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scuttling · 3 years ago

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Paper Rings

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 10,191 Tags: SFW, Fluff, Literature, Friends to lovers, Everyone thinks they're dating, There was only one bed, Some angst with a happy ending, Confessing love in the rain, TW fire and blood/wound Summary: Some of my favorite tropes rolled into one cute fic inspired by Taylor Swift's Paper Rings. (lyrics and music) Link to A03 or read below! “Good morning, my friendly neighborhood crime fighters,” Penelope says as she enters the briefing room, wearing a dress that is bright bubblegum pink, with fingerless gloves and glasses to match. You, Derek, and Spencer groan your replies, because you just got home from a case last night, with less than seven hours between arriving at your apartment and returning to the office, and that is everyone’s least favorite thing.

You can’t deny that her typical sunny disposition makes you smile a little bit brighter, but you’re still exhausted, and even your usual extra large travel mug of breakfast blend is barely taking the edge off.

That’s probably why, when Aaron enters with trays of steaming espresso drinks from the cafe down the street, and a striped box of donuts, you act like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh my god, I love you. Thank you, I love you.” He got an array of basic drinks based on everyone’s usual orders, and you scan for one that has something with latte, but he takes one out and hands it to you, smiling when you take a sip and sigh—okay, he’s smiling with his eyes, but you are well versed in his body language and facial expressions, and he’s practically grinning at getting your order (triple one pump hazelnut extra hot latte) correct.

You are not the only one to notice.

“Get a room, you two; it’s just coffee,” Derek says, taking the white mocha from the tray and drinking half of it in one sip. “Now if you tell me there’s a bear claw in there, I’ll confess my undying love too.”

“I don’t know; I asked for an assortment,” he says, and it’s clear he did, but your cup has your name on it; you cover the ink with your hand and take another grateful sip. “I do know there’s a plain glazed in there, though,” he says a bit lower, just for you, and you smile, give his wrist a squeeze, and dive for it before Jennifer Jareau can get her hands on it.

That’s all the morning meeting consists of—bickering and bantering and caffeine and carb consumption—and when the group disperses, you follow Aaron to his office and sit down in the chair across from his.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You definitely raised the morale of the troops,” you say with a sip of your perfect latte, and he shares the hint of a smile.

“You’re welcome. It helps that you’re all so easy to appease.” He flips open his bag, pulls out a small, worn, paperback book, tosses it toward you. You pick it up, run your hand over the well-loved cover, and hum.

“The Call of the Wild—this made it into the Aaron Hotchner Nightstand Collection?” He arches a brow.

“It’s so overrated that it’s underrated; no one ever actually reads it, they just assume they know what it’s about. It’s a great book, if you’ll give it a chance.”

“Hey, you’ve read all of mine without complaint; of course I’ll give it a chance.” You take the last, sad sip of your latte and stand up, point out the door with your thumb. “Speaking of, mine’s still downstairs on my desk. I’ll be right back.”

Exchanging books started as an offhand comment one night, on a flight home from Georgia, when he’d mentioned that he never buys new books, only cycles through the same ten or twelve he’s been reading since college. He knows what he likes, finds something different in the text each time he reads, and you’d found something so profoundly beautiful about that that you’d asked for the list. You wanted to know more about the books that tug at his emotions enough that he’s read them day in and day out for over twenty years with no boredom in sight.

He’d done you one better, said he’d be happy to lend them to you, if you’d like, and that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Seeing college-aged Aaron’s notes in the margins of battered paperback novels was a prospect too good to be true.

Of course, you couldn’t accept the gesture without returning one of your own, so you’d offered to share your favorite books with him too, only... you don’t exactly give him your favorite books. You purposefully buy the cheesiest romance novels you can get your hands on, pass them off to him while he hands you poignant, classic novels that have won literary awards and Nobel prizes.

Today’s is called Lord of Scoundrels, complete with a shirtless man on the cover, kissing a woman with dark, flowing hair and a light blue dress; you snicker the whole way to your desk and back up to his office—earning curious glances from the rest of the team—and when you drop it on the desk in front of Aaron, you watch closely for a reaction.

As usual, he doesn’t really give you one, just flips the book over, skims the summary on the back, and nods.

“Sounds interesting,” he says, and your heart does a little flip.

He could easily hand the book back, laugh in your face, refuse to read something so clearly out of his wheelhouse, but he thinks these novels are important to you, and he never fails to read them, offering his favorite parts the same way you do for his.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t.

“I think you’ll really like it. Sebastian and Jessica start out kind of indifferent toward each other, but the more they interact, the more they find they have in common. It’s very acquaintances to friends to lovers, if you’re into that.” He looks up with an expression you place as uncertainty, even if you’re not quite sure the reason for it. You smile softly. “I should get to work, but thanks for the book. I’ll see you at lunch?”

It’s been so nice lately that you started taking your lunch outside, sitting on a bench beneath a huge, shady oak tree, and Aaron had taken to doing the same; you both quickly realized it was stupid to sit outside together, apart, so you meet up in the bullpen now and walk out side by side, spend the hour talking about your books or the team or Jack or life in general. He shakes the uncertain expression, nods his head.

“Of course. Thank you,” he says with a wave of the book, and you head back downstairs to start your day.

You’ve become mostly accustomed to the feeling, but it still surprises you a little when all that gets you through the day is thinking about your next conversation with Aaron. A week later, you’re on a case in Pittsburgh, and you and Aaron are paired up to room together. That’s nothing unusual—it seems like you’ve been rooming together more often than not lately, which is fine by you; he’s tidy, quiet, always interested in a late night snack, pretty much the perfect roommate—but when he opens the door and you step inside, the single king size bed in the middle of the room takes you by surprise.

“Uh… do you think it’s a mistake? Or maybe they just ran out of doubles?” you suggest; he's kind of frozen in place, and while it’s not ideal, you know it’s not actually going to be a problem. You’ve shared a bed with JJ before, and Spencer, and even though you don’t feel the same way about them as you do about Aaron, you think you can manage a couple nights in close quarters.

“Probably just ran out of doubles,” he agrees after a moment; he doesn’t bring up calling the front desk to ask for another room, so you don’t either, just hang your clothes and head into the bathroom to change into your pajamas and do your nightly routine.

It’s a little awkward at first, and you don’t know why; over the last six months or so, he’s actually become your closest friend on the team, and conversation usually comes easily, but silence settles over the room uncomfortably as you slip between the sheets on your side of the bed.

He goes into the bathroom, does his own nightly routine, then comes out in his pajamas and turns on CNN.

You take out your book, pay no attention to Aaron, but the longer he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the news ticker on the television screen but not actually watching it, the more you wish he’d just get over himself and come to bed. If he’s trying to wait for you to fall asleep, he’s going to be waiting a while.

“So you were right; I love Buck,” you say as a way to start some conversation, to bring some normalcy to this unusual situation. You hold up the book you’re reading, the one he let you borrow. “His struggle between remaining loyal to his owner and answering the call of the wild—I love dogs, but I never imagined a book about a dog could be so moving.”

He turns back with a soft smile, then switches off the tv and heads over to his side of the bed; he pulls back the comforter, slides between the sheets, meets you toward the middle of the bed.

“I told you you’d like it; what chapter are you on?” He leans over to look, so close it wouldn’t take much to lift a hand and brush it over his hair; it looks unfairly soft, and part of you wants to card your fingers through it, to tug on it and mess it up a little. He probably wouldn’t even mind if you did.

“Chapter 7—I only have a few pages left.” You snuggle more comfortably against your pillow, lean into his shoulder, and move the book so it’s more evenly between you. “Want to finish it with me?”

He does, and you read silently at a similar pace; he reaches up to turn the pages, and you think about how these hands have flipped through this book so many times before, what he might have been thinking, feeling, while reading. It’s a more intimate act than you’ve shared with anyone in a really long time.

When you finish the book, you sigh, let the feeling of reading a really great story envelope you; you turn to face Aaron, and he’s looking at you… and then there’s a knock at the door that startles you both.

He gets up, walks over and checks the peep hole, then opens the door.

“Are you sure?” you hear JJ ask, and he steps back so she can enter the room; when she sees you tucked snugly into the middle of the bed, she shoots you a soft smile and mouths you’re welcome, which makes absolutely no sense without context. You’ll have to bring it up to her later and ask what exactly you’re supposed to be thanking her for.

“So you said the detective called?” Aaron prompts her, and she looks away from you, nods.

“Yes, he wanted me to ask if we could have a few agents meet him at the second crime scene tomorrow instead of the precinct, figured it could save a little time.” Aaron looks confused, like he doesn’t see why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow, but he ultimately agrees.

“Sure. You, Reid, and Prentiss can head straight there, if that’s what he wants. I’ll let them know in the morning.” JJ nods, and looks over at you, and then back at Aaron, who makes a kind but curious face. “Was there something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s it. I just didn’t want to forget. I’ll let you guys go—enjoy the rest of your night,” she says with a smile and a wave, and when he closes the door behind her, you both exchange a look.

She’s definitely acting a little weird, but it’s late, so you give her the benefit of the doubt.

You scoot over to your side, put the book on the nightstand and switch off your lamp; Aaron climbs back into bed and switches his off, too, and he turns to face the wall while you lay on your back and stare at the ceiling.

It takes about half an hour, but he falls asleep first; you turn to face him, watching his back, following the rise and fall as he softly breathes in sleep, and the peaceful rhythm lulls you into submission, and you drift off as well.

When you wake up a couple hours later, he is on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow, and you are draped over his back with your cheek against his t-shirt. It’s soft, and warm, and smells like him, and you glance at the clock and realize it’s too early to do anything but get comfortable and fall back asleep, so that’s exactly what you do.

The next time you wake up, to light creeping in between the curtains, Aaron is no longer in bed, but you’re holding his pillow, still warm beneath your cheek. He doesn’t act weird when you get up and start moving around, just pops out of the bathroom with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“Got you a latte,” he says around it, gesturing to the desk and the pair of paper cups that sit on it, and you grin.

“Seriously, you’re my favorite human,” you answer, and you grab your coffee and lean against the doorframe, sipping and sighing until you’re a little more clear-headed. “Sorry if I crushed you; guess I was restless last night. I usually don’t move around that much.”

He just shrugs, spits out a mouthful of foam into the sink.

“You didn’t crush me. I’m pretty solid, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” you tease, looking at him over the lid as you take another sip. “Now hurry up and quit hogging the bathroom if you want to leave here at a decent hour.” He rinses, zips up his toiletry bag noisily for dramatic effect, and slips past you, rubbing a hand over your unruly bed head as he goes. The day passes quickly, with lots of interviewing witnesses, following dead-end leads, and bad police station coffee. When Aaron calls it and tells everyone to get some dinner, you all split off into smaller groups—Spencer and Derek go for Chinese, JJ and Emily opt for pizza, and you and Aaron end up at a retro diner with burgers and milkshakes and a plate of fries between you to share.

“I think we should be focusing more on the docks,” you say, dipping a fry in ketchup and taking a bite. “Even if that’s not where the bodies end up, it seems to be where the unsub is meeting with the victims. We could stake it out tonight, maybe. If you want.” You never want to step on his toes, because he is the boss, the leader, even if you’re friends too; you try to be careful how you phrase things, especially in front of other people, because you don’t want your comfort to look like disrespect, however unintentional.

“That’s a good idea. You and I can head down there after this; I’ll let the others know to patrol nearby, in case we need backup.”

He dusts off his fingers and pulls out his phone, types out a text, and you look around the restaurant—the place looks like it was ripped right out of the 50s, with a checkered floor and lots of red vinyl, a shiny jukebox in the corner. Out of place is a flatscreen tv behind the counter; during the day, when it’s busier, it might play news or sports, but you two are the only ones here at the moment, so the staff is hanging out beneath it watching a movie. It’s Titanic, you realize, when the iconic ‘Rose floating on a piece of debris’ scene plays, and you snort, take a long drag of your chocolate shake.

“I always hated this part. They could have found a way for him to survive, too. Unnecessary death for the heartache factor,” you say, and Aaron looks up from his phone to the screen, makes a sound of contemplation.

“I always thought it was kind of romantic. When you love someone, you’d do anything for them to be okay, even at your own expense. Even if it’s stupid.” You look over his face, study the features you know like the back of your hand, and you guess you can kind of see that, but you can’t say that, so you just sigh.

“I suppose you think Romeo and Juliet is romantic, too,” you tease, and he looks back at you, rolls his eyes.

“It’s very much of its time; it's a lot harder to suffer a miscommunication like that these days. And there is something to be said for star-crossed lovers—people who shouldn’t be together, for one reason or another, but can’t help but drift close anyway.” You swirl your straw in the metal cup, thinking briefly of how that happens to describe the two of you, and when you look up at him, you think you see a hint of that same thought on his face.

