#mans BOLTED for help
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That broken neck prank is brutal đ
#aint no way bruh#mans BOLTED for help#i will never get that scream out my head#ânessa ramblesđŹ
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If you called Minthara âMinthyâ to her face, you would be walking back to your tent going âI donât want to talk about it.â
#Minthara#listen I totally get cute nicknames for characters#but sometimes I see them and canât help but think#that character would NOT let you call them that if they knew#calling Shadowheart shart is a one was ticket to getting guiding boltedâŠ#provided it hits of course#Astarion would NOT know what to do if you gave him a nickname#that man would be trying to act so suave but would be blue screening on the inside#Laeâzel would launch into the importance of githyanki naming culture#but would say some shit like âthis fay-run custom is admirable. the shortening of names#in order to quickly and precisely communicate is worthwhile#you may proceed in calling me âlawâ#bg 3#everyone else would probably be okay with a nickname#Minsc MIGHT be confused#but then boo would of course#explain whatâs happening
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First Hire Part One
Yayyy the first part of the short story is finally doneeee! I have no idea why but I struggled doing this. I don't write things this short most of the time which is a sign that I need to do it more soooo....
Anyways enjoy! And feel free to tell me things I could improve on!
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âReally? Not even a lighter?â No One muttered, as he stood back up and looked down at the bloody figure below in disappointment. He had been searching through the mans pockets for the past several minutes and had only managed to find a few coins and an opened pack of cigarettes.Â
He nudged the man with his foot and he rolled onto his back but remained unmoving.
âHello? Helloooo?!â He yelled and leaned over the man. He couldn't quite tell if the man was breathing or not but he didn't care to check. Heâd find out if he was alive later if he saw a news article about a, âDead Body Found In Alleyway.âÂ
He peaked around the corner in case anyone was coming and thankfully the roadblock was just as empty as it was earlier. That was one of the many upsides of doing these kinds of things at night.Â
He turned back towards the man and grabbed his wrists and began awkwardly dragging him towards a large dumpster in the back of the alley.Â
He dropped the man to the ground and looked up at the top of it, which was a good two feet taller than him. This seemed to be one of the few dumpsters around here where its hovering mechanisms actually worked, but even if it wasn't it would still be too tall for him. And even if it wasnt there was no way he was strong enough to lift the man over his head and throw him in there, without getting any blood on the white exterior.
No One groaned before stepping down to the ground and looking underneath the dumpster. It was a pretty decent space. And the man wasn't that largeâŠÂ
Heâll fit. No One thought and began trying to push the man into the space with his foot. It unfortunately didn't get the man very far and No One began physically pushing him underneath the dumpster until he was no longer visible.Â
âUgh⊠sorry buddy!â No One laughed, and began walking off towards the street. Â
Most businesses were closed this time of night and even if they weren't, who in their right mind would actually walk around outside alone in this side of the city?
No One snickered as he admired the buildings around him. They all practically touched the sky. All over a hundred floors at least. Though they weren't as fancy as the buildings in the inner circle of the city were. They were all made of old beige bricks that had been dirtied and weathered over the years to the point that they looked brown. There were bright neon signs by every window and trash scattered all over the streets.Â
It was messy, and dingy, but it was different. And No One liked it. It just fit his style a little more than the fancy, bright colors of center city.Â
As No One continued down the street he heard heavy footsteps behind him, slowly coming closer and closer. As he tried to speed up so did the person following him so No One decided to slow down and ready for yet another fight.Â
âHey, kid.â A gravelly voice said and grabbed No One's shoulder roughly.Â
He turned around to see a very large man looming over him, and No One noticed he was also armed.Â
âI have some questions for you if you wouldn't mind.â The man said.Â
âI actually do mind. Iâm a little busy right now.â
âWell then Iâll keep it short.â The man stated, and to No Ones surprise he let go of his shoulder.Â
âI saw what you did to that man. Why did you do it?âÂ
âWhat man? I'm sorry sir but I don't know what youâre talking about!â No One grinned, and the man looked around the street before leading him towards one of the buildings.Â
âListen kid, Iâm not stupid. So tell me, why did you murder that man.â He warned.
âNo, sir you don't understand. I didn't murder anyone! He attacked me!âÂ
âAfter begging you for mercy.â The man sneered, and bent down closer to No Ones face.Â
âListen big guy. Iâve got places to be, so make it snappy. What do you want from me?â No One asked, his usual cat-like grin completely gone.Â
âMy boss has been watching you for weeks. He wants to meet with you.â
âWell, your boss can come talk to me himself.âÂ
âNo. Youâll be coming with me.âÂ
No One raised an eyebrow and let out a loud, shrill laugh.Â
âReally!? You think that Iâm coming with you!? Why on earth do you think that Iâd come with you!?â He cackled.Â
âWe want to make a deal with you.â The man explained.
âA deal? What kind of deal? What can you give me that I can't just get myself?âÂ
âI don't have that information. Iâm just here to bring you to him.âÂ
âYour boss?âÂ
âYes.âÂ
âAnd how do I know this isn't a trap?âÂ
âBecause like I said, weâve been watching you. I know what you can do to me. And Iâd rather not have that happen.âÂ
No One smirked and began walking closer to the man, looking up at him. âSmart, but how do you know I wont just kill you right now?â
The man shifted his feet and No One knew his eyes were rapidly searching the street from under his glasses.Â
No One laughed and motioned towards the road, âDon't worry about me big guy. Youâve gotten me curious. Lead the way.âÂ
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BRS tag list: @wyked-ao3, @illarian-rambling, @nine-is-not-a-ten, @leahnardo-da-veggie, let me know if you'd like to be added! (+/-)
#writeblr#writing#writers on tumblr#writing community#No One the freak#poor man needs help#BRS#bolt runners
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thinking a lot about ekky organising a fishing trip (the sturgeon tagging trip if you will) for some of the boys back in like february-ish* and with the knowledge that ekky has taken forsy out deepsea fishing this season do you know what its like going oh so he took him lakefishing in BC...oh okay
and also we got this shot of ekky manning a rod while forsy stands behind him like thats not- okay
#the sturgeon tagging trip haunts me in ways you dont understand#like oh so its ekky forsy and benny on one boat while mikksy monty and bobby are on the other?#like oh youve orchestrated this so youd be on boat stranded with the gems youre madly in love with#smooth ekky real smooth#taking your husband on a lake fishing trip to appease him and smooth over your deepsea superiority campaign...yeah#LIKE I THINK A LOT ABOUT BENNY EKKY AND FORSY ON THE SAME BOAT????#the mÂČbobby boat is just mikksy peacefully fishing while monty is fighting for his life trying to reel up a sturgeon#and bobby just stands there looking pretty#meanwhile ekky is trying his damndest to not act like a 12 year old boy while being stranded on a boat with 2 hot bitches he cannot handle#i also very much think about how the playersonly cast was teasing forsy if ekky asks him to reel up fish for him since hes so strong#and he was like no he doesnt he has an electric rigger :(#so you can imagine how happy forsy is at the prospect to being put to work during the sturgeon trip (reeling in big fish for ekky)#i could write so much prose of the homoeroticism of leaning over a mans shoulder#to pin him between your body and the rod. grunting in his ear all the while as you help him reel in a big one.#theres a lot here and im not nearly enough of a scholar to put it all to words#yeah i think forsblad flirt through fishing. dont you?#*also february-ish because the timeline here is murky because it the earliest this was posted about was feb 17#and on that day they were playing against the bolts on the road. and before that they were playing against the pens and sabres.#and theres like that stretch at home before that. and byeweek. and yeah. februaryish i suppose
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:)
#LETSGOOO MOMOOOOOOOOOOOOO#luffy grabbing lightning bolts... nami youve got competition....#kaido saying roger and oden didnt have devil fruits and how you cant conquer the world with one... well they are also dead. rip bozos#NOOOO HIYORIIIIIII SOMEONE KILL THIS MAN!!!!#JESUS CHRIST THAT PUNCH!!! onigashima is on the way. move it. he is too used to zoro....#talking tag#watching one piece#episode 1074#the new opening is cute... wish the different scenes could be longer bc i have been sotpping to see them well akdhaks#can someone PLEASE help hiyori..... there are too many people just chilling DENJIRO!!!!!! FUCK YES!!!! but now pleaseeee finish him off...#omg the ballon ajdksjjs wish fullfilled!!!! YEAAHHH MOMOOOOOO#the samurais praying to luffy.... do i even need to make a post about luffy as a god now.... it's just like plain obvious and not bc of nik#episode 1075#kaido lore??? did he betray rocks pirates??? the fucking witch again??? how tf did she orchestrate all this.#she started how the value of someone is determined by war. which considering this is a shonen and strength is everything... i appreciate it#which might be why kaido is such a good antagonist to luffy. he wants people to live as slaves to make weapons and create wars#the strong ones get to be soldiers and act out that war. and kaido enjoys fighting also.... luffy on the other hand sees people for what#they are and the freedom they should have and he will beat kaido by not engaging in his style of fighting to be the strongest but by being#the silliest. literally. its just too good.#<- official analysis for now i guess#oh jesus..... LETSGOOO MOMOOOOOO omg luffy can see the wishes..... FUCK YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH#luffy wishing for a world where his friends get to eat whatever they want.... oof..... tama.....#i have realised before the timeskip i cried bc situations were sad but ever since fishman island i have teared up bc of happiness....#like at the end of fishman island and now... wait except wci but that was a drama so one exception#episode 1076
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smash nbc is a show and i sure am watching it
#i'm having fun but not in a good way lol#it's like if high school musical wasn't self-aware#it is So Deeply a 2010s nbc drama it almost makes me nostalgic#though i will say this is the perfect show for working#i'm only paying close attention to the music numbers and davenport scenes so they force me to take a break every 20min or so#he's doing a great job making this awful man the most engaging and coherent character in the show#enjoy the pennies in royalties for this mr davenport x#bolt watches things#yes this is a cry for help
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Nick has a belly button btw
#they actually all do.. it's obviously not a real one#probably like a bolt or something to hold their plating on. but it looks like one#so thats what imma call it#just like nick's screenshot buttons on the back of his neck.#sunflower posts#this man needs a sponge bath#dont worry jay will happily help...#nick valentine
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"(blank) hates laios!" WRONG WRONG WRONG. SHUT THE FUCK UP
shuro is just as awkward as laios and it is made So clear he considers him a friend and likes him. he defends him when the canaries start talking shit and actively readies himself to physically fight them so they dont get to him.
