashing on Ian’s bedroom floor until he inevitably couldn’t anymore, until the pressure cooker of his presence mingled with Ian’s inevitably exploded— or at least that was how Lip saw it. There were too many wounds, and they were bound to leave scars— Lip was honestly surprised as fuck that the Gallagher house was Mickey’s first stop out of prison, after everything that had gone down between the two of them.

But, for Ian’s sake, Lip tried to reign it in—despite the fact that they’d just been commiserating about “being in love with crazy people” as they crouched on the living room stairs the night before as Ian sipped on a beer, sputtering out a “fuck no” when Lip asked if he was going to marry Mickey (which was an equally as batshit question as if Lip was going to marry Tami). Despite all of this— now that Mickey was back, Lip could see that this was something Ian wanted, that this was something Ian was treading carefully into, one more time. He was definitely stronger now; even Lip could see that.

“He gonna be hanging around here a while?”

Ian had given a gentle, sleepy smile. “Yeah. Think so.”

And Lip had just reached out, and clapped Ian’s sleep-warmed body on the shoulder. “Sounds good, man.”

Ian had walked the remaining length of the hallway, opening the bedroom door— and in the shadows, Lip could see that Mickey was curled on the old, concave mattress of Ian’s single bed that he’d slept on since they were kids— and Ian had lifted the thin blanket and pressed up next to him, the mattress sinking beneath their collective weight, settling in and pressing a kiss to the top of a snoring Mickey’s head without a second thought. Huh.

That was the beginning of Lip starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, this time with Mickey would be different— and it was. As Mickey started to become a daily fixture in the Gallagher house, constantly pinned to Ian’s side, Lip had noticed how something solid had shifted—they weren’t reckless kids anymore, for starters. He hadn’t really seen Mick and Ian physically together since Ian was catapulting off the deep end, in the weeks after Ian had gotten dragged away by the P.I.s and Mickey had gotten locked up for some crazy fucking stunt trying to murder Sammy. Things were too intense then, too technicolor—for some reason, Lip thought Mickey being back meant that they’d return to being that way.

But now here was this guy, placing a gentle hand on Ian’s chest and saying “Woah, wait a minute” to protect Ian from the batshit P.O. that had just barged through the door—and Lip couldn’t help but realize that was something that he would have done to protect Ian, in a universe where Mickey was still behind bars.

After then, Lip just kept seeing it— the ways that Mickey showed up for Ian. Not even in the ways that he used to, like forcing Ian to take his meds back when everything was uncertain and Ian was slipping through their fingers like sand in a sieve; but in a more solid, adult way, in a way that made Ian buzz whenever he was around him, in a way that made Ian happier and lighter. And maybe it was just the sex—part of it had to be the fucking sex, considering how loud they always were— but Lip realized, after a couple of weeks of Mickey’s presence in the house before their whole eventual engagement fiasco, that Mickey was Ian’s friend, in addition to all the other things he was. After all the years of uncertainty, they’d finally grown the fuck up— Mickey was someone who brought out the best in Ian, and it was like Ian had been waiting for this moment, for Mickey by his side, before he could fully and totally bloom.

And it was weird how emotional that made Lip— after seeing Ian as a hollow shell in a jumpsuit pushing garbage cans around a college campus, or pretending to be someone he wasn’t who wore patterned button-up shirts and threw around fucking useless five-dollar words that Lip didn’t understand like “gender identity” and “intersectionality”— Ian had finally made it, beyond being the bruised, scrawny kid getting sexually abused by a creepy 30 year old man in the back room of a mini-mart, or getting high off his ass every night and starving himself to fit into a golden thong, or wearing a baggy janitor suit with dark circles under his eyes and pallid skin. Ian had done that shit on his own, and made himself into something in Mickey’s absence, sure— but so much of him being the full, happy person he was in this moment was because of Mickey, and Lip could see that now.

Ian was himself— he wasn’t a shadow anymore.

And that was why Lip had said he thought he should marry Mickey, in the end— because there was no doubt in his mind that Mickey Milkovich wasn’t going anywhere, not anytime soon.

Lip could still see it now, in the way that Ian was lounging comfortably in the living room, like he had his whole life— but now Mickey was resting just as comfortably beside him. It was a few weeks after that night in the kitchen, and Lip had just pitched the FOR SALE sign in the Gallagher front yard— now everyone was huddled in the living room, for what they now knew was one of their last lingering nights in this space. Liam was sitting next to Lip, pressed into his side, seeking the comfort that Lip knew he needed through all of these massive fucking changes— Franny was playing on the floor and Debbie was sitting beside her, and across the room Ian and Mickey were pressed side-by-side on the fraying loveseat, scrolling through the lease document for their new apartment on the battered laptop. They were murmuring things to each other that Lip couldn’t really make out— but Mickey was pressed against Ian, slouching into him slightly, and Ian’s eyes were light. In his flicker of a glance towards them, Lip noticed that Mickey was playing with Ian’s hand, swiping a finger over his wedding ring, as Ian scrolled through the paperwork and started to read all the contract information out loud— and Lip smiled to himself as he tried to tune out all the sappy bullshit that was going on in that corner of the room.

Ian was going to be just fine.

Hour later Lip strode out the door to the front porch, a cigarette he’d bummed off of Ian wrapped in his fist— he didn’t smoke anymore, especially not under the same roof as Tami, but there was something about the gravity of this night, of the flimsy red and white sign rooted in the front yard, that made Lip’s fingertips itch for a cigarette and made his brain buzz with the want of nicotine to dull the sharp edges of everything he was feeling—for smoke to float in front of his face while he sat on the front steps just one more time.

He perched on the front steps as the sun was just starting to set, the fish-scale shadows of the chain link fence encroaching further and further into the yard as he flicked at his lighter.

He heard a light cough from somewhere in front of him— and saw that Mickey was outside too, blowing smoke out of his mouth and leaning against the fence in the front yard facing the house. Lip nodded at him in acknowledgement, then took the first drag. Fuck, he’d needed this.

“You gonna miss this place?”

Mickey said it into the open air, like he isn’t really talking to Lip— his eyes were off in the distance, staring at the paint-chipped front façade of the house. Which was fucking bullshit—why would Mickey be staring absentmindedly, almost fucking wistfully, at the Gallagher house?

It’s not like he and Mickey didn’t talk— they definitely did, pragmatically flinging banter across the kitchen to each other at breakfast when coordinating rides for Liam or grocery list items when Debbie was off at work, existing in the same space every morning— and Mickey helped him haul literal tons of iron when he’d helped him steal the bikes, had haggled over his cut. But never like this—never with any weight, never in a way that was this casual, or this familial, about fucking feelings.

Part of that was probably because it was hard as fuck to worm your way into the Gallagher family—as wide open as their door always seemed to be, with people filtering in and out and crashing on hallway floors or the lumpy couch, this house only continued to function because of its nucleus— because of Lip and Ian and Carl and Debbie and Fiona and Liam and yes, even Frank. Everyone else was a passerby, an impermanent blip crossing through the way station; Jimmy-Steve, Sean, Carl’s slew of girls, Mandy and Karen.

Monica.

None of them were Gallaghers— none of them considered this place to be home, or got all the privileges that came with that. The Gallaghers, the real Gallaghers, had seen every one of these people come and go— and something slippery suddenly crept into Lip’s realization that despite all the odds, despite all of his doubts about him—Mickey had chosen to stay close to these four walls just as much as Lip had.

“Mickey’s family.” Ian had said it over a mouthful of bacon at breakfast a few weeks ago, and Lip had immediately shot him down; but maybe there was some truth to what Ian had said, some truth to the oddly unfailing consistency to Mickey’s ten years. Which meant that maybe…

Maybe it was time to make a fucking peace offering, or whatever.

Lip hummed in acknowledgement to Mickey’s question, pulling himself out of his train of thought.

“Hey. Mick.”

Mickey looked up at where Lip was leaning on the porch, his brows furrowing like he was bracing himself for a confrontation. “Yeah?”

“My head’s been too far up my ass the past couple of months to say it, but, uh. I’m glad you’re family, y’know?”

He’d been passively thinking it for months— but he’d never said it to Mickey, never this directly. He hoped Mickey got it, without brushing it off or shooting him down with some snarky fucking comment like he always did. Lip meant it— he was glad, he was grateful, he was ready to let Mickey Milkovich keep being a part of his fucked up familial life. And he hoped that Mickey saw that.

Mickey just rolled his eyes, taking another drag of his cigarette—but he didn’t say anything in reply, not for a moment. And then:

“You’re as sappy as your fucking brother, Phillip.”

#i’ve said it once and ill say it again nothing makes me more emo than ian and mickey sharing ian’s old bed #also sorry this was kinda ANGSTY what can i say #lip is Too Much #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #gallavich fanfiction #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #lip gallagher #ian and mickey #ian x mickey #ixm

189 notes · View notes

carnationworld-writings · 4 years ago

Text

Being pregnant with Greg ‘Mouse’ Gerwitz’s baby

MASTERLIST

Paring: Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz x Reader

Universe: One Chicago

Word Count: 2759

Warnings: mention of PTSD, pregnancy, child birth, pain, therapy, overprotectivness, fem!reader

If I forgot about anything feel free to write to me. Your wellbeing is important to me!