More likely, that’s just wishful thinking.

“I like the sword-fights,” you say to lighten the mood, and he laughs, and you both polish off the rest of your food and then head for the docks.

Two hours in and absolutely nothing has happened, but just when you’re ready to complain, or suggest playing I Spy or something, there’s movement from one of the shipping containers to your right. You nudge Aaron, point to the container, and you both creep closer, trying to make out the situation.

When you’re just around the corner, it’s clearly two men fighting, but you obviously don’t know if this is your unsub, two random guys having it out on the docks, or what, so you mutually agree to wait until you have some kind of sign that this is your guy. When one of them pulls out a hunting knife that looks vaguely similar to your murder weapon—as close as you can tell in the dark, anyway—you raise your guns and identify yourselves as FBI.

The unsub drops the knife, but fists his hands in the other guy’s jacket, manhandles him to the edge of the dock, and shoves him into the water, then jumps as well. You swear, and Aaron takes off his jacket, throws it on the ground, then his phone on top of it, and looks back at you.

“Stay here and call for backup,” he instructs, and then he jumps in too; you call the team from your comms, get a response from Emily, and then toss your phone onto Aaron’s jacket and follow him.

He, of course, went for the victim first, so you look for the unsub, who is not visible above the water. You completely submerge yourself, feeling for more than looking for him, because the water is cloudy on a good day and pitch black at ten o’clock at night; when you pop your head up for air, you see Aaron getting the victim up onto the dock, and the unsub bobbing a bit further out. You swim to him, limbs aching, and he seems to know it’s time to give up.

He’s winded, gasping for breath, so you keep him above the water to your own detriment, dragging him by his wet jacket instead of cuffing him, because you’re not trying to kill the guy or lug his unconscious body back to shore. You just barely keep your own head above water most of the time, coming up for big gulps of air when absolutely necessary.

You finally make it to the dock, and your team has arrived, so Derek pulls him out of the water, makes sure he’s alright, and puts some cuffs on him. Aaron’s hands are on you right after, getting you up on the dock, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

Despite the warm spring breeze, the water was freezing, and you can feel your teeth chattering. He rubs your arms for warmth, crouches down to look you seriously in the eyes.

“Thought I told you to stay here,” he says with an arched brow, a scowl you can tell is more concerned than angry. You wet your frozen lips and try your best to smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack.”

He looks at you like you’re an idiot, but fondly, if that’s possible, then hugs you so tightly, guides your face to press against his warm neck. How he’s not teetering on the edge of hypothermia is anyone’s guess.

“Your lips are practically blue. Stupid,” he murmurs, but his mouth dusts over your temple in what is unmistakably a kiss, and when you’re able to feel your lips again, you reciprocate, press them a little harder against his throat while you shiver in his arms.

It doesn’t mean anything except I’m happy we’re both alive. Probably.

That night in bed, he faces the wall, and you stare at the ceiling, but you wake up with your nose against the back of his neck. The way he’s breathing tells you he’s not asleep, and when you wrap your arms around him, he holds them tight. Things don’t change after Pittsburgh, and that’s okay. You are comfortable with the way things are, and you love what you have—lunches under the oak tree, the exchange of books, late night texts when you both can’t sleep, hands brushing when you walk to the parking garage, glances shared across the jet. All those things make it easy not to focus on what you don’t have, what you’re not even sure Aaron would want anyway.

You exchange books again on Friday at lunch: he hands you Beloved by Toni Morrison, a book you already know and adore, and you hand him Ravished by Amanda Quick.

“Dubbed the Beast of Blackthorne Hall for his scarred face and lecherous past, Gideon,” Aaron shoots you a glance—“that’s purely coincidental”—“was strong and fierce and notoriously menacing. Yet Harriet could not find it in her heart to fear him. For in his tawny gaze she sensed a savage pain she longed to soothe... and a searing passion she yearned to answer.”

You hold back a smile.

“It’s a modern retelling of a classic story—Beauty and the Beast,” you add, taking a bite of your sandwich. He looks you over like there’s something he wants to say, but he just tucks it under his arm and steals a piece of melon from your lunch.

“I have Jack this weekend, so I probably won’t get to read much, but it sounds intriguing.”

“Well I hope you like it when you read it. Tell him I said hi; it’s been too long since I saw him. I bet he’s looking more like you every day,” you say, popping a piece of melon into your mouth. He smiles softly.

“A little, but Haley says she sees her father in him, and I have to agree. We may have to wait a few years until he looks like me; he’s too cute for that now.” He doesn’t sound self-deprecating, just fond, but you can’t let a comment like that stand, regardless.

“You’re cute; the difference is that kids are cute all the time. You’re an adult, so sometimes you’re handsome, sometimes you’re cute, sometimes you’re hot… it can be hard to reconcile.” This time, he looks you over with something light and playful in his eyes, and it’s something you want to explore, but the timer on your phone goes off, indicating that lunch is over, so you just exhale softly and pack up your things.

You don’t talk much after that—his Fridays are usually busy with meetings, and he leaves in a hurry to pick up Jack, which is understandable.

Emily, JJ, and Penelope invite you out for drinks and dinner—“because we know Hotch is busy,” Penelope says, which has literally nothing to do with your weekend plans, but you don’t correct them—so you don’t linger either.

You go out for Italian, so you are sleepy and full of wine and pasta by the end of the evening, and you smile at your friends.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight, guys. I had a really good time.”

“Of course,” Emily says, taking her last sip of Pinot Noir. “We barely see you anymore; it was long overdue.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I should really try to drag my ass out of bed more often.” You can’t help it, though, that after a long day, your bed and a good book just call your name. You’ve always been introverted in that way. JJ laughs softly, chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“Honeymoon phase. Give it another couple months and you’ll be past that.” You do have a new memory foam mattress that has made sinking into the pillows and blankets all that more indulgent, but you didn’t think JJ knew about that. And you’ve never heard of a honeymoon phase for a mattress before.

“Eh, I don’t think so. There’s literally nothing more satisfying on this earth.” The three of them exchange an amused look, but your phone vibrates, and that catches your attention; you smile when it’s Aaron, sending you a photo of Jack with a toothy grin and his hands covered in fingerpaint. You look up to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.

“Alright, we’ve lost her. See you all Monday,” Emily says, pulling you in for a hug; when she steps back, she smiles. “And tell Hotch we said hi.”

“I will,” you promise as you hug the other two. You hang back a moment, type out a reply—Looks like you’re having lots of fun without me!—and get into your car to head home.

You change into comfy clothes, drink a glass of water, and climb into bed with Beloved, and at around 9:30 you receive a reply.

Having the most fun we can without you. Maybe next time Jack is over, we can tempt you with dinosaur chicken nuggets and fingerpaint?

You smile, the happiest you’ve been all night—and that’s saying something, because you really did have a great time—and send back, It’s a date. Come Monday, you’re feeling pretty good, well-rested and relaxed from probably too much time in bed, but Aaron looks upset when he walks into the morning meeting. He keeps it short and sweet, and everyone disperses quickly, giving you sympathetic looks as you hang back to try to have a word with him. He clears off the white board, tidies up the table that doesn’t need tidying, and you place a hand on his back, gentle and comforting. He sighs, and you can feel the tension leave him almost instantly.

“Hey. What’s bothering you?” you ask softly, leaning around to try to catch his expression; he looks tired, sad, and maybe a little conflicted, leans into your touch.

“Taking Jack back to Haley’s was rough last night; it always is, but yesterday was really bad.” You know a little about this from weekends past, how Jack always cries when Aaron has to leave, how he feels terrible about it for the rest of the evening, but it must have been extreme for him to still be so upset. “And Haley…” He sighs again, runs his hand through his hair. “It’s like it’s one step forward, two steps back with her sometimes.”

“Why don’t we go sit in your office and you can tell me more?” You want to continue discussing this—that’s what friends are for, and he’s clearly in a bad state emotionally, you think it could help—but he just shakes his head.

“No, I… it’s okay. I don’t want to weigh you down with my problems.” You take your hand off his back, lean a hip against the table and look up at him.

“I’m not just your friend when it’s all easy breezy, lunch in the sunshine, talking about our favorite books,” you say with a sad smile; he reciprocates a little, which is more than you expected. “I’m here when things are complicated, when you have bad days, too. The Monday blues especially.” One of his hands rests on the table, and you cover it with yours, lean in to press your forehead to his shoulder. “Let me be here, okay? Even if all you need me to do is listen.”

It takes a moment, and his eyes are wet when he finally responds; he inhales deeply, nods, and brushes his free hand over your head in something of a hug, murmurs a rough, “okay.”

You sit in his office for an hour—which, again, is more than you expected—listening to him talk about his weekend with Jack, how heartbreaking it was to take him back to Haley’s, how he tried talking to her about taking him more often and she just wasn’t sure she could trust him to do what he says he’ll do. He understands where she’s coming from, knows he’s been unable to keep his word in the past, thinks he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt; he hasn’t asked for advice, seems to just want to vent, so you just listen.

“Then I mentioned you, that you might come for dinner next time he’s over, and she was worried about that,” he says, exasperated, and you frown.

“Why would she worry about that? I’ve been around him lots of times.” It doesn't make sense, because Haley has always been nothing but sweet to you; Aaron looks up at your question, and it seems a little like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that part, though you can’t imagine why.

“It’s just different now… because he’s older,” he says after a brief moment of hesitation. “She doesn’t want him getting attached to someone who might not always be around, you know.” You sigh softly, because if that’s all it is…

You lean forward, take his hand, squeeze it tight.

“I’m always going to be around, Aaron. I can talk to her, if you want, tell her that.”

“No, it’s—you don’t have to do that.” He squeezes your hand back, closes his eyes for a beat. “Just hearing you say it, it makes things easier. I’ll talk to her again next time.”

You talk a little more, and he seems a lot better afterward, even if he is a bit less expressive during lunch; you figure any progress is good, but it makes you sad to see him so down, so naturally, you formulate a plan to help get him back to the Aaron you know and love.

At the end of the day, when he makes his way to the bullpen, you spin around in your chair, take him by the sleeve.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” you say in no uncertain tone of voice. “For a few hours. I’ll bring you back for your car.” He agrees with a fond look, and you lose yourself in the expression for a moment, then stand up, grab your things, and walk with him out to the garage.

Rush hour traffic is what it is, and you leave Aaron in charge of the music, which means you get The Beatles and The Who, Rolling Stones and Neil Diamond, and you’re both singing along and so much happier by the time you pull into the parking lot of the bodega nearest your apartment.

“Just running in for provisions—be right back,” you say with a grin, and when you return with two paper bags of loot, he looks at you like you might be his favorite person in the world with an age in the double digits. It’s a look you love putting on his face.

“Do I get to see what provisions you’ve acquired?” he asks, teasing, but you shake your head and tell him he’ll see it when you get there.

With a pit stop in your apartment to grab a blanket and a few throw pillows, you take him up to the roof and get things ready for your makeshift picnic. There is white wine, still mostly chilled; cubed cheese, far from gourmet but no less delicious; crusty french bread that was fresh this morning but at this hour is a little extra crusty; blueberries, because they didn’t have grapes; dark chocolate, because you share a fondness for it; and paper cups for the wine.

Aaron takes a look at your bounty, spread over the blanket, and smiles the first real smile you’ve seen all day.

“Fancy,” he teases, and he takes off his jacket, gets on the ground with you. You pour each of you some wine, pop a blueberry in your mouth.

“No, but I thought a meal—and I do call it that loosely—under the stars might do you some good.” You lift your paper cup and tap it against his, brush your fingers over his hand. “To the best boss, best dad, best friend I could ask for.” You take a sip, but he doesn’t at first, watches you with something simmering behind his eyes.

“Do I get to make a toast?” he asks after a few beats, and you smile, nod, and hold up your cup. “To the only person stupid enough to jump into a freezing cold river after me. To the only person I would consider eating a bodega dinner with. To the only person who sees me the way you do.” You both take a sip, which is hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. He looks into your eyes, then breaks the dark chocolate into slivers and hands you a piece like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you before.

You eat, and talk, and drink, and when you’re done with dinner you put everything back in the bags and lay back on the blanket, side by side, and stare up at the stars. The moon is high and full, shining while the stars twinkle around it, and you can’t think of a single time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“This was really perfect,” Aaron says, almost a whisper, after about twenty minutes of companionable silence. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for me today.” You turn to face him, hands curled up under your chin, and he turns toward you as well. He’s so handsome in the moonlight your heart almost aches.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to see you happy.” You feel your eyes well up with tears, because he deserves to be happy; you sigh, blink them away, and he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, rests them there for a long time. When he eventually pulls back, you bring a hand to his hair, brush it back at his temple, and then the creaking of the door makes you pull back, sit up.