namari also likes laios. she respects him as a leader and also defends him and readies to fight the canaries.
ive not actually seen anyone claim izutsumi hates laios, but a lot of ppl Are weird abt them. izutsumi and laios' relationship was rocky at the beginning. he struggled to figure out how to interact with her. but by the end, she actively seeks him out to talk with during the lead up to the feast. she hides behind him when falin wakes up. she has already realized shecan do what she wants and does not need to stick around, yet she does. she sleeps near him on the windowsill, waiting with him and marcille for falin to wake up. she has accepted him as part of her life and wants to keep him in it.
marcille does not hate laios. let me say this again.
Marcille Donato Does Not Hate Laios Touden.
marcille Loves him. in a platonic, familial sense. laios returns this just as readily. she yells at him. she whacks him. she tells him whats on her mind. she uses healing magic to ease his pain during the parasite fiasco. she reattaches his leg when he loses it. she teaches him magic. she lays her head on his corpse and cries before reviving him. she launches herself at him two times, when the canaries interrogate them and when he talks her down in the tower. he is a comforting presence to her. she trusts him, she cares about him, she worries about him, she imagines him as a big fluffy dog that loves and protects her. laios is her rock when falin is taken from them time and time again. and she tries to be his as well. she whole-heartedly, unconditionally, loves and trusts laios.
chilchuck does not hate laios. laios pays him his rates, no questions asked. laios trusts and respects chilchuck's job as a lockpick. laios does not see him as a child (at least, i cant think of an instance where he does so). chilchuck states, outright, he sees him as a friend and doesnt want to see him hurt. he actively worries about him as the falin situation gets worse. chilchuck respects laios. he shows almost 0 hesitation in helping get falin back, nor eating her by the end. he does not think of leaving him once, until he realizes he could lose him. chilchuck is cowardly with emotions and prefers to bottle things, so his first instinct was to bolt. he was angry because he was scared of watching someone he cares about destroy himself. laios is his Friend.
and holy shit. holy Fucking shit. kabru DOES NOT hate laios. kabru has the rockiest start known to man with him, and he Still helps him by occupying the canaries. he warns him about them. he hides the black magic from them just as shuro does. his whole Thing is trusting laios despite himself. kabru has his own baggage regarding other people, just like laios, yet he tries so hard to believe and trust this man. he Wants to. kabru is not very hopeful, but laios makes him Want to be. he states like 3 times he wants to be close to him and sees him as a friend. he stays through the entire feast!! the man who hates monsters, whose biggest trigger is monsters, actively, consciously, Willingly stayed through the entire monster meat feast. all to help his friend get his sister back. he could've left!! the feast was like an entire week!! yet he was there for every single day. he was one of the closest people to the door when falin awoke!! after reuniting with her brother, her friends, the people who knew her the most (plus senshi and izutsumi), the first person she greets is kabru!! he wants to be close to laios, he likes laios, laios is his friend and he cares for him, he wants to meet his sister!!! kabru fucking stays on the island with him as one of his closest, most trusted advisors when he becomes king!!!!! he wants to help him succeed!!!! he wants him to be happy!!!! laios is his friend!!!!!!!!
im just. people like laios!! laios is a nice guy! he is friendly and cares about people! he is weird, he doesn't understand most social cues, he oversteps boundaries, but they stay beside him, because they like him and he is their friend. he is their friend!!!!! friendship is not all sunshine and rainbows, relationships in general are not sunshine and rainbows. you will upset people, people will upset you, you will get into arguments, things will happen, but at the end of the day, the people close to you like you! they love you! they care for you! they want to work it out and get through it because they love you, but they will feel those emotions first! human relationships are complex and messy and life is complicated. even shows for toddlers know this.
if you truly believe any of these characters hate laios you are worse than a toddler. watch some fucking oobi or something. god. fuck.
take this
thanks
#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#dungeon meshi spoilers#laios touden#marcille donato#kabru of utaya#toshiro nakamoto#shuro dungeon meshi#izutsumi dungeon meshi#this goes out to that one stupid fucking post i kept seeing like. last week#how can you read the entire manga and still think 'oh wow i hate shuro or kabru or whatever'#like genuinely i dont think you actually know how to read#like you know how words come together to form a sentence#but if its not directly spelled out for you like a magic school house book then it flies over ur fuckin head#anyways im normal
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#idk whether i find my dad's refusal to see me as a functioning adult to be mostly cute or mostly obnoxious#cos it's like...i moved out from my parents' place in mid-2014. i've been living an 11h(-ish) drive from their place since then#so i've been managing w/o their constant presence & direct input for over a decade. and i've done so reasonably well#like i've always paid my rent and bills on time and i've learned how to cook and clean and do basic home repairs and i've never--#--made any choices that put my own or other people's well being and/or safety at risk#in other words there's absolutely no reason why my parents (mostly my dad) should doubt my ability to deal with--#--normal everyday life-things and to figure out solutions when a problem arises#yet when the time came to change to winter tyres on the car my dad insisted on making the fucking 11h drive TO DO IT FOR ME#and for context: there's a mountain pass separating my home ''town'' aka where my parents live from where i live#and that mountain pass is snowy and miserable and lowkey dangerous to cross by car this time of year#and i was just like dude i can change my own fucking tyres and if i for some reason decide that i can't--#--then i'll just get the pros to do it? you don't have to drive all that way to do it for me like i'm still 18 and just got my license?#but no he made the drive and changed the tyres for me and would barely even LET ME HELP. like i just stood there and handed him--#--the tools like i was 8 years old again BUT at one point i was allowed to tighten the bolts on one of the wheels:)#except not really cos as soon as i was done he went over them to check that i'd done it properly#and don't get me wrong he's not an overbearing man at all. he's not a besserwisser. he tends to stay back and let me live my life#it's just when it comes to things that could in theory pose a threat to my safety or general well-being--#--that he decides that uhhh actually you're still 13 years old as far as i'm concerned and i need to do my fatherly duty here#makes me think of when i went home last year to spend a few days there and both my parents were like--#--wait wtf do you mean you know how to operate a washing machine#and i was kinda just like.....bro what#what exactly do you people think i've been doing with my laundry for the last almost-decade#and don't even get me started on when they realised i knew how to cook#again: my dad is not overbearing and neither is my mum. they're generally very laid back and always have been#and i love them and i'm so grateful for everything they have done and continue to do for me#but also holy shit i'm almost 30 years old and somehow they remain baffled that i'm not still the 19yo that moved out in 2014
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you have to admit he did have around 70 years of extra practice
Regardless of the fact that I adore absolutely everything about Edwin Payne, I ALSO love that he can run so fucking fast!
In hell he was leaving Charles in the dirt every time they ran next to each other
It's just so funny that even though Charles is the brawn, he couldn't outrun Edwin for the life of him (and perhaps that's why they have a system of Edwin being the one to open the mirror portals for them like in ep 1)
#are we all not aware why that's that?#i mean. it was hell#he had enough reasons to be able to outrun usain bolt#i love the foreshadowing of this margin#because in hell when edwin finally started running he was r u n n i n g#and it made so much sense bc he didn't have magic motolov cocktails to distract that demon he had to run and run and run#this show man. every detail. exquisite#dead boy detectives#dead boy detectives spoilers#edwin payne#charles rowland#also it helps that they probably don't need to breathe
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â bestfriend!satoru likes seeing you in his clothes a little too much.
it starts with lending you a jacket when you're out late and it gets cold. he laughs at you first, makes fun of the way you shiver, but then his eyes drift and he realises he can see your hardened nipples through your shirt and suddenly he's layering you up in his jacket just to keep his mind from short-circuiting.
but the sight of you in his jacket is no help either, not when you drown in it because he's so damn tall and he's reminded of the difference in size between the two of you and for the first (more like third) time he's wondering what you'd look like beneath him in a mean mating press. how you'd feel shaking under his body weight: like how you're shaking now, but pleasure wracking your body rather than the cold wind.
he tells himself it's fine to have these thoughts. you're his best friend, you spent every waking hour together: it's only natural that his thoughts would eventually drift southwards. he'll snap out of it, he just needs to jerk off and clear his mind.
so he walks you home, and lets you keep the jacket.
but that night, he's in the shower with hot water scalding his skin, eyes squeezed shut as he strokes his cock at an inhuman pace. fucks his fist with anything but you in mindâhe thinks about all his past trysts, about whatever porn he's seen lately, about his fucking cursed technique.
and he thinks he has it, he's pumping his cock with crazed strokes in an attempt to cum and clear his mind, but just as that pleasure starts to break into white hot lust, all he sees is you. in nothing but his jacket, wrecked on his cock and begging him for more.
and when he cums, he sees your eyes pleading up at him from where youâd rest on your knees, ready to take his load into your mouth because you crave the taste. He swears he can feel your fingers splayed over his thighs⊠your tongue tracing the pronounced vein that runs up the underside of his cock⊠your heated presence in the shower alongside him.
satoru says your name as he cums, and realises heâs wholly fucked and not coming back from this.
so, naturally, gojo plays into it.
the next time you see him is at his place, you come around to spend time with him and talk about the mundane that always seems exciting when spoken in the lilt of your voice. he offers you a drink, pours you a glass of red and promptly spills it over your pretty topâpurely accidental, of course.
and he only takes a moment to admire the way the soaked fabric clings to your skin before heâs bolting into action and offering you a shirt of his own.