Summary: How your pregnancy could be when being in a relationship with Mouse and as a member of the Intelligence Unit?

You met at work. You were a detective in the Intelligence Unit and an old friend of Jay Halstead when Mouse started working there. You immediately found him very sweet, and very often, you couldn't stop smiling when he couldn't stop talking or did his tech magic.

You spent a lot of time talking. It was common to find both of you together. When you needed a moment to calm down after a case, you hid downstairs with him. When you all talked about new evidence in the case, he would lean against your desk. When you came back from the call, he ALWAYS came to check on you.

You became closer after Nadia's death. Being a female cop was hard. You offered to help her, and that allowed you to spend a lot of time together. Her death hit you hard. (Not so hard like Lindsay, but still.) He had seen how different cases affected you. However, he had never seen you crying so hard, like in the moment when news about finding Nadia's body reached you. You collapsed in his arms, and he held you for hours.

You started dating sometime after that. You both knew Voight's rule about no dating in the unit. Because of that, at your request, when you were sure about this relationship, you told him about this. You were sincere about everything, showing him that your relationship didn't affect your work.

Everybody said that you are a perfect couple. Of course, you argued, but you always tried to understand the other person. Sometimes he was a little overprotective. Sometimes you were pissed off when he shut you down. But at the end of the day, you always tried to make up. Life was too short, especially when you were a cop.

Pregnancy definitely wasn't planned. You realized that you were late on your period, and you told Mouse about this, even if at the beginning you thought that it was because of stress. He offered to go for a pregnancy test. When you waited for results, you saw how anxious he was, so you just held his hand. The test came positive, and you watched how he freaked out. He was afraid that he can't be a good father, that because of his PTSD, he could hurt the baby.

"Greg… I know this is hard, and I'm not ready either. But I can't… I can't abort it." her voice cracked, and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. "I know that you will be an amazing father. I know it because you already took good care of me. You are so caring and generous. And I know that you would never hurt them. It will be hard, but I'm sure that together we can do it, like we did with so many things. But if you don't want it… I won't force you to stick with us. And I won't be mad if you walk away. Maybe I'll be a little hurt, but I will understand, Greg." She felt tears in her eyes when she looked at him. She could tell that he was thinking about her words. And then he came closer to her and took her in his arms. He held her tight, and she let her tears run on her cheeks.

"I could never walk away from you. And you're right. We can do it. I'll go for a therapy or support group to keep my demons under control."

She didn't know what to say, how to show him how grateful and happy she was, so she just took his face in her hands and kissed him.

You made an appointment as soon as possible. That day, Mouse called Voight that you felt unwell and he'd stay with you. You went to the doctor's office together. When they did an ultrasound, he held your hand so tight and couldn't stop bouncing his leg. You both couldn't tear your eyes from the picture of your baby on the monitor. When your doctor asked if you wanted her to print it and how many copies you want, he just said: "As many as you could give us."

You told Voight about your pregnancy as soon as it was confirmed. Actually you called him after you left the doctor’s office to meet him. You didn't want to risk the baby's life because of your work. When you told him, he really surprised you. He was so happy for both of you and hugged you. Immediately he put you on desk work for the unit - you worked for him so long that he knew that there is no power in the universe to stop you from working.

You tried to hide it for the rest of the team as long as you could. You wanted to wait for the end of the first trimester, and you used an old wound as an excuse.

After you found out about the baby, Mouse called Doctor Charles and started therapy again. He really wanted to be the best version of him for both of you. You always assured him that you are very proud of him and that you see everything he'd done.

After your first appointment, Mouse became a little overprotective. He checked if you were not hungry and drank enough water. He made sure you didn't drink too much coffee and tried to get you to give it up.

When the possibility of miscarriage went lower, you decided to announce pregnancy to your team. It was so hard to hide your pregnancy, especially when Ruzek and Atwater's lunch choices made you sick. You also were sure that Serge Platt knew about the baby or at least suspected something. This woman always knew everything, but she never said anything.

Y/N and Mouse came to work a little earlier that day. She was glad that only Voight was in the bullpen. Mouse put your enlarged ultrasound on board and you wrote next to it: "Backup is on the way! Baby Gerwitz coming *due date*" and then turned the board to hide it, waiting for the rest of the team. She sat behind her desk, patiently waiting for everybody to come to work and slowly starting paperwork. When everybody came, Mouse went for Trudy, telling her that they needed her help with a case. When they all were on their spots, Voight went out of his office. A few days before, they asked him for help with the announcement, and even if he acted tough cop, he was honoured. He looked at Y/N, and when she nodded, feeling Mouse's hand on arm, he got the unit's attention.

"Listen up, we got a case." He turned the board, and three of them watched the rest of this chosen family. Trudy was the first who gasped, looking at the young detective and then quickly came to her, taking Y/N in her arms. Y/N couldn't stop her tears at the amount of love from this family. She happily accepted every congratulations and hug. When she leaned on Mouse slightly, answering Erin and Antonio's questions, she missed the proud smile that Voight, Trudy and Al exchanged.

Since that day, Halstead, Ruzek and Atwater went overprotective of you. You often found on your desk some healthy snack, they brought you something to drink before you could stand up from your chair. If you only mention food that you craved, often one of them found a way to bring it to you. If you frown because of a cramp or because the position you were sitting in was not comfortable, they immediately asked if you were alright or needed to see a doctor. If they only could, they would put you on bed rest - much to Mouse happiness. And when they were too much, and your threats to kick their asses didn't work, only one look at Olinsky or Lindsay was enough to put them in line by one of them. Trudy welcomed you every day with a big smile, asking how you and "Baby Mouse" were feeling. She always made sure that you didn't carry anything looking heavy and made one of the patrol officers bring it upstairs. She loved hearing news about the baby, and when she found out that they started kicking, she was more than happy to feel it on her hand.

You and Mouse spent a lot of time at home. He loved holding you in his arms, caressing your belly. One of his best memories from pregnancy was when you both felt them kicking for the first time. He bent on his knees to place a kiss on your stomach, and then he felt it against his lips. He gasped with wide-open eyes, and with chuckles, he kissed it again, whispering how much he loves them.

Mouse didn't let you do anything in the nursery. Of course, you could choose everything and decide what you want it to look like, but you couldn't even wash off the dust. With help from Jay, he made everything there, and you could go inside only when everything was ready. The effect exceeded your expectations.

Pregnancy also affected your sex life, especially in the second trimester. Your hormones made you so horny, and after calming Mouse that sex is safe in your condition, you tried new positions and other ways to reach the pleasure.

Mouse made sure to be at every doctor appointment. He loved seeing your child on ultrasound and hearing their heartbeat. He also went with you to childbirth classes. Actually, it was him who asked to go there. He just wanted to know what he should be prepared for.

He didn't complain about helping you when you couldn't sleep at night. He would go to the grocery if you had some weird cravings. He would rub your belly, talking to the baby, when they were moving too much. He would do everything to make you comfortable. He would rub your leg when you woke up because of contraction or massage your back. He tried to be patient with you, and your moods swung. He would calm you down with a smile after you started crying at Ruzek's comment about how big your belly became. He always assured you how beautiful you were in his eyes and how much he loved you and your changing body.

You didn't make it to maternity leave when your waters broke in the middle of the bullpen. Everybody knew that you wanted to stay as long as you could at work. It was your first child, and you were a little afraid to be alone too long, and your sight also calmed down Mouse. You were alone upstairs when it started. Very calm you came to your desk and called Trudy, who were downstairs at the front desk. When she packed you to the car, you texted Mouse to meet in the hospital.

You were already changed in a hospital gown and slowly walking through the hospital corridors, leaning on Trudy's arm. She held your hand and slowly rubbed your backs whenever you stopped because of contraction. You both talked with Maggie from ED when you saw him running in look at you. You smiled at him and leaned against him when he hugged you.

"You alright, babe? You scared me…" he whispered in your hair.

"I'm okay. The baby just decided to come earlier. I think they couldn't wait to meet you." He chuckled, and then he looked at Trudy.

"Sarge, thank you for keeping them safe."

"Everything for that baby." She smiled at you and squeezed your hand. She stepped back to go to the district, where she could wait there for any news about the baby, but you held her hand.

"Sarge. Could you... Stay here?" If it didn't feel the wave of pain that moment, you could see tears in her eyes when she happily agreed.

He saw pain on your face and how you dealt with it. He felt so helpless, hearing your moans and grunts full of pain. He tried to do everything to ease it at least a little, but there was a moment when he felt so overwhelmed by this.

You watched Mouse, trying to breathe in the way they taught you in childbirth classes. You saw how his eyes became foggy, and he couldn't stop them at anything for more than a few seconds. You slowly touched his hand and squeezed it slightly.

"Greg, love... Maybe you should take a walk? Go check if the unit is here or go buy yourself something to drink."

He didn't say anything but nodded his head and then walked out to the corridor. He didn't know how he walked out in front of the hospital. Not long after this, Jay found him sitting there with his head in his arms. With a frown, he touched his shoulder. He quickly guessed that his PTSD was making itself felt.

"Mouse, something happened? Something with the baby?"

"She's in so much pain..."

"And she needs you right now. Y/N is giving birth to your baby. And both of them need you, man."

"What if I lose her? I can't..."