It’s your neighbor from 422, who you’ve seen on the roof a handful of times, sneaking away from his wife to smoke a cigarette. He squints in the dark, recognizes you, and waves.

“Hey, 418! You’re not alone tonight.” Aaron sits up too, and you laugh softly.

“Nope, but we were just leaving. The roof is all yours.” Aaron stands, pulls you up, and you grab the blanket and pillows while he grabs the bags, and the two of you head back down to your place.

It’s after ten when you get the groceries put away, and you stand next to Aaron in your small kitchen, contemplating what you want to say next. Your mouth betrays your brain, says what you’ve been thinking but weren’t quite sure how to approach.

“It’s late; I know I said I’d take you back to your car, but you could stay here if you want. I have a spare toothbrush, and I know you have a spare suit at the office, and it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed before.”

You’d completely understand if he’d rather go home—you hate when your plans are changed at the last minute, and you prefer to do your full nightly routine for your sanity’s sake—but he only nods, and you lead your way to the bedroom, show him the master bath.

You are in your pajamas, tucked into bed, when he comes out in his boxers and undershirt; he hangs up his suit in your closet where you’d left him some space, then climbs in beside you. He looks over at you, then past you, at your nightstand, which has a stack of books on it—none of them romance novels. You grin, busted after months of book exchanges, and he leans over you to look at the titles.

“Persuasion, To Kill A Mockingbird, One Hundred Years of Solitude—Beloved.” He looks from your copy of the novel to his, which you hold in your hands, and you shrug sheepishly.

“I like reading the notes you put in the margins,” you say meekly, hoping he’s not angry, but all he does is laugh.

“Let me guess: you don’t actually like romance novels.” He leans back against your pillow, and so do you, resting the book on your lap.

“I mean, I don’t not like them… but I’ve been buying those just for you.” The smile on his face is brilliant, and only makes you yearn for him more; things you have been purposefully not feeling are flooding your heart and mind and body now, with him so close, laughing over this stupid secret you’ve been hiding for so long. “And you, sweet man that you are, have been reading them, and discussing them.” You put your hand on his shoulder, and he ducks his head to laugh again.

“Since we’re being honest… I didn’t read all of them. I tried,” he says when you act offended, shoving the shoulder you’re resting against, “but some of them were so bad. I just flipped through, found something I thought could pass as my favorite part, and hoped to hell you didn't ask too many questions.”

You both laugh until you’re breathless—he is so different from how he was this morning it makes you want to cry—and when your laughter dies down you look at each other, sharing breath, two heads on one pillow; is it any wonder you bridge the distance, pull him close for a warm, gentle kiss?

When you break the kiss, you are instantly worried about what Aaron will do—you aren’t drunk, aren’t even tipsy, so you know he can’t be, so much bigger and more solid than you, but will he think it’s a mistake? He kissed back, you’re pretty sure, but maybe that was an accident, something done on autopilot—

He leans in for a second kiss, mouth deceptively soft, and you curl your arm around his back, press into it with lips desperate not to let this end now that it’s started. When you separate, you are both looking into each other’s eyes again, breathing a bit heavily, and you meet in the middle for a third kiss, the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life.

That kiss ends when you yawn in his face, and he chuckles softly, leans over and switches off your bedside lamp; you smile at the ceiling, and he wraps his arms around you, presses his lips to your shoulder, and tells you good night. The next day, the two of you arrive at work early so he can shower and change into his fresh clothes without anyone on the team noticing—not that you think they would really care, but they’re nosy, and a little annoying, so you both agree that’s probably for the best.

You don’t talk about the kisses, even though they’ve been the only thing running through your mind since they happened; you promise to discuss it at lunch, though, and that’s such a sweet, romantic prospect that you think you prefer it better that way anyway.

Only, you don’t ever get to lunch, because there’s an urgent case in Minneapolis, an all hands on deck situation, meaning even Penelope joins you on the jet. You debrief on the flight, hunker down in the conference room, and split up to cover more ground; you barely get to speak to Aaron the whole time you’re there except to be given instructions and to fill him on what, if anything, you’ve learned.

You don’t even make it to your hotel that night, working around the clock to catch the people responsible for terrorizing the city. It takes not one, but almost two full days, and when you board the jet on Wednesday evening, everyone is dead on their feet. You barely remember the flight or the trip home, and you fall onto your bed fully clothed and crash just like that.

Thursday is your birthday, which you almost forgot, and so you assumed everyone else would too. You should have known better, because even if your team can be annoying, they are still your friends, and they love you, so you are well and truly spoiled.

You are treated to a latte and bagels from Emily, purple cupcakes with silver sprinkles from Penelope, a piggy back ride from Derek, a book of poetry you’ve had your eye on from Spencer, and a card from JJ—really, it turns out, from all of them.

“Enjoy a romantic getaway on us?” There’s some kind of certificate in the card, and when you flip it over, you discover that it’s for a hotel and spa that offers couples massages, mud baths, intimate aromatherapy? You arch a brow. “Uh, thanks, guys. Are you trying to tell me something here?” JJ’s face falls a little and she points to the card.

“It’s a romantic getaway. For you and Hotch? Since things have been so hectic lately,” she says, but your ears are kind of ringing and your brain is stuck on the for you and Hotch part.

“Oh. Um. Sorry—it’s just kind of soon, I think? How do you guys even know about that?” you murmur. The two of you haven’t had time to discuss Monday yet, and you haven’t spoken a word to anyone; you wouldn’t have guessed Aaron would have either, but there is a gift certificate for a romantic getaway in your hands, and you’re kind of spiraling.

“Well come on, we haven’t exactly been pretending we don’t know,” Emily says, and you can feel the confusion in your features when you look up at her. “And you guys haven’t been exactly secretive. We’re happy for you, though.”

“I mean, we haven’t been secretive, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet. It’s only been three days.” You are met with looks similar to the one on your own face.

“What do you mean, three days?” Spencer asks with a frown. “You and Hotch have been dating for almost two months. Right?” he says, looking at the others, and they nod, but it’s tentative. Your first reaction is to flush, and you close the card, fan your face with it.

“You guys think… You guys thought…” You look at them, then up at Aaron’s office; there’s no way he can know that you’re having a moment, but he chooses then to come downstairs, coincidentally. He’s smiling at first, but it falls when he looks at your face.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” He presses a cool hand to your hot cheek, flicks his eyes over yours, and JJ makes a noise; when you glance over at her, she’s gesturing between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, we were wrong? What were we supposed to think?” Aaron frowns, not following, and you take a deep breath.

“They got me a gift certificate for my birthday. To a spa. For you and I to have a romantic getaway, because they were under the assumption we’ve been dating… for two months.” The way he pulls back quickly makes your stomach ache a little, but you say nothing. You should have known.

“You say I love you,” Derek begins like he’s listing evidence. “You have lunch together every day. You’re always smiling at each other.”

“Seriously, some of the softest, gooiest smiles I’ve ever seen,” Penelope adds.

“You eat together on cases, you’re texting all the time when you’re not together.”

“I’ve been pairing the two of you up in hotels since I first figured out you were dating,” JJ says, and the whole ‘you’re welcome’ thing suddenly makes some sense. “I booked you that room with just the one bed so you’d maybe feel more comfortable about us knowing, so you’d see that we don’t mind.”

“You’re always looking at each other, always touching,” Spencer says. “In Pittsburgh—that was the first time you really hugged or kissed each other in front of us. We were trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was kind of a big deal.”

You look over at Aaron, try to gauge his reaction, but for the first time in a long time you can’t tell what he’s feeling. You can’t really tell what you’re feeling, either. Sadness. Worry. Loss? But what have you lost?

“We’re friends,” you say, even if it sounds weak to your own ears. “We’re… close.”

“We wouldn’t exactly make sense as a couple, would we?” Aaron asks rhetorically, and your heart clenches when he says that. He told you this morning that he’d made dinner plans for you, both for your birthday and to discuss the kisses, what they mean, where you go from here, but that doesn’t sound very promising anymore. “We’re just—”

“Star-crossed,” you say, but you feel like your eyes are vacant. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re stupid for kissing him, for letting yourself think he could feel the same way you feel, have felt for a while. Isn’t friendship enough? Don’t you already have this special bond so unlike what you have with anyone else in your life? Why press your luck? You know better than that. “We should get back to work.”

You don’t look at Aaron, so you don’t know whether or not he looks at you. JJ does, and you can tell she knows you’re upset, but she just nudges everyone on their way, and you take a seat at your desk—it’s covered in balloons and streamers, the Penelope special.

You’ve never felt less like celebrating.

At lunchtime, Aaron stops at your desk, and the two of you walk out to the bench, open your bags in silence. You’re almost halfway through the hour before he tries to speak.

“Uh. I. About earlier,” he finally gets out, looking down at his sandwich, and you shake your head even though he’s not watching you.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to.” You take a bite of your salad even though you don’t taste it. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. You are who you are,” smart, sweet, handsome, tender, caring, “and I am who I am.” Too quiet, too young, too impulsive, too silly, too emotional. He nods, looks at your face for the first time in a while, swallows.

“Right.” You’re due to exchange books back—his is on your lap, yours is on his—and he picks them both up. “I’m like this,” he says, holding up Beloved. “Faded cover, dog-eared pages, scribbles in the margins: middle-aged, divorced, a little broken, barely holding it together for the kid I don’t get to spend enough time with. You’re like this,” he says, holding up Ravished. “Fresh and glossy and shiny and new, with your whole life ahead of you, the whole world ahead of you. You could do anything, with anyone.”

You frown, because this is not what you meant, at all. How could he think that about himself, when the well-loved cover and the dog-eared pages and the scribbles in the margins are all the best parts of him?

“Aaron,” you say, but it sounds like pleading; you reach out to put your hands on his arms, but he pulls them back. His eyes are rimmed red, lips pressed together to hold back everything he’s not saying.

“I think lunch is almost over.” He packs up his things, leaves you with tears in your eyes and a wilted salad and a brand new romance novel you’re never going to read.

Later, he cancels dinner, says something came up, and you go home to your empty bed and watch Titanic and bawl your eyes out when Rose tells Jack she’ll never let go. Friday, you get another case. Weekend cases are no one’s favorite, but especially not yours, when you desperately needed that buffer of time away from Aaron to sort out your feelings and get back to some sense of normalcy. Instead, you’re flying to a small town outside of Nashville to catch a serial arsonist, and when you get to your hotel, you and Aaron are sharing a room.

At least there are two beds, this time.

You go with Emily and Spencer to a crime scene, walking around a house that was once picture perfect and is now all charred wood and ash, and you quickly tell yourself to get a grip and not look for metaphors for your own life while trying to solve a case. What kind of investigator are you? Pathetic, apparently.

You work until evening, and when it’s time to break for dinner, you buy a sad looking assortment of items from the police station vending machine and eat in the conference room by yourself.

It’s a good thing you do, because they get a call about the fire while everyone is still away, and you and a few locals are the first on the scene.

It doesn’t start out bad, mostly located in the back of the house, but you know how quickly these things can spread, and the fire department is working hard to put it out. One of the officers is talking to the family, and the mother is crying, so you come closer to figure out why.

“She said the daughter was supposed to be staying at a friend’s, but sometimes she changes her mind at the last minute and comes home. She can’t get ahold of her,” the officer says, and you nod, thinking.

“Where would she be? The front or the back?”

“Her room is in the front, second floor; if she’s here, that’s where she’d be,” the mother says, wiping her eyes with a tissue, and you tell the officer to stay with them, that you’ll take care of it. You talk to the firefighters—this town is so small there are only two that were able to respond, and they’re both busy trying to put out the fire, but they clear you to go in if you stick to the front of the building and get out of there as fast as you can.

Your team isn’t here yet either, too far out for comms to be effective, and you can’t get ahold of Aaron, so you make a judgement call and head inside.

The front of the house is so eerily normal it’s almost easy to calm your nerves and pretend the back isn’t in the process of being destroyed. You open the front door, run up the staircase, and call out for the girl; she answers, not from the front of the house, but the back—a bathroom maybe? Flames lick up the wall beside it, but you can get to the knob, and she comes rushing out, into your arms, terrified. You weren't expecting that, and you both fall back: your head hits off the floor, but she seems okay, so you tell her to run out the front door and find her mom.

You press a hand to the back of your head, and it comes back tacky with blood. There’s ringing in your ears for a couple of minutes, and then your favorite voice in the world comes through.

“Where are you? We’re here, where are you?” You’re getting hotter, and when you crane your neck up, you can see why: the fire is getting closer, creeping toward the staircase, creeping toward you. You inhale, cough, and press your walkie button.

“I’m upstairs in the hall; hit my head. It’s not safe.”