âitâs like youâre trying to steal my wardrobe, huh? first my jacket⊠now my shirt⊠got something to admit to, hm? you like wearing my clothes?â
itâs playful banter, you think, and roll your eyes with a huff as he hands you a shirt thatâs oversized even on him. he wants to see you drown in the fabric, covered in him through clothing until he can cover you in another aspect of himself.
you make him look away while you change, though you know itâs an effort wasted because heâs all-seeing or whatever. and when satoru finally gets a look at you in his shirt he knows itâs game over. itâs like heâs left a mark on you, staked him claim not through bite marks or hickies as he usually would, but through the fabric that adorns your skin. his clothes smell like him, look like him, and are being worn by you.
heâs beyond hard, his cock is tenting his pants and heâs almost offended you havenât yet noticed, because thereâs no hiding a boner when youâre his size. youâre sweet enough not to look, even steal a glance out of curiosityâbut he isnât; his eyes are roaming your skin in such a heated way you feel feverish. itâs how he notices the wine that has spilt on your skirt as well.
he could tell youâoffer you a pair of his sweats and cum in his own pants as the way theyâd hang off your hipsâbut he doesnât. instead, your best friend satoru gojo, the man you know like scripture, drops to his knees and takes the hem of your skirt between his fingers.
âwhat are you doing?â you think heâs cruel for a joke like this, when he looks so good on his knees, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips as if heâs aching for a taste of you. you squeeze your thighs together, groan at the thought of gojos relentless teasing if he realises youâre soaking wet right now. âthis isnât funny.â
âiâm not laughing,â he says, tone flat. âyour skirt is stained.â
âoh,â it is, you can see the wine seeping into the fabric.
gojo laughs, his grin sinful. âwhat? you get all flustered when iâm on my knees? how lewd.â
âshut up,â you try and step backwards, put some space between him and your pulsing heat, but his hands come to grip your thighs, fingers cool as they brush under your skirt and press into your skin. âyouâre an asshole, toru.â
âi know,â his fingers creep higher. âiâm sorry.â
âno youâre not.â
âi know,â he parrots. âbut you will be.â
âwhââ
in one practiced movement, satoru rips your skirt down and exposes you to him. he has to bunch up the shirt of his you wear with one hand and keep you from running with the other, but heâs met with a beautiful sight as a reward for all his pining.
âfor coming to my house with no fucking panties on and acting like you donât want me to fuck you like weâre more than friends.â
you learnt quickly upon befriending satoru gojo that he always seems to get what he wants. this is no exception, because after he spends so long fucking you with his tongue that his knees go numb against the cold tile, heâs got you laid down on his couch, his t shirt bunched up over your waist just enough for him to watch his cock sink into you over and over and over again.
he loves the sight of you grabbing at the fabric to keep it out of the wayâ how you whine for him to just let you take it off, all for him to press his lips to yours and conjoin you so you couldnât undress even if you tried.
how with each thrust of his ravaging cock into you, heâs whining like heâs not the one in control. babbling filth as if heâs not got you pinned and taking every last inch of himâheâs pussy drunk and overbearing in his excitement and slurring his words as he speaks against your open mouth.
ânever allowed to wear your own clothes again,â he steals your breath with each gasp he gives between thrusts. âonly mine. iâll burn yours, fuck, i hate your clothes.â
âyouâŠâ gojos fast rutting stalls your sentence. ââŠyou brought me that skirt.â
âyeah? well where is it now?â
you recall the lecture you tried to give him when he threw your wine-stained skirt into his trash bin. youâd protest his dictation of what you wear if you had the mind to do soâbut his cock is hitting your g spot in tandem with the ministries of his fingers over your clit⊠youâre half-near brain dead with the way he splits you open and unravels you like the threading of his clothes heâs fucking you in.
you canât count your orgasms, only feel them shoot static up your spine with each one gojo manages to pull from you. and when he cums, spills over your parted thighs to dress you further in the essence of him, you swear you hear him babble something about putting a ring on your finger some day, to dress you in something of his permanently.
but friends donât talk like that.
they donât fuck like this either, though.
#gojo smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#satoru gojo smut#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo x you#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo#gojou satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you
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(Arranged marriage to duke john price except it means you married four instead of one đïžđïž)
Your marriage to Duke Price is one out of necessity: you need a husband before high society begins rumoring you to be a barren woman and too old to be married off, and Duke Price needs a wife who is able to take on Duchess duties of his duchies.
You do not expect love, though you suppose itâd be a nice bonus. You are merely glad that Duke Price is a reasonable handsome man, and he informs you on your wedding night that he will not force himself on you, and there is no need to immediately begin attemtping for an heir.
You take admirably to your new duties, have been raised practically for this purpose though the head butler Kyle is wonderful in helping you as well- actually all the servants have been wonderful towards you. You have regular dinners with John, though they are a bit stilted but at least Chef Johnnyâs food is good enough you can easily forget the tense atmosphere. You can tell your husband is hiding something- you are sometimes barred from going to his office to him, certain rooms are not allowed for you, and you are not allowed anywhere near the letters addressed to him- but as long as it isnât hurting you, why should you bother him? So you never ask, and he seems happy enough that you donât.
Until you accidentally stumble upon him and Duke Riley exchanging tongues. Very heatedly, hands grasping and tugging on each otherâs clothes and Duke Riley sat on your husbandâs desk.
Itâs hot.
Whatâs not so hot is the way they both look at you when they realize you are there. You stutter, face a red so fierce itâd put a furnace to shame, and bolt out of the room despite hearing John call your name.
And you also skip out on the dinners for now, pretending you are sick with the help of your maids and their makeup skills.
But suddenly, itâs like your eyes have been opened. Itâs not just Duke Riley who seems to hold a part of your husbandâs heart; the one time you gather enough courage to maybe go speak with John and address the situation, you see Kyle stumbling out all disheveled and flushed, though he has a very satisfied air around him. He freezes when he sees you, and your jaw drops.
âMy lady-â
âI- Iâll just- Iâm taking a walk! Alone!â
You go to the kitchens instead, hoping that Johnny would have something delicious you can eat. Maybe something cold enough to wash away the blush on your cheeks.
Johnny is weirdly silent, however, even as he whips up chocolate mousse for you. His silence is not normal, it feels⊠almost guiltyâŠ
You sighs, take in a deep breath, and gather your dress. âJohnny⊠are you tooâŠ-?â
âAye, mâlady. But-â
You canât take it anymore. You leave the kitchens, and go straight back to your bedroom to bury your face in your bed. Itâs not as if you are upset! Itâs just- a rather befuddling situation?
Two nights later, itâs John himself who comes to you. You had assumed it was one of your maids returning with a new jar of oil for your nightly hair routine, but itâs your husband. You are glad itâs winter, and you arenât simply in a thin nightgown.
âWife.â He says, voice steady yet strained.
âJohn.â
You canât call him husband. Youâve spent the last two days thinking and you were⊠rather sad. You were in the way of whatever they had (you saw Kyle and Johnny kissing, Johnny specifically sending food addressed to Duke Riley), werenât you?
John sighs, sitting down on the settee while you remain on your vanity. After a moment of awkward silence, he opens his eyes and looks at you. ââŠwhat do you want to remain silent about this?â
You blink, raising an eyebrow. ââŠhuh?â
Johnâs fists clench. âHow much do you want in return for your silence?â
Frowning, you set your brush down and fully turn to him even if you feel exposed despite your thicker nightgown. âIs this about your⊠partners?â You say the word delicately, then shake your head. âI want nothing, John. If you are worried about me starting anything, I wonât. I just⊠hope this doesnât mean you will divorce me?â
Being a divorced woman might as well be a death sentence on its own.
He looks at you, shocked into silence, and you quickly explain; his relationships have nothing to do with you and you arenât a petty woman, who are you to come between what he and they have? You only hope this wonât take away the protection this marriage gave you.
That night, thus, you and John reach an agreement you are sure both of you are satisfied with.
Except, months later, John is no longer satisfied.
With the ice broken between the two of you. The dinners have become so much more⊠relaxing and comfortable, far less than they had been. No secrecy was needed when you were around anymore, and you only giggle and look away, feigning innocence when they share tender kisses between one another⊠and the less polite kisses.
John canât remain satisfied with this arrangement. You are such a sweet thing, now that heâs become to know you far better. He can see the way his men are looking at you now, something between fondness and hunger and want; Kyle helps you far more often now, despite your insistence that you can do it yourself. Even when you do it yourself, he stays by you and ensures you are comfortable.
And he joins your evening walks, arms looped as the two of you speak, laughing and giggling.
Itâs similar to your late night chats with Johnny, where he plies your full of sweets and desserts until even your dreams are full of sweeter kisses you are sure will never be for you. Johnny, who cooks your favorites on hard days and who you heard from Kyle is even more serious about only having the best of the best in vegetables and meats and seasonings.