"And you won't. Y/N is the toughest cop I know, and she will survive this just like your baby. But she needs to know right now that you are with her in this. She needs all the moral support she can get, and you are the best person for this." Mouse nodded and took a few deep breaths.

"You're right. Y/N needs me." Mouse looked at his friend and quickly got up. He ran to your room again to hold your hand through all this.

Since that moment, he was by your side all the time, doing everything you asked him. When you started pushing, he held your hand and kept kissing your head. He whispered encouraging words in your ear, trying to be helpful for you. He couldn't count how many times he wished to take all your pain on him.

He started crying when he heard your baby crying. When they rested them on your chest, he watched them, carefully touching their backs. He laced a fond kiss on their head and then kissed your lips. You watched this little person snuggling to your body with an amused face expression.

After they checked if everything was okay with the baby and with you, they put you in a room. You sent Mouse to tell your friends that the baby is already in the world, and he did it with a proud smile. He asked them to give you some time, and then they could meet the youngest Gerwitz. He came back to you and then held your child against his chest when you rested a little.

After some time, full of watching your baby and daydreaming about their future, Mouse went for your unit family. You held the baby in your arms with a big smile when they came in. Erin, Kim and Trudy started cooing at the baby when the older of them took the baby in her arms. You watched them with a tired smile, couldn't help giggling when Mouse acted as an overprotective father. You looked up, feeling how someone squeezed your shoulder slightly, and you met Voight's eyes, who smiled at you and whispered: "Good work, kid. And don't worry. This will be the safest kid in the whole city." It just made you believe that the whole unit will have this child’s back no matter what. And for most of the afternoon, you sat surrounded by people who you choose for your family. You listened to how they promised your child what they would do together and how great it will be. You were moved how they already cared for this baby and you. You happily accepted every hug, especially the one from Trudy and Al, which were like parental for you.

When you were left alone, Mouse couldn't tear his eyes from your baby and didn't want to put them on that cold, plastic crib. He kissed your forehead with eyes full of love and let you finally sleep. In this room was everything that he ever wanted but didn't have enough courage to dream about this. So he watched the both of you, vigilant that no one disturbs you in your sleep. It was his life now, and he swore to himself that he would do everything to keep you both safe and happy.

***

Author’s note:

Thank you for reading! Please, let me know what are you thinking about this one! Your comment means a world for me and motivates me to work! Also, taglist is open! If you want to be added just let me know!

In advance, I am sorry about every grammar mistake and misspellings. English is not my first language.

Klaudia xx

***

One chicago taglist: @teti-menchon0604

Let me know if you want to be added/removed.

346 notes · View notes

lxstfulbeans · 4 years ago

Note

Do you write for OPM? Cause if so can you make hcs for Garou and Zombieman with a black fem reader please?

Of course!! To be honest, Garou prolly rocks with us black queens from the get go 😚💅🏾 and I assume their s/o’s yeah?

Headcanon: how relationships are w/ black fem.

- - 3. 2. 1. ACTION! - -

Garou:

Okay, you can’t look at him and his behavior without coming to the conclusion that he rocks with black girls.

He adds hella chaotic, evil crackhead energy in the relationship and he plays all day.

Y’all’s Snapchat/Instagram stories consist of y’all acting a complete fool.

I feel like there’d be a lot of prank wars between you two because of his playfulness.

His pranks always end with you yelling, “GAROU, YO DUMB, STUPID, GOOFY ASS PLAY TOO DAMN MUCH!!” and he’s rolling on the floor laughing through his apologies.

My guy would do anything for your cooking, the moment you enter the kitchen and he hears music, he’s sitting at the table quick as hell because he KNOWS you can throw down.

He be having a goofy little bib with a knife and fork in each hand, cheesing and drooling.

When he met your family, he got along with them surprisingly well, especially with your folks.

“Girl, where’d you find this boy?? He Mista Funny Man right here, chile!”

After that, he’s always invited to the cookouts. Your mom and grandma’s cooking made him cry, he never knew food could taste so scrumptious. Whenever the word “cookout” comes out of your mouth, he already got his clothes and shoes on.

“We leaving now or later?” 😃

Yes, you do know about his little hero hunting thing. It doesn’t bother you much but it worries you that he might be hurt real bad and get locked up because of his actions.

Whenever he leaves after giving you a kiss on the cheek, you’re stuck asking, “Are you gonna come back?”

It takes a hot minute for him to reassure you that he’ll be okay.

He doesn’t play around with that racist shit. The fool got less than two seconds to say some stupid shit before he gets knocked out like a light.

He knows how it feels to be judged and looked at weird because of the way he looked, but not like how you do.

He’s always helping you with wash days, he thinks it’s a fun task to wash your hair for you.

You’d be sitting in the shower with him between those strong thighs as he massages and scratches your scalp, lathering it with the wonderful suds of your shampoo.

Even though these hands caused destruction, they were so gentle and caring with your hair.

He’ll join you too, he’d love to wash his hair with you and make stupid faces with the face masks.

He always make sure your bonnet’s on, and make sure it stays on. I believe he hardly sleeps, so whenever you shift in your sleep, he’ll make sure your hair is fully protected.

He definitely likes to show you love any chance he can get. He adores smothering you in kisses and making you laugh whenever he can.

Whenever he wants to cuddle, he’ll just lay down and lift up a blanket, signaling for you to join him.

Be his little backpack too, we know he likes to be little spoon too. Give his muscles little kisses, he’ll melt.

Zombie Man:

In the start of the relationship, he was honestly pretty shy with everything because he’s never been in a relationship before. Half of the time, hero work prevents that.

He’s also afraid that something might happen to you because he’s a hero, there’s always a target on his back.

He’ll always call or text you to check in, make sure you’re okay and to tell him if someone’s messing with you because he don’t play that shit either.

He can be pretty protective, he’s always got your back.

He’s a sucker for kisses and cuddles. He loves coming home to you smothering him with love, it makes him smile.

Whenever you take pictures together, he always got his mean face on. You gotta tickle the fool to make him smile properly.

He has hella pictures of you to look at while he’s working. He loves looking at you during golden hour, how your skin embraces the sun’s gaze one more time before it sets.

He loves it when you make lunches for him, he’s always swatting Pig God because he always tryna cop HIS meal. Like bitch back the fuck up.

He likes wash day too, he’s always doing research on the best products for your hair so you’d look even more beautiful and proud.

He likes spending money on you anyway, whether you like it or not.

When he met your family, they were lowkey kinda scared because of his resting face but they grew to love him.

He loves being little spoon as well, you’re his little backpack too, boo!

Whenever he’s stressed out, he just likes to lay in your lap or chest and let you run your fingers in his hair and give him soft kisses.

#poc writers #anime headcanons #black reader #one punch man #opm headcanons #zombie man #one punch man x black!reader #garou headcanons

167 notes · View notes

onthepyre · 4 years ago

Text

even if the oceans turn to sawdust

guess who wrote a b99 fic because they rewatched johnny and dora and got emotional about it. me. i'm the bitch.

what's running through jake's head during all three johnny and dora kisses. just 1.2k words of them making out.

He is kissing Amy.

Jake is kissing Amy and the only thing he can focus on is how bad he feels about it.

The woman who, just hours ago, he had agreed to be totally platonic with. Coworkerly, even. Because that's what she wanted. And here he is, fucking it all up, disrespecting her boundaries and making an ass out of himself. It's so their cover isn't blown. He knows that. He knows she'll understand. He knows, even, that she is into him, because what sane person who isn't in love with you acts the way she did earlier, except maybe for him? She seemed so okay with pretending to be his fiancée, and the things she said about why she liked him were genuine. He could tell by the look on her face — she dropped the stupid smile she'd held for the whole night. And who kisses cheeks with tongue?

And yet, Jake is in the wrong and he knows it. He should've given her a warning, at least. But, God, it seems like she's into this. Amy catches on fast and then, and then, he can feel her smile, just a little, and he isn't sure what it means. He assumes the worst, which does take some mental gymnastics — why would she be laughing at him? So he goes with the most likely explanation, which is that this is reassurance, and she's telling him that she's okay with… whatever this is, in order to distract the target. But some part of him, the part that wonders if he's the exception to her "no dating cops" rule, hopes maybe this isn't subliminal messaging. That maybe she's just happy he's kissing her. Her hands are warm and gentle and she's not like anyone he's ever kissed before. And then her tongue slides across his bottom lip and he almost short circuits.

The man interrupts them and Jake can't help but be a little disappointed. But Amy's hands don't move, so neither do his, and they keep holding each other for the rest of the (thankfully short) conversation. It's a blur; Jake is pretty sure she implied they, or Johnny and Dora, were going to have sex in the hallway, and he doesn't know what to think about that. But the man leaves and they are left alone again. Amy doesn't apologize, so neither does he. They can't look at each other. Jake stares at the center of her forehead as they speak. He shakes her hand, because that's the thing to do in this situation, he tells himself. And he tries to convince himself that she doesn't sound like she enjoyed it.

———

Amy is kissing him now.