“I’m coming for you.” You groan. Stubborn man.

“It’s not safe, Aaron.” You hear the crackle of static, hope maybe he heard your warning and will wait until more firefighters arrive—but knowing him the way you do, that’s just wishful thinking. His voice rings out again, and despite the pain, you can’t help but smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack. Just stay put; I’ll be right there.” You close your eyes, drift in and out of consciousness; when you see him, all you can think is how ridiculously in love with him you are, and that you really hope you’ll be around to tell him. You are, of course, fine. Your head is the worst of it, even the smoke inhalation was mild, and the fire didn’t touch you, so there are no burns. Aaron doesn’t leave your side the entire time you’re being checked over, looks serious and concerned, though he smiles when the mother comes over and squeezes you so tightly you wince a little. It starts to rain, making the firefighters' jobs a little easier, and it feels oddly cleansing, after the day you’ve had. Someone offers you an umbrella, but you decline.

The fire is successfully put out, and the half of your team that didn’t respond to the scene responded to a call for suspicious activity, which ends up being your unsub. You are all happy no one was killed this time, and since you’re staying the night again, the group decides to grab a drink to celebrate. You don’t have a concussion, but your head still aches, so you pass, and Aaron passes with you.

You head to the hotel, park in the lot, but you don’t even make it halfway across before you stop, a hand on his arm.

“I need to say something,” you tell him, and he looks up at the dark sky like, right here? Right now?, even though you’re both already drenched. You nod, because if you don’t do this now you might never—almost dying always gives you an unhealthy amount of confidence, which you attribute to equal amounts of adrenaline and stupidity. “When we first met, I didn’t think we’d have a lot in common. We’re both quiet, but in wildly different ways, and I’m quick to trust and let people in while your guard is almost never down.”

He looks a little sad at that, and you realize you’re kind of doing what he did, putting the two of you into completely different categories, emphasizing the ways you don’t belong together. But that’s dumb, so you don’t give him time to focus on that for long.

“But being your friend, Aaron—the more time I spent with you, the more I came to feel like no one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever seen me the way you do.” Rain is pouring down all around you, beating against the pavement, flattening your hair against your head, but you don’t care. Regardless of his reaction, this is actually kind of perfect. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you—that was an accident, I admit. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You step closer to him, put your hands on his waist; he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t need shiny, glossy things; you're the one I want—faded cover, dog-eared pages, notes in the margins. I love you exactly as you are.”

He is gorgeous in the rain, water in his hair, dripping off his nose. His expression looks hopeful, and you pray to god that’s not wishful thinking.

“Say something, anything,” you beg, anticipation killing you, and he presses his hands to your cheeks and pulls you close for a deep, passionate, soulful kiss that says it all.

The words are nice to hear, though.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you either,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss breaks. “I told myself it was just a crush, because someone so young and beautiful was paying so much attention to me, treating me like more than just the guy giving orders. But the more time I spent with you, the more undeniable it became. You are everything good about the world—bright, optimistic, caring, funny, sweet. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”

You swallow hard, lean up to press your lips against his again.

“When you said we wouldn’t make sense as a couple…” He shakes his head.

“That was just me chickening out. After we kissed, I was all but ready to ask you to go steady,” he says, and you both smile, because he’s such an old fashioned dork, but god, do you love him. “And then we found out that the team thought we’d been together for months, and you looked freaked out, so I freaked out. I’m sorry. I should have made us talk about it sooner.”

“Classic pointless miscommunication,” you say with a laugh, and he chuckles too, kisses you again.

“Let’s go inside and get dried off; there’s a birthday gift in my bag I’ve been meaning to give you.” He takes your hand, and you head up, duck into the bathroom to change into dry clothes, squeeze the water out of your hair. There is a small, flat, wrapped present on your bed when you emerge, and you smile, sink down to open it.

It’s Romeo and Juliet, a brand new copy, but when you flip through it, there are blue inked notes in the margins. Aaron comes to sit beside you, touches your face like you’re something precious.

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” he murmurs, and you smack him on the arm with the book.

“That’s from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I know you know that,” you say with a grin. He nods in admission, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lean in for a warm, loving kiss. When you pull back, it’s with a soft smile. “Give me my sin again?”

“My pleasure,” he whispers, and you sink into his embrace and promise never to let go. The following week, you both leave work at noon on Friday so you can enjoy your romantic getaway. You drive to the spa, and Aaron reads over the brochure on his phone with a tone you find hilarious.

“Mud bath—I’m not bathing in mud. That’s counterintuitive.”

“It’s special mud; more like clay,” you say, but he snorts, scrolls.

“Seaweed wrap—nobody is wrapping me in seaweed. That sounds like a nightmare.” You laugh softly and take your exit.

“It’s supposed to be rejuvenating. JJ recommended it.”

“JJ weighs fifty pounds. It would take all the seaweed in the Atlantic to wrap me,” he says, and you roll your eyes, jab your finger into his ribs.

“But what if I get to unwrap you?” you ask, eyebrows raised; you briefly glance over and he makes a face of contemplation.

“Okay, that’s a maybe. Intimate aromatherapy—what does that even mean?”

“I think it means we do something that makes us smell good and then we go back to our room and kiss and stuff.”

“Now that doesn’t sound half bad,” he murmurs. “Foot massage? I’m not letting a stranger touch my feet, that’s weird.” You look over at him, squinting.

“You literally plugged someone’s bullet wound with your finger yesterday, but someone touching your feet is where you draw the line? Will you do anything on the list?” He scrolls down it, and his extended silence makes you laugh.

“Meditation. Couples massage,” he says, reaching over to rest a hand on your thigh. “There’s a sauna.” You think of him, sweat-drenched in a fluffy white towel, and take a deep, calming breath. “I bet the room is nice; did you bring a book?” You smile indulgently, reach out a hand to brush through his hair.

“Yep. It’s called A Duke’s Wild Kiss…” He gives you a mildly withering look, and you lightly tap the bridge of his nose. “Just kidding. I brought To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.” His answering smile is brilliant.

“Are you serious?” You nod, and he gestures to the backseat, where your bags are. “That’s what I brought, too.”

You spend too much of your romantic getaway in your room, but it is really nice; you do the couples massage, though, and aromatherapy, and the sauna, and then you take turns giving each other a foot massage while the other reads To the Lighthouse out loud.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t, but somehow you get to keep him anyway. A/N: Though I snuck in a few parts of a few different lyrics, two lines in particular inspired this fic: 'Now I've read all of the books beside your bed' and 'I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.' A lot of my fics lately have incorporated books... guess I better get reading!

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

#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 #paper rings #inspired by #taylor swift

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your-highnessmarvel · 4 years ago

Text

From Bleak to Bright - Part Eleven

All other parts on on my masterlist, link provided below.

AN: soooo um i think this may be a little tension relieving ;;;;)))

Warnings: angst, language, SMUT (18+ ONLY)

MASTERLIST - SERIES MASTERLIST

PART ELEVEN

** Two years later, Manhattan, New York **

You scrolled down on your phone, pretending to actually be doing something, while you waited for Natasha. A group of teenagers had come into the cafe, loud, laughing, challenging each other to some stupid fight. You rolled your eyes, chewing on some gum, making sure they kept their distance with you. Who knew what those kids had touched. Ew.

Nat texted you that she was around the corner, and to keep from staying a second longer with the obnoxiously loud teens, you all but ran out the cafe. You marched down the street, spring air brushing through your hair. There was a smell between a wood fire and flowers that drafted from God knows where. The sun was high up, the afternoon in Manhattan hot. Many people walked by wearing shorts or tank tops. Summer was approaching. It brought a smile to your face.

But that smile soon faded as you walked by the newspaper outlet and caught sight of the title.

TWO YEARS SINCE NEW YORK ATTACK

You gulped, biting on the inside of your cheek. It had already been two years since the last time you’d spoken to him? It seemed like way longer. It seemed as if you’d walked into a parallel universe. No one ever talked about him, least of all your friends and family. Least of all you.

You shook your head, brushing away the thoughts that brought you back to all those years ago. You shook away an image of a loft, of a coffee table full of leather-bound books, of hands on your body.

“Hey!”

You looked up, Natasha standing before you in a trendy outfit that made her look like a runway model. She had huge sunglasses perched on her nose, pink bubblegum in her mouth.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yeah!” you answered, trying to hide the newspapers with your body, but you saw how her chin dipped when you walked by. She would surely see the titles and tell your brother. Dammit. You’d been doing so well.

Technically, you’d been doing fine.

Ever since the Avengers had defeated Loki and Thor had brought him back to Asgard, you’d never seen or heard of him. You’d gone to a few rounds of therapy, mostly with psychologists who dealt in soulmates, and after a few months of isolation, Bruce had let you go. It had been a relief to have your phone back, your liberties, your God damn car.

When you’d gotten the keys to your apartment back, it had felt final. But as the last people invited to your “homecoming” celebration had dwindled out, you’d found yourself in a pit.

Everything was muted. Yes, you still saw colors, but without the person behind those colors, you just drifted. Yes, you were happy, somewhat, but whenever you saw couples together, something in your chest burned, like a slow leaking flame. You’d never be like them. Even though you’d heard stories about people marrying someone who wasn’t their soulmate, the simple thought of having another man - except Loki - in your life sent shivers down your spine.

“I heard they got free donuts,” Nat said, bending her head close to yours. You giggled, but there was no heart it in.

She was bringing you to a stupid singles night out. Even though she briefly skirted on the fact that you’d already found your soulmate, she said it was an opportunity “to get out there”.

Hell, maybe it would make you forget Loki, although you highly doubted.

The night went on in a sort of downward spiral. It started off really fast and funny, with music and drinks, and a lot of men fighting to come to talk to you and the hot redhead. But with every passing guy, the more they didn’t look like him, the more they said things that set your teeth on edge, the duller you felt.

Like being emptied slowly, hand by hand, touch by touch.

By the time Nat brought you back to your apartment, you could barely manage a smile.

You tried, once again, fixing your stupid leaking tap but decided against it and went straight to bed. Because of that stupid newspaper, you had nightmares, plagued by a dark-haired prince wearing green and gold armor.

In the morning, you ignored the tap and went to work. When you came back, the tap wasn’t leaking and you thanked your lucky guardian because if you had to hear one more drop, you’d lose it.

The next night, coming home after drinks with your brother, the windowpane was fixed.

You knew something was wrong when your squeaking front door slid on perfectly oiled hinges.

Someone had been in your apartment. Multiple times.

Stepping in your apartment that night, eight nights after the tap was “fixed”, you looked around in the darkness. The shadows seemed denser, more menacing, as if they hadn’t been standing there every night, ever.

You looked at your tiny kitchen. Nothing seemed amiss. You checked the lock, but it locked on its own with no problem. Even better than before.

You couldn’t actually complain about your little home invader because they had fixed all the problems that were slowly driving you to the brink. But you hadn’t said a word to anybody, not even Bruce, because deep down, you knew who’d be waiting for you one night, eventually.

The bathroom light had been changed. It used to flicker all the time, giving you the creeps while you took a shower. But now it opened wildly bright and stayed there.

There. That was the daily change.

You changed in the bathroom, taking a hot, quick shower, keeping the door firmly locked. You felt watched as you padded across your apartment in your jammy shorts and tank top, your hair a wet rope down your back.

The cabinet where you kept your mugs had a faulty knob that had cut you on more than one occasion. It was polished now.

Hands trembling, you pivoted in your kitchen, fingers white-knuckling the countertop.

“I know it’s you,” you murmured, feeling your heart throbbing in your throat. The shadows seemed to listen. “I know what you’ve been doing.”

You apartment seemed to breathe, swallowing your words, digesting them. But nothing came back to you. You kept expecting the shadows to linger, to move, to break away, but everything remained still, quiet.

Your heart plummeted.

You went to bed looking out the window, noticing just how clean it was for an apartment in downtown Manhattan.

You had dreams of him, vivid dreams. You swore you could feel fingers on your cheek the next morning.

It’s when you walked in to the scent of flowers and found a bouquet of your favorite in the kitchen that you truly lost it. It took everything in you not to pick it up and smash the glass vase against the wall. There was no note, but just the fact that now, he wasn’t being so subtle about him breaking and entering, made your heart bash wildly against your ribs.

But you knew what he was doing. He was trying to get to you without the others knowing. He’d surely scourged the place for microphones or cameras, just like you’d done two years ago, and found none. He knew the Avengers, or anybody watching, wouldn’t know he’d been here. And just the fact that you’d told no one about the mysterious repairs in your flat meant everything for him.

You turned, flowers at your back. The shadows seemed to be smiling. They knew he was here.

You were older now, wiser. You knew how to play his little games.

“I’m not afraid,” you said to the dark. The curtains had been drawn in the living room, you noticed, as you made your way there. He’d wanted this to be done in private.