And Duke Riley⊠for all his stoicism, he is gentle with you. Even when heâd stared at you with doubt and mistrust, no doubt believing you to be lying to John and simply waiting for the shoe to drop and for you to ruin them. Yet it never happens, and now, during the galas you attend all dolled up on Johnâs arm and ignoring all murmurs about still having no children, you even dance with him and giggle at his terribly dry jokes, even share a few of your own with him.
Steadily, slowly, obliviously, John has watched each of his men fall for you. This, obviously, made you theirs. It made you his, more and more than you already were.
Itâs why your current request is making him clench his glass in his hand, with Kyle looking on in displeasure as well, giving him subtle glances.
â-So thatâs why I was asking, John,â you remain sweetly oblivious, adorned in a pretty dress Simon had gotten for you recently. âHe will not spread any rumors, Iâll personally make sure of that-â
Your cheeks darken then, and you glance away. âI- I am⊠merely a bit- unsatisfied, if you understand my point. And the stable man is loyal to you, he wouldnât say anything.â
Itâs clear he needs to keep a better watch over you. Where and when did you even interact with his stable boy, Graves? Though he focused on your words.
Unsatisfied.
Well, he canât have that, can he? Youâve done your wifely duties so admirably, itâs about time he took care of you as well⊠and maybe dealt with the baseless barren rumors as well. A baby would keep you nice and content and focused on them alone, wouldnât it?
Oh yes. Yes, it would.
dukedom au masterlist
Part two
#cod x reader#cod#noona.writes#cod x you#tf 141 x reader#tf 141#tf 141 x you#cod imagines#john price x reader#poly!141 x reader#poly 141 x reader#poly 141#simon ghost x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost x reader#soap x reader#gaz x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#ghost x you#johnny soap mctavish x reader#john price imagine#ghost imagines#kyle gaz garrick x you#kyle gaz x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley imagines#johnny soap mctavish x you#kyle gaz x you
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Working at the mattress store generally means a lot of long shifts. Ten hour days are not uncommon. You come in, sit alone in a box for a long time, maybe sell a bed, itâs fine. Itâs not usually an issue of safety, though, because whoâs coming in to shakedown a mattress store? We have no cash and nothing really portable.
But there was one night where I was whiling away my time and a guy came in. He was a big guy, muscular and very punk, tattoos, piercings, the works. We got along fabulously and while helping him a middle aged white couple came in. I was pleased to have a livelier night than Iâd anticipated. I bounced back and forth between the disparate parties, eventually finding beds for both.
I finished sooner with the couple but they lingered uneasily by the front of the store instead of leaving and eventually beckoned me over. I trotted along to ask if everything was okay and the woman whispered to me that they were scared to leave me alone with the guy. It was getting late and he appeared quite menacing to them. I wanted to laugh, he was an absolute sweetheart, but instead I assured them that all was well and they could go.
They departed and I immediately told the guy what theyâd said. We both had a hearty laugh over it. He finished his purchase and went on his way.
In the last hour, I had my final customer. A young white man in immaculate clothes, button down shirt with freshly shined shoes. Reader, I wanted to bolt. The man had the discordant energy of a cracked bell. Something was deeply wrong with his vibes despite his polished exterior. I desperately wished the nice couple would come hover in the doorway and stare.
I gritted my teeth and greeted him, projecting a friendly and unconcerned air. It seemed clear pretty quickly that he wasnât actually that interested in getting a bed, which alarmed me even more. I tried to go through the process of fitting him for a mattress but instead he would segue off into telling me about his life while making unblinking eye contact. He asked probing questions about me. I longed for the nice punk man to come back in with a question.
I soldiered onward, visualizing my panic button and refusing to show the slightest hint of unease to him. Eventually he told me that he played piano. He asked if I would like to see a video of him playing piano. I said okay. He then turned his phone over and showed me his screen. In it, he sat staring directly into the camera while playing piano. Above the screen he stared with the same intensely unhinged energy in the video, two sets of serial killer eyes fixed on my tiniest reaction.
I smiled politely, pinned in place by social niceties. After an eon the video finally ended. It was clear he was not going to buy a bed. I insisted that I needed to lock up. He asked if he could stay for that. I firmly informed him he needed to leave for that. With reluctance he drifted out the door as I radiated calm assurance of my own safety and power, locking the door behind him. I turned out the lights and crouched behind the desk in the darkened store, peeking out to watch.
He sat in his car for a long time. But eventually he drove away. I darted out to my car and got home as quick as I could.
The encounter remains one of the most unsettling Iâve ever had in retail. In my decade of serving the public I helped a parade of characters from the harmlessly eccentric to the genuine creeps but this man truly frightened me unlike anyone Iâd ever dealt with.
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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - EIGHT
pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of pregnancy; abortion.
MASTERLIST
Topper prided himself in keeping out of peopleâs business.
He hadnât noticed anything was off with you on his own, he wouldnât have; he didnât do the whole âemotional radarâ thing.
But Rafe had practically cornered him, demanding he figure out what was going on with you.
You were his cousin, after all.Â
That didnât stop the way his stomach twisted from thinking about lying to you, or how every part of him had always silently rooted for you and Rafe. Heâd loved seeing you two together. You were a mess most days, for years, sure, but it was the kind of mess that made sense in a way, and Topper couldnât help but admire it.
You were like fire and gasoline.
But that was before the break-up, before everything got fucked.
Now, you were just⊠distant. He never knew how to approach you without feeling like he was crossing a line, but the way youâd passed out on Rafe at the beach had him worrying in a way that was more personal than he wanted to admit.
He wasnât a thinker, not really, he liked simple things: good waves, cold beer, and not getting roped into drama.
But there he was, standing outside your door with Korean fried chicken. He didnât do feelings, and he didnât do heavy conversations. Rafe owed him big for this. The conversation had been good, even when you started talking about Sarah and Ruthie.Â
Topper was all inâlaughing along, throwing in a dumb joke here and there, the usual. It felt nice, like when you were kids, sneaking your dadâs beers and pretending you werenât gonna get caught.
But then he had to go and ruin it by asking if you were okay.
You went all stiff, then weirdly far away, laughing it off like heâd just asked you to explain calculus or something. You mumbled something about being fine and then bolted to the bathroom before he could even follow up with his usual Topper-brand wisdom.
He sat there, feeling uncomfortable, which wasnât a thing he usually did. You were acting off, and it was messing with him more than he wanted to admit.
Finally, he decided he needed to move, so he got up to grab some water. Except, as he walked past the counter, his hip caught a pile of your mail, and an envelope went sliding to the floor.
âCrap,â he muttered, crouching to grab it. It was just some random envelope, but there was a phone number written on the front in messy blue ink.
Topper didnât think about itâbecause thinking wasnât really his strong suitâhe just whipped out his phone and typed it in. Curiosity, man. It got him every time.
He hit call. He wasnât trying to snoop or anything. It was just one of those things you do on autopilot, right? Call a number just to see who answers? Except this time, someone did answer.
The phone rang. Once. Twice. Then:
âWomenâs Health Center, how can I help you?â
His brain short-circuited, full-on panic mode. He stared at the phone like it had grown a second screen, then frantically hit the hang-up button just as the bathroom door creaked open.
You were back.
Topper, sweating for no reason, slapped the envelope back on the counter like it was about to explode and turned to you with a smile that definitely didnât match his pounding heart.
He got out of there as soon as possible, as he drove to meet Rafe, the whole thing was still playing on a loop in his head. That phone number, the voice on the other end of the line, the way youâd acted when heâd asked if you were okayâhe couldnât stop trying to force the pieces into place.
Something was going on, he wasn't sure what, and he wasnât exactly the guy you went to for deep insights, but he felt something was up.
When he pulled into Tanyhill, he spotted Rafe leaning against his truck, scrolling through his phone with that permanent scowl he seemed to have these days. He barely had the car in park before Rafe was pushing off the truck and heading his way.
He climbed out, doing his best to act normalâwhich, for him, meant cracking the same goofy grin he always did. His mind was still spinning with a dozen half-formed thoughts about that phone call, that clinic, and how the the fuck he might fit into all of it.Â
The only thing he knew for sure was that Rafe knowing could be catastrophic. Like, meteor-hits-earth catastrophic.
âYou gotta chill,â Topper said, slamming his car door shut and giving Rafe a once-over. âWhy do you look like youâre about to punch somebody?â
Rafe just glared, shoving his phone in his pocket. âWhatâd you find out?â
He blinked, thrown by how fast he cut to the point. âNice to see you, too. Second, what makes you think I found out anything?â
âDonât fuck with me, Top. Did you figure it out or not?â
âYeah, I figured it out,â Topper shot back, crossing his arms. âBut why the hell did you make me go through all this work if you already know whatâs going on?â
Rafe shrugged, leaning back against the truck like this was all just some casual conversation. âDidnât think youâd actually get it, to be honest.â
âBro, Iâm not that stupid. How did you get to the bottom of this shit? Iâm still confused as fuck over here.â
Rafeâs mouth twitched like he was deciding whether to smirk or yell, hesettled on neither. âShe passed out on me, remember?â
âSo?â Topper shot back, frowning. âIâve seen you pass out for, like, way less.â
âIt wasnât the same. It wasnât a hangover or heat stroke, it was different. And sheâs been weird lately, avoiding everyone.â Rafe leaned back against his truck, arms crossed, talking fast. âThe hospital did blood work.â
Topper, whoâd been zoning out halfway through his little doctor act, suddenly perked up.
âWow,â he mused, dragging the word out. âOkay. So, howâd you take the news? I mean, shit, you look pretty calm for once. Didnât think that was in your wheelhouse."