Amy is kissing him, and this isn't Johnny and Dora, he knows. They're themselves, they're Jake and Amy — but Jake and Amy are kissing so they don't look suspicious. It's more urgent, this time, more frantic. The stakes are even higher, because this is the man that they need, and they need him to believe them right now. But even if the last kiss wasn't an act, at least on his end, this one feels a little more real. So real, in fact, that it almost hurts him. Her hands are on his face and she's pressed close against him and he thinks, Wow, so this is what it's like. For a second, he forgets about the buyer, focusing on her lips against his and trying to make a memory out of the feeling. It's not hard. He knows they'll never be the same after this. He knows, too, that he won't ever get to kiss her again, because he will be awkward and cold and so will she. And it will forever hang in the air between them as a what if.

It also hurts because she hit his head on the tree.

But that doesn't matter right now, because Amy is pulling away and he remembers why they're here. It throws him. He curses himself for it, because he's kept his cool in tenser situations than this, and because now she knows. Well, she probably knew as soon as he kissed her the first time, but there's no denying it now. He is head over heels for Amy and she is aware of it. She shouts something weird about them being colleagues and he follows it up with his own bullshit about this being a work event, more to reassure himself than her or the buyer. So they arrest him. So they go back to the precinct. So they don't get to be Johnny and Dora, or Jake and Amy about to have their cover blown, anymore. So for a while it isn't the same between them.

———

They are kissing again.

They're kissing in the evidence lock-up and everything clicks into place. He hates change, he hates it so much, but just this once he is glad for it. Hell, for half of a regrettable second, he's glad that Holt is leaving, because he is kissing Amy and Amy is kissing him and suddenly his life makes sense. He knew it, but now it really hits him. This is where he is supposed to be. In the evidence lock-up, kissing her.

Maybe not exactly. But with Amy holding him, the same way she had last time, but different somehow, Jake is, for once, content. They take their time. She's an amazing kisser, he realizes, and not just because it's her. Her lips are soft and, since he isn't pressed up against a tree, she's so gentle it almost aches. They are closer than they've ever been and Jake feels at home. He thinks about that for just a moment, not long enough to distract him. Amy has always been his home. Always a safe place to land after anything big, anything scary. He hopes he's the same to her. He tries to tell her that through the kiss, and through his palms flat against her back and all the other places she's touching him. He wonder if that's too much, but it doesn't really matter right now.

One of them breaks the kiss. He isn't sure who; maybe it's both of them. But they don't go far. Their foreheads rest together and she lets out a quiet sigh. Against his mouth. Which almost kills him. Jake moves to look at her, to verify that it is her, that he just kissed Amy Santiago for real, not for keeping their cover. And it is. And her eyes are wide and he's not the best at reading emotion but whatever she's feeling has to be something close to what he is because God, she looks starstruck. She's beautiful. Her mouth is hanging open and so is his, he notices, and they match. He inhales to say something, anything, maybe I love you or Marry me or I think our kids are going to be cute. And Charles knocks on the door. He yells something at them, which Jake doesn't really hear. Amy keeps staring at him, and he keeps staring at her. He moves to say something again, and doesn't, again. So he turns and they leave.

As they're going, she grabs his hand for just a second and squeezes. Hard. He knows she means it.

#b99 #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #peraltiago #amy santiago #jake peralta #fluff #fanfiction #i just love them <3 #johnny and dora #june's writing

43 notes · View notes

kuroos-babie · 5 years ago

Text

Sugawara x fem!Reader | Iwaizumi x fem!Reader | Kenma x fem!Reader

[ Headcanons ]

Request: hi i hope your askbox is open (i’m sorry for sending this if it isn’t!!) but i’m such a hoe for your single mum hcs and i was wondering if you could write a headcanon for sugawara, iwaizumi and kenma where they and y/n are now together, all happy and their child’s bio dad tries to come back into y/n’s life- i think it’d be so cute how they’d step up to protect y/n and their child!! thank you so much, hope you’re well and stay safe —anonymous

a/n: HI BABY THANK YOU FOR READING AND SENDING IN A REQUEST!! im glad you liked those and i hope u like these too!!! pls tell me what you think i love hearing from u guys 👉👈

based from these headcanons and these too!!

❀ you'd told suga about your son's dad quite early in the relationship

❀ how he'd just disappeared even before your baby had turned one, saying he's not ready to be a dad

❀ suga didn't show it to you but he was Mad mad and he’s ready to break some ankles if it ever got down to it :)

❀ the three of you would be out on your regular park dates, he was playing with your son on the sandbox when he noticed you were taking too long getting drinks from the vending machine

❀ looking around he saw you, clearly uncomfortable and irritated, held by your ex by the bend of your elbow

❀ he walks up to the both of you after telling your child to stay put and that he’ll be right back and placed a hand on the small of your back, feeling you instantly relax at his touch

❀ gonna shoot that bastard boy a sweet suga smile and ask if he needed anything from his Wife as he removes your ex’s hand on you

❀ now y’all aren’t married still so you were kinda :O

❀ i know i said suga’s ready to break ankles but words can hurt and it’s definitely his best weapon

❀ gonna talk that bastard boy down until he sheds bastard tears

❀ would threaten your ex to stay away from His Family or else !!!

❀ or else he’s gonna call up his cop buddy

❀ jk anywayz,, will hold you and make sure you’re fine after the whole ordeal and you would all get ice cream and pancakes with your son

“so your wife huh?” you hummed, cozied up against his chest on the sofa as the long forgotten disney movie plays, your child passed out on top of you.

sugawara chuckled as he played with your son’s hair, “i mean, only if you want to”

he placed a long loving kiss on your temple as you leaned in, closing your eyes, “koushi, i would love to”

“great because i’ve been wanting to marry you since this little boy dragged me towards you”, he chuckle again and pressed another kiss before he sighed, wrapping you and your son in his embrace

“god, i love you two so much”

“please, y/n, i was wrong. i would never leave you again i promise you”

“y/n who’s that?” iwa peered through the hallway to the front door, your now 1 year old daughter in his arms

❀ you tried to wave him off and tell him it’s no one but he’s already caught sight of your ex

❀ would give you your daughter and tell you to go to your room

❀ i bet your ass he gave that bastard boy a good beating

❀ ends up with bruised knuckles but it was worth it when he saw you close to breaking down in front of that shithead

❀ you would ice his knuckles and check his face for any bruises while your daughter takes a nap in her crib

iwaizumi was sat on the kitchen counter with you between his legs, ice pack in hand, tending to his bruises

“hajime you didn’t have to”, your voice was small —quiet, but he didn’t miss the slight tremble in it

he takes his hand from yours, brushing cold knuckles on your cheeks, “i wanted to”

“that bastard can’t waltz right in here and force his way through after leaving you alone to take care of your child, y/n”

“haji! language!” you hissed, glancing at the crib

you let out a sigh as he chuckled and pulled you closer between his legs, burying his face in your hair, “sorry”

the two of you stayed like that for a few moments before he spoke up again, “i won’t hesitate to beat him up again if he tries anything though”

❀ he had noticed you being restless and agitated a few months after moving in to the new house with him

❀ you avoided your phone which pinged at least 7 times in an hour

❀ now kenma’s not the type to force you to talk to him about it when you weren’t ready

❀ but when you tossed and turned at night failing to get a wink of sleep, barely touching your food and always looking out the window whenever someone passes by, he knew he had to do something

“y/n what’s wrong?”

you gave him a hesitant look but quickly forced out a smile, “nothing’s wrong, kenma, why do you ask?”

“you’ve been acting weird lately, there is something wrong, what is it?”

kenma saw the tears welling up your eyes as you bit your lip and he quickly got up to wrap you up in a hug

“kenma i’m scared”

❀ you told him about how your ex, your daughter’s father, has been blowing up your phone for the last few weeks

❀ telling you he knows where you had moved to and that he’ll pay you three a visit soon enough to take back what was his

❀ you blocked his number multiple times but he jumped right into your socials with dummy accounts

❀ kenma knew about you ex’s abusive tendencies which was why you split up with him even before you knew you were pregnant

“why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“i was scared he might hurt you”

he held you even tighter and pressed kisses on the top of your head

“i won’t let him anywhere near us, you don’t have to be scared. i’m here, y/n, i won’t leave you.”

❀ rich boy kenma hired someone to take care of your ex

❀ the bastard boy will not even get a chance to see you and your daughter, not on kenma’s watch >:(

925 notes · View notes

mudhornchronicles · 4 years ago

Text

strategies | javier pena

pairing: javier peña x reader

warnings: mentions of sex, cursing, guns, violence… narcos.

request by: @danniburgh

masterlist

You sit in the backseat, adjusting your tactical vest, as Steve and Javier sit in the front seat. You are currently on your way to a 1am stakeout about 45 minutes out of the main streets of Medellín, trying to collect intel on an halcón, a falcon, for Escobar. You had freshly brewed coffee in hand from that twenty-four-hour bakery you and Javier went to every time you had to stay in the office late and a basic maple donut in the other. You liked adding hazelnut flavored creamer and so did Steve, but Javier liked his coffee black and boring. No matter where he was and what he was doing, he was happy with a sugar donut, his dark roast and you by his side.

“So, here’s the plan,” Steve begins. He adjusts the rear-view mirror to get a good look at you. “Martín is known to be at this club every Friday night. We are going to sit here and wait for him to leave. We’ll follow the car, and we’ll call in for backup.” Steve glances at Javier and furrows his eyebrow. He points at Javier and says, “I mean it, Peña. We quietly stay in this car and just follow. I don’t need a shootout… again.” He looks at you from the mirror and smiles. “And thank you for the coffee.”