“I know you’re here,” you continued, inching to the windows, intent on pulling them back to shed some moonlight in your apartment. “You can... you can talk to me,” you whispered, heart heavy and harsh in your ribs. Your hands had begun to shake the closer you got to the curtains.

When you wrenched them open, exposing the city beneath you, you could barely take your eyes off the horizon.

Because you saw it.

The flicker.

His face there and then not, your heart wrenching in your chest, causing an audible gasp from your lips to echo in the room.

You felt the heat of him at your back. “I thought you were unafraid?” he asked, his voice rumbling, something vicious seizing your insides with a hot grip.

Something akin to a puzzle piece clicked back into place at the sound of his voice. You could breathe lighter now, see colors more vividly, hear the world around you clearly. All this time, you’d suffocated, been drowning, and now you weren’t.

“I’m not,” you answered, but neither you nor he missed the way your voice trembled.

You felt the warmth of his hand on your hip, saw the reflection of him flicker in the window as he leaned closer, his lips brushing the space beneath your ear. Fire lit everywhere on your flesh as he brought himself flush with you.

He inhaled. “I’ve missed you,” he mumbled against your skin, the sound of it vibrating in your bones.

“Where...” you licked your lips and restarted. “Where have you been?”

His other hand braced just under your throat, long fingers seeping warmth through the fabric of your t-shirt.

“Away,” he mumbled. He slid his hand from your hip to the sliver of skin under the hem of your t-shirt and you hummed involuntarily. His touch was like no other’s. “You’re so soft,” he mumbled.

You tried not to forget that he’d left you there on the floor two years ago, but the way his body fit against yours made any logical thought seep from your brain.

“I’ve dreamt of you for so long,” he drawled, making it seem as if you’d been separated for an eternity. “I’ve dreamt of your eyes. Your voice. The way your body fits right onto mine.” He shifted slightly, pressing you harshly against him. “I’ve not the heart to take another woman to bed. I want it to be you.”

His words sent a strange heat dripping down into your belly, heavy and wanting. Your mouth parted, and the hand Loki had against your chest slipped up until his thumb pressed against your mouth. “How sweet of you,” you said against his thumb.

He chuckled lowly. “I can show you sweet,” he said.

“I rather you practice restraint,” you mumbled, even though deep down, you meant none of it.

He chuckled again, shaking his head, lowering his hand back so it lay lightly around your throat. Then his chuckle turned into a groan, his force deepening. “Y/n,” but now his voice was pleading, like a man who’d been deprived of everything. “Please. I’ve thought of you all this time. Don’t push me away. Not you.”

The last part made you frown, but you nonetheless pushed from him, turning to face him. He had deep, dark circles under his eyes, his face ashen as if he hadn’t slept in a millennia. His hair was slightly longer, curling along his jaw, hiding his ears. He wore a white t-shirt and black slacks, but he was cold as you pressed your fingers against his shoulders.

“Okay,” you whispered. You tried not to maintain eye contact because the haunted look in his green eyes made you sick.

He bent forward slightly, grasping your face between his huge, warm hands. The first brush of his lips was soft, sending butterflies scuttling across your belly. But then he gripped your face, bringing you to him, and kissed you like he was a starving man and you were his reprieve.

A strangled moan left his throat, his lips molding to yours, driving you backwards until your spine hit the window. One hand went to the glass to soften your fall, but he didn’t let up his rhythm. You could barely keep up anyway.

He kept kissing you so harshly, delving his tongue between your teeth, angling your head back to kiss you deeply, that every rational thought in you just went to dust.

You gripped his back, marveling at the strong muscle, bringing him flush against you. One hand went to his hair, knotting in the raven locks, tugging until you swore you’d hurt him. But he kept kissing you, hands venturing to your hips, sliding over your ass, gripping your thighs and hauling you up.

On instinct, you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his arousal just where you wanted him, and he spun you away from the window. How he moved with such eloquence as he devoured your mouth befuddled you, but when your ass found the countertop and Loki pressed himself between your legs, your brain fizzled. A whole jar of butterflies now flew in your belly.

He broke from the kiss momentarily to grasp your breasts, kneading them in his hands, marveling at the sight.

“Restraint, Loki,” you mumbled breathlessly, lips swollen.

One of his brows furrowed, but he went right back to kiss you, holding your tits in his hands, then moving to grip your thighs with such strength it should have hurt.

“I can’t stop,” he breathed between kisses, holding the back of your head. “I want you. I want you so fucking bad.”

You squeezed your eyes shut harshly, ignoring the red alarms in your head. Because it was him. Because it was him, always him, and now that he was here, touching you almost everywhere, his scent invading your senses, you never wanted him to go.

He pulled your head back and kissed down your neck, over the swell of your breast, taking one nipple lightly between his teeth. A gurgled moan left your throat, Loki holding your head back, exposing everything to him.

“No bra?” he grumbled against your skin, his tongue soothing the ache on your nipple.

You just breathed in response, your legs clenching against his arms.

He chuckled against your body. His left hand, the free one, slid down the length of your chest until he took one finger to lightly circle you through your pants.

You gasped, jolting in his grasp, his mouth possessively clamping shut on your nipple.

“Eager,” he hummed. He was so warm, smelled so fucking good, that the second time he applied pressure and circled his fingers, you all but moaned for everyone to hear. He teased you some more, licking and pleasing you all through your clothing.

Then his mouth left your hardened nipple and traveled up to your ear, where the warmth of his breath made you shiver. “If I can do this to you,” he whispered, circling your core through your pants. “Imagine how it’ll feel when I fuck you.”

His words made you want to clench your thighs together, to keep the heat and pressure there, but his body was still between your legs. He chuckled, biting your neck, hard, knowing it would leave a mark. He yanked your head forward until your eyes met his.

“I can feel just how much you want me,” he mumbled, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling. “I can smell it.”

You rocked once against his hand, eliciting a groan from him as your thigh briefly brushed him through his pants. He was hard. Wanting. The hand behind your hand squeezed until it hurt, but when he soothed his tongue against your neck, circling your clit, you lost yourself in him again.

“Y/N,” he murmured, chanting your name like a prayer. You were almost there and you couldn’t believe it. You rocked against his hand, biting your lip, and when he saw that, he brought your mouth into a breathtaking kiss. “Cum against me,” he said through each kiss. “Cum.” It was a command.

You squeezed your eyes, grinding against his circling hand, and when he licked your neck, you all but came apart with a moan. Loki quickly kissed you, swallowing your sounds of pleasure as he slowly, leisurely circled you through your pants. Your legs shaking, you trembled against him until his fingers stopped and he brought his forehead to yours.

“Run away with me,” he whispered. “Let me ravage you every night, y/n, please.”

Lost in the dizzying aftermath of your orgasm, all you could do was breathe, eyes closed. You fisted one hand in his shirt, feeling his heart beating savagely under his breastbone.

You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze.

“No,” you said.

AAAAHHHH omg i was so shy writing that little smutty part lmaooo BUT YES MORE TO COME OOOOHHHH (you will get a whole smut scene soon, let me get used to writing smut again hihihihi)

tags: @subtlemalice @yallgotkik @buckyandlokirunmylife @kaz11283 @legolas-bromance @shylittlemountain @tofeartheunknown @feelmyfckngsoul @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @caffiend-queen @tomhollandsslilslut @lady-loki-ren @nathan-no @rosaline-black @abundanceofcarolines @my-own-oracle @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @marvelouslovely @drbaureid @bored-as-hell-666 @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @theinfinitenerd @toe-vind-ek-jou @ink-and-starlight @blank-bakabane @sunshineonloki @holaamishamigos @palegoopbearlight @heyarely16 @pleaseexecuteme @athalahild @help-i-need-a-social-life @tapismyforte @coloursforyourportrait @celestialstarshadow @fukyouthink @lust-for-pan @thic-thor @winchescumberholland

#loki #lokixyou #lokixyn #lokixreader #loki x you #loki x yn #loki x reader #smut #soulmate au #loki fic #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #imagine loki #loki imagine #loki oneshot

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ukai-simp-services · 4 years ago

Text

hq character’s favorite lip smacker flavors

warnings: none, just slight cursing

a/n: wow the way this was one of my best ideas... anyway some of these are kinda repetitive so bare with me 😭

karasuno

hinata

i feel like hinata would be down for one of the really fruity flavors, like watermelon or mango sunrise. forgets it at home or in your car a lot so you always buy him extra.

kageyama

kags is def giving me the classic strawberry or cherry vibe, like the one that ALL stores sell. they’re the easiest to find and he likes the flavors.

daichi

ok i feel like daichi would use the peppermint flavor a lot, but i can also seeing him use the cinnamon flavor every now and then too, spice things up a little.

sugawara

i can see suga using some of the sweeter flavors, like strawberry as a daily chapstick and maybe sugar cookie when he wants to switch things up.

asahi

mans got the whole berry pack. uses them pretty frequently throughout the day, has a different flavor in different places. like one in his school bag, one in his gym locker, one at home, etc.

tanaka

ok tanaka probably doesn’t use use them that much, but when he does, he fucks w the soda flavors. like coke and sprite.

nishinoya

i don’t even think he knows what lip smackers are....but let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and say he would use one of the sugary ones. like the skittles one.

tsukishima

vanilla. no pun intended. i just totally see him using the vanilla flavor, probably the coconut one too.

yamaguchi

i can see bby using the pink lemonade,,,maybe the cucumber melon too mmmm. applies them a lot.

ennoshita

he uses that lime flavor (i forgot it’s exact name) but that and probably some fruity shit like tropical punch.

ukai

PLEASE. he wouldn’t sell lip smackers at his convenience store so he’s like ?? tf is that babe ?? but, once you show him he’d definitely be down for the rootbeer or coke flavor, he’s a soda man what can i say. BUT i imagine he’d keep it simple most of the time w peppermint. (u also make him start selling them so he ends up trying the fruity flavors~)

kiyoko

god, i wanna say the cherry flavor bc of the mf katy perry song (pls tell me if yk what im talking about) BUT i can also see her using the mint one and the coconut one too. queen has multiple flavors, as she should.

yachi

100% one of the candy flavors, like bubblegum. definitely the cotton candy one too. yachi’s lips always taste good period.

nekoma

kuroo

another cherry chapstick lover, but he spices his shit up with the cherry cobbler flavor. wants to taste good at all times for you~

kenma

doesn't use it often, but when he remembers or you remind him, he'll usually use a fun soda flavor like from the fanta pack,, or even just regular grape.

yaku

giving me grapefruit delight vibes...idk why but he just is. i can see him whipping it out in the lockerroom before practice starts, quickly applying it before any of the other guys come in.

yamamoto

omg ok so i feel like similar to some of the other guys, he’d shy away from using it in front of anyone. but i can see him using the tropical punch flavor ??

lev

tell me lev wouldn’t use the vanilla icecream one...like i can just see it. i feel like he would lowkey take pride in it too, like he knows that shit taste good.

seijoh

oikawa

this mf uses peppermint religiously. but this is oikawa we’re talking about so i think he definitely would have multiple flavors; definitely watermelon, probably chocolate mint, and for sure starburst.

iwaizumi

he’s kinda shy about using them so he sticks to the more lowkey flavors, probably like blue raspberry or kiwi. (pls gimmie a blue raspberry kith haji)

mattsun

i feel like he wouldn’t use it much, but he’d use the lemon drop flavor. loves using it during the winter bc of the weather.

hanamaki

another soda lover. i feel like he sticks to the coca cola flavors, like vanilla and cherry. (i love the cherry one omfg) maybe the root beer one too.

kunimi

bubblegum. that’s it. that’s the flavor. it’s always on him at ALL times. like that shit doesn’t leave his pocket, he once even accidentally washed his pants with it still in the pocket.

kindaichi

mmmm i think he’s definitely a berry guy, likes mixed berry or wild raspberry.

mad dog

yes i just labeled him by his nickname instead of his real name what about it- anyway. why do i think he’d use orange creamsicle on the LOW. like mf HIDES that shit. can never catch mad dog applying mf orange creamsicle chapstick. nope.

fukurodani

bokuto

omg ok bby definitely uses strawberry cheesecake or sour apple. ik they’re like two totally different flavors but, he just DOES. and he’d pucker his lips towards you every time he applies it like “BABY GUESS WHAT FLAVOR MY LIPS ARE” like ok bo c’mere then.

akaashi

he’s a simple man, he enjoys a nice strawberry banana lip smacker on his lips. maybe even pumpkin latte (during the fall of course) bc he’s festive <3

konoha

mans is using the dragonfruit flavor (i forgot if it’s just dragonfruit or if there’s another flavor combined in there) but, he literally just uses that flavor. like idk what to tell you. he just does.