Rafe frowned, his sharp blue eyes narrowing, the crease between his brows deepening like it always did when he thought someone was wasting his time.Â
"The fuck are you talking about?â
Topper shrugged like this was totally normal. âI just expected you to, likeâŠfreak out or somethin'. Throw a punch, maybe.â
âThrow a punch about what?â Rafe snapped.
âAboutââ Topper paused, squinting at Rafe like he was trying to solve a puzzle. âWait. What are you supposed to do?â
Rafeâs hand twitched toward his jaw, fingers brushing over the stubble there, a telltale sign that he was gearing up to lose patience. He didnât wait for Topper to answer before shaking his head, the movement quick and irritated.Â
âDonât do that, man,â he added, pointing a finger âIâll help her figure it out. What else can I do?â
Topper tilted his head, genuinely impressed. âDamn. You really matured, huh? I mean, good for you.â
âTop, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?â Rafe demanded, his tone sharp now like he was finally catching on to the fact that they werenât on the same page.
Topper blinked, âIâm just saying youâre handling it better than I thought. Especially since sheâs notâuh, showing yet.â
âNot showing what?â
ââŠThe bump?â
He immediately realized heâd said the wrong thing, or maybe the right thing, but in the wrong tone, with the wrong level of context, andâokay, maybe he should just stop talking.Â
Abort mission, abort mission. Topper immediately wanted to crawl into a hole. Dude, shut up, shut up, shut up.
âWhat the fuck?â Rafeâs voice cracked; his eyes blazing as he stepped closer. âWhat bump?!â
His laugh fizzled out under Rafeâs glare, it was starting to feel less like âconcerned ex-boyfriendâ and more like âinterrogating cop.â He felt a bead of sweat slide down the back of his neck.Â
Cool. Stay cool.
âWait,â Topper held his hands up, trying to physically stop the situation from spiraling. âWhat do you think is wrong with her?â
His brain was spinning in a way it wasnât built for. He was a simple guyâhe liked clear problems and easy fixes. But this? This was a category-five disaster, and he was stuck right in the middle of it.
Rafe let out a sharp breath through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair, the small strands sticking up in every direction.
âI think sheâs got a fucking infection! Why the hell would I think sheâs pregnant?â
Topper hesitated, glancing toward the house like maybe Sarah or Wheezie might miraculously appear to save him. No such luck.
âWell fucking shit,â Topper blurted, the words tumbling out in a rush. His heart was pounding, and he was pretty sure heâd just signed his death warrant. âIâI didnât say sheâs pregnant, okay? I found this number, and it was for a womenâs health center, andâfuck, man, Iâm dead. Iâm so dead.â
Rafe grabbed him by the collar, yanking him close. âStart talking. Now.â
âI wasnât snooping, okay? It justâhappened. I wasnât trying to get in her business, butââ
âBut what?â Rafe barked. His other hand twitched at his side, curling into a fist before flexing out again, a warning of how close Topper was to eating pavement, but Rafe wasnât the one he feared right now.
You were going to kill him.
He could already picture the look on your face when you found outâthose cold, furious eyes, the way your voice would drop, he was officially dead meat. He gulped, his mouth dry as his brain scrambled for somethingâanythingâthat wouldnât get him killed or disowned.
âYou better explain what the fuck you mean by âhappened,ââ Rafe growled, his grip tightening, giving Topperâs collar a shake, just enough to make his point clear.
Topper was done, leaving nothing but pure panic and the faint, distant sound of his voice saying things he definitely shouldnât.Â
âI called the number!â Topper yelped. âI didnât even mean to, it wasâdude, sheâs gonna kill me, and I mean that literally. She will.â
âNot if I kill you first,â Rafe shoved him back, his grip finally loosening, his face unreadable now, which was somehow worse than when heâd looked ready to punch him. âYouâre telling me you think sheâs pregnant? And you didnât remember to tell me sooner?â
âI didnât!â Topper said quickly, panic bubbling over. âItâs not like sheâs gonna tell me this kind of stuff.â
âDid she say anything to you? Anything about seeing a doctor or being sick?â
Topper shook his head so fast it made him dizzy. âI asked if she was okay, but she just brushed it off and changed the subject.â
The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, both of them staring each other down.
âNo, no way. Sheâs probably⊠I donât fucking know, changing her pill or something.â
Topper raised an eyebrow. âChanging her pill?â
âYeah,â Rafe said quickly, âOrâwhat else do they do there? Those check-up things. Maybe sheâs getting one of those.â
âUh-huh,â Topper replied, not convinced but also not dumb enough to call him out on it outright. âSure. Just a⊠routine check-up?â
âExactly,â Rafe agreed a little too loud, his tone almost defensive as he started circling again, his hands gesturing wildly. âThey donât just deal with⊠y'know. They do all kinds of shit. Tests, prescriptions, all that stuff. It doesnât mean anything.â
Topper scratched the back of his neck, his expression caught between agreement and unease. âI mean, yeah, they do other stuff⊠but donât you thinkââ
âI donât think anything, thereâs nothing to think about. Sheâs fine. Sheâsâsheâs fine.â He stopped pacing, standing rigid with his hands on his hips, glaring at the ground like it had personally offended him.
âOkay,â Topper started, his tone cautious. âI get that you donât want to jump to conclusions, butââ
âIâm not jumping to conclusions!â Rafe barked, spinning around âYouâre the one making it into something itâs not! Sheâs notâshe wouldnâtâshe hasnât told me anything,â He muttered finally, âAnd if sheâs hiding this⊠from meâŠâ
Heâd never seen Rafe like thisâangry, yeah, but there was something else there, either way, it wasnât good. His glare burned into him, but for the first time, there was hesitation behind it. He wasnât just madâhe was scared. Topper couldnât decide if that made him feel better or worse.Â
âHoly shit,â Rafe muttered, gripping the side of his truck for balance. His vision going fuzzy as his heart raced like heâd just sprinted a mile. âHoly shit, what ifâwhat if she is?â
âDude, breathe,â Topper said, stepping closer cautiously like Rafe was a live grenade. âYou donât evenââ
âEven ifâifâshe was, how the hell would that evenââ He cut himself off, his face twisting like he couldnât decide whether to finish the thought or abandon it entirely.
Topper didnât need him to finish, he understood exactly what Rafe was thinking. The timeline, the breakup, the way everything had gone down between you.
Rafeâs breath hitched as he let go of the truck and paced a few steps, his hands on his hips, muttering under his breath. âNo. No way. Itâs notâsheâd tell me, right? Sheâd fucking tell me.â
Images started flashing through his mind in rapid succession, each one more ridiculous and unhinged than the last. You, standing in some clinic, staring at a test with a blank expression. You, trying to figure out how to tell Rafe.
You, holding a babyâRafeâs babyâin your arms.
âThis doesnât make any sense. We were careful. Sheâs just stressed, girls go through shit. Hormones or whatever. Right?â
âYouâre asking me? I barely passed bio. Iâm not exactly a walking textbook onââ He stopped himself, seeing the look on Rafeâs face. âI donât know whatâs going on with her, okay? But if this is what I think it is, you gotta handle it right. Donât screw it up more than it already is.â
âAnd if I donât handle it right?â
Topper forced a shaky grin, even as his stomach twisted in knots.
âThen I guess Iâll see you in hell, man. Because sheâs gonna kill us both.â
Rafeâs hands went to his hips, his thumb brushing the edge of his pocket as he stared past Topper, he was trying to work out an equation that wasnât adding up.
âShe hasnât said a word to me,â Rafe muttered, âNot at the hospital, not since. And you thinkâŠâ He trailed off, dragging a hand over his face.Â
Topper shifted on his feet, resisting the urge to bolt to the other side of the world.
âIÂ guess, but I swear, it wasnât on purpose.â
Rafe shot him a look, his brows knitting together, and Topper felt like he was under a microscope. âYou called a random number. How does that âjust happenâ?â
He huffed, throwing his hands up. âI was grabbing some water, and her mail fell, and there was this numberâI didnât think! I just⊠acted.â He groaned, his head falling back as he stared at the sky. âI didnât mean to put two and two together, but what was I supposed to do? Youâre the one who made me go digging in the first place!â
âYou really think thatâs whatâs going on?â Rafe asked finally, his voice quieter.
âYou said sheâs acting weird, and then there was that number, andâŠâ He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck.Â
âDo you even understand what this means? If sheâsâif thereâs aââ He broke off, âIâd have toâJesus Christ, what would I even do? Iâm notâGod.â
His hands gripped the edge of the truck bed so hard his knuckles turned white, the veins in his arms standing out as he glared at the ground like it had personally offended him.
âIf she didnât tell meââ His voice was low, quiet in a way that made Topper wince because he knew what came next.
âMaybe just... ask her?â
 âAsk her?â he repeated, his voice disbelieving.
âYeah, you know,â Topper said, gesturing vaguely. âTalk to her? Maybe find out whatâs going on instead of losing your shit over worst-case scenarios?â
Rafe shook his head, âNo. If she wanted me to know, sheâd tell me. Sheâs... sheâs dealing with her own stuff. Itâs not my place to push.â
 âSince when do you not push?â
âSince now,â Rafe snapped, though even he didnât sound convinced.
âRafeââ
âNo, seriously,â Rafe interrupted, his voice rising now, the tight restraint unraveling with every word. âIf sheâsâif sheâs going through this, if sheâs pregnant, and she didnât tell me?â He let out a bitter chuckle, âWhat the fuck does that say? About me.â
Topper opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. This felt like a minefield, and if anyone was good at stepping on the wrong spot, it was him.
Rafe pushed off the truck, he couldnât physically stay still. His eyes were burning as he raked a hand through his buzzed hair.