Javier rolls his eyes at Steve and turns to look at you. “Amor, tell Murphy that I am perfectly capable of staying in this car.” You lean forward and plant a kiss on your boyfriend’s lips, his mustache tickling your upper lip as always.

“Stephen, my boyfriend Javier is not capable of staying in this car and we should tie him to his seat before he lay his eyes on this guy.” You laugh and Steve laugh as Javier frowns and starts poking your side. “I’m kidding, Javi. You know I trust you with my life, my vida. Except with criminals who will be walking right in front of you.” Javier playfully rolls his eyes at you and mutters a “pinche mentirosa.”

fucking liar.

You drive another 10 minutes and park on the east side of the building, spotting Martín’s car. Steve secretly looks at you through the mirror and gives you a quick wink, you giving a nod in return. You all wait for what feels like an eternity. Javier’s jaw tightens a bit more as time goes on while Steve begins to get anxious. Steve knows this is a terrible idea and he knows just how much Javier is going to hate him and might even kill him. He lets out a breath and Javier snaps his head back at his partner.

“Alright Steve spill it. What the fuck is going on with you? You’re sweating and you’re breathing hard and it’s making me uncomfortable. The only time I get like that is when I’m fucking my girl, so… what the fuck.”

You immediately step in to defend your friend. “Javier! Steve is just nervous leave him alone.” As Javier tries to argue Steve spots your guy walking out of the club and over to his car. Before Javier can let out a yell, Steve handcuffs on Javier’s wrist to steering wheel and says, “Go ‘head smoke show. Bring his ass in.” You lean forward and give Javier a kiss on the cheek, pulling off our jacket revealing your provocative outfit underneath. You slip on your heels as Javier slaps Steve to uncuff him.

You get out of the car and it was at that moment that Javi felt his pants tighten and wished Steve want in the car. There you were wearing a skirt that came up just at the swell of your ass and a tank top that only accentuated your breasts. Javi should have known something was going to happen when you put on a wig, a completely different color than your hair, for fun. There have been countless times where the DEA had asked you to do undercover stuff and you always declined because you have seen these missions go terribly wrong. Javier never saw it coming.

He saw you walk towards the entrance and as you walked past your guy, he whistled you back towards him. He ushered his bodyguard away as he pressed you up against his car. Javier almost punched Steve when he saw you wiggle you ass into Martín’s clearly hard cock. You abruptly turned around and put your arms around Martín’s shoulders with the smile you give Javier after being fucked for 4 hours straight. You lean in and whisper something to Martín. It was probably a promise of sex with the idiot smile he had on his dumb ugly face, Javier thought. Javier kept adjusting himself as Steve laughed and placed an earphone into Javier’s ear, listening to you speak.

“Sabia que estabas aqui… Rocio me dijo que eras su mejor cliente.”

I knew you’d be here… Rocio told you that you’re her best client.”

“Si? Y que mas te dijo, hermosura?”

Yeah? And what else she tell you, beautiful?

“Tambien me dijo que te gustan tener dos mujeres la misma vez.”

She also told me that you like to have two girls at the same time.

Javier couldn’t help but think back to conversations the two of you had about have a threesome with another girl. You brought up having a second man and having Javi and him fill you up, and to your surprise, Javi agreed but he wants to test out a girl first. Your relationship with Javier wasn’t always about sex, he was quite the romantic. From fancy dinners on rooftops to street tacos on the couch, Javier always made you feel loved… but the sex was always great. And with great sex comes constant thoughts about having each other everywhere and anywhere – Javi’s current issue.

“Que, mi reina. Quieres que te haga sentir rico? Tienes una amiguita que se te antoja?”

What, my queen. You want me to make you feel good? You got a little friend you’re craving?

You give him a nod and think back to Javier… what a shock that’d be.

“Si… tengo a alguien en el carro que te quiere conocer. Te va a sorprender.”

Yeah… I have someone in the car who wants to meet you. They’ll surprise you.

Upon hearing the code, Javier and Steve smirk. “They’ll surprise you” has always been the call for backup. Steve immediately let Javier go and both go out of the car. Steve hops in the back and sits with the back of his head facing the window. Javier hides behind the car and blends into the shadows. As you walk up with Martín’s arm around your shoulders, you smile to yourself seeing them in position.

“Te presento,” you say as you open the backseat, “a Estephania.”

I present you to Stephanie.

Steve turns and smiles at Martín. Steve offers him a wave and Martín lets out a laugh. He puts his hands up in surrender and turns. Before Javi can even spring into action, you land a quick right hand on Martín’s jaw. Martín holds his jaw and lunge forward but isn’t quick enough. You immediately wrap his arm in yours, maneuver it behind him and push it upwards to dislocate his shoulder. You had to give it to him, Martín wasn’t a quitter. With a dislocated shoulder and all, he remained up on his feet an that didn’t sit right with you. You use his weight against him as you jump and straddle yourself on his shoulders.

Javi can’t seem to stop staring at the way your dress hitches higher and higher until it reaches your hips. You were thankful you were wearing cheeky underwear of your hoohah would’ve been out by now. The more you struggle with Martín trying to shake you off, the more Javi felt the absolute need to just rip those panties off you and take you on the hood of Steve’s car. He seems to be caught in a trance because she realizes just how much danger you’re in when Steve slaps the back of his head.

“Javi! What the hell is wrong with you! Stop thinking about fucking her for once and focus!”

Javi runs to Martín and tries to pry you off but you aren’t letting go as you continuously kick Martín in the sternum. Javi has enough and kicks Martín in the balls, dropping him to the floor and in turn, letting you off.

He tries to take deep breaths and looks up trying to look at you, but he’s met with a smiling Javier holding up his badge and holding him at gunpoint.

“Martín! Que raro que nos encontramos aqui, no? Ya te crees toro?”

Martin! How weird that we ran into each other here, no? You think you’re a bull now?

Martín mutter a curse and lets his head fall. Javi almost runs to smooth your dress down and pulls it the lowest it could possibly go before it sprang right back up. Martín allows himself to be put in the back with Steve and repeatedly states in a shaky voice that he isn’t talking to the cops. You tell him to keep thinking that and go to walk into the passenger seat as Javier stops you by the arm. You look at him shocked and smirk at the sight of his pained face.

“You see this?” he points to his hard cock and you smirk up him as you nod. “Once we drop his ass off, you’re putting that pretty little mouth to work. That may have been badass, but you talk a big game. Can you back it up?”

You give him a playful shove. You begin to walk away and right before you get in the car, you turn back and say, “Tread lightly, Javi, or you won’t be seeing this outfit anymore.” You wait to open the door until Javier is at the driver’s door. “Oh and Javi?”

Javier looks at you and gives you a stern look. “What?”

“I didn’t know your face got so red at seeing me on top another man. I can’t wait to see your face when another man is fuc- ”

“Get your ass in the car.”

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #dee’s requests and asks #narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #agent javier peña #agente javier peña #agente peña #javier pena #javier pena x reader #agent pena x reader #agent javier pena x reader #agent javier pena #agente javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #agent javier pena x you

148 notes · View notes

sunlightandsuffering · 4 years ago

Text

I LEAVE FOR A WHILE AND I HAVE SO MANY UNREAD BESTIES TO LOVERS ANONS!!! Imma answer them when I get back from boating but Jfc y’all want this AU bad so here, theres no smut per se but this is the first part of the first chapter from Mikasa’s POV I hope I characterized her okay, I’m trying to stay true to the collective vision 😂

So without further ado Besties to Lovers 💕💕

Her and Eren have always been friends, but she wants the benefits, God does she want the benefits. She’s nineteen, in her second year of university and she’s still a virgin and has done absolutely nothing outside of kiss a boy, and that boy was Eren, in the eighth grade. Meanwhile the very object of her affections has a new girl in his room every fucking night. She doesn’t understand where he gets his stamina from or where he finds all of these girls.

They’ve been best friends since the third grade when he forced her to eat a mudpie because he told poor sweet naïve Mikasa it was chocolate cake. When she’d cried after having her face shoved into the mud, he’d told her to suck it up before giving her the lollipop from his lunchbox as penance. She’s loved him ever since.

And unfortunately, his selfish antics have only gotten worse over time.

Mikasa is aware she’s unbelievably sheltered, it’s not something new to her, that’s what happens when you live with three ex-cops for most of your life and the only friend, you’re permitted to hang out with on a continual basis is Eren. As a result, she’s spoiled rotten and she loves every moment of it, especially when it’s Eren doing the spoiling, but she’s trying her best to be less sheltered! She even finally got a job recently and Eren had told her how proud of her he was.

The job might also be part-time at Levi’s mechanic shop but well a job is a job it doesn’t matter if she got it through nepotism.

She’s excited about it, it means she gets to see Eren even more than usual because he works there part time as a mechanic while he puts himself through medical school.

She knows logically she should be fed up of the boy she’s spent almost every waking moment with since she was seven, but she’s not, she loves living with Eren.

He spoils her almost more than Levi, Hanji and Kenny do, which is impressive because they’re all a little crazy.

She’s also a little in love with Eren if she’s being entirely honest with herself, she lives for when he calls her ‘baby’ and his fingers trail up her thighs and he pinches the curve of her ass, telling her the gym is paying off. He’s always touch, touch, touching every part of her he can get his hands on and she loves it.