yukie

ok i love her sm, i just know she would have strawberry kiwi and probably strawberry banana too. mmm yummy.

shiratorizawa

ushijima

i feel like kageyama, he would only buy the ones he sees at most stores...so a classic like mango or kiwi.

tendou

ohmygod, mans has a whole mf collection. like first of all, he has the fanta soda collection, obviously. then, there’s the candy pack with nerds, fun dip, laffy taffy, jolly ranchers, etc... he also fucks w any sour flavors. basically, everytime you kiss this man you’ll be tasting something different.

semi

another blue raspberry mf, but also i can see him using the dr pepper flavor LOL....i wanna taste>:(

goshiki

he’s a sucker for the grape flavors, regular of course, grape jelly, grape fanta, etc.

shirabu

mmm i can see him using pineapple. it’s a subtle flavor, but its the one he likes best. i don't think he'd use it all that often tbh, but when he does his lips taste absolutely ~fresh~

date tech

aone

PLSSS i just know mans wouldn't even know what a lip smacker was, would probably just be using normal burt’s bees like most people - till you introduce him to the wide range of flavors that lip smackers have to offer. he'd be like “hm, banana.” LIKE. either THAT or piña colada, he’s really trying for y’all.

kanji

cake donut?? do i have an explanation?? nope. i don’t even know what that would taste like, but i can imagine pretty sweet? just give him a mf kiss.

inarizaki

atsumu

PLEASE. he’d use the strawberry flavor ALL the time. like ok maybe occasionally the vanilla icecream too. but im so soft rn for ‘tsumu’s strawberry lips T_T

osamu

omg he’s such a cheesecake mf i just KNOW, so he’d have the strawberry cheesecake flavor. probably use chocolate moose sometimes too if he’s in the mood.

kita

this is NOT up for debate, he’d 100% use berry pie all the time. kita get ur ass here rn, we’re bouta smooch.

suna

pls bc he’s another one that’d only use it on the low. i’m feeling watermelon,, he’d always apply it before he sees you too.

aran

ooooo i can see him using cinnamon swirl, but also grape on a more common occasion. yummy....

extras

terushima

HHH sour apple for sure. he’d try to put on you all the time so you can taste like him too, he’s like “baby c’mere ;)”

saeko

bitch omg, why can i see her using the cherry cream soda one.... i literally don’t know where she could buy it but she’d fucking have it, like for SURE.

sakusa

STOP bc he’d definitely reprimand you for using lip smackers instead of a brand like ChapStick or burt’s bees. like shut up bitch...but also if you’re persistent like me, then you’ll definitely sneak the lemon drop flavor into his jacket pockets whenever you have the chance. you know it’s his secret guilty pleasure <3

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allthingsscented · 3 years ago

Text

SAS Haul!

also doubling as a birthday present for me from my partner ❤️

My first impressions/thoughts on old scents...

Bubbly Rosé: people don’t love this scent?!?!? i’ve heard quite a few people say they don’t like this one but i adore it. it was surprisingly my favorite from the brunch collection! i love blood orange so maybe that’s why? 🍷

Watermelon Lemonade: a very very good scent... my partner LOVES it. only topped by Black Cherry Merlot for him, so if i ask him to pick me a scent for the day he usually picks one of those two. i had to pick up more of it since i about used up my old one :) 🍉🍋

Copper Coconut Sands: this was my favorite from the spring, i only got the fine fragrance mist originally, so i had to get a body cream. this was one of my top must finds for SAS. and then i got a backup mist because i think i’ll use up my original quite quickly. 🏖

Cozy Evening: this is AMAZING! i adore cozy lavender scents and i’ll be wearing this one to bed tonight ! 💜🌸

Bubble Gum Pop: there’s not much to say about this one. i’m on the fence about whether i love it or not. it’s good, definitely bubblegum with a strong fruit scent! 🍬

Cinnamon Donut Swirl: i wanted the mist in this :( and honestly, it’s good but it’s LIGHT in the lotion. the cinnamon is pretty light and it’s mostly a doughy scent. 🍩

Orange Vanilla Twist: I LOVE IT! i was wondering if it would be too much orange or too much cream but it’s the perfect balance! smells just like an orange creamsicle! 🍊🍨

Golden Ocean Pearl: i HAD to get the body cream of this once i realized how much i loved the mist! i definitely smell that note similar to Autumn Nights in the cream as well and i loveee it 🌊

Pink Watermelon: i didn’t think i’d pick of more of this one after using my old bottle but it’s just such a summer staple ! it’s like a perfect fresh sweet watermelon 🍉

Cinnamon Spiced Vanilla + Paris Café: i was on the fence about the whole blended candle idea. buttt i was of course intrigued. Paris Café has always been a candle i was interested in but i think this candle is FAR better than either of the scents on their own. IT IS SUCH A GREAT SCENT! it smells like a cinnamon coffee (which happens to be my favorite). ☕️

as far as the other candle blends... the only other one i liked was Champagne Toast + Fresh Orange. that one was lovely but i only wanted to grab one candle today

#bath & body works #perfume #lotion #candles #summer #semi annual sale #reviews #self care

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romo-aro-culture-is · 3 years ago

Note

ohhohohoho???? an ask game?????? I Am Tumblr's Most Beloved/Hated Asker!! i request you do all the odd numbers for w/e ask game u rb'd :D

[draping over a couch dramatically] oh noooo this is such a tragedy; whatever am I to do /s

challenge accepted >:]

(Under the cut since there's a lot! This'll also be the end of this specific ask game; I may reblog some more as I'm cataloguing the results of the survey!)

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? More milk than cereal, definitely; I don't like having milk left over jdllkjds

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? Receipts and wrappers mostly, sometimes post-it notes!

5: are you self-conscious of your smile? Only in prompted photos, really. I always force a smile in those and it looks weird dslkjdsl

7: do you name your plants? Of course!! There's Eros [my rose plant], Fabian [my orchid], Pinky [a,,pink plant; not sure what type it is], and one I have dubbed My Esteemed Hostage [my brother's plant; it's the same type as Pinky but purple]. There's also Baby Plant [tiny fake succulent plant] and Estrella [long and red fake plant]! I want to get more, but I need to take better care of my other ones first ahha

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? Not often, actually. I used to when I was in choir, but stopped fdskdslk

11: what's an inner joke you have with your friends? We're all 85 at heart and have osteoperosis hshfdjdslk

13: what's something that made you smile today? Tumblr's Most Beloved/Hated Asker <3

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! If two pieces of the same type of metal touch in space, they will bond and be permanently stuck together. oh because of how dense space is!! that's so cool omg

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? I've always wanted to go back to green! I had that color for a few years before I dyed it black--I like this hairstyle, but man do I miss it lkdslkds

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? I just started one to write for a poetry competition! I also have a journal in process for screenwriting, and one for drawing [though I only use it to draw stupid lil things jkdslkjdf]!

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. Bold of you to assume I just don't shove things into my layers and layers of jacket pockets /lh uh seriously I did get a bag from Knott's Berry Farm recently that I love! It's not really worn like that, but I think it's neat dsljlkjds I kinda refuse to use bags soooo

23: what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? Listen to a podcast while doing busywork! Mostly making decorations for my office or rearranging things jdslklkds

25: what's the weirdest place you've ever broken into? Your heart <3 /j

27: what's your favorite bubblegum flavor? Isn't bubblegum a flavor? /gen uhhhh I haven't really had gum dslkjds

29: what's something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? One of my friends dresses kinda old-fashioned! Think like middle-aged soccer mom, but she's also a minor. I always associate it with like mom-energy, but my friend does not have that ahhahhaa I just appreciate her sm!!

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. I have so many socks. like at least 50 pairs of star wars, harry potter, and marvel socks alone. add that to the 30 or so pairs of 'normal' socks and you get two and a half drawers, plus a bag of unmatched ones. I do wear socks to bed--I do understand why people don't though, it's nice! I wish I could get more fun socks, like some that aren't any fandoms [I barely like starwars and harry potter anyways] dslkdslk

33: what's your fave pastry? Snickerdoodle cookies! also lemon-filled donuts >:]

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? I love them so much, but they're so stressful! I do something wrong, and I have to redo my notes aughhhh but they're pretty to look at!! I have a lot of colored pens that I Do Not Look At jdsklds

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? Clean, totally! I actually just like cleaning my room with a good podcast; I also get stressed when it's messy dslkjlkjds

39: what color do you wear the most? Pink or red nowadays!

41: what's the last book you remember really, really loving? The Marvelous by Claire Kann--I read it very recently and it wrecked me dskjdslkjds If you like mystery, a fast-paced story, multiple povs, self-discovering, plot twists, or puzzles, you'll love this!! It also has poc and lgbtq+ rep!

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? My three best friends! We stayed out to watch the sunset, but couldn't see it past the trees dslkjdslkj but the night was pretty!!

45: do you trust your instincts a lot? Yes, 100%. I think of myself as more observant than most [especially subconsciously], so I trust my instincts! Not sure if it's worked out for me, but you know dskljds

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? Cashews dsjkllkjds

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? Oh, I want to--never have though!

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? I associate Y.M.C.A with one of my friends because we used to go there all the time for a group!! She also just has those vibes for me dskljds

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? I haven't watched any of those, at least fully; I've listened to some songs from Heathers and Beetlejuice--pop off!!

55: what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point? I hurdled in heels recently; wrecked my ankles but it was worth it!! I used to do hurdles in track & field; had to prove I could still do it, but I was wearing heels dskjlkjds

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? Honestly, this song makes me so happy!! stimmy song!! I love dancing and dramatically moving syncing to the music omg it's so good!! it's just man it's just great

59: what's your favorite myth? I can't really name any off the top of my head, but I like the one where Thor has to disguise as a guy's to-be bride to get his hammer back dslkjdsljk it was one of the first ones I read!!

61: what's the stupidest gift you've ever given? the stupidest one you've ever received? I gave a get-well card to one of my friends for her birthday [yes, the one who wears mom clothes lkjdslkjds]--she then gave me a retirement card for my birthday hehehe /pos

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? Books, no. Music, hell yeah. I have spotify, and I save and make certain vibe playlists!!

65: is there anyone you haven't seen in a long time who you'd love to hang out with? Actually, not really! I don't really remember old friends--I've had my friend group for years now dslkkds

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? I'm removing the word 'gloomy' from that question--that is half of the weather where I live, and it is amazing. I drive to school in the morning, and I am honored to do so!! It's just such a vibe omg

69: what are your favorite board games? Arkham's Horror, Betrayal [At The House On The Hill], Monopoly, Clue [The Office Edition, of course], Catan, and D&D: Lords of Waterdeep!

71: what's your favorite kind of tea? I get a certain kind of green tea from a boba tea place nearby--it’s green tea with strawberry syrup and lychee!

73: what are some of your worst habits? I like to take control of things sometimes, and raise my voice louder than I need to be. I also accidently analyze and judge people, I think dsljlkjds

75: tell us about your pets! Don’t have any :[ I want a hedgehog though!

77: pink or yellow lemonade? Pink!

79: what's one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? Drop cake off at my door for my birthday!

81: describe one of your friend's eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. Her eyes are slits into the unknown dirt below; a graveyard of thoughts and unspoken words.

83: what's some of your favorite album art? I don’t think I have a favorite? I don’t pay attention enough to album art dsjklkds

85: do you read comics? what are your faves? I want to read the Marvel comics so bad, but no, I don’t read any.

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? Back to the Future, Kill Bill, Edward Scissorhands, The Nightmare Before Christmas, and E.T. come to mind!

89: are you close to your parents? ehhhhh I mean sure; they don’t know a lot about me though dskjdskjl

91: where do you plan on traveling this year? I’m probably heading to California this summer!

93: what's the hairstyle you wear the most? I usually keep it down, but my go-to hairstyle is having the top part up.

95: what are your plans for this weekend? Probably working on the survey! Haven’t gotten to it recently because of school, but I have a three-day weekend this week >:]

97: [Already Answered]

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. Looking directly at Bohemian Rhapsody, but also Call Me by Blondie, and pretty much any ABBA song. I don’t really analyze music sdlkjlkjds

Thank you so much for the asks!! I had fun answering them all >:]

#other asks #mod questions #ask game #mc speaks #long post #tw food #food #food mentions #tw kidnapping #kidnapping #implied kidnapping #tw illness #illness #illness mention

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somekidnamedkai · 3 years ago

Note

Hiii. Can I request #7 for Lucas x MMC for 25 Days of Christmas Fluff.