âI wasâfuck. She thinks what? That I wouldnât show up for this. She didnât tell me because she doesnât think I deserve to know.â
âThatâs not true,â Topper said quickly, stepping closer, but Rafeâs empty laugh stopped him.
âIsnât it?â Rafeâs voice was hollow now, all the fire drained out of him, turning his head slightly, just enough for Topper to see his throat working as he swallowed hard. âWhat the hell have I ever done to make her think Iâd be there? That Iâdââ He broke off. âShit. I wouldnât blame her. I can't even fucking blame her.â
âYou still care about her, right?â Topper pressed, knowing he didnât have to ask to know the answer.
Rafeâs head snapped up, âSheâs the only thing Iâve ever cared about.â
He nodded slowly, âThen prove it.â
The envelope sat exactly where youâd left it, the faintest corner of folded. You froze for a second, your pulse quickening.
No. No way.
It was fine. Fine.
The number wasnât even labeledâjust digits scrawled hastily, you hadnât touched it in days. Still, you couldnât stop the tiny seed of panic attaching itself to your chest. There was absolutely no way Topper couldâve seen it, let alone put two and two together.
You exhaled slowly, placing it back on the counter.
He didnât see it. He couldnât have seen it.
Then why had he acted so⊠off? The pale face, the sudden excuse, the jittery energyâit was all so unlike him.
You shook your head, trying to push the thought away, a million things couldâve set him off.Â
Maybe Ruthie had texted him something awful, or maybe heâd remembered he had to pick up his dry cleaning before the shop closed. Knowing Topper, it was probably something stupid and unrelated to you entirely.
Still, the nagging lingered as you cleaned up the counter and threw away the napkins. You glanced at the envelope one last time, then slid it into a drawer and shut it firmly. Whatever was going on with your cousin, it couldnât have anything to do with that. It was impossible. And yetâŠ
You sighed, rubbing your temples.Â
âPregnancy brain,â you muttered to yourself. âMaking me paranoid over nothing.â
Of course that didnât stop your heart from jumping every time the drawer creaked, or when you saw anything even remotely similar to that envelopeâs color lying around the house for the entire night. Not that heâd ask, of courseâTopper wasnât the confrontational type, especially not with you. But he noticed things. And when he noticed, he worried.
The next morning you sank onto the couch, hugging a pillow to your chest. Topper was close, but he wasnât like Sarah. She had been able to look you in the eye and say, You know Iâm here, right? and mean it without any strings attached. Topper, thoughâŠ
Your fingers itched toward your phone, even though it was stupid to call her so early over this. Still, you needed someone to remind you that you werenât losing it, that Topperâs weirdness had nothing to do with anything serious.
Before you could talk yourself out of it, you found Sarahâs number, pressing the call button. She picked up on the second ring, âHey, whatâs wrong?â
You could picture her, sitting in her car or probably stretched out somewhere in Poguelandia with her feet propped up on a table, looking concerned.
âNothingâs wrong. I justâŠâ You trailed off, fiddling with the edge of a pillow.Â
âTopperâs been acting strange. And I think Iâm just overthinking it, but itâs making me crazy.â
She made a sound between a hum and a laugh. âSo the Topper panic spiral. Thatâs what weâre dealing with?â
âBasically,â you muttered, trying to keep your tone light. âBut this time⊠He was here last night, and I thought he saw this random piece of paper I had with, you know. A number on it.â You took a shaky breath, embarrassed for how paranoid you sounded. âBut he couldnât have, right? I mean, it was buried under five other things.â
âOkay,â Sarah said slowly, clearly choosing her words. âFirst, letâs just say that if he did see anything, which he probably didnât, he wouldnât assume the worst. Heâs your cousin; he knows you donât tell him everything, and he respects that. Right?â
âYeah⊠I guess.â You chewed your lip, feeling a little stupid for even calling her.  âBut what if he does put it together, Sarah? I donât know if Iâm ready for that.â
âHe wonât,â she reassured, like she could see right through your anxiety. âAnd you donât need to feel bad for wanting to keep this private. Youâre allowed to handle it however you need to. Youâre not doing anything wrong.â
You exhaled, the knot in your chest loosening a little. She always knew how to talk you down, "Okay,â you murmured, and a shaky laugh slipped out. âMaybe I'm being paranoid.â
âPregnancy brain,â she teased, and you couldnât help but smile.
You hung up feeling marginally better.
Sarah had a way of calming you down, but the uneasiness stayed with you, the way it always did when you couldnât fully explain something.
But the relief was fleeting, by lunchtime, the nagging voice in your head was back. Topper wasnât malicious, but he did have a habit of talking without thinking, and the last thing you needed was for this to get out before you were ready. Not only was this a huge scandal, but it was your business.
You busied yourself with small tasksâfolding laundry, wiping down the counters, pretending that everything was fine. It wasnât until almost noon that your phone rang. The hospitalâs number flashed on the screen, and your stomach dropped.
âHello?â
âHi, is this Miss Thornton?â the voice on the other end asked politely, too polite for comfort.
âThis is she."
âThis is Linda from the hospital. Iâm calling about your recent bloodwork. We had a bit of an issue with our system, and unfortunately, there was a delay in getting back to you. We also lost some patient information temporarilyââ
âWait, what?â you interrupted, not liking where this was going, âWhat do you mean you lost information?â
âOh, nothing to worry about,â Linda said quickly, as if that would make you feel better. âWe managed to recover most of it, but in the meantime, we had to rely on emergency contact information to reach out. Dr. Harris called yours last night.â
Your breath caught. âCalled... my emergency contact?â
âYes.â
âSarah Cameron? She didnât tell me someone called.â
âSheâs not listed as your emergency contact in our system, Rafe Cameron is. It might be an older record?â
Fuck.
Your heart was in your throat. âWhat... what did he tell him?â
âHe only left a generic message asking for you to follow up about your bloodwork. Nothing specific.â
âNothing specific,â you repeated, more to yourself than to her. Relief and panic warred within you. If Rafe knew, heâd already be there, the night before, demanding answers. Right?
âWe need you to come back in. Itâs possible you may have an infection, and we need to run a few more tests.â
You didnât even hear the rest of her explanation.
Your fingers felt numb as you mumbled something that vaguely resembled agreement and hung up.
Infection, that was what sheâd said. That was all it was. Not⊠not anything else. If it were anything else, they wouldnât have just calledâtheyâd have told Rafe.
âStop,â you muttered aloud, shaking your head. âStop spiraling.â
But your brain wouldnât listen.
âGeneric message,â Linda had said, but did it sound generic? What did he think when he got it? Had he laughed it off, or was he running his stupid pristine bedroom, piecing together clues you hadnât even realized youâd left?
You didnât want to text Sarah again.
You could imagine her smirking, âI told you, heâs not going to magically grow psychic overnight.â Yeah, sure, but this was Rafe.
He didnât need magic. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on Sarahâs voice in your head. âYouâre not doing anything wrong.â
Except it didnât feel like that. You hadnât thought about Rafe as your emergency contact in months, hadnât needed to.Â
You sank into the couch, hugging your knees to your chest.
âThis is so stupid,â you muttered, but your voice didnât make it feel any less real. You werenât even sure what you were spiraling over anymore. The envelope? The hospital? The baby?
âOkay,â you said out loud. âOkay, itâs fine. Everythingâs fine.â
The sound of your voice didnât even convince you. Your brain wouldnât stop jumping from one thing to the next, spinning every scenario you didnât want to think about.Â
What if he did know? If that was enough to set him off, to make him call someone, pull some strings...Shit, what if he did show up, and you had to explain why you were dodging everyone and keeping things from him andâstop.Â
Stop.Â
You were doing it again. The spiraling. The pregnancy brain Sarah teased you about like it was some sort of cute quirk, but wasnât cute.
You sat up straight, squeezing the couch pillow so hard you thought it might burst. Breathe. Just breathe, youâd made it this far without imploding.
You glanced toward the drawer again, the one with the envelope. You shouldâve burned it, shredded it first. No, you had to keep itâjust in case. But just in case of what? Just in case you needed more reasons to feel like a lunatic.
Oh my god. What if Topper saw the stupid number, and then Rafe got the hospital call, and thenâbamâsuddenly, they had the whole damn thing figured out?
You could feel it alreadyâthe panic. You liked to think they were both too stupid for their own good, but they were also observant. Rafe, that bastard always knew how to put things together faster than anyone.Â
What ifâwhat if itâs that simple for them? What if they both saw it, and then they were just sitting there, having some stupid-ass conversation, connecting dots you didnât even realize were dots?
No. Stop. Stop thinking like that.
You were getting carried away, jumping to conclusions like some manic soap opera character. You werenât that girl. Not really. But the thought of them talkingâTopper with his concern and Rafe with his overbearing intensity.
Your fingers tapped a frantic rhythm against the pillow. The idea of him figuring it out? Oh, that made your skin crawl. Not because heâd be cruelâno, that wasnât his style. Heâd just be soâŠÂ himself.
Overwhelming, determined to âfixâ things for you, even when you didnât ask for it.Â
You groaned, dropping the pillow and standing abruptly, like the movement might kill the growing dread. No, you told yourself firmly.
You werenât spiraling over things that hadnât even happened yet.
But the voice in your head, the one that always sounded a little too much like Rafe, had other plans:Â What if itâs already too late?
You paced the living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest. This was ridiculous, you were ridiculous. Nothing had happened, nothing was going to happen. The number wasnât even that suspicious, it couldâve been anything.