Once, Jean had tried to have her sit on his lap too when Eren hadn’t been around and although she’d felt a little weird about it, she’d complied because well he was her friend and it was okay when Eren did it, so why not Jean?

Eren had not been pleased.

Mikasa hadn’t liked it either if she was being honest, it wasn’t the same, he didn’t hold her the same way Eren did and she didn’t have the same pleasant little flutter in her tummy the way she did with Eren when his hands would dip between her thighs and along the seams of her underwear beneath her flowy dresses.

She always felt happy and warm whenever Eren touched her and if she ever felt uncomfortable he’d stop, but he was also more than happy to soothe her back to happiness, he’d kiss her neck or tell her how good she was being for him and she’d be content once again.

Sometimes she’d wriggle around in his lap and he’d hold her tight, and give her a little nibble to her ear as warning. Sometimes she’d heed his warning and sometimes she wouldn’t but when she didn’t that’s usually when Eren would take her home and she loved being alone with him much more than at a boring party while he flirted with a bunch of girls.

When she had him entirely to herself, that was when she was most happy. But these days it wasn’t often, it seemed somehow her best friend had become even more of a man whore since she’d moved in. It’d been a year and still he hadn’t cooled down, he had more sexual partners than an emperor with a harem, it was ridiculous.

The revolving door of girls was getting old for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was that she was fed up of having to explain where the coffee was as the girls pranced around their kitchen in underwear and Eren’s t-shirts. It was irritating, they didn’t understand that she would be the one to make Eren coffee or tea in the morning and that she had exclusive access to his wardrobe. The pretty blonde bitch she was glaring at right now should NOT be wearing her favourite t-shirt.

She sullenly continues to steep Eren’s tea for him, knowing he’ll need the caffeine when he wakes up while she watches the pretty little blonde march around their kitchen like she owns the place. She grabs all of Mikasa’s iced coffee ingredients from the fridge, drowning two cups of scalding hot coffee in sugary sweet. Syrup, whip cream, sprinkles, everything Eren buys Mikasa because he understands her ice coffee obsession. Meanwhile Mikasa knows for a fact Eren loathes the stuff, he tells her it’s too sweet all the time, making faces every time he steals a sip, as if it will taste different than the last time he drank it. He always gives her little cheek kisses after, awfully close to her lips or on her nose, tells her she’s sweet enough for him, that he doesn’t need anything else.

And without fail she’ll squirm and blush under his praise just like she always does and he’ll get that look in his eye, the one that’s dark and hungry that she knows usually precedes some manhandling. A slap to the ass, a pinch to her waist, something that allows him the excuse to touch her and she lives for it, sometimes if she’s really lucky he’ll tuck her into his lap and let her drink the rest of her coffee from her favourite seat there.

She’s startled out of her thoughts as the blonde girl drops two spoons onto the counter and they clatter against the marble with an angry noise, leaving spills of coffee in their wake.

“Can you be a doll and clean that up for me?” Platinum blonde asks her before she picks up both mugs and starts towards Eren’s room.

Mikasa frowns but wanders towards the sink to grab a washcloth for the mess.

Platinum blonde doesn’t make it two steps out of the kitchen before Eren’s bedroom door opens and shuts and he’s wandering into the open expanse of their kitchen wearing nothing more than a pair of plaid pyjama pants and rubbing his eyes.

Mikasa smirks at the sink, now is her favourite time of the morning, when Eren will kick out the little blonde rather brutally.

“Eren, hi!” The girl tells him breathlessly, and Mikasa turns to watch her hold out a coffee, “I made you a coffee, wasn’t sure what you liked.”

Shit, Eren’s tea! Mikasa drops her wash cloth and quickly removes the tea bag from Eren’s typical Earl Grey, thankfully it’s not too oversteeped. She wanders to the fridge to grab the cream, pretending not to be gleefully listening to the conversation next to her.

Eren takes the coffee from the girl, looking down at it as if it’s going to explode, sprinkles and chocolate shavings floating around the milky brown mixture. He raises an eyebrow up at the girl before placing the coffee on the counter, “Thanks, but I don’t like coffee.”

The girl’s eyes go a little wide and she places her mug on the counter as well, “Oh I didn’t know, tell me what you do like and I’ll make it for you, I wanted you to have a little pick me up, you know after last night,” She sends him a little smirk as she finishes her sentence but Eren remains looking unimpressed.

“I like tea, but don’t worry about it, I already have some being made right now, isn’t that right Miki?”

His eyes finally slide to hers and as usual her heart skips a beat as those intent viridians watch her so intensely, all of his attention is on her, he pays absolutely no mind to the blonde girl as he makes it to her side in a few steps.

She nods softly, she doesn’t want to reply, not in front of this girl, she’s too shy, it’s why she’s barely said three words to her yet. She hands Eren his cup of tea and he grins mischievously at her, before taking it from her hands. He winks at her before leaning in to kiss her cheek, murmuring into her ear softly, “Thanks Miki.”

Shivers erupt all over as his breath hits just under her ear, where he knows she’s most sensitive.

He pulls away and she’s left wide-eyed as he steals his tea and turns back to the blonde girl.

“Sorry what was your name again?”

The blonde’s face scrunches up in irritation, “It’s Katrina.”

“Great, Katrina I’ll walk you out.”

He takes a sip of his tea before leaving it on the counter and grabbing Katrina by the arm and dragging her towards his bedroom. They stop briefly to grab Katrina’s things before making their way to the door, Eren likely hoping to avoid her impending meltdown.

Mikasa doesn’t see it but she hears the irritated whines that turn into pleads as Eren tells the girl not so gently, to leave. The door slams and she hears footsteps as Eren follows the girl outside. Mikasa may or may not scoot a little closer to the main hallway and press her ear to the door to listen.

“But we had such an amazing night—”

“It was okay.” Eren throws in his two cents and Mikasa fights to keep in her giggle, this is her favourite part of the mornings, it’s almost worth all the pain of the night before just for this.

“What do you mean, it was amazing, Eren I think we really have something, it was so amazing—”

“Listen, I don’t do relationships, I do one-night stands and that’s it.” Eren tells Katrina firmly and Mikasa gives a little fist pump, damn right, she never sees the same girl twice and she’ll never admit how happy that small tidbit of information brings her. If he’s going to have someone else, at least she knows he has no feelings attached to it. The day he gets a serious girlfriend is the day her heart really breaks.

“What about the girl in there, Miki you called her, don’t tell me you’re not fucking her.”

Mikasa is shocked, her cheeks turning red at the assumption, how vulgar.

But also a small part of her wishes Eren was, ‘fucking’ her that is. She’s a virgin, completely innocent in every conceivable way, she’s never even touched herself, nineteen and still totally clueless with all things sex. It’s not like she hasn’t considered it or wanted to try before, she’s not a prude, she just has no idea where to even start.

Not to mention, ANY male love interests are squashed like bugs the second Eren gets wind of them, and if it’s not him it’s Levi, Kenny or Hanji.

But lately she’s considering at least buying a vibrator or something, maybe taking her own virginity, Sasha and Annie never shut up about it, she’s curious about what all the fuss is about. Every time she moves her fingers down her stomach, she heats up a little, blushing bright red and wondering if it’s wrong, if its weird.

She usually makes it to the line of her panties, concentrated on trying to figure out what she should do and imagining what she thinks will turn her on, and of course it’s always Eren. Always, always him. Unfortunately, that’s usually where her fingers stop because she feels awful, dirty for imagining her best friend touching her, thinking about his large frame looming over hers and laying kisses on her lips instead of her cheeks. Eren would never want her like that, she’s not his type, small blonde, perky and experienced. No bad Mikasa! She cuts her thoughts off before they can descend into negative territory, she’ll never have Eren romantically but at least he loves her platonically and she’ll take what she can get.

“Leave.” Eren tells Katrina in a tone that brokers no argument, the one he reserves specifically for people who insult her, and it happens often when his one night stands see a girl in Eren’s apartment that’s not them, the jealousy is real. However, what they fail to realize is that she is the one girl he actually gives a shit about, she has a special place reserved in his heart as his best friend, and all the sex in the world has nothing on that.

She continues to listen, waiting for more, but this one surprisingly kicks up little fuss and the next thing Mikasa knows she’s scrambling to move away from the door as Eren opens it, falling swiftly onto her ass in the foyer.

Eren raises his eyebrow at her as he shuts the door, leaning back against it, arms crossed and still delightfully shirtless. Looking up at him, he truly is an attractive figure, arms corded with muscle from working with cars all day, handsome chiselled face with a slit in his right eyebrow and a few tattoos placed randomly along his arms. Mikasa, understands better than anyone why girls flock to Eren like moths to a flame.

“Watcha doing down there love?” He asks, his tone deceptively sweet, she knows he won’t be happy she was listening in, especially since the other girl sort of insulted her. She plays dumb, or attempts to at least.

“Just cleaning up,” she grabs a shoe from the shoe rack next to the door, “Wanted to make sure everything was in order.”

“Uhuh,” he says doubtfully, crouching down to her level where she’s splayed out, legs askew and leaning back on her hands.

“So you were’t eavesdropping on me outside?”

She looks away, she can’t lie to him, she’s terrible at it, he knows all her ticks, and she always inevitably caves and tells him anyway.