Oh hey I found this i forgot to post. so im gonna post it now. Lol anyways enjoy itt

Decorating The Tree

Lucas Charming x MMC

Day 7 of 25 Days of Christmas Fluff

Word count: 709

Even with Abel's help, it was hard to bring the Christmas tree inside. At least the hard part was over, now it was time for the fun part. Decorating. “I should be going, I have some other work to do,” Abel said as he left with a wave, leaving Lucas and I by ourselves. My sister and Arin said they’d help us, but they were probably at the library doing who knows what? But honestly, I didn’t mind. Those two not being here means I get alone time with my boyfriend.

“So,” Lucas began talking, “what is it like decorating a Christmas tree? Whenever we had a tree at the castle it was already full of shiny ornaments, I never got to do it myself,” he said. For some reason, I wasn’t shocked that Lucas’ father stripped away, yet another fun thing from Lucas as a child.

I smiled as I looked at my bubblegum-haired prince in front of me, “Well, you put the ornaments on hooks, and you put them on the tree,” I answered as I grabbed a ball from the box on our couch. The one I grabbed was one FMC and I made together, it was always my favorite. Lucas watched me as I put the hook on and hung it on the leaves. “Like that, just make sure some of them aren’t too close or too far apart from each other.”

Nodding at my words, Lucas ecstatically grabbed one of the ornaments, handling it with not so much care he got the hook and rushed over to the tree. Did someone let him have coffee with his donuts earlier? How has he not tripped already? He decided to put the ornament he grabbed, which was a green one with red flowers on it, right in the center of the tree. It looked good, to say the least.

“Beautiful,” I told him with an adoring smile on my face, he’s so cute. Probably thinking I was talking about the ornament and not him, Lucas ignored my comment and went to grab another one. “We should put this one somewhere together,” Lucas suggested to me as he handed over an oval-shaped ornament with swirls on it. As Lucas handed it to me his and touched mine and didn’t move. Taking the chance, I laced our fingers together and led him toward the tree. We both reached towards the top and placed the ornament. After we did, I looked towards Lucas and gave him a small kiss, “By the way, did I tell you about the star?”

It was quite obvious he didn’t know what I meant by that, “what star? Is there a star ornament,” Lucas asked me with a confused expression as he walked back towards the box. I let a small chuckle escape my lips as I turned Lucas towards me.

Shaking my head, I look at my favorite person with a smile, “I mean we put a star at the very top of the tree after we’re done. It’s a Christmas tree tradition.” I told him as I gently poked his nose, his confused expression turning into shock from the boop, but also something else, it was times like this where I’d sure like to know what he’s thinking about.

As he began to talk a smirk formed on his lips, “but how are we supposed to put you on top of the tree, my lightkeeper?” Lucas asked me with his mischievous tone. I could feel the heat creep up my neck and onto my face, I don’t know how he still flusters me like this, it should be illegal. Sputtering as I tried to get words out I went to the box and grabbed another ornament, “we should get some more done, we have a lot of ornaments to get on that tree.”

But before I could do anything, Lucas grabbed my hand, pulling me toward him and he gave me a deep kiss, “I love you,” he told me.

I went to say I loved him back, but before I could a voice interrupted us, “Do not make out in front of my ornaments!” My sister exclaimed. I have never wanted her to go away more than I do right now.

#lovestruck #ever after academy #eaa #eaa lucas #lucas charming #lucas x mmc #eaa mmc #lucas fluff #lucas eaa #request #25 days of christmas fluff

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imagine-nation20 · 6 years ago

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Never Better

Summary: Reader is a ghost from the Victorian Era, who died in a armed robbery gone wrong. While sitting at a bus stop one day, talking to herself, she meets Klaus and Ben, becoming yet another spirit attached to the Seance.

Requested By: Anon? I guess?

Request: This is a free pass request! I love your writing, so please write something you've been wanting to write, but nobody asked for!