You groaned again, flopping onto the couch like the dramatic mess you were currently embodying. Rafe had probably gotten the hospital call, rolled his eyes without a second thought, too busy with his new precious life.
Your stomach churned, and you pressed your hands against it instinctively. It wasnât showing yetâthank godâbut you couldnât help the way your mind spiraled back to it, to all the ways this could go wrong.
You grabbed your car keys without thinking, maybe it would clear your head. A driveâthatâs what you needed. Get out of the house, and put some distance between you and the stupid envelope, the phone calls, all of it. You turned the knob, yanked the door openâ
âand froze.
Rafeâs hand was raised mid-air, clearly about to knock. You didnât even try to hide the way your breath hitched.Â
Oh, no. No, no, no.
Standing there on the porch like he hadnât just derailed your entire plan. As if it was still perfectly normal for him to show up unannounced, one hand shoved into his pocket and the other gripping his phone, his head tilted in a maddeningly familiar way.
His hand hovered uncertainly on the doorframe as you stepped back, your arms folding protectively over your chest. He didnât push past you, didnât move his weight forwardâjust stood there.
He glanced down at the spare key still in his hand, turning it over like he was considering whether he even had the right to use it. âThey called me last night.â
Okay, he was just here because of the hospital, a coincidence, thatâs all it was.
âAnd? You couldâve ignored it.â
His hand flexed at his side like he didnât know what to do with it. âI thought something might be wrong.â
âItâs not.â Your voice was clipped, cold. âThey called the wrong number. End of story.â
He didnât rise to the bait.
âI thoughtââ He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. âI thought you were sick.â
âLike I said, it was a mix-up.â
His jaw ticked. That tiny muscle in his cheek twitched, the one that always flared when he was suspicious.
âFunny, they didnât sound mixed up when they said your name,â he drawled, his tone probing. âWanna try again?â
âMind your fucking business,â Your voice was defensive, and you hated the crackle of guilt in your chest when he flinched. âI donât need you to pretend to care. Why are you even here?â you snapped, taking a step back. The space between you felt vulnerable. âDonât you have someone else to worry about?"
You felt cornered with every second he stood there.
âWe need to talk.â
Maybe if you acted calm, like nothing was wrong, heâd stop looking at you like that. Vulnerability wasnât something you were good at, heâd already taken too much. He always took too much.
âI donât owe you shit. Not explanations, not answers, nothing. Leave.â
He didnât. Of course, he didnât.
Rafe didnât know how to let shit go, not when it came to you, he didnât back away.
âYouâre right,â he said, surprising you. âYou donât, but Iâm not leaving until we talk.â
The way he said, it wasnât even a threat. It was worse than that. It was calm, resolute, like heâd already decided, and nothing you said or did could change it.Â
That scared you more than anything.
âThereâs nothing to talk about,â you hissed, âWhatever you think you know, you donât.â
He arched an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to the edge of the couch where your phone still sat, âYou sure about that?â
âGod, youâre always like this. Always overstepping, always assumingââ
âIÂ know."
All the noise in your headâyour spiraling thoughts, your excuses, your endless denialsâwent silent, except for the way your heart thudded in your chest, so fast, it hurt. He hadnât raised his voice, but those two words hit you like a kick to your chest.
No, he couldnâtâhe didnât, he was bluffing, he had to be. Air caught in your throat, and for a moment, you thought you might choke on it. He didnât move, didnât repeat himself. He couldnât know.
Your tongue went dry.Â
âWhat are you talking about?â You couldnât breathe. It felt like someone was squeezing your chest. You shook your head again, more violently this time, stepping back, âYou donât know shit.â
âI think I do.â His voice was quiet, and that made it worse, it wasnât cold or angry; it wasnât even accusing. He didnât sound like he wanted to be right, he just sounded tired.
You prayed to come up with somethingâanythingâto deflect, to deny, to keep the truth buried where it belonged.Â
âYouâre delusional,â you took another step back, putting more space between you and the man who had always known you too well.
He just shook his head, âYou donât have to lie to me, youâre scared, youâre not even trying to hide it.â
It was the way he stared with those stupid blue eyes, he was peeling back your layers. He always did that, made you feel like he could see something in you that you werenât ready to acknowledge.
âOh, fuck off.â You threw your hands up. âYou donât know shit about what Iâm feeling. Youâve got no right toâIâm not lying.â
It still hurt how much you missed him, hurt to even look at him.
âDonât pull this cryptic bullshit with me, if youâve got something to say, say it.â
âYouâre pregnant, arenât you?â
The thing youâd been running from, denying, hiding, you simply stared at him, trying to decide if there was any way to lie your way out of this.
âWhat the fuck are you talking about?â You tried to laugh, but it came out strangled, desperate. âT-Thatâs insane. Youâve lost your mind.â
Rafe wasnât gloating or triumphantâhe just looked⊠resigned, heâd pieced it together before he showed up.
âDonât do that. Donât lie to me, not about this.â
You wanted to scream, to shove him, to do anything that would make him stop looking at you like he cared. Like he knew you. Because if you stopped long enough to think about it, you knew it was over.
Heâd already seen it.
âI mean it, Rafe.â Your hand tightened on the door, nails digging into the wood. âGet the fuck out of my house.â
God, this was so fucked. You wanted him gone, but wanted him here, needed him to leave you alone, but at the same time, you hated that he could just leave.
âTell me Iâm wrong.â
You thought about what heâd do if he knewâreally knew. Not just the vague sense he had now, but the details. Would he try to stop you?Â
Your lip quivered, and you hated yourself for it. âYouâre wrong.â
You stared at him, at the way his shoulders hunched slightly, his usual confidence worn down. You hated him for being calm for once in his fucking life, for being here, for not letting this slide when it was none of his fucking business.
âAm I?â
Your hands clenched tighter, nails biting into your palms. âWhy? Why do you even care? Itâs not like youââ
âBecause itâs mine.â
Your breath hitched again, and this time, you couldnât hide it. You wanted to deny it, to throw somethingâhell, anythingâback at him to make him shut the fuck up. But your throat felt like it had shut off entirely, and your mind had gone blank.
âIââ you stammered, shaking your head violently, âNo. You donât know what youâre talking about. Youâreââ
âHey, hey, justâjust stop,â he said, his voice careful, as if he was trying not to spook you. âIâm notâJesus, Iâm not here to fight with you, okay? Iâm not here to make this harder.â
Your chest heaved, a bitter laugh escaping before you could stop it. He was too lateâlate to care, late to help, late to fix anything. Five days, thatâs all you had to get through.
Five days until you didnât have to think about it anymore.Â
This is the right choice, you told yourself for the hundredth time. You couldnât bring a baby into this mess.
âYouâre doing a hell of a job at that.â
âI just want to help. If you let meââ
âNo,â you interrupted, grabbing the edge of the door. âIâm fixing it.â
âFixingâ?â Rafeâs brow furrowed, his confusion almost comical He started to step forward, but you stopped him with a resentful glare that made him stop. âWhat does that even mean?â
âIt means you can take your fake concern and shove it up your ass.â
His brow furrowed. âItâs not fakeââ His face twisted in confusion, mouth opening like he was about to argue, but you didnât give him the chance, slamming the door in his face, so hard the frame rattled.
âOf course. Of course, itâs mine,â you muttered to yourself, mocking his stupid, self-righteous tone.
You leaned back against the door, sliding to the floor, arms crossed over your knees as your brain whirred like it was trying to kill you.
It wasnât like you had a choice.
Technically, you did, but what were you supposed to do? Keep it and become a tragic sob story? The words almost felt like youâd ripped them out of someone elseâs mouth, right or wrong didnât even matter anymore. There wasnât space in your life for thisâfor him, for a baby, for any of it.
A muffled knock sounded from the front doorâtentative, like he was giving you a moment.
âGo away,â you yelled, your voice hoarse.
âOpen the door.â
Your thoughts taunted you with memories and possibilities you didnât want to entertain. The way Rafe had looked at youâlike he knewâit was unbearable.
How had he put it together? Maybe you'd slip up in tiny ways, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow. You hated yourself for being so careless, despised him even more for being so fucking relentless.
You wiped your cheeks roughly, not realizing youâd started crying until your sleeve came back damp.
âPlease, just open the door. We can talkâjust talk, okay?
âNo,â you muttered to the empty room. âNo, Iâm not doing this.â
You squeezed your eyes shut, leaning your head back against the door and pressing your hands over your ears to block him out.Â
âDonât shut me out like this,â he begged. âI canâtâfuck, I canât stand it when you do this. Just open the door. Five minutes, thatâs all Iâm asking.â
He had a key. If he wanted to, he could let himself in at any moment, but he didnât, that wasnât the Rafe you were used to.
Before, he'd have barged right in, shouted until your ears bled, and demanded answers. He wouldâve tried to fix it or destroy it, maybe both.Â
You hated that he still acted like he cared, that he was trying to be so fucking reasonable now, when just a few months ago, he wouldâve lost it, broken through any barrier to get what he wanted.
This was worse, this Rafe was wearing you down.
Another hushed plea made it through the door, but all you could think was how thin the wood felt, how it barely drowned the sound of his voice. A new door might be better, something heavier, more solid, that could drown out everythingâthe desperation, the crack in his voice.
Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, and you bit hard on the inside of your cheek to keep them from falling.Â
âI know youâre scared,â he continued, âAnd I know you think Iâll screw this upâGod knows I probably will. But please donât keep me in the dark. Just tell me whatâs going on.â
You pictured flipping through hardware store catalogs, weighing your options: oak? steel? soundproofing foam?
âPlease,â Rafe whispered, and the rawness in his voice scraped against you like nails on a chalkboard. You tilted your head back against the door, willing yourself not to cry again.Â
Steel doors donât warp as easily as wood.