“Miki,” His voice is chiding, a hand coming up to grab her chin and turn her in his direction. Her full bottom lip sticks out in a pout as she confesses, “I just wanted to know what you’d tell her, she wasn’t very nice to me.”

He leans in closer, edging his way into her personal space and she’s forced to lean back further on her hands as Eren kneels over her, placing his own hands on her thighs, his face getting closer and closer to hers. Her breathing comes quick as his face finds her neck, “You’re not being a very good girl today Miki. My tea was a little oversteeped and now this,”

She gasps a little, her heart thundering in her chest, theres that phrase, ‘good girl’, every so often Eren slips it into conversation and she doesn’t know why but she absolutely loves it, she adores it when he praises her. She wants to hear him say it all the time, wants to be his everything, wants to be the best.

And sometimes she’ll hear him whisper it to the girls he’s fucking, their bedrooms are right next to each other and the walls are paper thin, how could she not? And those are the times she wants to touch herself the most, when Eren tells the girl he’s with she’s being a good girl in that deep raspy voice of his, in the tone he only uses when he’s at the height of his pleasure, gravelly and filled with desire as he fucks some girl so hard the wall of their shared bedroom shakes.

Her face heats anymore at her train or thought, doing her damndest not to let her eyes follow the V of his abs down to the waist band of his pants.

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I’ll be better,” she responds quickly, she doesn’t want him to be mad at her, not about this, she didn’t mean to eavesdrop, she’ll never do it again as long as he’s not mad at her.

It’s the worst when he’s mad at her, he wont talk to her for a while, won’t touch her and that’s the worst part, no little touches. She’d never realized how totally attached and needy for him she was until they were watching a movie and he wouldn’t let her sit in his lap, wouldn’t lay his head on her chest and hum into her sternum while she fought back shivers because her breasts are so fucking sensitive.

“Eren please, I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me.”

His face is stern for a moment, dark strong eyebrows scrunched up and lips set into a line, tears prick her eyes at the thought of him giving her the silent treatment for a week again. She can’t do it.

As a tear escapes one eye, tracing a path down her cheekbones, Eren’s large calloused hand comes up to cup her face, moving from her chin, his thumb darting out to catch the tear before he brings his thumb to his mouth, licking the meagre drop from his finger.

His face settles back into a neutral expression before he buries it into her neck, leaning his whole body weight on her, and pushing her to the ground, lying across her front.

“Oh fuck Miki, what am I going to do with you?” He sighs into her neck, before leaving a little bite there that makes her squeak. Then another, and another and she knows this is her punishment but it feels so nice, bites interspersed with little kisses along the column of her throat, they’ll probably leave marks later if she’s lucky.

He pulls back when she makes a little whimpering sound as he hits a particularly sensitive area of her skin, breaking the quiet atmosphere and they both come back to themselves. She’s immediately sad because she loves it when he gets carried away like that, almost feels like she has a chance.

Eren moves away, leaving her cold and bereft on the floor as he stands up.

She stares up at him, quicksilver eyes wide and needy, she needs something, she doesn’t know what, zings shoot through her core and she’s unbearably hot, she needs something. It’s the weird feeling again, the one she only gets when he’s around and being touchy, he must see it in her eyes because a pained looks crosses his face and he almost moves to grab her again but he bites his lip and settles on holding a hand to help her up, “Come on Miki, I’ll make you breakfast love.”

She pouts but takes his hand, following him to the kitchen and sitting herself on the bar stool while he makes her favourite waffles.

It’s always like this, he’s always taking care of her, he can’t help himself and sure sometimes he’s a little mean, well most of the time, and more often than not he’s teasing her, but he takes care of her so well, she trusts him implicitly.

They’re on the cusp of something, she doesn’t know what but she can feel it building, ever since she first moved in, the tension has gotten worse. Eren is like a caged panther waiting, watching, restraining himself, his eyes are always hungry when she walks around in her pyjamas, which consist of only his old shirts and panties, but she can’t quite figure out for what.

He gives her a little wink as he slides her waffles onto a plate and cutting them up for her, before he feeds her delicately, little bites of chocolate chip and syrup. He catches little dribbles of the sickly sweet mixture that stain her lips, bringing his finger to his mouth, just for a taste. He pulls a face at the overly sweet treat, and she laughs which makes Eren smile her favourite smile, the genuine one with all his teeth only she can pull from him.

The next dribble of syrup she loses, Eren feeds it right back to her, holding out his thumb for her to lick but she does him one better and takes the whole digit in her mouth with ease, sucking the syrupy chocolate up happily. She watches him the whole time and his reaction is everything, his eyes glow greener, he leans in just a little closer and there is that intent hungry look again. It’s beginning to be her favourite look on him, something about it is just attractive.

She releases his finger with a pop, smiling at him before she sticks her tongue out, “All clean!”

Eren’s gaze is so intense she wants to look away as he moves his hand to tuck a few stray locks of hair behind her ear. He exhales before he speaks, his voice quiet, like he doesn’t mean to say it at all, “You’re such a good girl aren’t you Miki?”

“What did you say?” She asks because she wants to hear it again and again, but Eren doesn’t oblige.

“Nothing baby, finish your waffles, you haven’t been eating well lately, I don’t want anything left on your plate.”

He takes care of her so so well. How could she ever need anyone else?

But evidently Eren does, to satiate his more carnal needs, the ones she’s clueless about and the one’s she longs for him to use her for. He gets a call halfway through her breakfast and he departs from alternately stealing bites of her waffle and letting her eat by herself. It’s a call from a regular girl, Selena, she’s pretty sure her name is, a beautiful Brazilian exchange student with blue eyes and a perfect olive hue. He kisses Mikasa goodbye, a swift peck to the cheek, before he tells her not to wait up, he’s going to work this afternoon shift and afterwards he’s going ‘out’.

She’s may be naïve but she’s not stupid, she knows what ‘out’ means, he’s going to spend the night at Selena’s and tomorrow he’ll come home with mussed hair and hickeys, he won’t need anyone to make his morning tea, won’t be home to make her breakfast.

She’ll be all alone in the apartment once again and not for the first time, she wonders if maybe she should be doing the same. Just what is she missing out on that’s so good that Eren can’t go two days without it, what is so great about sex that Sasha and Annie will spend hours discussing it over dinner?

She drops her breakfast dish in the sink, scowling as she watches the water run over the remains of her breakfast, filling the sink with bubbles, maybe she should try it too. Maybe sex is what she needs from her life, maybe Eren is onto something.

#btl💕#besties to lovers ♥️#eremika

35 notes · View notes

rizlowwritessortof · 3 years ago

Text

Meant To Be - Chapter 5

Dean and Jordan are each trying to escape their painful pasts. Their chance meeting and a dangerous encounter begins a relationship that may give them both a new start.

Pairing: Police Detective Dean Winchester/Jordan Taylor

Word Count: 2559

Warnings: There be smut here :)

Aesthetic by @editsbymichele on Instagram; Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Jordan walked into the apartment, closing the door behind her and leaning against it for a moment. She felt like a coward, running away without talking to Dean, but… It just felt too awkward to stick around after what she’d seen. She sighed, kicking her shoes off and carrying them to her room, then wandering back to the kitchen. She debated on a drink, but finally settled on a cup of tea, curling up in the corner of the sofa and wishing she could get the image of Dean and Valerie out of her head.

She was staring at nothing as her mind raced over the details of the evening, the tea cup nestled in her hands, when a soft knock sounded at the door. She smiled a little, setting her tea down as she rose to her feet. “Forget your keys?” she called out as she headed to the door. She peered through the peephole, her eyes widening a little when she saw Dean standing there. After a second of hesitation, she opened it, gripping the knob to still the shaking of her hand. “Dean… Come on in. I thought you were Donna.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t think she’s coming home tonight. Think she headed home with Doug.”

“Oh.” She backed away from the door, and he followed her in, closing it and clicking the lock back in place. “So, you want a beer or something? I was just having a cup of tea. Well, I was holding a cup of tea. I think it’s cold now.” She smiled towards him, not quite able to meet his eyes.

“No, I’m good. I just wanted… Can we talk?”

“Ok.” For the life of her, she couldn’t think of a thing to say, so she just stood there, nervously clasping her hands in front of her.

“Jordan, why didn’t you wait for me? I would’ve brought you home.”

She looked up at him, shrugging a little. “I should have told you I was going, but – you were kind of… I didn’t want to interrupt and make things all awkward.”

“You saw me with Val. Jordan, it wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Looked like you two were kissing.” She was surprised that her voice was so steady, as if she were just talking about the weather. She leaned back against the wall near the kitchen door, needing something to ground herself.

“She was kissing. I was...” He sighed, his lips clamped together for a moment as he ran his fingers through his hair. “She grabbed me and pulled me aside, said she needed to talk to me. And then she just – was all over me, and I… it took me by surprise, and it took me a second to push her away. You must have seen that exact moment, because two seconds later...”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Dean, I should have waited to talk to you, but I thought maybe you two were working things out and I didn’t want to be in the way, or make everything weird.”

“Val and I will never work things out. I knew a long time ago that was a dead-end road.” Jordan nodded wordlessly, and he continued with a bitter little laugh. “You know what she wanted? She said ‘her Teddy’ just isn’t good in bed, and she missed how I made her feel, and she wanted to meet me somewhere in secret. So we could sleep together. Not rich or important enough for her, but I guess that doesn’t matter if all you want is a fuck toy.”