Warnings: Mentions of death, being shot, and a small mention of depression

A/N: I AM BACK! I was so excited to write this, you have no idea. I had a lot of feelings about certain characters that changed over the course of the whole show, but one constant was my absolute love for Ben. He’s one of the only characters in the show who’s moral standing I never questioned.I’ll get to the story now.

~~~

“Klaus? Ben?” The man, clad in a fur lined coat and leather skirt groaned, turning around. You were leaning against the building they had just passed, head looking up from reading over a woman’s shoulder. Ben had a better reaction, his face lighting up at the sound of your call.

“Hi…” Klaus trailed off, eyebrows scrunching in thought.

“(Y/N).” You supplied, still smiling. If his last interaction with you was anything to go by, Klaus was not the most attentive, but you couldn’t blame him. You had pried some information about him and his brother from a few hesitant ghosts, managing to find out about Klaus’ powers, and his problems. Ben on the other hand was a no go, because all of the ghosts you had spoken to clammed up at the mention of him.

“Yes, (Y/N). Silly me, how could I forget.” Ben went to elbow Klaus, but instead fazed through him, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“If I’m not bothering you, can I ask what you’re both doing here?” You questioned, looking around at the busy streets.

“Why going home of course. I’m sure you’ve already heard about the infamous Hargreeves kids and their scary abilities.” He waved his hands back and forth, his dry tone hinting at how he felt about the whole topic. You nodded, looking up to realize that the building they are heading towards held and etching of the umbrella symbol in its door windows.

“I didn’t realize. Guess I should pay more attention.” You shrugged, moving closer to the two siblings and plopping down onto the steps of the house.

Your blue skirt bunched, riding up a bit to show the boots your wore beneath. They came just above your ankle, the brown leather worn and old. The heel on one was cracking, but still useable, which wasn’t saying much because it would never crack any more. They laced in front, tied in perfect little bows. They used to be your favorite pair of shoes, and now you were left staring at their worn appearance, a melancholy feeling hanging in the air.

“Speaking of paying attention, most spirits are stuck to something, an object, person, or place. You, however, were not connected to that bus stop, so what are you connected to? Judging by your clothes, I’d say it’d have to be old, probably carried around, since you can move. Probably forgotten and unused too…” Klaus mused, tapping his chin and staring at you.

“Your sense of morality?” Ben offered, getting a snide look from Klaus. You smiled, shaking your head and looking down.

“I was connected to something once. It seemed so important that I don’t let go, but…” You stopped, looking up at the sky. “I’ve forgotten what it was. Now, I don’t know why I’m here. My friend used to say that sometimes ghost stay because they are angry or didn’t want to leave someone behind. The problem is, I’m not angry. Never was. And I don’t have anyone left to stick around for.”

It was silent for a moment, Klaus tapping his chin, while Ben stared at you and frowned.

“Well, Miss Depressing, if you’ve got nothing better to do…” Klaus hesitated, sighing while glancing at Ben. “then come with us. I can promise you that you will never be bored. Annoyed? Yes. But not bored.”

You smiled, jumping up and smoothing out the navy material of your skirt.

“Alright, I’m in. Where are we off to now? The house still?” You asked, leaning in toward Klaus with a raised brow.

“There's this very nice concept that I’m sure was a thing while you were around. It’s called personal space. Really, a wonderful thing.” Klaus said, dodging around you and walking up the steps of the house. You locked your hands behind your back, a sheepish smile.

“Sorry.” Klaus waved his hand dismissively, motioning for you and Ben to follow. Ben placed his hand gently on your shoulder, nodding his head towards the house.

“It’s all right. Klaus can be a bit abrasive at times, but he doesn’t actually mean anything bad by it. You’ll get used to it. Come on.” His hand moved to the small of your back, guiding you up the stairs and into the house through the now closed front door.

---

“Klaus, no.”

“Klaus, yes.” You argued, smiling devilishly at Klaus. Ben sighed, turning to you.

“Do not encourage him.” Ben stated, narrowing his eyes. You simply shrugged, moving around your fellow ghost and staring at Klaus.

“Do it.” Klaus looked away from you and to the man sitting behind the desk. You were all currently in a building that housed the company who made Number Five’s special little apocalypse eyeball. When you had first heard Five talking about it, you peered over, frowning.

“Boring. Back in my day they were made from wood. Knew I guy who kept having to get splinters pulled. Nasty business.” Ben had cringed at that, placing a hand over your mouth.

“I’m going to stop you there.” He said.

Now you were all in the office of the CEO, demanding he give you the information of the person who bought the eye.

“Well what about my consent?” Klaus asks, and you clap your hands excitedly.

“Yes Klaus, release your inner actor.” You sigh dramatically, placing the back of your hand against your forehead. Ben rolls his eyes but smiles at your antics.

“Excuse me?” the guy asks, eye Klaus with a furrowed brow.

“Who gave you permission, to lay your hand… on my son.” Klaus chokes up at the end, pointing his finger at Five. You place your hands on the back of the chair, head just next to Klaus’s face.

“Bit to much, real it in pal.” You say, and watch as the guy and Five both ask ‘What?’ at the same time. Ben leans against the window, staring out at the street below. He was used to you egging Klaus on now. When you had first met, you were much quieter, and much more of a rule maker than a rule breaker, but enough time around Klaus and anyone would be cracking jokes and spouting sarcasm.

“You heard me.” Klaus says, no longer playing up the dispare in his voice. You nodded, moving over to where Ben is and looping your arm through his. The ghost glanced at you briefly, giving a disapproving stare, which you shrugged off.

“I didn’t touch your son.” The man drew out, sparing a glance at Five.

“Oh, really? Well, then how did he get that swollen lip then?” Klaus asked, leaning forward. You looked warily at Ben, turning to Klaus and stepping slightly in his direction.

“Hey, Klaus, maybe stop now, ok?” You said softly, holding a hand out. He didn’t acknowledge you.

“He doesn’t have a-” Klaus interrupted him, standing and punching Five across the face. You and Ben both leaned back slightly, glancing to each other in shock.

“I want it. Name, please. Now.” Klaus said, his tone clipped in warning. His hands resting on the desk, eyes staring at the doctor.

“You’re crazy.” The doctor managed to get out, pointing shakily at Klaus. Your friend only laughed, mocking him.

“You’ve got not Idea.” Klaus looked down at the snow globe on the desk, picking. You walked to him, trying to place a hand on his shoulder, but it simply past through him.

“Klaus that enough.” You ground out, voice hard. He ignored you, reading from the base of the globe.

“‘Peace On Earth’, that’s so sweet.” Without warning, he slammed the globe into his own forehead, shattering the glass, glitter, and liquid all over his hair and face. Klaus groaned, in pain, hunched over the desk. “God that hurt.”

The doctor reached for the phone, about to call security when Klaus snatched it from his hand. You and Ben stood still, watching the scene play out, but unable to step in. You nudged Ben’s shoulder, ignoring the rest of Klaus’ act as he blackmailed the doctor.

“This may take a while, want to go wait outside so we don’t have to watch Klaus bleed all over the floor?” You asked, and Ben nodded, following.

Outside the sun shone through the trees, cars and people passing by. No one payed you any mind as you sat on the steps, seeing as they couldn’t actually see or hear you.

“Same game or restart?” Ben asked, looking around.

“Restart.” You stated, watching as a woman walked past.

“Pink dress.” He said, pointing to her bubblegum pink clothing.

“Um… she runs a donut shop, doesn’t own it though. She wants to get her own, but has never thought it was the right time. In her spare time, she watches birds, wishing to be as free as them.” You stated, nodding. Ben smirked, tilting his head.

“Believable. Ok, you’re turn.” He conceded, looking to you.

“Guy across the street, briefcase.”

“He’s a a member of a time traveling secret agency sent on a mission to stop the apocalypse. Briefcase is his time travel method.” You nodded at his proposition, but tilted your head.

“Doesn’t seem like the type to stop an apocalypse.” You pondered, watching as he got into a car with a similarly dressed woman.

“On a mission to ensure the apocalypse?” Ben asked, eyebrows raised. You nodded, smiling.

“Definitely.” You stated, turning to him.

“Ok, now you tie them together.” He said, nodding to the two people.

“Huh, maybe… She is the key to the apocalypse, so his job is to protect her. He spends his days and nights following her around, and they… slowly form a romance!” You said, smiling to yourself. Ben rolled his eyes, head tilted.

“How cheesy.”

“Whatever. Movie title?” You asked, leaning in so your shoulder rested against his.

“Peace on Earth.” Ben grinned, sending a knowing smirk your way. You laughed in return, head tipping back. You hadn’t laughed that hard since you had died, a thought which caused you to abruptly stop. You looked to Ben, lost in thought.

If you thought about it, that was the first time you had actually, fully laughed since you had died. The first century of your death, you had been completely alone, sitting in your old apartment, watching people come and go. Few ever stayed longer than a few months, complaining about the gloomy mood or odd occurrences. You thought it was a good thing, that way, no one would ever bother you. Your anger festered in the back of your mind growing like a fungus. Until it exploded, and so did your apartment. The pipes and other things burst with built up rage until you were left in the middle of a broken apartment, waiting as firemen, police officers, and others came in and out before the building was destroyed. ‘Run down.’ they said. ‘Unsafe.’ was their favorite.

But now, sitting on these steps, it was different. The bullet wound from your death had disappeared, leaving only you, in your dress and boots, hair pulled back and face smiling. You were happier than you had ever been while alive. Hell, you felt more alive now than ever.

“(Y/N)?” Ben asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes?” You answered, smile even bigger than before.

“Are you ok?” His voice was worried, but you were bothered. Rather the opposite. You leaned in, lightly kissing him. It was over before he could blink, but left him noticeably flustered.

“Never better.”

#ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves imagine #ben hargreeves oneshot #ben #ben x reader #ben imagine #ben oneshot #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy oneshot #tua #klaus #klaus hargreeves

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madpanda75 · 6 years ago

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I have one for Sonny too if that's ok? “Shut up and kiss me already.” Love that talkative daddy long legs. 😅Thank you!

I’m with you, love me some Sonny! That sweet sexy bean pole does things to me! Thanks for the request, I hope you like it ❤️ Also I believe it is canon that Sonny Carisi loves games (especially Twister 😉)

“Classroom Kisses”

The first grade students at P.S.19 quietly read in their seats while you were writing out math problems on the board. You sighed, slightly shaking your head when a small familiar voice cut through the silence. Without even looking, you already knew who was disrupting the class.

“Dominick,” you turned around and crossed your arms, a stern look on your face. “This is quiet reading time.”

The blue eyed boy looked up at you sheepishly, “Sorry, Ms. Y/L/N, I was just telling Caroline a joke.

“Save it for recess, Dominick,” you said before turning back to the board. Unfortunately, Dominick didn’t save his joke for recess. For the remainder of the day, the little boy continued to talk, trying to get the attention of his classmates. You had scolded Dominick more times than you could count. In a way you almost felt sorry for him. It was as if he couldn’t stop himself from talking.

Dominick was a handful, but you had a soft spot in your heart for the little boy. He was bright and incredibly sweet, one of your favorite students. He just couldn’t stop talking.

After school, the two of you sat in your classroom working on an art project while waiting for the little boy’s mom to pick him up. You smiled, watching as he painted a rainbow on poster board, “You’re a good artist, Dom!”

The little boy beamed at your compliment, “Thanks, art’s my favorite subject!”

“Mine too,” you replied, painting a fluffy white cloud next to his rainbow. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door. Looking up, you saw a tall handsome man with the cutest dimples you had ever seen.

“Uncle Sonny!” Dominick exclaimed, running to the older man.

Sonny gave Dominick a high five, “Hey, little man! What’s up? Ya’ have a good day at school?”

“Yep! The best! I got to help Ms. Y/L/N with her art project!” Dominick took his uncle by the hand, pulling him over to you. “Ms. Y/L/N, this is my Uncle Sonny!”

Sonny’s heart skipped a beat when he saw you. He had heard his nephew talk about his favorite teacher, but he had no idea how beautiful you were.

“The famous Uncle Sonny. I’ve heard a lot about you,” you said with a smile.

“Likewise, Dominick talks about ya’ all the time. I hope it’s ok that I’m picking him up, his mom had to work an extra shift.”

“That’s fine, Mr.?”

“Carisi, but please call me, Sonny,” he replied.

“Only if you call me, Y/N,” you shook his hand, drinking in his bright blue eyes and sweet smile.

He leaned in, studying your face. “You..uh…got some paint on your forehead,” he said, motioning to a spot on his own head.

“Oh, I do?” You touched your forehead, trying to wipe off the paint, but only making it worse.

He bit back a laugh, reaching into his jacket for a handkerchief, “May I?”

“Thanks,” you bit your lip and blushed as he cupped your face with one hand while gently wiping the paint off.

Dominick looked between his uncle and teacher, “Are you two gonna kiss?”

“Dominick!” You and Sonny both said at the same time, catching each other’s eye and laughing.

“Dominick, why don’t you go to the restroom and clean the paint brushes for me,” you ruffled his hair a bit, handing him the dirty brushes.

Sonny chuckled to himself, watching his little nephew walk into the bathroom, “He’s a character.”

You nodded your head, “Dominick is a great student, but he’s a social butterfly, talks a bit too much in class.”

Sonny walked over and helped you put the paints away, “I was the same way when I was his age. Always talking. I mean I could just talk and talk and talk. My ma says I was worse than my sisters. Every report card I got always said the same thing, Dominick Carisi Jr. is a smart boy but chats too much in class.” He stopped talking and rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed when he realized he was rambling on. “Looks like I’m still a talker.”

You giggled, “Must be family trait.”

“All done!” Dominick came running back into the classroom, handing you the clean brushes, looking expectantly at his uncle. “Can we go home now?”

“Sure thing, pal. You’re driving right?” Sonny teased.

“Uncle Sonny, you’re silly!” The little boy ran out the room. “Meet you at the car!”

“Wait for me, Dom!” Sonny called out before turning back to you. “It was nice to meet ya’, Y/N. Hope to see ya’ around sometime.”

“Well, now you know where to find me,” you winked at him, sitting back at your desk.

Over the next few weeks, Sonny began picking up his nephew more and more. You didn’t mind one bit. Apart from being sweet and gorgeous, you and Sonny really hit it off, becoming good friends.

Even if Dominick’s mom would pick him up from school, Sonny would still stop by with a cup of coffee or a donut, just to talk. You would tell him about all the crazy antics his nephew or another student tried to pull on you that day. His line of work was always dark and depressing. Visiting you was an escape for him.

One day you asked if Sonny wouldn’t mind stopping by after school to help you put up some decorations for Saint Patrick’s Day. Every month you would choose a theme, transforming your room into a whole other world for your students. The kids loved it, but decorating an entire classroom was a big job for one person to do alone.

Sonny was happy to help. He strode into the room, pizza box in hand watching as you stood on your tiptoes on top of your desk, struggling to hang up a fluffy cotton ball cloud from the ceiling, “Hey, be careful up there.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve done this a million times,” you replied, hanging a pot of gold next to the cloud. “Thanks for helping me with this. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Sonny set the pizza box down on a nearby desk. He cleared his throat, unable to look away as your skirt rode up, revealing your shapely legs. “I brought pizza from that place you were telling me about.”

“You went to Lombardi’s?!” You turned towards him, momentarily forgetting where you were standing. One misstep and you were falling to the floor. Sonny was quick to action, moving to catch you in his arms.

You both stared at each other for a moment, a flush creeping up on your face, “Betcha haven’t met a girl who would tumble to her death just for a slice of pizza,” you mumbled.

“You’d be surprised,” he smirked, setting you down on your feet. “Almost forgot, I brought ya’ this,” he opened a bag, holding out a shiny red apple.

You quirked an eyebrow at him, “Are you trying to be teacher’s pet?”

“Maybe,” he winked at you before looking at the assortment of decorations on your desk. “Tell ya’ what. Why don’t we eat and then you can leave the ceiling decorations to the tall guy,” he rolled up his sleeves and hung up a green shamrock with ease.

After pizza, you and Sonny continued to decorate your classroom. By the time you finished, the place looked like a lush green fairyland, covered in clouds, rainbows, and pots of gold. Sonny half expected a leprechaun to leap out of a desk. “Wow,” he whistled, taking in the state of the room. “This place looks amazing. Wish my teachers did stuff like this when I was in school.”

“Thanks! It’s a win-win. I love arts and crafts and the kids flip when they see the room like this,” you stamped the last of your leprechaun footprints with green paint as Sonny walked around the room, surveying all the books and games you had. Some of them he remembered from when he was a kid. A smirk tugged at his lips when one game in particular caught his eye.

“Hey, Y/N, what do ya’ think?” He asked, holding up Twister. “Up for a little fun?”

You sauntered over to him, a playful expression on your face, “Hmm, you sure you’re up for that, my long limbed friend? I am the Twister champion around here.”

Sonny scoffed, “Do not underestimate these long limbs.” He leaned in closer to you, “I can move in ways you’ve never seen.”

A shiver shot down your spine at his words. Narrowing your eyes, you looked between the game and Sonny, “You’re on. I hope you’re prepared to lose.” You grabbed the game to begin setting up as he pushed some chairs out of the way.

By the fourth spin, you and Sonny were a tangle of limbs, your hands and feet all over the mat, looking like one giant human pretzel.

“Sonny…stop making me laugh! I’m trying to concentrate!” You gasped between fits of giggles.

“Sorry, doll,” he laughed.

You stretched and reached for the spinner, the board instructing you to move left hand, green. “Ok, how am, I going to do this,” you said to yourself, looking around the mat for a free green space within reach. Biting your lip in concentration, you leaned closer to Sonny, your arm snaking under his. “Aha! I did it!” You exclaimed.

“It’s…ummm…it’s your turn,” you murmured, glancing down at his bubblegum pink lips. You tried to maintain your position even though the scent of his cologne and his crystal blue eyes were causing you to lose your focus on the game.

With your free foot, you pushed the spinner towards him. Sonny got a left foot, blue. He let out a deep breath, slowly inching his foot around your leg so he could hit his spot. Stretched out his leg, he moved even closer to you until his foot landed on a blue spot.

“Y/N?” He stared into your eyes, your noses practically brushed up against each other.

“Sonny,” you whispered, no longer caring about the game. All you wanted in that moment was his mouth on yours.

“It’s your turn,” he licked his lips, eyes darting down to your cherry red pout.

“Sonny?” You interjected again, but he wasn’t listening.

“Can ya’….uh.. reach the spinner or do ya’ need help reaching it. Cause I can uhhh….get it for ya’ or I can just say a color or something. There has to be some rule for when only two people play and can’t reach the spinner,” he nervously rambled on.

“Sonny!”

“Yeah, doll,” his eyes locked with yours, your bodies entwined, breaths mingling as your chest rose and fell rapidly.

“Shut up and kiss me already,” you softly said.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he craned his neck, “I can do that.” His lips softly brushed up against yours, kissing you slow and sweet. His tongue tentatively moved against your own. Your legs and arms were shaking from holding such an awkward position, but you didn’t care. You moaned, tilting your head to deepen the kiss, so caught up in Sonny and his tender touch, that you lost your balance and fell, taking him down with you.

You both laughed, his body perched on top of yours. “Wait, so does that mean I won?” He chuckled.

“No! You distracted me, Sonny Carisi!” You smacked him on the shoulder. “That game was a draw.”

“Wanna have a rematch?” He said in a husky voice, running a hand through your hair.

“I’m game,” you tugged on his tie, bringing his mouth back to yours. He kissed you with such passion, it took your breath away. You wrapped your arms around his neck, gently nipping on his bottom lip when you heard someone clear their throat. Turning your head, you saw your coworker, Tony, standing in the doorway.

“Sorry! Just wanted to stop by and see if you needed help with your room but it looks like you got it covered,” Tony blushed, quickly scampering away, leaving you and Sonny alone again.

“That was embarrassing,” you cringed and covered your face.

“Yeah, guess we shouldn’t be making out in the middle of a first grade classroom,” he sat up, offering his hand to help you to your feet as you both put your shoes back on. “I should get going but I would like to take ya’ out on a date. Maybe Saturday night?”

“I’d love that. After all I owe you a rematch in Twister,” your hand found his as he pulled you into another feverish kiss. “You’re a good kisser,” you whispered against his lips, teasingly darting your tongue in his mouth.

“So are you,” he purred. Since your first meeting, Sonny had often wondered what it would be like to kiss you. Now standing there, your lips locked with his, it was better than he ever could have imagined. You were luscious and sweet, intoxicating to him. He kissed you all the way to the door, blindly bumping into desks, until finally letting you go. “Have fun tomorrow. Hopefully Dom will keep the chatter down.”

You snorted a laugh, “From your lips to God’s ears.” He smiled, cupping your face and kissing you one last time before leaving.

You put the game away, moving back to your desk to pack up your things. Your coworker slyly poked his head back into your room, “So does your friend have a brother?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, “Good night, Tony! I’ll fill you in tomorrow at lunch.”

“You better!” He sang down the hallway.

Finally alone in your room, you leaned back in your chair. Spying the red apple, you smiled to yourself, your lips tingling. If Sonny’s kisses were any indication, then you were going to have an incredible date.

@amirightcounsellor @obfuscateyummy @beltzboys2015-blog @southern-magnolia @letty-o @sweetsummertime99 @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @burningsorr0ws @katmstanton @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @riodallas @eclecticminded @delia26 @glimmerglittergirl @sweetcannolicarisi @babypink224221 @livxrafa

#sonny carisi #Dominick Carisi JR #sonny carisi imagine #sonny carisi x reader #sonny carisi fanfic #sonny carisi fanfiction #carisi #carisi x reader #carisi imagine #law and order svu imagine #law and order svu fic

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