You swallowed hard, your body aching as you fought the sob threatening to escape. He didnât deserve thisâdidnât deserve to sound so wrecked over you. He'd done this to himself.
Your fingers twitched against the door handle, the temptation to open it curling around you, but instead, you thought about bolts.
Deadbolts, a second lock could work, something he couldnât get through even if he had the key.
His voice wavered again, you thought he might start crying, too, yet all you did was glance at the base of the door. A better seal would muffle the noise more. Maybe weatherstripping? That could help.
You pressed your hands tighter over your ears, as though it would help. It didnât. Nothing wouldânot until you replaced the lock, the door, the memory of him standing there and breaking himself open for you.
God, you really needed a new doorâand a new heart.
One that didnât twist at the sound of his voice, that didnât flinch every time he called your name like it was a prayer. A heart that didnât feel for him, you told yourself, over and over, like a mantra. If you could just stop the way your chest tightened at his pleas, stop the ache in your ribs when he said he couldnât let this go.
You wanted steel walls, that could keep everything outâhis voice, his touch, the memories of all the good parts of him that had kept you hanging on for so long. Because of this heart? It was useless, too soft, too easily swayed, still willing to believe him, even when you knew better.
âPlease, just talk to me,â Rafe begged. You bit your lip hard enough to taste blood.
You couldnât help but wonder if this calmness came from Sofia.
Perhaps she was the reason heâd changed, maybe she had somehow made him different, had softened the sharp edges of the guy you used to know. She was calm, collectedânothing like you. It hurt like a bitch, the thought that someone else could make him this patient. You wondered if sheâd taught him how to handle his emotions, how to be this wayâheâd learned some secret he never bothered to share with you.
You couldn't let yourself go there, couldn't let the bitterness of that thought settle in your mind for too long.
âTalk to me.â
No. Not this time.
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#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron au#rafe fic#rafe x reader#rafe cameron angst#toxic!rafe#toxic!reader#angst#itneverendshere worksâš#rafe cameron series#rafe cameron outer banks#eventual smut#eventual fluff#just angst now#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron obx#obx 4#obx rafe cameron#rafe x sofia
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My Boss Won't Be Happy About This - A.H
a/n: back to bimbo brain rot!!!! inspired by the first season that one episode (you know the one) where hotch is all macho man with elle in jamaica
masterlist
âË â©Â°ïœĄâ⥠âËâĄâĄ âËâĄâĄâïœĄÂ°â©Ëââ§
pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader
summary: youâre wrongfully arrested and hotch is not happy about it
warnings: creepy officer, inaccuracies of how law enforcement works, hotch being sexy
wc: 1.3k
"Listen I'm not the type of girl to tell someone how to do their job, but I just don't think you're doing it right."
You were speaking to an empty room, or at least, you were speaking to the mirror in front of you. It's the kind of mirror you had seen in countless interrogation scenes, the kind you usually image Hotch standing behind. You let your gaze linger, wondering if eyes are studying you from the other side, listening to your monologue.
"Well, that, and I also just don't think it's very nice." Your brand spanking new heels were tapping against the dirty floor.Â
You weren't happy about that. You weren't happy about any of this. Your feet ache, but the fear of the germs lurking on the floor paralyzes any thoughts of relief by removing your shoes.
"And hey, shouldn't I get a phone call? That's a rule, I think," you mumble, lips turning downward in an unusual frown. It seems like the right time for it. "My boss is not going to take this well. I mean, he's got this look, you know? The kind that makes you want to apologize for things you didn't even do."
You conjured up his daunting expression and released a jittery laugh, all while striving to disregard the biting cold blasting from the AC vent, which seemed determine to freeze you into place.Â
You were seriously out of your element, not just in surroundings but in dress--so form-fitting it left very little to the imagination. It seemed to be a good idea for a date. That was before you realized said date would be a complete disaster. Now, it felt like a trap. It had been a spectacle for a man unworthy of the effort, and as you sat in this rigid chair, you found yourself tugging at the hem every other moment, a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of modesty.
"So, when he hears about this little error... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Six hours had passed in this dreary space, and you could feel your sanity fraying at the edges. You muttered, half to yourself, "Not that they're as cute as mine, but you get the point."
The door hinge's creak made you sit bolt upright, a silent supplication for Hotch's rescue echoing through your mind. But today, it seemed, the gods were indifferent. The officer who had arrested you stepped in.
"Having fun talking to yourself?"
You flashed your sweetest smile. "Oh, tons! But I'd have much more fun if you'd uncuff me."
He said nothing, folding his arms over his chest as he dragged his gaze up and down your body in a way that made your skin prickle in discomfort. You attempted to dispel the creeping dread, but it stubbornly lingered.
You did what you could to cover up, despite the awkward angle of your arms. "Listen, this is all just a big mistake. I work for the FBI," you insisted, though it was clear the officer's attention was fixated on your tits rather than your words. "Well, I mean, I'm an assistant for the unit chief of the BAU unit. You've heard of Aaron Hotchner, haven't you?"
The officer's mouth closed without a word, as the door was thrust open yet again, and this time, your heart leapt in recognition. Your knight in shining armor with a lethal expression.
His eyes instantly zeroed in on the officer with a look that could curdle blood, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that you weren't the object of his anger. He approached you wordlessly, his every motion precise and determined.
He carefully shed his jacket, a gesture he seldom made, and draped it across your shoulders. The fleeting caress of his hand against your skin was enough to make you lean into his touch. You let out a breath that you had been unconsciously holding back.Â
You watched as Hotch turned, his voice a low, steady force, his words carefully chosen and tinged with an unsettling peace. "Officer," he began, the title spoken almost as warning. "I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding. This woman is not only an esteemed member of the FBI, but she is also under my direct supervision."
He stepped closer, encroaching on the officer's personal space. You watched, almost in slow motion, as the officer's expression morphed into one of sheer terror, his earlier confidence dissolving like sugar in hot tea.
"Six hours," he continued, his voice never rising yet somehow it took up all the space in the confined room. "Six hours of unwarranted detention, without due process. I expect her immediate release. And make no mistake, this lapse in judgment will have its ramifications."
The officer was mute, his fingers clumsily unlocking the handcuffs, his movements hurried, his hands trembling. A twinge of pity flickered within you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the memory of considering the table as a makeshift blanket.
The moment the metal clicked open; you wasted no time. You flung your arms around Hotch, the pent relief and biting chill of the past few hours pouring out of you. You were desperate for warmth, specifically his warmth.
He stiffened, caught off guard by your actions. You feel the anger radiating through him, practically pulsing through his skin. As you clung to him, you felt the draft on your legs as your dress slid up, and without missing a beat Hotch's hand discreetly adjusted the fabric, all while keeping his eyes locked on the officer, a silent warning in his gaze.
Once he was certain you were decently covered, he allowed himself to draw him into his arms. One arm secured around your waist, the other weaving through your hair. You were cold. It renewed another tide of rage through his bloodstream.
With the officer's departure, the room's oppressive atmosphere lightened a touch, leaving you still latched onto your boss.
"Oh, sir, you wouldn't believe it," you started, his hands tracing up your spine and sparking a trail of goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. "They kept asking me about a heist, as if I'd know anything about that! And then they show me this picture, and I mean, sure, she had my hair, but that's about it."
You rambled on, and he let you, the absurdity of the situation pouring out in a stream of consciousness. Hotch's hold on you tightened. You could sense the coiled tension in him, a tempest of anger held a bay.
"And the room, it was so cold! I mean, I'm sure you can tell. My teeth were chattering, and all I could think of was how I'd rather be filing your paperwork or listening to Reid's factoids about the quantum mechanics of coffee beans."
You felt Hotch's breath on your hair as he let out a sigh.Â
"I'm just glad you're here now," you whispered, finally allowing yourself to relax in his embrace.
Hotch gave a curt nod, his jaw set. He was itching to confront the officer, to unleash a tirade not meant for your ears. But he was well aware of how much you needed him right now, and that trumped everything in his book.
Hotch took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "This isn't just incompetence; it's negligence. I will have this place reevaluated for its standards, or lack thereof."
You took a step back, hands still resting on his arms, and he maintained his grip on your waist. "I bet this is the last time you'll let me go on a date without a full background check on the guy, huh, sir?"
Hotch's hold on your waist firmed just a fraction. "Maybe it's the last time I let you go on a date, period."
He was only half-joking.
"Not even with you?" You tilted your head to meet his gaze, drawing his jacket closer around you.
Hotch just simply gives you that look, the one that says a thousand words without a sound. He's telling you to tread lightly.
"Alright, I'll be good," you giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Can you take me home now, please?"
He nods, "Yeah, let's get you home."
And then he leads you out, thinking to himself that the next person to take you out will be him, but that's for him to know and you to find out later.
taglist: @hotchhner @khxna
#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x fem reader#aaron hotchner x bimbo reader#aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader#hotch#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner fic#hotchner#criminal minds#criminal minds fluff#Spotify
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all this is making me wanna work on my weird Luis being a Rockfort inmate and then Alfred Ashford forcing him to be his friend weird shit AU
#bc ive written like 3 scenes where they dance#it's not romantic alfred is just a fucking weirdo#'alfred is just a fucking weirdo' is basically the tagline for the whole au that's basically all that happens#the whole thing is just alfred being a weirdo and directing his weirdness at luis#for a few months until wesker attacks and luis gets to bolt#he meets claire for like a second too but doesn't help her#but in his defense he's been w alfred for almost a year man was just worn down and needed to get the fuck out
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