Jordan stared at him, shocked. “She is unbelievable. Dean, I’m sorry.”

“I told her she should haul his ass to a sex therapist, if he couldn’t satisfy her. And that she should stay the fuck away from me.” He rubbed his hand over his face, a humorless smirk quirking at his lips. “And I may have told her to go buy a dildo.”

A little burst of laughter escaped from Jordan’s lips before she could contain it. “You didn’t.”

His smile was becoming a little more genuine now. “Yeah. I did.”

“That is too perfect.”

“Anyway, I just wanted you to know what really happened, and make sure you weren’t pissed at me.”

“I was never... I was just… Well, I don’t know what I was, but I wasn’t pissed. I just...” She trailed off, and he looked at her, waiting.

“What, Jordan? Talk to me.”

“Dean, I know when we first met, you were just being kind, trying to distract me from my asshole of an ex. And then you were doing your cop thing, and saving my ass from him. Then we got to be friends, which I really needed. I still do, I would never want to lose that with you, it’s important to me. I’ve been struggling with my feelings for you lately, trying not to get ideas in my head that aren’t ever going to happen, trying to just be happy with the way things are. And yet, sometimes I feel like there’s more going on between us than that. But I don’t know, I can’t read your mind, and since you haven’t said anything… Dean, I just… What exactly is it that you want from me?” Her eyes were full of confusion as she met his steady stare, his tongue darting out over his lips.

He moved towards her slowly, as if she would bolt away from him, but she stayed, dropping her eyes as he drew close. He reached out a hand, brushing his fingers over her cheek, then beneath her chin to tilt her face up towards him. “You know what I want from you, Jordan? Everything.”

He bent towards her, his lips brushing over hers as her eyes closed. Her heart was pounding as he pulled away just enough that she could speak, her voice barely a whisper. “Everything?”

He touched his forehead to hers, his fingers still gently cupping her face, his reply as breathless as hers. “Yeah. The whole nine.” He nudged his nose against hers, moving closer, the heat of his body radiating into hers.

She didn’t speak, just slipped one arm around his waist, the other hand sliding up the length of his arm as she leaned in to kiss him. He moaned, his tongue sweeping across her lips, and hers parted to welcome him. She sighed softly as he pressed her against the wall, his hand moving down to fumble at the tie on the side of her dress, finally working it loose and slipping inside to brush over her skin.

She shivered, and he stopped once more, looking into her eyes with a troubled expression. “If you’re not ready, I get it. After what you went through – I don’t want to push...”

“Detective Winchester, I don’t know how much more evidence you need,” she teased, and his concern melted away as he grinned, letting her lead him down the hall to her room. He stopped her at the doorway, and she turned to look at him, waiting.

“Condoms?” he asked quietly, his thumb tracing patterns across the back of her hand.

“I, um… I got tested after – after Darrel. And I’m on birth control. Were you tested, after...”

“Yeah. Yeah, I was. I’m good. But if you’re more comfortable...”

She gave him a shy smile, standing on tiptoe to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’m good without if you are. I’d rather feel...everything.” He groaned as she turned away, pulling him into the bedroom.

She let go of his hand as they stepped through the doorway, twirling away from him and untangling the ties on the side of her dress. She dropped it to the floor and kicked it aside as Dean watched, closing the door behind him. He stopped, his eyes roaming over her, blowing a slow breath from between his parted lips. “Darrel is a fucking idiot,” he muttered, almost to himself, and Jordan laughed, a quizzical look on her face.

“What did you say?”

“I said, Darrel is a fucking idiot. Otherwise he would never have screwed things up to the point that you had to leave.” He took a step closer, finally meeting her eyes. “God, you’re beautiful.”

Jordan’s face flushed from his attention and his praise. “He always said I looked too much like a tomboy. I wasn’t ‘sexy’ enough for him.”

Dean reached out and pulled her closer, his hands on her waist. “Like I said, fucking idiot. You’re sexy as hell. If you don’t believe me...” He reached for her hand, placing it over his erection, and she looked up into his eyes.

“I’m afraid I’m going to need a little more proof,” she whispered, giving him a gentle squeeze, watching his eyelids flutter at her touch.

“Sweetheart, I’ll prove it to you all night.” He reached for her again, hands on her hips, guiding her backwards until her knees hit the bed. He moved in close and leaned in to kiss her hungrily, a low moan vibrating from his chest as he pulled her tight against him, his fingers trailing over her skin. She moved her hands between them, up his chest, pushing him away just far enough that she could work the buttons of his shirt free, his muscles tensing beneath her touch as her fingers brushed over his ribs.

She let her hands explore his torso, over his chest and up to push the shirt from his broad shoulders, then dropped them to the waist of his pants, working the button free and lowering the zipper as he parted from her lips, panting softly. He traced a finger along the top of her lacy bra, watching her eyes close as he grazed her nipple on the way. “You look so damn good in this, but I really want you to take it off,” he urged, and she complied, reaching behind her back to unclasp it and letting it drop from her shoulders as he moved back a step to remove the remainder of his clothes.

She slid the matching panties down her hips and let them drop, stepping out of them as he neared again, his erection prodding at her belly as he kissed her, then let her sit down on the bed and scoot to the middle, stretching out as he joined her with a low growl. He laid on his side and pulled her close, their hands exploring each other as their lips met, tongues tangling, breath mingling.

Dean moved her to her back, and Jordan tipped her head back into the pillow as his lips grazed over her jaw, sucking softly at the sensitive spot just below her ear. Every nerve in her body was humming, vibrant and alive, his every touch sending her higher. He laced the fingers of one hand through hers and let the other roam, brushing over her breasts and then tracing her taut nipples before he made his way down to tease at them with his tongue. She squirmed beneath him as he sucked one into the heat of his mouth, his fingers drifting slowly down her body, finally dipping between her thighs as her hips rose to meet him, anxious to relieve the delicious ache building there. He trailed work-roughened fingertips through her delicate folds, humming in appreciation at how wet she was already.

“Dean,” she moaned, and he moved back up to kiss her, swallowing her breathless cries as he rubbed gentle circles around her clit and slipped two digits deep inside her, stroking slowly.

“I know, baby, I can’t wait to be inside you,” he answered, moving back up to kiss her as he continued to coax her open, “but I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Not made out of glass,” she whispered against his lips, gasping softly as he brushed over her sweet spot, and he let out a soft growl before kissing her hard, his fingertips sending sparks through her body as he focused his attention there with persistent strokes. When she bucked up beneath him, starting to tremble, he left her lips, nuzzling into her neck, panting hard along with her.

“Just let go, sweetheart, I gotcha,” he rumbled into her ear. Seconds later she arched up hard, her body flushing hot as she came with a soft cry, and Dean dropped tender kisses on her neck and shoulder, murmuring praises as he gently eased her down.

Jordan let out a breathy whine as he pulled his fingers free and shifted his body over, letting his palms glide up the smooth skin of her thighs and back down as he settled between them. He braced himself with one arm, wrapping a hand around his erection to get in position, his jaw tensed as he savored the sweet ache of anticipation for a moment before pressing forward, the sounds she was making urging him on. He groaned, long and low, his cock throbbing at the sensation of her pulsing around him, slick and hot, as he pushed deeper inside her.

Finally, he was flush against her, and he held still for a moment, panting hard, before bending to kiss her almost desperately. Jordan wrapped her legs around his hips, letting her calves slide down the back of his thighs as she arched up against him, forcing him as deep as possible inside her as she whimpered into their kiss, sucking lightly at his tongue.

She finally relaxed, lowering herself to the bed again, and Dean began to slowly grind against her, unwilling to pull back yet, the feeling of being buried deep inside her making his head spin a little. “You feel so fucking good,” he moaned between hungry kisses, and Jordan clutched harder at his back, the muscles there rippling beneath her fingertips.

“Oh, God,” she managed, “so do you,” gasping as he pulled back slowly, then pushed back in to the limit. “Dean...”

He did it again, swearing under his breath as Jordan shuddered beneath him, clenching around his length, and he buried his face in her shoulder, growling, “Hold on, sweetheart,” his hips picking up speed. Soon he was driving into her hard, neither of them able to keep quiet any longer as their bodies collided, Jordan meeting him with every thrust, the sensations building to an almost unbearable level.

She let out a hoarse shout of his name, then went rigid, her orgasm whiting out her vision and stealing her breath. Dean was still pounding into her, each stroke driving into the very core of her being, the almost-pain pleasure sending shock waves through her nerves, the high seeming to last forever. The sound of Dean swearing was muted in her ears, but Jordan could feel his cock swelling, pulsing inside her and then the heat as he exploded, still pounding into her as if he couldn’t stop.

He finally began to slow, then stilled, letting his weight rest on top of her as his chest heaved against hers. With some effort, she unclasped her shaking legs from around his hips and let them drop to the bed, making them both groan. She forced her fingers to loosen their grip on his back and lowered her arms, her limbs sprawled on the mattress, her eyes drifting closed, feeling exhausted and completely content.

Chapter 6

#meant to be #chapter 5 #dean fic #dean smut #dean x oc #dean x jordan

22 notes · View notes